A Comic, a Holiday Wish and a Joke

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone! (we are celebrating our intermediate-family Christmas today because the rest of break will be spent visiting relatives)

On an unrelated subject, the only joke I am able to tell:

What's the difference between a bad golfer and a bad skydiver?

The bad golfer goes, WHACK! "Dang!" The bad skydiver goes, "Dang!" WHACK!

For some bad holiday jokes, go here.

Theme.....?

Unfortunately, I'm supposed to have one.


So, what is my theme that you readers should look foreword to? I suppose it, in the broadest sense, my blog is about me. My thoughts. My likes. My experiences.

Why? I don't feel like I know enough about other subjects to do a full blog about them (politics, news, the newest tractors, etc). I suppose I could try to teach new math concepts with each post, but I have the feeling that would create keep-your-distancers instead of followers.

But I want to keep my thoughts from becoming brain vomit. I try to keep them connected to actual objects- not merely a jumble of diary entries. I've never read someones diary- I don't even have one. But I know I want to roll my eyes when all people do is complain (as, for example, I am doing right now), making long sappy writings about how:

• Someone has done them wrong
• Something has done them wrong
• The world is against them
• Life is hopeless
• They are angry and have to write some poetry to express themselves (dear, God, if you are going to do one of these things, do not write poetry. Unless you are some reincarnation of Emily Dickinson, I don't want to hear it. I like to think I can write poetry, but I'm not stupid enough to post it online for everybody to see because it's a load of crap. Chances are, yours is, too.

While I'm on an illegal-by-my-terms rant, I'll keep going. Don't write about how you have such deep, real emotions. I understand that you feel strongly about things. I do, too. But writing about a person that has, for example, broken your heart, is going to sound stupid on paper. It will sound cliche. It will sound 100% pathetic and make you look like a moron. My free advise? Keep it in a diary. Or in your head. Just off of the internet, please.

But the above paragraph is not enough to say what is bad and good. Like all writing, there are exceptions. I suppose the center of the annoyance I get from said writers is that they only write for themselves, assuming that:

1. No one else has ever had the same feelings/experiences.
   
2. Everyone will care and be sympathetic towards them.

For those that believe this, I hate to break it to you, but neither are true.

How to avoid being annoying when complaining or stating an opinion? First, feel free not to be completely serious- believe it or not, people like a sense of humor (of course, you can't tell a joke when talking about abortion- in this case it is appropriate if you have facts to back your side up and if your argument is clear). And secondly, sometimes it helps to include your audience in your discoveries (like, 'don't you hate it when...?' instead of 'I hate it when.....')- they have probably felt the same way at one point.

It appears, however, in explaining my theme, I have broken all of my rules in this post.

I have ranted.

I have not been funny enough to prevent myself from sounding like a drama queen.

And I didn't include you, my lovely readers (if there are any out there). I'm sure you know what I was talking about above- how rude of me not to mention you! But because I'm not entirely sure if you do feel that way, I suppose I'll simply include you in the charges against this post.

And this post is too long- that's a new rule. Who wants to read a novel, really?

So, to make up for my shameful behavior, I will make you a promise. I promise you that I will never post another rant like this again. My complaints will be connected to a larger, less pathetic topic. I will share my thoughts, experiences, and likes/dislikes. But they will be in a mature, acceptable blog format.

Agreed?

Good. Now that we've had such a serious little chat, let's close on a lighter note. "For the Birds."

My Fish Named Roxanne

Roxanne is my betta fish I received for my birthday. Unfortunately, the name was chosen without reading the owner's guide and before I had a chance to talk to my sister.

"What did you name him?"

"Him?"

It turns out that stores only sells male bettas- the females don't have the flowing fins and bright colors. My Roxanne was a Roxandrew. But the name was already given and I was not about to take it back. Whether he liked it or not, he would be named after girl.


I am surprised that I am able to write about him at the moment. Normally a fish would be dead by now if entrusted to my care. I am proud to say that we are coming up on almost four months of coexistence, and he doesn't look like he's going to go belly-up anytime soon (though how would I know? I don't know what a sick fish looks like).


Throughout our short time together, Roxanne has taught me a few things:

1. Not all fish follow your finger around. In fact, it's the opposite way around. Whenever I put my index finger up to the vase (Roxanne doesn't need a tank- he's all alone and we don't want him getting spoiled by such a large living space), he backs away. It's very gradual- he probably hopes I don't notice. But I do, so I do the considerate thing and continue following him. After a while, he gets angry and puffs out his gills (as in photo-scary, I know). You'd think I'd learn, but I still try it once in a while. I know I'm not amusing him, but I can't give up the hope that maybe someday he will become curious.
2. If you can't see them they can't see you. There is a fat purple ribbon around the narrow neck of the vase. When Roxanne is tired/annoyed (of/with me, my family, etc.), he goes and hides behind the ribbon. Not much else to say about that- avoidance is the best way to solve a problem (though, I guess, what else would he do? nibble our fingers to death?).
3. Stop freaking out- things aren't as fragile as they seem. A good philosophy to apply to life. After being out of town for three days, I was sure that I would have to flush my fish down the toilet. To my suprise, I found him, while slightly POed, in as good of condition as ever. My conclusion? Roxanne is a tough cookie- we don't give him, or other things, enough credit for their own abilities. Parents treat their first child like a china doll. By the second or third, they realize that the emergency room isn't needed every time the baby falls down. While I'm not advocating for you to leave an infant alone for days, you don't have to constantly worry.

I'm sure there are many other secrets my she-named betta has yet to teach me. But for now, I'll try to maintain the will-power not to chase Roxanne around with my finger.

PS: Any real betta fish problems? This person seems like one who could answer your non-philosophical questions.

Old

Today I was supposed to work from 9-3, bagging groceries and getting carts (as I complained about in "Sick", I was worried being outdoors would make me sicker). I had my alarm set for 7, but for some reason I woke up earlier. Then, the phone rang at 6:45 in the morning. Who calls at 6:45 in the morning? When we get a call this early, my family assumes there was an emergency or someone died (which I guess classifies as an emergency, doesn't it?).

Nobody died, thank goodness, but there was a semi-emergency at work. The girl who was supposed to work pay station (the place you can pay for food next to the dining area) was really sick (I won't go into details- you don't want to know). My manager wanted to know if I could come in ASAP. I asked if I would have to stay until 3, to which he replied no. So I accepted- I'd get off earlier and I would get to stay inside.

Overall, the day wasn't too bad. I had never worked breakfast or lunch shifts before, but they were tame compared to my usual dinner-time shift. And I got the chance to see a different crowd. I never realized how many old people, excuse me, seniors ate breakfast out. They had to be 90% of the customers that came through. Is this an old person thing, or simply a tradition from their generation?

I'm not sure, but they got me thinking about what I want to do when I'm old. Here's a few things I have so far: when I'm old I want to....

• Play bingo. A lot (hopefully I won't end up like Mrs. Franklin down below, though).
• Be one of the voter-registration volunteers.
• Be able to bake the best chocolate-chip cookies.
• Drive really slow, just for fun.
• Do everything slow, just for fun.
• Talk about the 'good old days'
• Travel the world London, Italy, Egypt, Australia, everywhere (safety isn't really an issue- who would want to kidnap an old lady?)
• Call people 'sonny'
• Demand a senior citizen discount everywhere I go

Most importantly, I never want to be told I can't do something. By that age, I will have been through much of my life, and I won't want any 'whippersnappers' telling me my limits. I'll decide those for myself.

Maybe I'll even eat in a grocery store every Sunday.

Peppermint Stick Ice Cream

Well, I somehow got way behind on my posting this week, so I get to talk even more about the random things that happen in my life. I was thinking about writing two entries tomorrow because our computer was working about as fast as an old lady doing....well pretty much anything. I would type an entire sentence, look up, and see that it wasn't even on the screen yet. So I had to wait until it eventually showed up. Very annoying, if you ask me. Luckily, though, it woke back up after following the complicated procedure called a "restart." So now you get to listen to me talk more about myself. You lucky ducks.

I'll talk about how my sick day went. Because of the title, we are going to go from most exciting to least (not that the least isn't important, it's just not action-packed).

Peppermint stick is one of my favorite flavors of ice cream. If you have never tried it and love mint, I highly recommend it. It's especially good this time of year to help get you in the holiday spirit. With this idea in mind, my dad picked up a half gallon of Blue Bunny ice cream that was on sale. We had some yesterday and it was amazing, and decided to have another round tonight. Unfortunately, this plan fell through due to a small detail.

Ice cream does not go in the refrigerator.

My dad accidentally overlooked this last night, and when he opened the freezer he found a surprise: no ice cream. When he opened the refrigerator, he found a bigger, messier surprise:

1. The entire shelf on which the ice cream sat was covered in ice cream soup. So he,


2. Took out the tray and,


3. Carried it upstairs to the kitchen to wash off, accidentally dripping the pink liquid all over the carpet.

I had just taught my dad the phrase, "epic fail." After carefully assessing the situation, we decided that the actual placement of the ice cream in the refrigerator did not fit the qualifications because it was one simple mistake in a controlled environment. However, the situation escalated to the epic fail level once the peppermint stick ice cream touched the carpet (I wish I had taken a a picture of the steps before my mom and I cleaned it up- it was literally drizzled in a line for the first six steps, then occasional drops peppering the remaining path to the kitchen. All in all, it made for an interesting night, though I am sad that our peppermint stick ice cream is no longer in existence.

Less eventfully, I laid low and listened to music for a lot of the day. Sifting through my iPod, I came across a band I had not listened to in a while, "Explosions in the Sky." They are entirely instrumental, and their songs could be considered inspirational in that feel-good type of way. If you have ever seen the TV show "Friday Night Lights," many of their songs have been played as background music. I listened to them for much of my down time. I will leave you with one of my favorites, called "Your Hand in Mine."

Sick

I don't feel good. You should be thankful that you can't catch my germs over the internet. It's not life-threatening for any of you that were afraid that my blog would have to be shut down, taking away one of your favorite pass times. It's just annoying.

It all started last night, feeling just a little bit like a cold. This morning, though, I had to take the ACT's and it all started going down in the testing room. You know when everything goes to the back of your throat and it's really uncomfortable to swallow? I have that feeling right now, along with an itch in my throat that coughing won't get rid of. Both of which make me feel really tired and unmotivated to do much.

The thing that makes me hate my small illness is that I have to work tomorrow. Although I have been trained as a checker, I have been working as a bagger for the past few weeks. Overall, I like it (it's nice to go back to a simpler job), but it has one unfortunate task this time of year: carts. The freezing temperatures made me feel like I'm going to come down with something even when I am healthy. Now that I'm actually sick, I'm worried it will make me feel worse.

When I think about it, I haven't been extremely sick in a long time. My most vivid memory of a serious illness would be when I got pneumonia three years in a row: 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade (though the second two years were not as bad as the first). I remember being extremely tired, 105 degree fevers, and having an allergic reaction to my medicine (which involved hallucinations and overall loopiness- I asked my sister whether she was a boy or a girl). The first year I came down with it, I was out of school for a week (though I insisted on coming to school for picture day because I refused to go to the make-up day: picture day was for normal kids. Make-up day was for creepy kids, and I worried that if I had to go to that one, I would be addicted to cigarettes before I had said cheese.).

Since then, though, the most I have been out of school is three days at a time (at least for being sick). I suppose without the germs of an elementary school, it has been easier to stay healthy. Who knows? The one thing I am sure about is that I don't want to break my sick-day record. With high school, as those who read this should know, if you miss a day, you miss a lot.

"What are you going to do after high school?"

This is, as I'm sure many high-schoolers will agree, one of the most dreaded questions asked by an adult. It is a follow-up question they deem mandatory when you have reached your junior year. We understand that it is asked merely for a topic of conversation, yet our response says a lot. An "I don't know" makes us sound unmotivated, which is unacceptable at our young and opportunity-filled age. I could think of worse answers.

"You know that guy on the street corner with the cardboard sign? I'm his apprentice."
"I'm going to collect stamps. The green kind, that is."
"I'm actually going to take a shot at modeling. I hear that tall and thin has gone out of style."
"Well, it has been a small dream of mine to work at this little place called McDonald's...."
"I think I'll live at home for say, another thirty years or so."

When we say we don't know what we want to be when we grow up, it can mean different things.

1. I know what I want to do, but don't want to say it because you might not approve. So I'm going to keep quiet until I have started. That way, it will be harder for you to try to talk me out of it.
2. I sort of have an idea of what I want to do, but I don't want to say it out loud until I'm sure. Otherwise, if I change my mind, I will have to explain why and you might think that I can't stick with one thing.
3. I have no idea what I want to do, but I have made list of things that I don't want to do.

For me personally, I am more a number two. I want to do something with math or science, but it is not set in stone. I know I am good at those things, but do they make me happy? What makes me happy? To tell you the truth, I have no idea.

I am happy when I succeed, more so when it was a difficult task. I enjoy receiving praise for a job well done. But these two can go along with any job. And do I want a job that will be a challenge for me personally (say, going into a job more along the lines of history) than something I am naturally good at (like a mathematician or engineer)? I wish I knew which choice will make me happy thirty years from now. I am not a psychic, however, and cannot see that far ahead.

So to adults: when we say we don't know what we want to do, it isn't that we don't care. We do (at least, most of us). It is terrifying, though, to make a decision that will change our entire life, either for the better or worse. Some of us do know, and that's great. But for those of us that don't, allow us time to decide and save your questions until later.

High schoolers: want to get an idea about a carreer? Take this really long test and find out!

Holidays

They're here! For me, they never get old. I love the snow, the decorated department stores, the Chex mix and sugar cookies; all bring back memories of past Christmases. A few things that put one in the Christmas mood (i would be politically correct, but most of the items deal with this holiday) are as follows:

• Put up a Christmas tree (and making sure it is in the stand properly, preventing it from crashing to the floor and leaving broken ornament glass in the carpet until replaced)
• Drink hot cocoa
• Make a batch of Chex mix
• Eat candy canes, though not the odd, fruity flavors. Peppermint is my only endorsement.
• Go shopping, remembering to pick up a few gifts while you're out
• Buy one crazy holiday item of clothing (a gaudy sweater, pants, etc), and wear it in public
• Listen to Christmas music (if the radio hasn't overdone it for you)
• Watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town," "Frosty the Snowman," "A Christmas Story," and any other Christmas classics
• Make a snowman/angel/ball/fort
• Go caroling (if you have the guts to and don't mind forcing your neighbors to watch you belt out a tune)
• See Santa at the mall (it is recommended you are accompanied by a small child)
• Visit family (even if they drive you nuts- i'm sure you will look back on those why-don't-you-have-a-boyfriend days with fondness)

See? Aren't you in the holiday spirit already? If not, well, bah humbug, i suppose. Perhaps they are not meant for everyone.

A Life Lived

One week ago at 10:30 pm my great grandfather died. We were visiting my grandparents, finishing up a night of Thanksgiving festivities, when we received the call informing us he had taken a fatal fall out of bed. Even at age 94, his death was a shock (my grandma hates the phrase "passing on" because it's a weak attempt to avoid saying that they died. "When I die, don't tell everyone I 'passed'. Just cut to the point and tell them I died.").

Frankly, he had too many incredible years to waste time talking about a funeral. He did not exist; he lived. Even when he was put in assisted living (eventually a nursing home, though it didn't smell or look like the stereotypical places of horror), he remained full of spirit, rebellion, and stories.

By spirit, he would grumble about the overbearing majority of women in the home, not to mention his disgust for the "old codgers" he had to put up with on a daily basis.

By rebellion, he would try the nurses' patience by ignoring their suggestion to keep his scooter on the 'tortoise' setting, much preferring the 'hare' speed (eventually his deteriorating ability to drive the contraption would force them to ban it from the dining area- too many close calls of almost running down the codgers trying to enjoy their lunch).

But by far, his stories were my favorite. He would tell of his unsatisfactory 'U's' in high school, his days playing on the defensive line in football, and how he lucked out in the draft. We learned more than thought possible about meat from his 30 years of experience working for Swift Processed Meat Company, not to mention a history of the days in his two-bedroom house.

The list goes on and on, and there are too many to count. One story in particular, though, sticks out. It was the second to last time I ever saw him that I asked: how had he and my great-grandmother met? I had never thought to ask and found I was curious. It is one of my favorites: not only because of the story itself, but it reminds me of a man who was there until the end.

I cannot tell it like he could, but I'll do my best to tell it like I see it in my mind:

Once upon a time there was a country boy, a city girl, and a bus.

The boy drove the neighborhood bus, the same route every day. On this route, this girl in particular caught his eye. He liked her, but there were obstacles. She was out of his league, the lady and the tramp, and, even more problematic, she was Catholic and he was a Baptist. Still, he would not be easily discouraged, and, one Friday afternoon gathered up his courage to ask her out on a date.

She turned him down flat.

It's hard to say whether he was surprised by this; he must have been expecting it somewhere in the back of his mind. Still, he wanted to know the reasons for her quick rejection. Was it because he too poor? His religion? Not her type? He wanted answers.

Conveniently, he knew the girl's sister, to whom he took his questions. He found her one day and asked, "What's up with your sister? I asked Agnes on a date and she turned me down."

To which Agnes's sister replied, "What day did you ask her?"

"Just this Friday."

The girl's sister laughed. "You fool!" she ranted. "You can't ask Agnes out at the end of the week. She already has a date by then! You have to ask her out at the start of the week!"

And so, with a renewed sense of hope, the boy waited until Monday. When he saw her on the bus and asked her again.

She accepted.

The rest is history.


James Hatfield (1914-2008)

Homeless Night cont.

I had an awesome time at Homeless Night. One of my friends had a few boxes she had offered to let us use. We picked them up from her house, but one of the boxes would not fit in the car. Not wanting to leave it behind, we searched for, and found, a solution: bungee-cording it to the top of the car. The drive was a little interesting- the box flapped back and forth the entire way(probably scaring the drivers behind us), but the cardboard made it safe and sound to school.

Once there, we set up shop underneath the overhang. The night consisted of playing Apples to Apples, eating Goldfish and Starbursts, and adding more and more layers as the night progressed. I had thought about staying up the entire night, but decided against it, because staying awake made me consciously aware of how cold I was getting. I suppose I should thank my mom for pestering me into wearing so many layers (and bringing two sleeping bags), because I would have been freezing without them. One friend brought hand warmers, and they kept me comfortable in the rainy, windy night.

I was woken up a few times during the night by friends wanting to play a game or talk a bit. But for the most part I slept soundly- or so I thought. In the morning I went home and planned on working on my mountain of homework. I sat down to get started and four hours later I awoke to the phone ringing. Why had I slept so long? Perhaps being homeless, you are unable to sleep as deeply as you would like (due to the weather and overall lack of security). I cannot imagine going through every day worrying where you will sleep, how the weather will be. It was a good time and got publicity, but, more importantly, it put the concept of being without a home into context.

Homeless Night

In an hour I will be headed over to school for Homeless Night. About 90 students will be spending the entire night outside. I debated how I should dress- it is supposed to be in the 30's overnight. So far I have a t-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, winter coat, shorts, sweatpants, two pairs of socks (one knee-high pair), a pair of one-size-fits-all gloves, mittens, ear-warmers, and a hat. Along with these, I will have not one, but two sleeping bags, two blankets, and a pillow. Right now I have on all of my gear (I decided it would be a smart idea to see if it all fits), and just typing this entry is making me hot. Hopefully, all of these layers will keep me warm overnight, or at least from catching pneumonia.

I have never done this before, but it is supposed to be fun. I am excited. It seems wrong for me to hope to have a good time, though, because the people that are actually homeless do not choose to be.

More than the fact that I don't want to think about it, it is difficult for me to imagine what being homeless would be like. Living in Iowa, our homeless numbers are far below those of Washington D.C. and New York. I have not, as most of the students at our school, been exposed to the homeless in the same way- it merely goes on the backburner. And when I do see someone without a home, I admit that I don't feel the immediate urge to go up and interview them about their life (they probably wouldn't care for this conversation, either).

So tonight will be a first-hand experience, allowing me to zero in on a topic that I know little about. I cross my fingers it will go well, but who knows. I'll update tomorrow to tell how it went.

President-Elect Obama

This is the same topic I'm sure will be the focus of numerous blogs. Last night, Obama was elected to be the next President of the United States. The decision was made incredibly early, allowing me to see McCain's concession speech before heading off to bed (very well done, if I might add). Obama then made his victory speech while I was fast asleep to an enormous crowd of supporters. I struggle talking about politics, because I, embarrassingly, don't keep up with the issues very much. But in the light of this historic election, I decided it would be best if I said a few things that were discussed the past few days.

1. How will he do?
   I hope he is able to turn things around for our country. The economic struggles will be one of the largest challenges he faces in his early presidency. If he makes things improve, the history books will shower him with praise (as they always focus on one, well-known person in these cases, despite the amount of credit is due to Congress or just to luck). If things remain as they are or worsen, he will be viewed with contempt. Obama received about 48% of the popular vote- 52% somewhere else out there. McCain supporters may be hurting for a while, though I don't know how long these feelings will last. McCain attempted to quiet his supporter's opposition while stressing unity. Hopefully we do not need a big crisis to bring our country together (like after the 2000 elections, where 9/11 helped reunite our Bush-Gore sides).
2. What will be the result of a no longer split-government?
   With a Democratic president and majority Congress, what will this lead to? With less opposition between the two branches of government, will this make them be more or less effective? I think that if the two disagree on an issue, it will look bad for Obama (it will appear as if he cannot get his party to unite on issues). Also, with less argument, perhaps this will create plans and laws that are not as high of quality as before. During Clinton's presidency, he argued with the Republican-majority House, and this led to carefully-made bills that made both parties happy. Will the same care be made for each bill with a same-party government? There is the chance that it will be even easier to create legislation that will benefit the country. If Obama has clear, well-thought-out plans, then perhaps the speedier approval of these policies is a good thing.
3. Did this election focus on the right issues?

I saw McCain all over the news. Palin parodies appeared on Saturday Night Live. Obama was everywhere, propelled up to celebrity status. These things you already know. But I can honestly say that while I know McCain has numerous houses, I don't know what his economic policy entailed. I don't know the details of how Obama plans to create Social Security for everyone. Part of this is my own fault- I did not do my research. But neither did many other Americans, as well. The media gave us many personal attacks (Obama's minister, McCain's age), and a majority of the campaigns were about feelings and bringing the other one down. While incredibly effective, the reasons they were running for the position fell into the background. Will this be what all future elections will be like?

I think America has chosen a good candidate for the job. Whether you voted for Obama or not, it is important to respect the decision that the country has made: enough people thought he would make a good President- he wasn't just put there to make you angry. Not to say you cannot disagree with him. By all means, show that American spirit. But accept the new man in office, because he will be the one leading our country for at least four years, making history and changing our lives along the way.

Daylight Savings

Dear Abby reminded me yesterday that at 2 am this morning the clocks would officially "fall back," as they always do this time of year. Yet I always find myself surprised by the news, and grateful that I heard about it at all. I don't watch the news on a daily basis (where I'm sure they would remind their viewers of the change), and don't normally read about it in the newspaper. It usually comes to me by word of mouth, as an afterthought nonetheless:

"Oh, don't forget about tomorrow. Daylight savings and all."

A little history about daylight savings for you:

• The idea was first thought of by Benjamin Franklin, who said it would save money by reducing the number of candles used
• America first adopted daylight savings in 1918 during WWI, but it wasn't popular and was repealed.
• Daylight savings changed from being year-round to just summer a few times.
• In 2005 George W. Bush enacted the Energy Policy Act, which extended daylight savings (from April-October to March-November).

I still find it a facinating concept. I understand it is used to help save energy, to keep school kids out of the dark, etc. Still, who would have come up with the idea to just 'move time around'? It seems weird to be able to change time, which we normally dub as constant and unchanging. Secondly, I can't believe that people would agree to it. Many resent the thought of change (especially of something that essentially affects everyone's lives) and you have the recipe for rejection. Perhaps this is why it was revoked at first. Yet over time, we have grown to accept changing our clocks as a part of our culture and lives.

How have I, and like so many forgetful people, managed to stay in the loop? It is always a reoccuring dread that one day I will arrive to school or work too early (or, in the spring, too late). I would have to sit around for an hour, turn and go home, or make up a weak excuse as to why I got there so early. Luck always passes my way, though, and I am reminded.

How do we remember to remind each other? Because no one wants to look like a fool. We all know what it's like to look like an idiot; these memories stay with us longer than the good ones (in a sense of defeat, our hippocampus-part of the brain that deals with memory- is activated, causing us to remember our failures to a much stronger degree). And we are all, whether we admit it or not, compassionate beings. We do not want others to experience these slip-ups, either. We remind each other, and in this way, we help each other.

Happy Halloween!

Let's get in the Halloween mood with few jokes:

This guy goes to a Halloween party with a girl on his back.
"What on earth are you?" asks the host.
"I'm a snail," says the guy.
"But... you have a girl on your back," replies the host.
"Yeah, he says, "that's Michelle!"

Hans and Stein were playing in their yard in Zurich when one of the boys accidentally swallowed a coin and started
choking.
Hans ran inside to get help, yelling "Mom! Dad! Come quick! There's a franc in Stein!"

Well, that put me in the Halloween spirit! It always sneaks up on me- i always forget to make a costume, carve a jack-o-lantern, or put up any decorations. Before I know it, we have to run to the store to buy candy from the picked-over selection for the trick-or-treaters coming by that night.

While I admit that there are neither pumpkin faces on the porch nor ghosts and ghouls around my house, I feel incredibly prepared for Halloween this year. Our visitors will have a wide selection of candy including M&M's, Snickers, Reese's peanut butter cups, and Kit Kats. To top things off, I even found a costume: a $4.26 Spiderman suit from Goodwill (complete with a mask and gloves). I hope to get a few compliments when I go trick-or-treating.

And thus comes the long and historic debate: how old is too old to go trick-or-treating? Personally, I think I am too old to go. Not that I wouldn't love to, don't get me wrong, but I remember being that little purple princess who was afraid of running into the dreaded high-schoolers. There was never a doubt in my mind that before the night was over, I would end up getting my hat or candy taken away.

So why am I going? I made the exception this year because it is not just for the candy. This year, a few of my friends have foreign exchange students that have never celebrated Halloween before (at least, not the way we do). We cannot let them leave America without celebrating one of its classic traditions. So we will dress up, leading them from house to house and teaching them the art of "Trick-or-treat!"

This year should be a blast, but I will try to stay out of the way of the elementary school-age kids. No one needs to be frightened by potential real-world things on a Halloween night. It should be a night of creativity, where the only thing that scares you is your own wild imagination.

Updates

I have left you without conclusion in a few of my past posts. So I have decided that it would be nice to update you on how things have gone.

To start off, I had my first day of checking on Sunday. It turns out that this is the worst day to have a trial run because it is the busiest day for shopping. To top it off, this weekend was the employee-discount weekend. Several parents of employees came through my line with carts overflowing with food. This was always a challenge as a bagger (especially when they refused a second cart, because they were "sure everything could fit," then became impatient as I tried to stack the bags in a way that they would not crumble when going out to their car), but it was difficult for checkers as well. How fast should you scan the items? You don't want to overwhelm your bagger with piles of groceries, but you don't want to seem incompetent to the customer. It's difficult to balance, to say the least.

Overall, though, things went well. It helped that I had a checker next to me who has been working there since the store opened. Whenever I had a quick question (and didn't feel like drawing attention from half the store by calling a manager), I could just turn to Ms. Fountain-of-Knowledge. I only had to call over a manager five times, and three of those times were mandatory. Once, I accidentally gave a man a nickle in change instead of a dime and I didn't catch it until he was out of the store. I hope they don't come after and have me fired. But all in all a good first day.

Next update: All-State auditions. They were stressful, as always, but it helped that I had some experience from last year. It was the first year for two girls who play horn with me, and they were very nervous. The more I reassured them, the less time i had to freak myself out. Our judge was really nice, as well, making me even more relaxed. Long story short, I got second alternate. This means that if two people get sick or die, then I get to go! I am not disappointed; I got my name on the wall, and that's what I wanted.

A few major stress bumps are now out of the way. I will be able to relax for a bit, but never as long as I would like. But that's how it goes, isn't it?

Dancing

So far my blog has not been that exciting. So I am going to try to spice it up a bit with some dancing! I don't know about you, but I like watching other people dance (it's much better than attempting to myself). I'm not sure if these guys are really prisoners or not, but they are pretty good!


It's a really great idea for recreation, not to mention it would help with discipline and you would make your inmates happier (though I don't know if I would enjoy it or if I would feel stupid). I wonder if they have to try out, or if it is automatic that you get in when you are locked up.

While I'm not jealous of the whole prison thing, I wish I could do something like that. Dancing is not one of my fortes. I have mastered the chicken dance, YMCA, and the macarena, but that is where my talents end. It looks so fun to be a part of a big group of dancers. By the time I realized that I might enjoy myself, however,I was already too far behind- who wants to take a beginners dance class when everyone else would be half your height? I would have felt out of place and didn't want to play catchup constantly, so that dream ended. I have to get my enjoyment from dancing around my house and watching others perform.

I say around my house, because dancing in public is not enjoyable for me. At dances, I can't think of anything to do but bob up and down with the beat, occasionally picking my feet up and singing a few lines here or there. I end up squished in the crowd, unable to do anything more than sway back and forth (which is a great excuse for not trying to get more creative). In short, school dances are awkward and uncomfortable (why do I still go, you may ask? why, to dress up, of course!).

When I am an old lady, retired but still without the need of a walker, I will take up dancing lessons. I want to learn a cross-section: everything from ballroom dancing to hip hop. If anyone is still alive then who remembers how to 'walk it out', I would be a grateful student. I was supposed to learn how last year, but my would-be teacher moved away. I'm sure my fellow senior citizens would be humbled by my dancing expertise- I could really get my nursing home moving and grooving!

Someday I will learn how to dance without looking like a wild chicken. But until that day, I will try to keep the shades drawn whenever I feel the need to bust a move.

Auditions

Last weekend we had our last marching band competition, thus ending the part of the season we care about. The rest of our marching consists of one football game (where there no emphasis on accuracy) and an indoor, non-competitive get-together of all of the schools throughout Cedar Rapids. Despite my relief to be finished with late night practices, I will be sad to see the season go. This was the best show we have had since I became a high-schooler, and I wonder if there will ever be another show equal to its excitement. I will miss seeing the entire band (as opposed to 1/3 during concert band), not to mention I won't get my regular dose of exercise. Most importantly, the end also signals the beginning of a more stressful, competitive time.

While the group competitions finish out, it is time for us to focus on our individual competitive nature. All-State auditions will be occurring this weekend. This audition asks you to play impossible etudes along with useless scales (I understand it is good to learn them, but does it have to be at an incomprehensible tempo?). Preparation includes procrastination, stress, and a healthy sense of failure. Despite mentally preparing yourself for inevitable letdown, you feel sick to your stomach when you realize your name is not on the wall with those who were accepted. That is the fun saved for this Saturday. Luckily for me, it does not end there.

Next week, we have auditions for our school band. While less strenuous than All-State, it is still nerve wracking. With All-State, it is not surprising if you do not make it. With school chair auditions, it is noticeable if you move down a spot or two. While it is probable that everyone worrying the same things for themselves, you can't help but become self-conscious; you push yourself harder so you don't slip. I am lucky this year- the audition etude this year is the same as one of the All-State etudes. Hopefully all will go smoothly, but we will have to wait and see.

Not much more to say, except auditions stink.

Our Prodigal Sons

Today I picked up this month's "People Magazine." The main article features Maureen McCormick, the woman who played Marsha in the Brady Bunch. On top of describing her experiences on the show itself, it focused on events that would be elaborated upon in her new book, "Here's the Story." She described herself as one who struggled with eating disorders and drugs, moving up the ladder to greater strengths of cocaine. Now, clean and happy with her husband and daughter, we see her as a success story. She overcame her obstacles and got her life on the right track.

But I can't help but wonder: why do we call people that have had such struggles successes? Most people never even think to smoke a joint, starve themselves, or other deadly activities. Yet we never say, "what a success, they managed to stay on track." We merely see them as ordinary people, oftentimes boring.

Such stories in our time remind me of one of the oldest, well-known parables in the world. Not to get Biblical, but "The Prodigal Son" is perhaps the best analogy to use when discussing this topic.

For those that do not know the story, here is a rundown:

• Two sons and a father
• Younger son wants to go out in the world. Asks father to give him his inheritance in money (instead of farmland) now instead of later
• Father gives the son his money; son leaves and spends money quickly and carelessly
• Son becomes broke and for a while lives in complete poverty
• Decides to go home, ask his father for forgiveness, willing to become his father's servant if he does not take him back
• The father, seeing his son, embraces him, forgives all, and calls for a feast
  

This story had always troubled me. I loved the father's compassion, but I always felt a sense of injustice for the older brother. He had been hard at work in the fields when he saw his father's servants preparing for a feast. When he finds out it is for his screw-up brother, he is angry (and rightfully so). He had worked devotedly for his father his entire life, and never did he get a feast thrown in his honor. When he expresses his frustrations to his father, he replies:

Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.

Or, in my words:

Son, I love you and all that I own will be yours. But now we should celebrate, because your brother had lost his way and now he has found it.

For the longest time I had anger over this story. What was the message: it doesn't matter if you try to live a good life because people will care for you even more if you mess things up? It was the same way with today's recovered addicts- we see them with incredible strength, yet it was stupid decisions that got them in their rut in the first place. It made no sense.

In the past year, though, I have seen a new side to the story. We celebrate those who have gotten back on the road after being lost, but this does not mean that they are our role models. Nor does it mean that all is well for them. They have lost so much; just think of the years they can never get back. Even in finding themselves, they have lost so much more.

Our culture celebrates Maureen McCormick's recovery because we want to show them that they changed their ways for a reason. If we did not support them, what would be their motivation to kick their habits? We celebrate because they have returned to a better life, and we want to keep it that way.

PSAT

Today, students all over the country flocked to testing centers to take the PSAT, otherwise known as the Preliminary Standardized Aptitude Test. Who knew there could be so much pressure in such a small test? One would assume that the 'P' would be associated with Pre- or Practice. While teachers and counselors insist that this is what the test is about, there is a weight hanging over our heads: the PSAT is the only test that can qualify you for the National Merit Scholarship. This is stressful because:

1. The National Merit Scholarship is a dream scholarship http://www.nationalmerit.org/nmsp.php


2. You can only take the test once to get a shot at the scholarship. If you screw up or don't like your score, that's just too bad.

To be brief, a high enough score on the PSAT will get you a full-ride scholarship to certain colleges throughout the the United States (through the National Merit Scholarship). It is the savior of high-school students; this year, college prices increased an average of 5-8%. The average tuition for one year of a public, in-state school (with books and fees) is $17,336.

http://www.finaid.org/calculators/costprojector.phtml

One little test that costs $20 dollars to take could end up saving you over $60,000. It sounds like a good deal to me.

Yet I can't help but wonder: why is there so much pressure on the Preliminary SAT? If this test is to prepare you for taking the SAT, shouldn't you be preparing yourself for something more important? It would be more logical for the National Merit Scholarships to be tied to the SAT. For one thing, you would be able to take the smaller test, get a score, and see how you can improve. By the time you take the SAT, you will know your weak areas and possibly improve your score.

Also, this test is not as well known. TV shows have stereotypical Danny-the-jock carrying around "How to Survive the SAT's," while Sarah sits in a coffee shop fervently taking practice SAT tests. I have not once heard the PSAT mentioned- it remains off the tube and in the real world. This, however, does not bother me, because the less people that take it, the more of a shot you have at recieving the financial aid (most self-centered people feel the same way). Though one could argue that with it being less publicized, people who really need aid will miss an opportunity.

I do not know why the scholarship is set up the way it is- it has been linked to the PSAT ever since its founding in 1955. But I do know this- it gave us our first view a scholarship within our grasp. Perhaps this is where the pressure stems. Whatever the reasons, our answer bubbles are now being carted off to be scored.

All we have to do is wait until December to view our scores.

Checker Training

Yesterday I finished my checker training. Eight hours of learning how to scan items, enter coupons, verify WIC checks, and other things has left me a bit overwhelmed. While they answered every question we could possibly ask, I didn't get the chance to ask any questions. I learn from forming my own questions and experience. The first was out the window, and I thought my other option wouldn't come until later. I was wrong.

Because we had been doing so well, our manager decided that we should get a shot at the real deal (the majors, the show). High fives were passed around. We were finally moving up a small rung on the real-world business ladder. What were we waiting for?

I was less enthused. What was the rush? To me, our manager's faith in us was overly-optimistic proposal that would no doubt end in red-faced customers, smoking computers, and traumatized employees issued for months of psychiatric treatment.

However, I could see she had a point: I would gain real-life experience. The pressure cooker of real-life would force knowledge into my head faster than listening to standardized employee lectures. Every "Hi, how are you today?" would be followed by a new experience, one to be recorded and stored for future use.

Trying to look on the bright side of things, I woke the computer screen, signed in, and flipped on my blue '9' light. Immediately (though I'm not sure why, because 7:30 on a weeknight is not the most popular time to shop), a pair of bearded, grubby men appeared at my register. To make a long story short, my very first customer had his credit card flash a big, red alert saying "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS" on my screen. Luckliy (I did not want to deal with a pair of men twice my size if I had to tell them I could not sell them their milks and Barbie), he had another card. To my dismay, this one flashed a red sign saying "CARD UNREADABLE," forcing me to call over a manager to help me. Finally, everything became straightened out, and I could breathe a sigh of relief. I also took a moment to pray that not all transactions would be that difficult.

Someone must have been listening, because aside from not being able to find a birthday on an ID card, the rest of the night went smoothly. I told all of my customers that this was my first day, and they kindly lied, telling me I was a natural. I didn't run into any yelling men, robbers, or an exploding computer- I consider the night a success.

I hope I can say the same for my checker days to come.

Smart DNA

I'm a little nervous- this is my first attempt at an actual post. Wish me luck.

In Scientific American this month, there is an article called "Searching for Intelligence in our Genes" (Carl Zimmer).

http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=searching-for-intelligence-in-our-genes

The title is self-explanatory. Scientists are working on isolating genes that deal with intelligence. So far, they have only found one gene that is directly linked. And this gene produced only a 0.4% difference on intelligence tests. So what makes some smarter than others? Some say that it is a combination of small differences in DNA. Added up, they can produce someone who struggles to subtract or a genius.

Will new discoveries along this line of research affect us? If intelligence was ever "discovered" in the DNA, what would we do with the information? Would it help or hurt?

The article gives the example that such knowledge could help prevent learning disabilities, such as in reading. If parents could see that their son's DNA put him at a risk of dyslexia, they would have the chance to nurture his reading abilities early on to lower his chances of developing it. The same goes for math and science: there is a smaller chance of struggle if the problem is addressed early in life (even before going to school for the first time, where many parents first learn of such issues).

But how far is too far? Richard J. Haier of the University of California said that he is able to provide fairly accurate IQ's of subjects just by looking at their brain scans. In fact:

"Haier suspects that in the near future, 10 minutes in a magnetic resonance imaging scanner may reveal as much about high school students as four hours taking an SAT exam." (Zimmer)

Don't get me wrong- I would be overjoyed if I did not have to take the SAT's. But I wouldn't want to trade the test of what I am consiously thinking about to a brain scan where I sit like a vegetable. What if it merely tells where your brain is currently, instead of where you could be if you studied for your exam? I would rather use up four hours to ensure that I did all that I was capable of.

Where would it go next? Colleges demanding a brain scan along with an admissions essay? Instead of a job interview, would companies demand a strand of hair from each canidate, running their DNA against each other?

Yes, these ideas are far-fetched. But once we crack the code of DNA, the endless possibilities will it make it more difficult to see what the knowledge should be used for. The important thing for us to remember is that while DNA can tell us a lot, the way we are nurtured also has a large impact on our intelligence level.

Wow- it's really hard to write such long posts. Did I do it right? I'm not sure.

A fish named Roxanne

Once upon a time there was a fish named Roxanne who got eaten by a shark the end.

This is the base for my blog- who knows how long it will be until I change it.