I'm not a huge fan of fantasy. However, I read the book Everlost by Neal Shusterman. It is...kind of a fantasy. I don't know. However, it is a quick read. Took me two days, and as some of you know, I'm quite busy. Anyhow, I really enjoyed this book, even though it followed the fantasy recipe somewhat, it had an interesting twist. Instead of some fantasy land, (well, maybe it is...) it's a story about kids not quite alive and not quite dead. What happens is that they get lost on the way to the "light", and they end up in Everlost, condemned to exist forever. Very interesting. I enjoyed it, as it was a gripper, and it wasn't the usual 700+ page fantasy novel. (You've seen those, right?)
BTW, happy Halloween! Hope you guys have plans and have fun. However, if you are like me, that's fine, too. I'm just staying home, watching a pleasant boring movie, and going to bed nice and early to hopefully recover from a "trifling cold."
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Sadie Hawkins
This years Sadie Hawkins was the funnest dance I've ever been to (with a date). The only flaw was that no one would listen to me about my ideas about the day activities. They just...thought one up two weeks ago like this: (We were in the showers after practice) "We need to come up with a day activity, come up with some ideas." I leave the showers to go get dressed while I contemplate fun ideas like carving Jack-O-Lanterns, then blowing them up. One of the girls run up to me five minutes later and says, "We're going to go to laser quest."
Laser Quest? I've never enjoyed laser games...I get to shoot people. Woo hoo. I come up with a variety of ideas, paint fights, the zoo, a hike--stuff that would keep us outside, and indeed, it was a glorious day yesterday. I actually got some people convinced to go to the zoo, of all things, but they decided to shoot that idea down with the rest of them. Laser Quest. My, my.
When we arrive at the place to play a blinding stupid game of laser quest, we were 16 people. The person at the front desk told us we had to reserve a game...wait, I thought they were smart enough to do that! But they didn't. So, we finally all got together, and, we can't play a game. I weakly suggest the zoo. Everyone scorns the idea. I like the zoo. What's so wrong with the zoo?
Anyhow...for the day activity, we ended up at some place called Playland, or something. It was full of huge blown up things you'd see at a carnival. All of them (or so it seemed) were reserved for 10 and under. We played around, and eventually played tag, for which we got yelled at. We lasted 45 minutes for 20 dollars. Joy.
For dinner we had Panda Express "cater" us, and we each paid twenty dollars. I was slightly frustrated, because if we went to the place itself, everyone could have gotten what they like, about 12 bucks per couple. Instead, we had huge buckets of white rice, chow mein, fried rice, orange chicken, and sweet and sour pork.
The dance was interesting. Our group for some reason just couldn't dance. Everyone was just standing around in little groups, looking very awkward. That's when I had the brilliant idea of...foot tag! It was a very amusing sight to behold, because the person who was "it" and whoever they were chasing, were often running around to the beat in dance-move type steps. Only, really fast. It was very amusing. The only way I can somewhat properly describe it...it reminded me of a Russian dance.
My partner and I enjoyed it. We danced fast to the slow dances, and danced extremely fast to the fast dances. How fast? you may ask. So fast that my neck feels like it has a whip lash.
Then we went and had some pie, played a quick game of mad gab, then we went home. I'm very glad it didn't drag 'til one o'clock. I was snugly home at 11:45 after dropping off a few people, and I was glad.
Next time, I hope to have more voice and be more in charge. I doubt it will happen though, as the girls have put it, "I have less experience in dates and dating." He he. I don't care.
Laser Quest? I've never enjoyed laser games...I get to shoot people. Woo hoo. I come up with a variety of ideas, paint fights, the zoo, a hike--stuff that would keep us outside, and indeed, it was a glorious day yesterday. I actually got some people convinced to go to the zoo, of all things, but they decided to shoot that idea down with the rest of them. Laser Quest. My, my.
When we arrive at the place to play a blinding stupid game of laser quest, we were 16 people. The person at the front desk told us we had to reserve a game...wait, I thought they were smart enough to do that! But they didn't. So, we finally all got together, and, we can't play a game. I weakly suggest the zoo. Everyone scorns the idea. I like the zoo. What's so wrong with the zoo?
Anyhow...for the day activity, we ended up at some place called Playland, or something. It was full of huge blown up things you'd see at a carnival. All of them (or so it seemed) were reserved for 10 and under. We played around, and eventually played tag, for which we got yelled at. We lasted 45 minutes for 20 dollars. Joy.
For dinner we had Panda Express "cater" us, and we each paid twenty dollars. I was slightly frustrated, because if we went to the place itself, everyone could have gotten what they like, about 12 bucks per couple. Instead, we had huge buckets of white rice, chow mein, fried rice, orange chicken, and sweet and sour pork.
The dance was interesting. Our group for some reason just couldn't dance. Everyone was just standing around in little groups, looking very awkward. That's when I had the brilliant idea of...foot tag! It was a very amusing sight to behold, because the person who was "it" and whoever they were chasing, were often running around to the beat in dance-move type steps. Only, really fast. It was very amusing. The only way I can somewhat properly describe it...it reminded me of a Russian dance.
My partner and I enjoyed it. We danced fast to the slow dances, and danced extremely fast to the fast dances. How fast? you may ask. So fast that my neck feels like it has a whip lash.
Then we went and had some pie, played a quick game of mad gab, then we went home. I'm very glad it didn't drag 'til one o'clock. I was snugly home at 11:45 after dropping off a few people, and I was glad.
Next time, I hope to have more voice and be more in charge. I doubt it will happen though, as the girls have put it, "I have less experience in dates and dating." He he. I don't care.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Reliving daily wonders of my childhood
As I walked to church today, the sun was directed at my face. As usual, I kept walking, and kept looking, and kept blinking. But when I blinked...many little childhood things came back to me. I used to be so puzzled as to why when I blinked inside, or in dimly lit areas, it'd be a "black" blink. But when I blinked outside, facing the sun, it was a "red" blink. I remember puzzling over this, only I didn't think very logically as I explained it. All I knew that sometimes I'd blink, and it'd be black, and sometimes red. Y'all probably don't even know what I'm talking about.
What about the rainbow you can see if you squinch your eyes slightly facing the sun? Yes. There is a rainbow. Try it sometime.
What about...staring into the vast blue sky, only to see weird specks floating around, and if you move your eyeballs quickly, those specks move, but at a different rate than your eyeballs? I forgot all about those...until today. Now I'm noticing them more than ever and it's driving me crazy! (do you even know what I'm talking about? There's weird specks of...stuff floating on your eyeball juice, apparently.)
What about just lying down, and watching the clouds roll by?
What about playing in the leaves in the fall, only to realize that pile has been there for a while, and little creepy crawlies are in the leaves?
What about snooping in all the weird corners in your house, knowing every nook and cranny to the speck...only to forget about them a few years later, and even more years later, discover it again...only to sit down and...remember?
What about watching an ant hill, how all the ants work and run and lift?
What about crying hysterically in school and you can't stop, because a teacher had been mean to you, and accused you wrongly?
What about kicking the crackling leaves in the brisk autumn air, without a care in the world?
Where did my childish cute gait go? The one that shows I don't have full control of my limbs yet, the one that says, "I don't know where I'm going, and I don't care if I get there last or first."
What about being amazed by every little gadget you got in your kids meal?
What about the exhilarating joy of being able to finally reach something that you could never reach before?
What about....
I am not, and never will be done growing up.
What about the rainbow you can see if you squinch your eyes slightly facing the sun? Yes. There is a rainbow. Try it sometime.
What about...staring into the vast blue sky, only to see weird specks floating around, and if you move your eyeballs quickly, those specks move, but at a different rate than your eyeballs? I forgot all about those...until today. Now I'm noticing them more than ever and it's driving me crazy! (do you even know what I'm talking about? There's weird specks of...stuff floating on your eyeball juice, apparently.)
What about just lying down, and watching the clouds roll by?
What about playing in the leaves in the fall, only to realize that pile has been there for a while, and little creepy crawlies are in the leaves?
What about snooping in all the weird corners in your house, knowing every nook and cranny to the speck...only to forget about them a few years later, and even more years later, discover it again...only to sit down and...remember?
What about watching an ant hill, how all the ants work and run and lift?
What about crying hysterically in school and you can't stop, because a teacher had been mean to you, and accused you wrongly?
What about kicking the crackling leaves in the brisk autumn air, without a care in the world?
Where did my childish cute gait go? The one that shows I don't have full control of my limbs yet, the one that says, "I don't know where I'm going, and I don't care if I get there last or first."
What about being amazed by every little gadget you got in your kids meal?
What about the exhilarating joy of being able to finally reach something that you could never reach before?
What about....
I am not, and never will be done growing up.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Sadie Hawkin's Dance...
The theme is "Superhero Sadies" and everyone I've talked to are going as Batman, Spiderman, Superman, etc. The usual superheroes. I've come up with something quite different for my shirt:
No. It isn't wonderwoman. That would probably go with Superman. No. It's something I made up at a lunch table in ninth grade, and now I get to let it be known: Wedgie Woman! That image above will appear on the front of my shirt, and on the back it will say:
No. It isn't wonderwoman. That would probably go with Superman. No. It's something I made up at a lunch table in ninth grade, and now I get to let it be known: Wedgie Woman! That image above will appear on the front of my shirt, and on the back it will say:
Wedgie Woman
Enemy to sagging pants, butt cracks, and other obsceneties of that nature.
Defender of Modesty.
Full of Fury.
Fear her wrath.
Now that I know who I'm going to be...who is my friend going to be? Captain Underpants? I think not...and my brainstorming is failing to help me.
Life goes by so fast.
While getting ready for bed yesternight, I asked my mom if I needed to get up early for anything. Dad said, "Yes, we need to wake you up at 5 am!" Appalled, I asked why. Mom replies, "Just to look at you." My dad asked my mom where she got that phrase...from her parents? He went on to explain that when he was young, you had to ask to be excused for dinner. Often his father would reply, "No. Stay here. I want to look at you for a while."
It seems only yesterday I was a little girl (yes, I was little at one point in my life) running around, pretending that I was Jungle Girl, swinging from the trees, saving animals.
It seems only yesterday that I finally finished my first book that contained 10 sentences, after much frustration.
It seems only yesterday that I would cuddle with my mom sitting on the heater under a warm blanket in winter as I read her the first few books of the Boxcart series.
It seems only yesterday my dad would be a "monster," lying on the ground. If you sat on his back, and scratched it, he would come alive, and he would try to get you to tickle you.
It seems only yesterday I was at elementary school, a little tomboy oddball who no one wanted to play recess with. I forced the boys to let me play with them. I quickly made friends that were mostly boys. Tackle football behind the aide's back was the funnest thing I ever played, apart from four square with tennis raquets and balls, or hockey with brooms.
It seems only yesterday that I had a conversation with my mom, my upcoming fears for middle school. What if I don't make friends? I don't want to do my hair. Will I find all of my classes?
It seems only yesterday that I was upset because I couldn't find my Yellow Submarine CD, only to find I left it in Mrs. Yates's classroom.
It seems only yesterday that I started high school, fearing that I'll get shot. Rumors weren't true.
It seems only yesterday that I...oh, wait. That was yesterday...
Looking back on time, and precious moments remembered, I am terrified at how fast time goes. I am already 17 years old!
Life really is a pop quiz. You are with a bunch of friends in the premortal, then you walk into a room to take pop quiz, trying to get all the answers right. As you take the pop quiz, you notice the people also taking it all arrive at different times, some people get less time to take the pop quiz than others, and each person is unexpectedly told to stop their test, and to exit out of a different door. Then you are told to stop the test, you walk out of the room. You joyfully reunite with friends that finished before you, and wait for others to finish.
Life is so quick. Enjoy it. Live it.
It seems only yesterday I was a little girl (yes, I was little at one point in my life) running around, pretending that I was Jungle Girl, swinging from the trees, saving animals.
It seems only yesterday that I finally finished my first book that contained 10 sentences, after much frustration.
It seems only yesterday that I would cuddle with my mom sitting on the heater under a warm blanket in winter as I read her the first few books of the Boxcart series.
It seems only yesterday my dad would be a "monster," lying on the ground. If you sat on his back, and scratched it, he would come alive, and he would try to get you to tickle you.
It seems only yesterday I was at elementary school, a little tomboy oddball who no one wanted to play recess with. I forced the boys to let me play with them. I quickly made friends that were mostly boys. Tackle football behind the aide's back was the funnest thing I ever played, apart from four square with tennis raquets and balls, or hockey with brooms.
It seems only yesterday that I had a conversation with my mom, my upcoming fears for middle school. What if I don't make friends? I don't want to do my hair. Will I find all of my classes?
It seems only yesterday that I was upset because I couldn't find my Yellow Submarine CD, only to find I left it in Mrs. Yates's classroom.
It seems only yesterday that I started high school, fearing that I'll get shot. Rumors weren't true.
It seems only yesterday that I...oh, wait. That was yesterday...
Looking back on time, and precious moments remembered, I am terrified at how fast time goes. I am already 17 years old!
Life really is a pop quiz. You are with a bunch of friends in the premortal, then you walk into a room to take pop quiz, trying to get all the answers right. As you take the pop quiz, you notice the people also taking it all arrive at different times, some people get less time to take the pop quiz than others, and each person is unexpectedly told to stop their test, and to exit out of a different door. Then you are told to stop the test, you walk out of the room. You joyfully reunite with friends that finished before you, and wait for others to finish.
Life is so quick. Enjoy it. Live it.
Friday, October 20, 2006
I'm grateful for...blogging.
I actually am. I'm very happy that I have a habit of posting random things, because it has strengthened my brain storming muscles. It has made me keep my imagination alive. Et cetera. Now, Abby, what are you rambling about? Get to the point!
My point? I'm a master procrasinator. Not quite a Jedi Master of procrasination, but I'm getting there. I realized the half-hour lunch break that my rough draft was due next...my rough draft that has the opening line, "I wear size eleven shoes." Thankfully, due to my practice of writing about stupid and random things, I was able to complete the rough draft and eat my lunch and watch an episode of Mythbusters (I eat in my coaches room with the swim team, and we watch movies, series, etc. during lunch on a huge screen, which is radical and fun.) I don't know what kind of grade I'm going to get on the essay...all I remember of the essay I wrote was...the first line: I wear size eleven shoes. And my last line: My feet have molded me.
All I remember was that I was rambling about my attempts to find something that would put my feet to good use: Basketball didn't work because I stomped on all the kids, soccer worked for a little while, but honestly? I couldn't run. I was like a baby moose among fast little tigers. I was bewildered, and I fell down a lot. Then...swimming. The sport I loved, and it loved me back.
Because I started swimming, I gained many valuable characteristics such as: hard work, dedication, self-motivation, passion, self-discipline, etc. I learned all of this because of my feet.
Therefore, because of my feet, I am who I am today. Even though my hobbit-like feet will never fit in a dainty shoe, they have given me valuable lessons. My feet have molded me.
So, yeah. It was probably more elegant and well-thought out. But that's the general idea of what I rambled about for my essay. Have a good day!
My point? I'm a master procrasinator. Not quite a Jedi Master of procrasination, but I'm getting there. I realized the half-hour lunch break that my rough draft was due next...my rough draft that has the opening line, "I wear size eleven shoes." Thankfully, due to my practice of writing about stupid and random things, I was able to complete the rough draft and eat my lunch and watch an episode of Mythbusters (I eat in my coaches room with the swim team, and we watch movies, series, etc. during lunch on a huge screen, which is radical and fun.) I don't know what kind of grade I'm going to get on the essay...all I remember of the essay I wrote was...the first line: I wear size eleven shoes. And my last line: My feet have molded me.
All I remember was that I was rambling about my attempts to find something that would put my feet to good use: Basketball didn't work because I stomped on all the kids, soccer worked for a little while, but honestly? I couldn't run. I was like a baby moose among fast little tigers. I was bewildered, and I fell down a lot. Then...swimming. The sport I loved, and it loved me back.
Because I started swimming, I gained many valuable characteristics such as: hard work, dedication, self-motivation, passion, self-discipline, etc. I learned all of this because of my feet.
Therefore, because of my feet, I am who I am today. Even though my hobbit-like feet will never fit in a dainty shoe, they have given me valuable lessons. My feet have molded me.
So, yeah. It was probably more elegant and well-thought out. But that's the general idea of what I rambled about for my essay. Have a good day!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Million Dollar Baby (found in my cluttered drafts)
Whoever is a celebrity baby must feel cursed. Sure, you get fame and money that every common person craves. Nevertheless, you are monitored, quite like Big Brother. Every move that you make, the public knows. Every mistake you make, will be blown out of proportion, and you will make it on the gossip mags for a day. Every time you go out, cameras will monitor you. Everyone you meet, may seem like your friend...but they might not be a real friend.
I often wonder about these poor human beings, what a burden they carry. The public is always watching. They hardly get a time of privacy to themselves.
The worst part? It wasn't their choice. Their parents just happened to be very famous, and they happened to be very famous babies, their baby picture on every stupid magizine on the market when they were born.
The pressure they face...I'm very thankful to be a common person. I can walk outside, and no one notices. I can walk into a store, and no one cares, unless you buy something. I can have real friends. I have a wonderful family, not torn apart by scandal and fame. I'm very thankful for not being a million dollar baby.
I often wonder about these poor human beings, what a burden they carry. The public is always watching. They hardly get a time of privacy to themselves.
The worst part? It wasn't their choice. Their parents just happened to be very famous, and they happened to be very famous babies, their baby picture on every stupid magizine on the market when they were born.
The pressure they face...I'm very thankful to be a common person. I can walk outside, and no one notices. I can walk into a store, and no one cares, unless you buy something. I can have real friends. I have a wonderful family, not torn apart by scandal and fame. I'm very thankful for not being a million dollar baby.
Random Ramblings...again
I had my first swim meet of the season today! It was amazingly fun, and I did rather well for a first meet.
The most interesting highlight of the meet had nothing to do with swimming. It was right after one of my races, and I was on the ground stretching. An old guy with down syndrome comes up to me and says, "are you sad?" and before I can reply, he has wrapped me up in a big hug. Later, while I'm still stretching, he laughs and asks what I'm doing. I said I was stretching, he gives me a big smile and walks away.
As I leave the pool, he sees me and recognizes me and a big smile lights up his face. He pats me on the back and walks away.
It actually made my day, even though I don't like being touched, even by friends...
The most interesting highlight of the meet had nothing to do with swimming. It was right after one of my races, and I was on the ground stretching. An old guy with down syndrome comes up to me and says, "are you sad?" and before I can reply, he has wrapped me up in a big hug. Later, while I'm still stretching, he laughs and asks what I'm doing. I said I was stretching, he gives me a big smile and walks away.
As I leave the pool, he sees me and recognizes me and a big smile lights up his face. He pats me on the back and walks away.
It actually made my day, even though I don't like being touched, even by friends...
Monday, October 16, 2006
Review on "Fairest" and Fire
Yes, I'm going to do a review on a book before I continue with my usual ramblings. The book is called Fairest, by Gail Carson Levine, the same person who wrote Ella Enchanted. It takes place in the same world Ella resided, but it's based on the story of Snow White. I must confess that it was very gripping, I couldn't put it down. I wish it was longer and deeper, as it took only a casual day to read. I enjoyed it very much, and Levine has a wonderful imagination and loves to throw in unexpected twists and and turns. I recommend it to all who don't have anything to read, or are reading something so deep and hard, and they need a break...I'd consider this book "brain candy". If you know what that means...
Anyhow, on to my rambling about random things. Today's topic is "Fire" (Supplemented by me ma). Fire...good topic. Fun stuff to play with...until it goes out of control. I confess I haven't told you guys a good story (but short) about my recruiting trip to the U. We went to the Pie on the second day, a scary underground basement/restaurant/bar thingy. Lit candles were everywhere. I was immensely bored, so I started to play with my paper-covered straw. I was seeing how close I could get to the candle without it catching on fire. I turned my head for a split second, and alas! It was burning rather quickly. I frantically blew out the voracious flame, only to scatter it to the other recruit sitting across from me. Apparently it burned on her skin before going out...whoops. I deserved the scowls and looks of annoyance that were directed at me for the rest of the night. All well.
Fire is loverly. I'll leave it at that. (But the story provided doesn't make it sound loverly, but believe me...it's fun to play with...provided you're willing to get burned...)
Anyhow, on to my rambling about random things. Today's topic is "Fire" (Supplemented by me ma). Fire...good topic. Fun stuff to play with...until it goes out of control. I confess I haven't told you guys a good story (but short) about my recruiting trip to the U. We went to the Pie on the second day, a scary underground basement/restaurant/bar thingy. Lit candles were everywhere. I was immensely bored, so I started to play with my paper-covered straw. I was seeing how close I could get to the candle without it catching on fire. I turned my head for a split second, and alas! It was burning rather quickly. I frantically blew out the voracious flame, only to scatter it to the other recruit sitting across from me. Apparently it burned on her skin before going out...whoops. I deserved the scowls and looks of annoyance that were directed at me for the rest of the night. All well.
Fire is loverly. I'll leave it at that. (But the story provided doesn't make it sound loverly, but believe me...it's fun to play with...provided you're willing to get burned...)
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Laaaast Recruiting Trip
I'm on day two on my last recruiting trip! Yay! I come home early tomorrow! This trip was so far the best one, (key word "so far")...They had decent activities that were...appealing to me, and didn't force me to stay out 'til one or two in the morning. I was in bed by 10. Yay! (That's 11 Utah time) I've decided to list here and now the pros and cons of every college I've been to, and I hope it makes sense...
UNIVERSITY OF UTAH
Pros
UNIVERSITY OF UTAH
Pros
- Nice and close (TRAX easily accessible)
- I like the education program there
- I like the swim program
- I got a good scholarship offer
Cons
- Team doesn't know proper language or...behavior? skills...(drinking)
- I don't escape Utah's "bubble"
BYU
Pros
- Good environment
- Pretty close
- Decent scholarship offer
Cons
- Don't get to meet very many people with...different backgrounds, you don't get as much of a taste of different cultures
- Many of the teammates are married...and they have...three years of swimming to go...I'm not saying it's a bad thing, it's just...yeah.
WSU
Pros
- I really like the team
- I love the campus and location
- Close to Rickcolletoscoppy
- They let this really cool dog run around on deck while you practice...
Cons
- Very far away from home...
- Not as good of an educational program in the areas I want to study...
- The swimming program...might not be challenging enough...(shh...don't say anything.)
Thursday, October 12, 2006
People make me laugh.
Yes they do.
On announcing that I'm going to visit Washington State this weekend at church last Sunday, everyone told me it's a party school. I asked them how they knew. "From my friends." I politely ask them if their friends have been there. "No, they go to the University of Idaho, which is like, oh, about like, 10 miles away." So I say, "So, you haven't been there...your friends haven't been there...How do you positively know that it's a...'party school'?" They put on an offended face and walk away.
I didn't mean to insult them if I did...I've dealt with this kind of information before. My first day of high school, I was a little nervous. I had heard so many rumors about Kearns... "...It's ghetto..." "...there's a lot of gangs..." "don't get shot!" "...lots of drug dealers..." "...for stupid people..." The last comment didn't scare me, it just made me skeptical of all of the input I got about Kearns. After the first day, I was a little...ornery...how can people immediately assume the all-knowing attitude, and tell you about a place they've never been to? (I know, I know...I'm dangling my prepositions...leave me alone.)
I have learned from this experience. Now, whenever people tell me information, whether about schools, or about...drama they just had to tell me about, etc. I politely ask where they got their information, and if it's from a friend who knows a friend who hasn't even been there...ha! Your information is worthless. Sorry.
On announcing that I'm going to visit Washington State this weekend at church last Sunday, everyone told me it's a party school. I asked them how they knew. "From my friends." I politely ask them if their friends have been there. "No, they go to the University of Idaho, which is like, oh, about like, 10 miles away." So I say, "So, you haven't been there...your friends haven't been there...How do you positively know that it's a...'party school'?" They put on an offended face and walk away.
I didn't mean to insult them if I did...I've dealt with this kind of information before. My first day of high school, I was a little nervous. I had heard so many rumors about Kearns... "...It's ghetto..." "...there's a lot of gangs..." "don't get shot!" "...lots of drug dealers..." "...for stupid people..." The last comment didn't scare me, it just made me skeptical of all of the input I got about Kearns. After the first day, I was a little...ornery...how can people immediately assume the all-knowing attitude, and tell you about a place they've never been to? (I know, I know...I'm dangling my prepositions...leave me alone.)
I have learned from this experience. Now, whenever people tell me information, whether about schools, or about...drama they just had to tell me about, etc. I politely ask where they got their information, and if it's from a friend who knows a friend who hasn't even been there...ha! Your information is worthless. Sorry.
Explanation
The reason why the previous post was there, is because I get to write an essay like that about me. It's for admission essays for college. My teacher asked us to write a few options for our opening line (like "I am a cripple")
Here is what I wrote for ideas:
I suffer from Youngest Child Syndrome.
I hear normally with hearing aids.
I have T-Rex legs, I can't find pants that fit ME.
I wear size eleven shoes.
Guess which one she picked that seemed to have the most potential and the most unique? The "I wear size eleven shoes." I didn't even see that one coming. I was just writing random phrases about me. Now, I get to write an essay similar to the one below, only about me, and the opening line is "I wear size eleven shoes." This one is going to be interesting to build on.
Here is what I wrote for ideas:
I suffer from Youngest Child Syndrome.
I hear normally with hearing aids.
I have T-Rex legs, I can't find pants that fit ME.
I wear size eleven shoes.
Guess which one she picked that seemed to have the most potential and the most unique? The "I wear size eleven shoes." I didn't even see that one coming. I was just writing random phrases about me. Now, I get to write an essay similar to the one below, only about me, and the opening line is "I wear size eleven shoes." This one is going to be interesting to build on.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
On Being a Cripple
The following passage is written by Nancy Mairs, who has multiple scierosis.
"I am a cripple. I choose this word to name me. I choose from among several possibilities, the most common of which are "handicapped" and "disabled." I made the choice a number of years ago, without thinking, unaware of my motives for doing so. Even now, I'm not sure what those motives are, but I recognize that they are complex and not entirely flattering. People-- crippled or not--wince at the word "cripple," as they do not at "handicapped" or "disabled." Perhaps I want them to wince. I want them to see me as a tough customer, one to whom the fates /gods
/viruses have not been kind, but who can face the brutal truth of her existence squarely. As a cripple, I swagger.
But, to be fair to myself, a certain amount of honesty underlies my choice. "Cripple" seems to me a clean word, straightforward and precise. It has an honorable history, having made its first appearance in the Lindisfarne Gospel in the tenth century. As a lover of words, I like the accuracy with which it describes my condition: I have lost the full use of my limbs. "Disabled," by contrast, suggests any incapacity, physical or mental. And I certainly don't like "handicapped," which implies that I have deliberately been put at a disadvantage, by whom I can't imagine (my God is not a Handicapper General), in order to equalize chances in the great race of life. These words seem to me to be moving away from my condition, to be widening the gap between word and reality. Most remote is the recently coined euphemism "differently abled," which partakes of the same semantic hopefulness that transformed countries from "undeveloped" to "underdeveloped," then to "less developed," and finally to "developing" nations. People have continued to starve in those countries during the shift. Some realities do not obey the dictates of language.
Mine is one of them. Whatever you call me, I remain crippled. But I don't care what you call me, so long as it isn't "differently abled," which strikes me as pure verbal garbage designed, by its ability to describe anyone, to describe no one. I subscribe to George Orwell's thesis that "the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts." And I refuse to participate in the degeneration of the language to the extent that I deny that I have lost anything in the course of this calamitous disease; I refuse to pretend that the only differences between you and me are the various ordinary ones that distinguish any one person from another. But call me "disabled" or "handicapped" if you like. I have long since grown accustomed to them; and if they are vague, at least they hint at the truth. Moreover, I use them myself. Society is no readier to accept crippledness than to accept death, war, sex, sweat, or wrinkles. I would never refer to another person as a cripple. It is the word I use to name only myself.
"I am a cripple. I choose this word to name me. I choose from among several possibilities, the most common of which are "handicapped" and "disabled." I made the choice a number of years ago, without thinking, unaware of my motives for doing so. Even now, I'm not sure what those motives are, but I recognize that they are complex and not entirely flattering. People-- crippled or not--wince at the word "cripple," as they do not at "handicapped" or "disabled." Perhaps I want them to wince. I want them to see me as a tough customer, one to whom the fates /gods
/viruses have not been kind, but who can face the brutal truth of her existence squarely. As a cripple, I swagger.
But, to be fair to myself, a certain amount of honesty underlies my choice. "Cripple" seems to me a clean word, straightforward and precise. It has an honorable history, having made its first appearance in the Lindisfarne Gospel in the tenth century. As a lover of words, I like the accuracy with which it describes my condition: I have lost the full use of my limbs. "Disabled," by contrast, suggests any incapacity, physical or mental. And I certainly don't like "handicapped," which implies that I have deliberately been put at a disadvantage, by whom I can't imagine (my God is not a Handicapper General), in order to equalize chances in the great race of life. These words seem to me to be moving away from my condition, to be widening the gap between word and reality. Most remote is the recently coined euphemism "differently abled," which partakes of the same semantic hopefulness that transformed countries from "undeveloped" to "underdeveloped," then to "less developed," and finally to "developing" nations. People have continued to starve in those countries during the shift. Some realities do not obey the dictates of language.
Mine is one of them. Whatever you call me, I remain crippled. But I don't care what you call me, so long as it isn't "differently abled," which strikes me as pure verbal garbage designed, by its ability to describe anyone, to describe no one. I subscribe to George Orwell's thesis that "the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts." And I refuse to participate in the degeneration of the language to the extent that I deny that I have lost anything in the course of this calamitous disease; I refuse to pretend that the only differences between you and me are the various ordinary ones that distinguish any one person from another. But call me "disabled" or "handicapped" if you like. I have long since grown accustomed to them; and if they are vague, at least they hint at the truth. Moreover, I use them myself. Society is no readier to accept crippledness than to accept death, war, sex, sweat, or wrinkles. I would never refer to another person as a cripple. It is the word I use to name only myself.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Home again, home again...jiggitty jiggity jig.
Yes, I have come home once again from a recruiting trip. This one, however, was much more pleasant. But of course, every recruiting trip will have its flaws. I did not fit in with this group of people at all because they were just like (please excuse my expression...it's my honest first impression and thought) preppy Bingham high school girls. They all wore the trendy clothes. They all wore makeup. Their hair was perfect. They all talked about boys (or in many cases), or their husbands. That wasn't all...one of the activities was shopping at the University Mall, oh my! I was perfectly and immensely bored. I do have to admit that it was very nice not having to plug my ears or eyes.
The highlight of the whole weekend? Comedysportz. This awesome place down in Provo. It's a live show, with two teams and a referee. They play different games for different points, but they have to use suggestions from the audience. All of it was very amusing and enjoyable. I believe that Doyle and Jos and I will have to go one day. (The best part? It cost only eight bucks for a 1 1/2 hour show! Sweet!)
All in all...I didn't get offered as much at BYU. This is going to be one hard decision to make.
Do I want to be in a great environment, live inconveniently away from home and not really fit in?
Do I want to be in a crappy environment, with easier access to my home (TRAX), and hopefully make a difference?
Do I want to go some college no one has ever heard of, and escape this decision?
Now that you've read this pretty pointless post, please get back into your own life.
The highlight of the whole weekend? Comedysportz. This awesome place down in Provo. It's a live show, with two teams and a referee. They play different games for different points, but they have to use suggestions from the audience. All of it was very amusing and enjoyable. I believe that Doyle and Jos and I will have to go one day. (The best part? It cost only eight bucks for a 1 1/2 hour show! Sweet!)
All in all...I didn't get offered as much at BYU. This is going to be one hard decision to make.
Do I want to be in a great environment, live inconveniently away from home and not really fit in?
Do I want to be in a crappy environment, with easier access to my home (TRAX), and hopefully make a difference?
Do I want to go some college no one has ever heard of, and escape this decision?
Now that you've read this pretty pointless post, please get back into your own life.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
My English Teacher Makes Me Laugh
She seriously does. She is so awesome because she speaks to us students as equals and goofs around with us. One interesting thing that happened today in English (which I have for about three hours in a row...) . It was the five minute break between Literature and Language, so I ran out into the hallway, goofed off, slammed some sophomore's locker shut (I know them, don't worry) and walked back in. I started to go toward the filing cabinet in order to get my folder, but too many people were surrounding it, so I make a sharp military turn to the right and march to the dum-dum basket. (She has dum-dums, and you can take one whenever, she never seems to get ornery when you come up for the fifth time to snitch a dum-dum. I think today I ate about six. I'll probably be a brown-nose and buy her some more, as I feel bad.) Only to hear her laugh, as she has been watching me since who-knows-when. "You are so odd," she tells me. I chuckle. (I have never actually been called "odd". I have only been called weird, psycho, stupid, crazy, abnormal, etc.) Then she says, "I dreamed about you the other night." When I heard this phrase, I wasn't sure what to think. It isn't everyday that your English teacher tells you that they had a dream about you. She goes on to explain that she went to a "water polo meet" with me at the University of Utah, and that there were games going on, but I was swimming. She was trying to coach me on the butterfly stroke, and then she woke up. I show my amazement with a flabbergasted face. "Why in the world would you dream about me?" I ask. "Probably because you are so odd," she replies.
I love random days!
I love random days!
Monday, October 02, 2006
Les Miserables
mmmmm...the musical that got me started on musicals. Les Miserables. I finally got the entire collection of songs from the library, not just the highlights, which I own. It is such a magnificent story and musical. I seem to love and go for the musicals that have meaning, have insights on human nature, on people, how they think, what happens to them in certain circumstances. I love each character, and their place in the story. I just wanted to let you guys know my love for this musical, and someday I hope to read the book. I'm very excited that they are going to be performing Les Miserables at Pioneer Theatre in April. I'm buying tickets!!!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Two Observations on Humans
Yesterday I had the wonderful chance to go to a sold out game; University of Utah against Boise State. I believed that it would hopefully be a close game. Boy, was I wrong. As Utah was being killed, I had the opportunity to glance around and look at the spectators, 75% of whom weren't even watching the game. I can't figure out humans. Do they support a certain team or sports group, so every time that team wins, they can scream and chant at the other team's fans? As I left the game after third quarter, all of the Boise State fans were waving us out, screaming, swearing, and who knows what else at us. Some U fans were flipping off the Boise fans, or yelling back. Amusingly enough, as I watched all this in silence, these sports fans reminded me of monkeys. They were all messy, couldn't even figure out how to throw away their garbage, screeching, jumping up and down, making ruckus...they simply reminded me of howling, screaming monkeys. I will never become some obsessed sports fan, chomping on a few wieners, gulping my XXXL coke, and screaming and yelling with my mouth full, and being plain annoying. I will never become the kind of person where if my team wins, I'll be "in your face," or when my team loses, I'll simply become unbearable to be around as I give every kind of excuse possible, including the ol' "They lost because Pluto isn't a planet anymore" excuse.
Yesterday, I also had the opportunity to go to the Pie by the University (of Utah) yesterday. Sitting at a table on my right were four people, all very drunk. Yes, they paid lots of money to buy fermented wheat juice, and then to gobble it all up...so they can act like idiots. Yes, my views on beer are sour. The ugly colored drink with froth on the top just isn't appetizing. People who drink it to "have a good time" confuse me. What's so great about throwing up? Yes, you may be having a good time having your senses being befuddled, saying stupid things, and doing stupid actions, but soon enough, you'll probably be spending some time with your face in a toilet bowl. The last place where it should be. Whoever thought of drinking gross fermented wheat juice must have been a little crazy. (The pizza was GREAT, by the way. I wish I could've stayed there longer to observe human nature...)
P.S. These views are my own views, and my own views only. None of the people who I have put their links on the right are involved, blah blah blah. If you don't agree with my opinions, well, too bad, as I have made these opinions very carefully, with at least two years of study in the category involved. Please realize that I have nothing against monkeys, but I do have something against beer, as it assists in the killing of people on the road, but also assists the stupid driver in getting a weak sentence simply because he was drunk, it wasn't really his fault. Blast! Why can't we be like other countries who, on first offense of drunk driving take away your car.
Yesterday, I also had the opportunity to go to the Pie by the University (of Utah) yesterday. Sitting at a table on my right were four people, all very drunk. Yes, they paid lots of money to buy fermented wheat juice, and then to gobble it all up...so they can act like idiots. Yes, my views on beer are sour. The ugly colored drink with froth on the top just isn't appetizing. People who drink it to "have a good time" confuse me. What's so great about throwing up? Yes, you may be having a good time having your senses being befuddled, saying stupid things, and doing stupid actions, but soon enough, you'll probably be spending some time with your face in a toilet bowl. The last place where it should be. Whoever thought of drinking gross fermented wheat juice must have been a little crazy. (The pizza was GREAT, by the way. I wish I could've stayed there longer to observe human nature...)
P.S. These views are my own views, and my own views only. None of the people who I have put their links on the right are involved, blah blah blah. If you don't agree with my opinions, well, too bad, as I have made these opinions very carefully, with at least two years of study in the category involved. Please realize that I have nothing against monkeys, but I do have something against beer, as it assists in the killing of people on the road, but also assists the stupid driver in getting a weak sentence simply because he was drunk, it wasn't really his fault. Blast! Why can't we be like other countries who, on first offense of drunk driving take away your car.
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