"Joggers and Dead Bodies Theory"

Don't jog in the morning. Trust her.

A Short Little Story

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Ok. That was a bunch of random typing. Now I'm going to make a story using each letter as the first letter of a new word. Ready?

A large, smelly, dinosaur raced across seven extravagant territories. Yet because my friend said, "Delicately! Kindly!", Stegosaurus Ike stepped rationally, hoping desperately to heed rules involving over-sized kreatures. Zealous state Jamania's amendments read: "All stegosauruses entering our regime in August shouldn't trek harshly. Just journey, negating violent movements."
Very carefully, large Stegosaurus Ike evacuated, running under Yamania's authority. Said dictatorship kills foreign Jamanians and sells Edmontosauri. Luckily, though, our Ike had a green-card and lived.
Soon exhausted, run-down Ike quit progressing, electing just for movement x-iting mandates zoically. Suddenly, a she-Stegosaurus (and he) 'loped, ending Ike's roaming. I arranged great housing onan island, everything richly unique, sweetly luxurious, and kick-butt-ish. So, definitely fanciful'n jolly.

Wow that ending was pathetic, and I cheated here and there, but it took me longer than I thought. Do your own and post them on your blogs. I want to see what you come up with!

"How To Survive Valentine's Day Alone"

Too late for advice but here it is anyway...

My Weekend at an Honor Band

Day One: The Audition

Professor Lady aka Judge: "You interested in music major in college?"

Me: "No, not really."

Professor Lady: Glare

Day Two: The Rehearsals

Director Man: "Hello we are going to work hard but have a fun time."

Percussion: Whisper, whisper.

Director Man: "Percussion, shut up."

Us: Ahh!

Director Man: Conducts at lightning-speed tempo.

Us: Play section wrong.

Director Man: "Idiots."

Us: AHHH!

First Chair French Horn: Plays solo.

Us: Ooooh!

First Chair Oboe: Plays solo.

Us: Ooooh!

First Chair Flute: Plays solo.

Us: Ooooh!

Director Man: "Good! Now keep going we're on a schedule."

That night: Watch two-hour concert. Stay in hotel with a leaky shower, smokey lobby, and questionable overall safety.

Day Three: The Performance

That Morning: Eat a quick breakfast, trudge to rehearsal.

Director Man: "We're going to take it easy today."

Us: "Yay!"

Director Man: "And I'm actually a really nice guy. I love you all."

Us: "Awwww!"

Lunch: College cuisine school cooks meal for us. Yum!

Back in rehearsal: Preparing for concert.

Director Man: "Now let's go out there and kick some major bootay!"

Us: "Hoo-ra!" Proceed to stage and rock the house.

My Triple Secret Life as a Blogger

Why is it Triple, you ask? Because my double secret life is a blog hunter, and I can't use the same name twice. Why the Secret? Because I doubt anyone outside of our class knows that this little web page exists. Do I mind (and do you mind that I'm asking questions to which you could have no answer for)? Not really, (and I hope you don't, either).

I don't mind the lack of traffic for several reasons:

1. The unfortunate diary format: I'm going to be honest with you right now- not that I haven't been in the past. Just super honest. I know that I had promised earlier never to randomly complain about me, me, me, me. Unfortunately, I seem to have strayed from that point a bit and, looking back, find that many of my blogs contain whining and grumbling (I was going to complain about my weekend originally in this post, and plan to do it later if that doesn't give you more proof of my promise-breaking). So I'm glad that more people don't read this because frankly, it's shameful. I need to follow my own advice, take my Barnes and Noble gift cards, and buy myself a diary. But then what would I have to write about? Maybe I should just bite the bullet and say my blog complains a lot, like this lady. But I'll try to hold out just a little longer.
2. The temptation of advertisements: If my blog was extremely popular throughout the world, I would get greedy. "How could I make the best out of this convenient situation?" I would ask myself, rubbing my hands together like that old miser with the bulging eye. And I would probably begin to notice how easily I could link advertisements to my website, and how easily I would be able to make a little bit of money. But because I have only had 69 hits on this site in four months , I am not tempted to put annoying pop-ups and other distractions on this page. Lucky you!
3. No pressure, eh? Exactly the way it sounds. If one of my posts is terrible, oh well. Blogging gives me space to try out new techniques, share my thoughts and opinions, etc. If people don't like it, they will either let me know or not comment at all. So it's all trial and error, letting me attempt to be creative without worrying about a grade. Just a word count.

Maybe someday I'll feel differently and want more of an audience. For now, though, I'm content sitting back, poking around, and living double and secret lives as blog hunter and blogger.

Especially for You....

This post is especially for all of those people out there that can read fast.

I hate your guts.

235 pages. That was my weekend. Over 70 of those were textbook pages, mind you, the rest were from two of my required reading books. I sat around like a little hermit, my pile of books in hand. It was painstaking. It was frustrating. It was downright hell. And it's not over. Oh no, I'm still not done. I have seven more pages to go, and God only knows how long that will take me.

Fast readers: you have no idea. I cannot skim the text to get the 'general idea.' I cannot look at the titles, the pictures, or merely find what's on the study guide. If I try, I remember nothing. Nada. The information merely hits my brain and bounces off, like a rock skipping across the water. Don't ask me why. Believe me, if I knew, I wouldn't be here right now telling my tale of woe.

I am so jealous of you. JEALOUS! I can't even finish the ACT reading section. Gahh!

So frustrating. SO frustrating. SO FRUSTRATING! Well, I suppose the moral of the story is, if you can read fast, be thankful. Now I have to go back to my reading.

If you read this in less than a few minutes, still hating your guts. But I want your brain.

My Double Secret Life as a Blog Hunter

So it's become pretty apparent that I haven't explored the blogging world.

I feel bad. Sort of.

What would I look for? Tough call. I really don't have much interest in the feelings of people I don't know. Unless, that is, they either think like me or are insane. So unless they are my yes-man or in dire need of a straight jacket, emotions don't do much for me. No whining, no complaining. But I don't like straight facts, either. If I'm going to the trouble to find something to read, I would prefer that it not be a textbook. Please, we get enough of that the rest of our lives. Why more?

So my list was narrowed down: not too personal, not too factual. But of course, these rules are fake. There's no way that I can stick to my own limitations. I change my mind too much to stay with a straight-and-narrow.

With these ideas-but-not-really-any-ideas in mind, I geared up and became Super Creeper. I searched blogs, reading entries of people who don't know I exist. To them, I am just another visitor on their blog counter. To me, they were just people in the world, searching for a way to express themselves. In some ways, I felt as if I was violating their privacy. I learned of husbands, of children. There was a Secret Agent Josephine who had a counter at the bottom saying "Make my day, buy me a latte" (the second part pops up when you run the cursor over the coffee cup). I liked her, but couldn't connect with her; she was a mom with mom-based thoughts. I'm a teenager with self-centered thoughts. Interesting to see a different world, but not for me.

Overall, my double secret life wasn't so successful. I didn't find much that interested me; just trivial people in a trivial world trying to become important (don't take this, bloggers, as saying that you should give up trying to get your voice heard. Not at all! Please keep trying, because I do believe that one can become a figure other people care about. It's just difficult. Like really, does anyone care what I am writing right now? Probably not). I must be very bad at knowing where to look. There are two, though that caught my eye:

1. Fungible Convictions: Fungible is defined as "freely exchangeable for or replaceable by another of like nature or kind," if you were wondering. This one is on probation at the moment. It's intriguing: a man with his everyday thoughts and discovery (see? I told you I would end up going back on my own rules). His "hope-to-do" list was the thing that caught my eye, for I have thought about making such a list myself. Will it keep my attention though? I'm not sure-further investigation will be needed. So it has been added to my side list of Blogs to Explore, but I'll be deciding whether or not it gets to stay there.
2. FAIL Blog: This is a WINNER! Ever heard of an Epic Fail? Ever wish there was a site that had several in one place? You must check this blog out if you have not. Go there. Now.
   

Two Thirds and a Job Offer

It has been four weeks since my C++ class, putting me at the two-thirds completion mark. There is so much that I had been hoping I would be able to say by now. "I basically could build an entire Microsoft program by now with my eyes closed." "I'm putting the Rockwell employees who went to college for this to shame." "After doing this class, I realize that this is what I want to do with the rest of my life." But none of that, unfortunately, is true.

In truth? I feel like the stupidest person there. This is not a pity party; it is simply a fact of how it is. Yes, it makes me a little sad to be the least competent in the room, and I regret that the mentors attempt to stay away from me as much as possible (they all know by now that if they come over and ask, "Do you need any help?", they will be stuck there for the remaining hour of the class with me, my glassy-eyed stares, and my ever-frequent, "So...............?"). No matter how many times "Tokens" and "If/while sequences" are explained, I can't seem to build them by myself. Without help, I'm one of those flies that has one of its wings ripped off.

Surprisingly, though, I suppose I feel better about myself than I have in a while. Every week, I contemplate just not showing up anymore. I doubt anyone would care, probably feeling more of a sense of relief than anything. It's embarrassing to return week after week making barely any progress.

But return I have, trudging to my ego smack-down two days a week. I don't enjoy things being put in perspective, but this class certainly has done it. It showed me that there are simply some things that no matter how hard I try, I won't be able to do well. But I have also learned that it's okay. Try your best at everything, and don't give up even though you suck. Yes, I said suck. There's still always hope and other routes to take.

What's the hope in my story? I checked my e-mail and saw a message from the Human Resources department. I open the letter (can you say letter for online mail?) and what do I find? They have offered me a job to work as an intern during the spring and summer of this year. All I can think is, "what is wrong with these people?" Are they serious? Because if they are, I hope they know what a leap of faith they just made. A Hail Mary pass. A shot in the dark. I don't know how I could have gotten past all of their hiring hurdles with my track record in that class (they have to confirm I'm a resident of the US of A and I have to pee in a cup to make sure I'm not a drug addict. You think they'd check to see if I was actually good at this stuff before signing me on.

But I suppose that's not really my problem. My problem is how I'm going to survive actually working there. Supposedly I have heard it's not as bad as the class, which should be reassuring. But who knows for sure (I heard it from people who actually knew what they were doing)? I'll just have to wait and see!

My Day at the CRPL

Well, it wasn't really at the downtown library, but at the Westdale branch. Because half of the shops in the mall are closed, the library had decided to pick up and move to a more central location not surrounded by darkened and unused space. They needed help, so 'I Pa'ipunaheleHau'oli and I went to see what we could do.

First, we parked on the wrong side of the mall, and when we got there we had to stand in a huge line. Then, the others in line told us we needed a release form, located within the library itself. Hau'oli went to get the forms, and after we filled them out we looked at the bottom: the form required a parent signature for anyone under 18 so that the library wouldn't be responsible for any injury thousands of books could create. We were worried because neither of us had thought to bring our moms and pops along, but the library workers didn't think it was a big deal. So we got to help out.

Our job? Become part of the massive chain of people stretching from one side of the mall to the other, passing carts of books to the new space and empty carts back to be refilled. It was so cool. Why? We got to go behind the scenes of Westdale Mall. I never knew there was so much back there: metal staircases, never-ending hallways, and small offices and rooms. Despite it's drab appearance from a normal mall-shopper's standpoint, the hidden areas were something to look at.

To top the day off, before we left, I saw my seventh grade language arts teacher (she had a quote in the article). To put it simply, she was the best grammar, punctuation, capitalization teacher I have ever had. She knew her stuff (and would get into heated debates with the other teachers, always winning), could sniff out a piece of watermelon gum being chewed in her classroom (and would hunt it out), and could tell the most dramatic stories (of squirrels making a plunge to the earth from a hundred feet from the ground and surving, for example). Seeing her reminded me of how much I had learned and how much I had forgotten from her class (what were those five words that ended in -o that needed an -es as opposed to just an -s at the end when they became plural?). But all in all, it was great to see her again.

When leaving, Hau'oli and I ended up getting lost trying to find our way out of the secret behind-the-scenes Westdale. A few wrong staircases and some wrong turns sent us running through the empty hallways. After we had the common sense to turn around and go where we came, we made it out unscathed and alive.

The volunteering wasn't too hard and I had a good time. I always have more fun when I am helping because I want to, not because I am paid or forced. I suppose that's a good thing; to feel good just for doing good. Still, I wish that I could enjoy my jobs, but that would probably involve me not getting a paycheck. Bummer, I suppose I'll just have to stick to doing a little bit of each.