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.