Man, I want to hang out with friends, but I have a bunch of school today. How can I fix this problem? I know! I'll have a study party, that way we can work together. Yah right. Like that's going to happen. The only reason for study parties is to make it sound educational on those days you really need to give your brain a chance to cool down. Don't want to overheat the engine.
My engine, however, isn't like normal engines. When it was made, somebody forgot to install the cooling system. I need to take extra brakes. This was never a problem for me since I have lived my whole life as a homeschooler. I was allowed to take as many brakes as I wanted. Then college started. It was like selling my car to an over-aged, sour grandma who doesn't understand that running the air-conditioning while driving 150 in the middle of the Gobi Desert just doesn't work. I learned to live with my head on fire, for a while, but then came the dreadful study party.
My birthday is coming up. It's two days before a big Spanish test. I do not want to have to study on my birthday... fair enough, right? But fairness comes at a cheating price. I have to study like a dog these next couple days to make up for it. "I'll just focus on school and nothing else." I declared in my room. Then Joey had a study party.
Our friend came over to hang, and as we all know, absolutely no school got done... for them. They sat on the couch playing video games while I sat on my computer listening to my Spanish audio track. I became bitter. My brain protested their fun and enjoyment by telling me, "Well at least I can say that my cat has handsome shoes!". It was hopeless. After an hour of trying my hardest I had to leave... the website and play video games.
I'd like to say that completely failing at video games was fulfilling enough to make up for the studying I didn't get done, but it wasn't. Guess I'll just wing it. What's the worst that could happen-o? HA! Got you there. I said happen. This is gonna be a cinch. Later-o's
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Picnic, After Hours
Today was the mark of a new dynasty. One I imagine will be full of pain and suffering. Friday classes started. Don't get me wrong, the people are great! The classes, however, are just one more veggie burger on the already painfully green plate of my healthy education. This particular beginning of the year was very different than the others.
To start off the strangeness, the picnic meeting where we all got together took place at night... in a park. The only light source was a lamp taped to the top of a ladder. The men fought over who's flashlight was more powerful and pondered how many moths were killed by the powerful "ladder light" each hour, while us ladies sat at the table eating pizza and salad. It was a time to remember.
After the food sources had been exhausted, it was time for socializing games. All the kids were lined up and were given a number from 1 to 10. I was in group 7. I sat over with my friend Henry. Then the parents were all given numbers. Two were assigned to our group and we played the game together. After five minutes our parents switched and a whole new family was created... I mean group 7. The rest of the night continued in this manner.
I didn't gain much from the experience, but I did learn a few things. I learned that it's hard to say goodbye to your assigned parents, but it's easy to replace them; I learned that I carry neither a flashlight or a knife in my non-cargo pants, so I can't technically be called a man; and I learned that a little girl likes monsters and got a blood test.
Although the exercise was a bit out there, I am a better man for it. I have become aware of how to be secure in my manliness. All it will cost me is anywhere from $30-$40 bucks! But mostly I learned that even though blood tests may hurt a little bit, they aren't scary... and neither are monsters. It's ok to like them. Laters.
To start off the strangeness, the picnic meeting where we all got together took place at night... in a park. The only light source was a lamp taped to the top of a ladder. The men fought over who's flashlight was more powerful and pondered how many moths were killed by the powerful "ladder light" each hour, while us ladies sat at the table eating pizza and salad. It was a time to remember.
After the food sources had been exhausted, it was time for socializing games. All the kids were lined up and were given a number from 1 to 10. I was in group 7. I sat over with my friend Henry. Then the parents were all given numbers. Two were assigned to our group and we played the game together. After five minutes our parents switched and a whole new family was created... I mean group 7. The rest of the night continued in this manner.
I didn't gain much from the experience, but I did learn a few things. I learned that it's hard to say goodbye to your assigned parents, but it's easy to replace them; I learned that I carry neither a flashlight or a knife in my non-cargo pants, so I can't technically be called a man; and I learned that a little girl likes monsters and got a blood test.
Although the exercise was a bit out there, I am a better man for it. I have become aware of how to be secure in my manliness. All it will cost me is anywhere from $30-$40 bucks! But mostly I learned that even though blood tests may hurt a little bit, they aren't scary... and neither are monsters. It's ok to like them. Laters.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Back To Kindergarten
Ok, so I'm not really in kindergarten, at least not yet. It's more like preschool.
Wait what? A sixteen year old in preschool? That must be something else. Not. I'm referring to my feelings for my new Spanish class.
That's right, I got one more year of high school left and still have to finish two years of foreign language. Only way to do that is through college level Spanish classes. Each semester counts for a year of high school classes. What a miracle! Well that's what I thought too until I started.
On the first day things started out pretty good. The teacher went over the syllabus and explained things clearly and simply... in English. Then the first words of foreign language flowed out of her mouth. It sounded like a crystal clear waterfall streaming out from the majestic mountain that was her tongue. Then she gestured for us to repeat. The only thing that spilled out of my mouth was a flow of oil ridden mud with a couple dead fish floating inside... and maybe a very cleverly covered up murder victim. "¡Muy bien!" she said with a big smile. Liar. It was to be expected though.
For our second class it was time to be partnered up with another student to practice together. Out of all the stumbling, bumbling peers, my teacher paired me up with one of the few native speakers in the class. It became a game of stay at home mom and telemarketer. No matter how many times he tried to help me understand what I was doing wrong, my mouth would seem to ignore him and continue to babble nonsense. It reminded me of my days as a toddler in Sunday school, only this time I didn't get any fishy crackers or candies. From that first experience it became a mutual agreement that this relationship wasn't working out. Next class we sat in different seats away from each other.... and the next class... and the class after that. in the end we just gave up. No matter where we were, by random chance, we kept being picked to do activities together. Finally our wills broke and we began to get along... and when I say that I mean I got the dead victim out of my mouth and began to talk around the fish. I had become understandable. Well, to a degree. But this is no time to spoil the moment.
By the end of the two and a half months I have left, I hope to get enough vocabulary and cleaning of the river to finally be able to get the heck out of high school. Only an entire semester left. Laters.
Wait what? A sixteen year old in preschool? That must be something else. Not. I'm referring to my feelings for my new Spanish class.
That's right, I got one more year of high school left and still have to finish two years of foreign language. Only way to do that is through college level Spanish classes. Each semester counts for a year of high school classes. What a miracle! Well that's what I thought too until I started.
On the first day things started out pretty good. The teacher went over the syllabus and explained things clearly and simply... in English. Then the first words of foreign language flowed out of her mouth. It sounded like a crystal clear waterfall streaming out from the majestic mountain that was her tongue. Then she gestured for us to repeat. The only thing that spilled out of my mouth was a flow of oil ridden mud with a couple dead fish floating inside... and maybe a very cleverly covered up murder victim. "¡Muy bien!" she said with a big smile. Liar. It was to be expected though.
For our second class it was time to be partnered up with another student to practice together. Out of all the stumbling, bumbling peers, my teacher paired me up with one of the few native speakers in the class. It became a game of stay at home mom and telemarketer. No matter how many times he tried to help me understand what I was doing wrong, my mouth would seem to ignore him and continue to babble nonsense. It reminded me of my days as a toddler in Sunday school, only this time I didn't get any fishy crackers or candies. From that first experience it became a mutual agreement that this relationship wasn't working out. Next class we sat in different seats away from each other.... and the next class... and the class after that. in the end we just gave up. No matter where we were, by random chance, we kept being picked to do activities together. Finally our wills broke and we began to get along... and when I say that I mean I got the dead victim out of my mouth and began to talk around the fish. I had become understandable. Well, to a degree. But this is no time to spoil the moment.
By the end of the two and a half months I have left, I hope to get enough vocabulary and cleaning of the river to finally be able to get the heck out of high school. Only an entire semester left. Laters.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Solitaire Nightmare
Ever play solitaire on the computer when you were bored? Ever play it on three card draw? Well let me tell you, it's really hard. This doesn't help the fact that I was really bad at it in the first place. I spent at least three hours today playing it over and over again. "I'll win the next one," I'd tell myself. And of course everybody knows that if I don't learn to stick things out in life now I'm just going to wind up as a thirty year old guy living alone in his parents basement, right? When I finally beat it my statistics popped up on the screen and it showed my winnings and my losses. Out of 116 games I have won a grand total of.... wait! Before I tell you, you might want to find a comfy seat that's not easy to fall out of. I won a grand smacking total of 6, yes count them, 6 games. When I beat that sixth game I made a vow that I would never play solitaire again. I have learned to appreciate a way of life outside this mind numbing game and enjoy the outside world with all it's fresh air and new opportunities... oh wait, it's a million degrees outside... I wonder how many games it will take me tomorrow before I win. Huh... oh well. Ciao for now!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Alright....
Alright, well... I suppose since I have this blog I might as well do some posts. So for this one I will talk about what's been up with this guy. For the last few days I've be feverishly working on what is probably my first real script. The proudest moment of my life was the day I finished my first draft. I excitedly scrolled to the top to read over my work. Absolute garbage. After a few hours of studying screenplay formatting online, re-writing, and weeping in the shower, I finally produced a draft that was readable. It's far from perfect, but it's a start. Well I'm late for a cry in the shower. Peace.
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