Ramble..ramble..blah.

I have to admit that one of the reasons I haven't updated is that I always have to log out of my gmail.

It's great that everyone loves Google, but as it takes over the market it makes using different facets of its krakenlike conglomerate annoying. Logging in and out of youtube also affects the account that my gmail is on.

And why does it matter? You never know when you'll get an email from a professor telling you that the homework you're pulling your hair out over has been given an extension. Not that that's ever happened, but wishful thinking, aye?

So as I have survived my first term of college, I laze around doing absolutely nothing on break. I've never had a chunk of free time this big before. In summer, I was traipsing around Japan and then came home to run back and forth from shifts at work--and "breaks" during high school were just extra long periods for teachers to give extra long projects over.

So what do I do now? Hang out with friends and bum around on Facebook. It makes me feel old and decrepit. Especially when I see the class of 2010 celebrating or crying over college acceptances and rejections. I'm back at the bottom of the totem pole as far as school goes--freshman again. And I gotta say, I like it. Pass-fail is nice (though not as incredibly stress-free as it sounds. Caltech is so ridiculously hard. Harder than I bargained for. But it's still awesome). But with every status update from the next kid who was accepted, I'm reminded that I can't stay in my blissful little stage forever. I like being allowed to make mistakes. I like upperclassmen telling me "go to sleep, frosh" because my life is supposed to be so much less stressful than theirs.

The fact that it's not isn't relevant.

You probably don't know what I'm talking about.

I know I shouldn't.

I know better than to get pulled back in.


...But damn if fandom doesn't make me incredibly happy sometimes.

I'm sure there's something wrong when my variety in life comes from living vicariously through other people's depictions of fictional characters, but I don't care.

They're just so damn CUTE together.

It's been a while

So, if you haven't gathered by now, I'm in college.

And it is nothing short of amazing.

The workload is insane. Only here do we cover the entirety of AP chem (if by "cover" it means the homework set is on things that they expect us to know) in one week and then start quantum mechanics immediately after. And it's no even an honors course. Besides, Techers on average take at least twice the number of units as regular people. But there is also a huge emphasis on collaboration. I'm used to doing things on my own, but stuff gets done faster (and is also incredibly more fun) when you're in an underground basement room with your friends (surrounded by whiteboards intended for problem solving but used for doodling).

But that doesn't mean we don't know how to party =]. There's been dance parties, and on weekends when we are forced to forage for sustenance off-campus, there have been some amazing times in nearby stores and restaurants.

Still, I have to admit that I am extremely stressed, what with problem sets due every two days and midterms and essays interspersed. It's a struggle finding time to do other things, but there have been games of interhouse dodgeball and the occasional ultimate practice. There is also a widespread tradition of getting people wet, whether by forcibly dragging them into the showers or dumping pitchers of ice-cold water on them during dinner--also, during dinner, we can chuck bread at people. At first I was appalled by the waste, but then I realized that it was also inedible otherwise.

Anyway, in all seriousness, as amazing as independence is, I have to admit that the process of learning is something completely new. In high school, you have teachers that go over sample problems that are in the homework but with different numbers...in college, your professors talk about optical fibers and give you homework about torque.

So, high school kiddies, enjoy being taught when you can, since I'm pretty sure you're going to miss it.

College, and the people you meet therein

This week marks the one-month anniversary of Quail's landing on the gnarly branch named College, located somewhere on the tree of life.

Originally, there was going to be a post about stereotypes and human nature, and an assortment of philosophical and sociological odds 'n ends, but it ended up sounding rather bitter and cynical.

So here's a post celebrating my brother's birthday!

Happy early birthday, Bison2! You're getting so old (and yet, you're still as childish as ever). It was great seeing you this weekend, even if we were both felt under the weather the whole time.

In other news: I made squid mittens!?
I'm also really excited to be playing the carillon.

Which leads me in to another point. Somehow, along the way, I managed to develop a philosophy that weird = cool.

I can't say something is cool without wondering if it really is cool, or if it's actually lame and I think it's cool because it's a novelty.

I like novelties. They make life MUCH more interesting.

Mallin' like a baller while ballin' in the mall.

I have been shoppping WAY too much lately.

Maybe there's a bit of influence from going to Japan and strolling around Harajuku, which is renown for its ridiculous fashion. Lately, I've been more accepting to different kinds of clothes. Today I decided to be funny and went around in Ross, picking up crazy clothes that I would normally never wear to try on in the fitting room. I ended up buying 75% of the clothes I picked. ._.*

Unfortunately, the expansion of my sartorial horizon means an escalation in the incidence of my shopping trips, which used to be about once a month. I've already been shopping for the last four days in a row. And I'm talking hardcore shopping, meaning enough walking to actually make me sweat inside the air-conditioned mall.

I make excuses by saying I need these clothes for college, but when you're LIVING at school, I'm pretty sure people will be so used to seeing others in their PJs that no one will really care if I show up to lectures sagging my brother's old basketball shorts (I have to admit that is a secret vice of mine at home) and rocking an XXL red T-shirt that reads "Hong Kong: The Perfect Choice!"

Speaking of the minimal importance of clothing, how exactly do stores like Abercrombie expect to get more business when their gigantic ads of hot men focus primarily on the men's bare chests? Additionally, their bags given to clientele who purchase the clothing feature more half naked models. I mean, really. Bags are a form of advertisement a bit more subtle and far more motile than paper stuck to walls. Does toting a bag featuring a sexy shot of ripped, masculine abs scream "I went shopping for clothes at Abercrombie!" or "I went and bought something at the half naked man store!"?

Shouldn't the point of an ad be to show what the store is SELLING? Not that I mind the eye candy. At all.


*Of course, that was only 3 out of 4. Isn't it amazing what statistics can do?

Forever and a Day

Three weeks into college, and it alternately feels like forever and no time at all. Honestly, what with age-related time distortion and a less-than-stellar sense of reality, I'm going to be living in permanent fast-forward for the next four years.

Of course, this doesn't excuse my lack of postage (I don't even have stamps!), but I'm settling in nicely. College is certainly a change in pace. I spend about the same amount of time lounging around in the common room, but solitude is sorely lacking (both an good and bad thing).

So far, I have:

• Played Poker Face nearly 20 times a day
• Stayed up until 7:30 AM doing Computer Science problems
• Become stressed out
  
• laughed uproariously with roommates
• had a miniature party in suite, with I'm on a Boat blaring out of my speakers
• jumped in puddles with new rain boots
• learned how to text
• tried (and failed) to organize my life
• drilled holes in the wall
• grown chives
• become dehydrated (or was that low blood sugar in the morning?)
• done nothing for an entire day
  
• talked to old friends every day of the week
• IMed my brother more than I ever have at home
• Fallen asleep on the futon
• taken apart my computer
• assembled Ikea furniture
• ....and a host of other things.

All and all, I'd say it's a pretty good experience so far. More reports to come when I get some sleep in my system.

Artsy fartsy.

You may wonder what all this update spam is for. Well, I leave for college next Tuesday (finally), so I might as well let my artsy side out while I can.

These were actually done a few days ago (I think my drawing binge has died down a bit). It's all One Piece again, of course =).




Eyeless Ace is awesome.


Negative Zoro! And sharktooth Sanji.


These actually make me really embarrassed of my first postings of Zoro down there. Like I said in my last post, I guess practice really does help.

And I promise that I will return to writing something creative and/or entertaining while Quail dominates the artistic side of this blog..once she settles into college life enough to update :P.

Moar.

Finally, a version of Apologize with the ending. Excuse the recording fuzz; I have no idea how that came in.


You might remember this from my last piano post; it's the completed first movement of Mozart Sonata K5450! Yay!


Here's what I'm working on next.

Even more

Here comes the Zoro fangirling.





The longer you draw, the better it gets, I suppose. Though I'm not sure if it applies to a timespan as short as two days.

Now we all heckle Quail to upload HER art, which I know for a fact includes some amazing dinosaurs dressed as Luddites.

Sharpie smells make me happy

I gave up on drawing swords and proportional bodies because I'm impatient. The kung fu version was a random impulse.


Once when I was guarding, some guy who looked like a real-life version of Ace got in the pool. Unfortunately, he had kids. Drat.



Some Ace demotivational posters.

Update Time

As promised, here is one of a few updates to come.
My brother walked in the house and started talking halfway through my attempt to redo "Apologize," so that's going to have to wait.

Here's "Mad" by Ne-Yo.



I've also received my first fanmail! Yeah, apparently random YouTubers do watch my videos. Oh, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Edit: One more preview of the next full, complete upload. Definitely not perfect.

Nothing but a teaser, unfortunately

I did get my mic and camera working because, unfortunately, I have reverted to the lesser of two evils and rebloated my computer with Vista.

That means that as soon as I can get my pieces up to postable quality, there will be new content up here.

In the meantime, feel free to harangue Quail to update with stories about her college life as you watch this video of me disrespecting One Piece merchandise.




As you can tell, the success with the now WORKING hardware has made me go on quite the webcamming binge. Quail can attest to that.

Two sad, sad stories.

As I mentioned in my last post, I got a new computer. Yay?

No.

Vista is a sack of poop. Bloated poop. I couldn't tell which apps were necessary and which were just nice ones--what if I deleted Mediacenter and lost my sole opportunity to use the spiffy remote that came with the computer?

I also decided to prepare for my education at a school widely acknowledged as a geek haven and install ubuntu--more specifically, Jaunty. Yes, I picked ubuntu because of its trove of delightful flavor names. Jaunty Jackalope, Dapper Drake, Intrepid Ibex? These people should be naming cars. Or pro wrestlers. Or strippers. Wouldn't you handsomely tip someone called Gutsy Gibbon?

Anyhow, I installed ubuntu. Then, since the disk I was using was made by my old, decrepit computer, there was some kind of error. So I removed ubuntu. Then something went insanely wrong and I couldn't access either system of my dual boot setup. So0oo I installed ubuntu over the Vista partition, booted up vista from the recovery partition--and vista failed. So I was so fed up that I just installed ubuntu over the whole thing and called it a good day.

Unfortunately, ubuntu has its errors, chief among which are a failure to support internal microphones and initial errors with audio output. Besides, I couldn't use the fingerprint scanner anymore. So I spent three days playing with config files and flaying my computer alive with a redonkulous amount of reboots. And..now I am awaiting the delivery of my Vista recovery CD from HP tech support.

Yes, I know what I said in my last post, but I didn't have to pay since my computer is..5 days old and about as chipper as a dentureless octogenarian.

Well, I'll just wait for that CD, then attempt a dual boot again so I can record facebook videos (and piano videos) without wanting to pull my hair out. Stay posted.


Story #2
I celebrated my 18th birthday with the most terrifying experience of my life*.

I gotta admit, I don't put much stock by birthdays. I haven't had a party in four years and I really don't mind. It's just another day.

Still, I have to admit that I do harbor this secret desire for everything to go perfectly that day. Unfortunately for me, that didn't happen.

I planned to catch a bus to see one of my friends. I took careful precautions to look up the directions on Google and even wrote down the times and everything. But when I started to look for a bus stop, I realized that at the intersection Google told me about had four bus stops.

This was my first brush with public transportation in the US. In Japan, I'd had Quail and two other experienced international travelers with me. But I figured I was an adult and could do it myself.

Then I realized that the bus stops had signs with numbers on them. Duh. The one across the street from me had a "62" sign. Success! I looked no further.

Big, big mistake.

I sat down and awaited my 12:42 (isn't that great? Google had it down to exact minutes) bus, but I figured that nothing would ever be exactly on time. Still, I kept pulling out my phone to check, nervous about this whole "taking the bus" idea actually working.

I pulled out my phone exactly as it ticked from 12:41 to 12:42, looked to the left, and saw a bus approaching. Ecstatic, I hopped on the bus, now fully convinced that Google was, in fact, God. I looked up after the estimated 7 minutes but realized that I was nowhere near my destination. Figuring that something could have added to the travel time (such as the 10 stops the driver made to let other people off), I went back to reading my book. Or I tried. I was so nervous that something was going wrong that I gave up and stared out the window.

I'm not very good with directions. I'm a "turn right here, turn left there" kind of person. I don't do all the "left on Murphy and right on Oak" stuff. But I did know that I was definitely not where I needed to be. The bus was going deeper and deeper into the seedy area of downtown.

I summoned my courage and asked the bus driver about my stop. He laughed.

Uh oh.

I had gotten on bus 62 at 12:42 exactly as my written directions had said--but somehow it was the opposite direction.

I got off the bus into a blistering hot day on an unshaded residential area. I made a call for a rescue, but had to wait 20 minutes before I could be picked up. I walked around the street, trying to look like I had a place to go. I couldn't find a store to go into or a side street close enough to the main street that didn't look like a haven for unsavories. I sat down at the bus stop and tried to read, but the hot sun cracked down on me like a baseball bat on a squishy watermelon. So I resumed walking around.

Let's just say the attention of some passerby made me EXTREMELY nervous. And scared out of my mind. Maybe someone more used to the grittiness of east side wouldn't have cared at all, or at least been as sensitive to it as I was. But in the end, I got out of downtown without mishap. And I definitely learned a valuable life lesson.

Don't trust a ho. Even if it's named Gutsy Google.

(I still can't figure out how the times and the buses matched up so PERFECTLY WRONG. Well, it'll be better next time. Btw, no offense intended to Google with the closing statement, but I couldn't figure out a nicely alliterative stripper name for "my own foolishness").

*yeah, not really.

Apologies

I received my new HP HDX 16 on Tuesday and as much as I would like to say I love its shininess, I've had nothing but problems with it. I've completely reinstalled my OS (ubuntu) about 3 times, and I've been forced to wipe out the Vista boot partition. But I really don't care, because Vista was a sack of bloatware. To get it back, I'd need to pay $15 for shipping for a recovery disk set.

Hah. Yeah right. I think I'll just struggle along with ubuntu instead until Windows 7 comes out--then indulge in this dual boot fiasco all over again.

Unfortunately, one of those problems includes the microphone not working...so I can't even upload the videos I promised in my last post. Or I could, but you wouldn't be able to hear anything, which kinda defies the point of posting music.

In the meantime, please watch Mike Song be absolutely epic.



In other news, the spectre of college looms, still unsatisfied despite its continuous consumption of those dear to me.

...I miss you, Quail =(

A very happy anniversary with Life to you, my dear friend

Let's all wish Awkward Hawk a very happy birthday, eh?

She's all grown up! *sniff*


This comes in the midst of frantic packing, as Quail prepares to embark on a journey of a lifetime to parts unknown.
But really, she just feels like the whole thing is blown out of proportion.

Current impression of the future: About as much forethought as a goldfish might have.

Quail out.

(Tony) Hawking it Up

This post is dedicated to one of the more famous Hawks out there.

Over the weekend, I bought a skateboard for $25 (a bargain considering the usual prices) with the help of my shady business partner the Duck. The idea is that since the time it takes to lock a bike would negate the benefits of biking around my tiny college campus in the first place, I'd teach myself how to board over the summer. Why a skateboard? I didn't feel like shelling out the $200 for a longboard, and all my Ebay bids on cheaper, used versions were easily outbid or failed to reach the minimum threshold. Besides, there's something uncomfortable about paying big bucks for an item before you see it.

I spent a little time rolling around my kitchen, which is a pretty small place. It was pretty hard getting my balance (and getting up the guts to put both feet on the board while it was moving), but the crowded kitchen had plenty of handholds. I must have added a couple dollars to our energy bill every time I grabbed on to the fridge for support, since the door opened whenever I lost my balance (often).

But once I had a little bit of confidence, I trekked over to my grandma's house in search of a helmet (not only in observation about California's helmet laws for minors, but also because college is starting soon and I'd rather not lose any more brain cells than I already have over this summer). I found a treasure trove--wrist guards, knee pads, and elbow pads. I geared up. With all this protective equipment and a helmet, I was soon sweating bullets under the heat of the afternoon sun.

Which brings me to the question--why was I doing this at 4pm, when the sun was high in the sky and shade had retreated from the street I was practicing from?

I am a creature of whim. That is all.

But because of the added layers, I was definitely craving a whimsicle (see what I did there?). I spent about an hour soaring up and down the paved road in front of my house, flapping in a rather ungainly fashion and running foolishly after the board the few times it got away from me.

But it was a thrilling experience. The road rumbling beneath the wheels, the adrenaline rush and sense of doom as I looked up from my path to see my brother's Mustang directly in front of me, the sigh of relief as I stopped myself by grabbing onto the mailbox and the screech of pain as the hot metal burned me (ok, so the Mustang-mailbox part isn't true, but it so could have happened).

I can now coast in a relatively straight line and make extremely wide turns. Unfortunately, I can only turn to the right. I know everyone has a "good side" to them, but seriously. This is a little ridiculous. Maybe I'm just paranoid about falling onto my butt, the ONE place I was not artifically padded up on.

P.S. I noticed that my rendition of the Super Mario theme and the Schubert piece are woefully below the level of quality that the pieces deserve. Expect repostings of those sometime this week.

PLAIDIPI

PLAIDIPUS.





We had a little trouble with the pattern, resulting in many different sizes of Plaidipus, like this longipus





Plaidipus stack!

Dork Days (hella videos ahead)

I had the house to myself and...I like to make noise. So I pulled out some sheets and tried to sight-read a little.

No, I haven't figured out a way to get better sound quality. Apologies for that.

We begin with a nod to all the Legolas lovers out there. Because everyone knows that Link=Legolas.


My favorite game. I'll see YOU on omgpop.com (though I haven't been on in a while)

Unfortunately, that theme sounds so..dead and unexciting. I tried to make it more exciting. Did I succeed?


And no nerdfest is complete without Naruto.


It's not a party without Mario. This one was the hardest of the bunch =(.


At least this one was easier.


Logically, if you're a good pianist, you should be able to play all sorts of music easily. For me, though, video game music is kinda hard to learn. Maybe it's because I was taught by a--I guess you'd call it classical?--piano teacher. It's sort of how abstract art is different from "real" art. There are strange phrases and, personally, I find that my fingers don't really move the way the Super Mario Theme demands.
Here's one of my favorite "classic" pieces :)--Schubert's Impromptu. I should post a better version of it later.

I...don't know what to say.

http://xkcd.com/621/


On another note,

http://mylifeisaverage.com is pretty rad too.

Seeing both sides.

Today's installment of "A Lifeguard's Doody" is brought to you by the always epic, I-can't-wait-to-see-if-Marco-has-a-Phoenix-Zoan, newly posted chapter of One Piece.

A Lifeguard's Doody
'Cause Doody or Duty, it's nasty either way.

Incident I

I was lounging on my plastic green chair on the lifeguard tower and shifting uncomfortably as the vinyl rescue tube (which I OCD-ly always arrange so the "GUARD" painted on it is the right side up) slowly began to adhere to my sunscreen-coated legs. And, as was my wont, I was people-watching.

A man hopped into the medium lane, which was already occupied by another man and a lady who had split the lane. And this is where the problem began.

Lap lane etiquette isn't that hard to learn. You want to swim with other people, you tell them--better yet, you ask them politely.

So the man began his doomed quest to notify the two members already in the lane. The other male acquiesced nicely, but the lady kept swimming. And swimming. Not only that, she was swimming at a distressing speed that wouldn't stratify nicely in the pool's sophisticated "SLOW, MEDIUM, FAST" system and at the moment was causing problems with the other two men in the lane. Looking around, I saw that there was only one man in the slow lane. Solution: GET!

The new man tapped the lady on the shoulder, but she shrugged him off and kept swimming. Whoah. So I sighed and got off of my perch, waited until she got to the wall, and then tapped her on the shoulder. She did stop --which I took as a good sign, since it showed that she would comply with my requests, right? I asked her to move to the slow lane.

And she started screaming in my face.

"I'VE BEEN IN THIS POOL FOR FOUR HOURS AND YOU LIFEGUARDS HAVE BEEN MOVING ME BACK AND FORTH. AND I HAVE TO ADD TIME."

Needless to say, I had no freaking idea what she was talking about. And it was rather disconcerting to get hollered at when I was asking politely. But at least she moved. And, sadly, I was so rattled I almost wanted to cry.

Yet as luck would have it, there was already a man in the slow lane, also. When she joined HIM, he stopped her for some reason. Probably because she hadn't notified him about joining or something. Part of the fault for that could lie with me for not telling him myself. The next thing I know, she's screaming at HIM and pointing at me "SHE asked me to move here. So DEAL with it, old man!"

Wow. I run over to the old man, who is standing in the middle of the lane, looking rather shocked. I try to apologize, telling him that she's a little cranky and that I did ask her to move.
"She's a BITCH!" he cried. Wow, every single member I had the misfortune to interact with that day was not quite in a jolly mood. "She was here yesterday, too, and they kicked her out because she's a BITCH!"

I was sorely inclined to agree at that point. But anyway, it was all over. So I crawled back into my chair and memorized the lady's swimsuit pattern and the color of her swim cap (blue) so I could stay away if I ever saw her again.

All the OTHER lifeguards on duty had heard that lady, even over the screaming of little children on the waterslide. But of course, no one really understood what was happening. I chalked it up to the lady's pure crankiness and eagerly watched the clock for quitting time.

But right when I was leaving my station at the end of my shift, I started talking to one of my guarding friends. He'd heard about the fiasco with the lady, also. "Yeah, I feel kinda bad for her," he said.

Whoah. What? From what I'd seen, I would have been feeling sorry for the old man in the slow lane. Or the guys in the medium lane. Or me.

He elaborated. "She's got a kidney problem, so she has to swim continuously for three hours a day or else go on dialysis. And the speed she swims at--she's not slow enough to be slow, and she's not fast enough to be medium, so she's always getting moved around. And whenever she stops, she has to add time."

I mentioned the old man in the slow lane and his glowing reception of her. My coworker shrugged. "Oh, that guy. Yeah, he's the crankiest guy in this pool."

With all this spinning in my head, I waddled to escape the pool deck, excited to get home and watch Hannah Montana with a big bucket of ice cream to drown my confusion. I was almost at the door--

"Excuse me, miss?" I saw a blue swim cap and cringed mentally, but turned around. I faced an elderly lady with a kind-looking face. She wasn't much taller than me. "I'm sorry about earlier. It's just that I was in that pool for so long and they were moving me back and forth and--"

Well, we had a pleasant conversation after that, during which I assured her that I now knew about her condition and would watch out in the future, and her re-asssuring* me that I wouldn't need to do that.

So just remember, kids--most situations, no matter HOW one-sided they seem, could always use more perspective. I didn't appreciate Picasso before, but I sure do now-- in a metaphysical sense at least(refer to the title of this post).

On a side note, TWO HUNDREDTH POST. WIN.

*Yes, I know the actual word is spelled "reassuring." *props* if you didn't need this footnote to tell you the misspell was intentional.

It's a Blackberry shirt with a lego man on it.

I woke up this morning and I had no sense of purpose. Life is so directionless when your movements aren't mandated by the necessity of performing perfunctory duties in order to "bring home the bacon," as you will.

In other words, I have the day off and I was bored.

Sound quality is terrible--yeah, those weird noises are NOT all due to me messing up. The stupid video ended TEN SECONDS before the end because my camera's 4 years old and has a 3-minute limit =(. Taken from the left side because that's the more exciting side--there are a lot of chords farther away from the main body of the bass rhythm, so my hand jumps out and attacks once in a while. It would look more impressive from a bird's eye view, probably--but I was too lazy to figure out a way to rig that.


I dusted off my old CM piece, too (right hurrrr ). To accommodate the limit, I only played 2/6 of the pages. I did record the other 2 parts, but meh. Two videos in one day is enough.

I might redo these and upload versions with better sound (and fewer mistakes). But it is kinda fun to watch the attacking hand.

Note: awkwardhawk is a different YouTuber. I'm THEawkwardhawk, tyvm.

Battlefield

I do apologize for my long absence. But I have returned, and hopefully you will all find me as eloquent (or not) and befuddling as ever.

Today, my mother had a colonoscopy. I can't even begin to comprehend the pain that that procedure entails, especially as it involves getting a camera shoved up one's ***** and FASTING for 24 hours before the procedure. That's right. NOT EATING. I don't think I could have survived.

Of course, being the obedient daughter I am, I decided to do something nice for her. Knowing that she'd probably be starving once she stumbled home, I cast around for something I could prep for her. Note the word "prep," because my skill with a frying pan extends to crumbly scrambled eggs and warming up precooked ham (warming up because I'm too scared to leave the stuff on the stove for too long out of fear that it will burn). I spotted the watermelon.

No challenge, right? It's a freakin' producer, after all, and hawks are at least tertiary consumers. I was above it in both stature and metaphysical presence in the food chain.

But I was wise. I did not plunge into the fray with butcher knife a-swinging (though in the end, a similar scene did ensue). I googled "how to cut a watermelon." I kid you not. There is no such thing as an adversary you should face unprepared, and even a swollen plant ovary detached from its mother is no different.

The directions said to cut off the ends and then slice the watermelon into quarters lengthwise. With this plan of action, I pulled the skinny, serrated fruit blade out of the knife block and marched off to battle with the misplaced confidence of Napoleon heading into Russia wearing nothing but long johns and a wifebeater.

I had forgotten the watermelon, which was sitting happily on the ground outside the kitchen. I sheepishly replaced the knife, then swung the watermelon up into my arms like it was my loving mistress. I balanced it awkwardly on the dividing section of the sink, then tried to give it a quick rinse. Unfortunately, when I tried to swing the faucet head to the other side of the watermelon, the melon was too fat for it to cross. That was only the beginning of my problems.

As the process continued, I realized how woefully unprepared I was for this undertaking. As I cradled the now-damp melon in my left arm and reached for the cutting board with my right, my side started to cramp up. The heavier the melon is, the more water it contains, and the more delicious it will be. Well, my mother had watermelon-picking down to a science. Whenever I went with her to our local Costco, I would stand by on the sidelines in amazement as she knocked out some strange Aboriginal rhythm on the watermelons, intervening only to crawl to the top of the stack of boxes to pull down the one melon she just HAD to get. Digression aside, this melon must have been ambrosia in a striped jacket because it was HEAVY.

As I plunged the knife into the body of my victim, the straight cuts I had envisioned in my head and planned to replicate in reality became jagged, drippy edges. Frustrated, I finally settled for pulling the watermelon apart with my hands. Now I had two halves of watermelon, and I set aside half for later. Easier said than done. Our crowded countertop provided me only a narrow avenue to work with, and the half I set aside teetered precariously in a basin I had put it in to catch drippage. I was sure it was going to fall over any second. And it almost did, but I put my arm out--and the knife fell to the floor, bouncing around joyfullywhile I executed a rather sloppy rendition of St. Vitus' Dance and prayed that a visit to the hospital was nowhere in my future.

But the hard part was over, and all that remained was for me to slice up the now-manageable pieces. Tupperware after tupperware was filled with chunks of the watermelon's carcass and marched off to the fridge to cool. The microwave and my brother's MuscleTech water bottle, which were unfortunate enough to be in the splash zone, were bathed in the juice of my hack-and-slash job.

Finally, finally, it was done. The sliced up half of the watermelon that I had finished occupied the entire top shelf of the fridge, and the half that remained in its plastic basin was removed from its precarious perch (you could almost hear its sigh of relief) to rest on the shelf beneath. But I observed the kitchen. Juice drippings from my pilgrimages back and forth from the refrigerator had left a trail of fructose that would send an extended family of ants into paroxysms of glee.

I knew that cleaning the floor was my brother's chore, and I was sorely tempted to leave it all to him. But not only was stepping on the tacky surface disgusting, but the filial obedience that had gotten me into this entire mess (and fear of my mother's wrath if she happened to wake up in time) kicked in again. I sighed and reached for the rag.

P.S. If you could figure out what the stars stood for, you're amazing because I sure as heck have no clue.

PLAID

Creature completion: 100%

Once we get a pattern made for this thing, I'll post it up on the blog.

We're trying to refine the process so it involves less painstaking stitching (and unstitching)

Oh dear, oh dear

Looks like procrastination is kicking in again.

But I should do a post before I sleep, and then another post later today (dammit) before I sleep again.

Today's post will be a chronicle of the Very Exciting Things that Quail did today, and their Very Exciting Results.

Quail has spent the past 3 days reliving childhood memories by reading some long-forgotten (but well-loved) books from the past. Today was no exception, as she biked to the library and checked out some books by Patricia C. Wrede (who is a fabulous fantasy writer for the young adult crowd).
Once that was done, Quail then proceeded to meet up with Duck and conspired to make the wondrous creature known as the...

PLAIDIPUS

(It is Exactly What It Says On The Tin)

The creatures will be completed tomorrow, and pictures will go up. Up, up, and away!

More links?!

This post is intended to plug a very awesome website. I discovered this last night while researching Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day (which came up when I was reading webcomics).

The aforementioned site is Improv Everywhere, a sort of social experimentation group that goes around (mostly NYC) breaking social norms.

I really enjoyed their Mobius loop project, which involved several members of the group repeating the same sequence of actions over and over again at a local Starbucks to simulate a recycling pocket of time.

Another one of the projects I love is the MP3 Experiment, which involves many strangers from the internet downloading the same mp3 and showing up at a predetermined location. Everybody starts listening on their music players at the same time. The mp3 then goes through a set of directions and guides the participants through various actions. It's all very interesting, especially when viewed by video.

Things Quail likes:

• People in large groups acting in unison (it just seems so overwhelmingly forceful and majestic somehow)
• Random strangers meeting up and banding together due to a common interest
• Videos of people doing silly, silly things.
• Silly, silly things.

Also, I am afraid I am 11 minutes late to this post.

Interesting links, hmm?

Short post for today.
I recently picked up reading tvtropes.org (a hellishly ensnaring site if there ever was one), and managed to find my way to Hetalia, Deadpool, and all manner of other things.

Hetalia is a pretty amazing webcomic/4-koma/anime written by a Japanese guy who has way too much time on his hands. (index of scanlations can be found here: http://sites.google.com/site/hetaliaindexes/)
The strip personifies countries and then teaches history by acting out events with said personified countries. That being said, the whole series is a delightfully irreverent account of what would normally be snore-worthy material. I mean, I like history well enough, but I absolutely love Hetalia.
I think fanart is in order, hmm?

Another history-based webcomic occurs in the form of Kate Beaton's site: Hark, a Vagrant
The same that is said about Hetalia can be said about Hark, a Vagrant. The site is a collection of historical comics that details some of the lesser known events in history (and lots of Canadian history to boot) with a slightly...unusual take on the characters. I mean, even John Adams gets to have his fun. The personal comics about the artist are also quite amusing, and I always look forward to updates.

Both these comics feature quite a lot of research and care to get all the facts straight, and are excellent study tools for classes like World History, Canadian History, History, and Comedy.

May also be an excellent source of laughs.

Fears and phobias

I've managed to make it for today, eh?

This post was supposed to go up a few weeks ago, when it was more relevant to the topic at hand (moving).
While I was sitting in the garage, sorting out 5+ years of junk (tossing out about 6 boxes worth of trash), I realized why I became such a pack rat, and why I kept (worthless) things dating back 10+ years. Of course, it was far worse in middle school, when every single thing had 'sentimental value', but it was still hard to throw away some of my trinkets that I held on to. It felt as if every item thrown in the junk pile was a memory lost, that I would never again have a retrieval cue to that particular memory.
Then, of course, I'd realize that the memory in question didn't have any significance in relation to anything (like that fish keychain I got as a party favor at a birthday party in a store where we painted ceramics. I can't, for the life of me, remember whose birthday it was, or what grade I was in, or who my friends were at that time) and then I'd toss the offending item in the junk bin. It felt like my brain was some sort of large shrubbery that needed pruning so that new branches could grow and flourish.

The metaphor, however, becomes invalid once you realize that the human brain is nearly limitless in its storage capacity, and that memories can persist for years and years if you retain the proper retrieval cues. These days, however, it feels like every day goes by without being recorded in my brain. Perhaps it's the monotony, or maybe I'm just not making the effort to remember things, but frankly it scares me not to be able to remember what happened the day before yesterday, or the week before, or what I did last winter break. Part of it is turning into such a space case that my grasp on reality seems tenuous at best, and it feels like my default setting is auto-pilot.

Cutting loose from reality and living in the present are all well and good, but every time I do so, it always scares me just a little bit more that I remember just a little bit less.

And this is why I take lots of inane pictures of things and write stuff down whenever I can.

(Made it within 3 minutes of the deadline)

My plans have contracted a slight case of the hiccups

It seems that all of my posts have to start with an apology for being missing these days, and this one is no exception.

Now that the apology has been touched on, a justification now appears!
My parents thought it a good idea to start trying to sell the house now, so Quail returned from Japan to find the house partially deconstructed and most things box-sized or smaller stashed in the garage. Needless to say, this threw a small wrench in most of my plans including (but not limited to) t-shirt making, art, sewing, other similarly craft-y plans, and the like.

Quail's room is still bare-bones, but at least the computer and interwebs are functional, which means that life is good.
Quail has also stopped working at her job (but will probably still go next week), which leaves more time to pack and blog.
This leads me to my next resolution:
Starting with today, I will post every day this week (ending next Friday). We'll see how the post schedule continues after that.

Quail out.

Jetlag

We're back!!

Of course you all must be DYING to hear about our much-anticipated trip to Japan. For the first few days, we did a tour that turned out to be far more luxurious than expected. Then we were onr our own (dun dun dunnn). Despite daily phone calls from one participant's dad (who will remain unspecified), the experience can be described as nothing other than an exercise in independence. Figuring out how to ride the subway to get to places, pointing mutely at menus to order food (because none of us can speak Japanese), remembering to brush our teeth at night...I feel like even though these two weeks might have caused us to waste a lot of money, they were definitely anything but a waste of our time.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be able to head to a foreign country with your friends with no adult supervison while you are still young enough to be immature and enjoy things that don't involve alcohol or host clubs. It feels great being hormonal enough to be able to check out guys' hair and squeal over it (Japanese guys have AMAZING HAIR @_@) without being unfaithful to lifelong partners.

Still, it feels nice to finally be at home where I can sleep off this ridiculously long all-nighter I've been pulling due to the time difference. More later? Maybe.

Requiem for a dream

Before I begin my blog post, let me offer a huge apology for my lengthy absence. My (metaphorical) fighter jet crashed (metaphorically) in the middle of the (metaphorical) Pacific Ocean. I managed to make it to an uninhabited island (metaphorically) and then proceeded to subsist entirely on (metaphorical) nuts and berries until I was rescued (metaphorically) by a (less metaphorical) hawk, who came to me with cries of "UPDATE THE BLOG, WOMAN".
So, Quail has stopped wallowing in end-of-school lethargy and is now functioning a little better.

I wanted to write this post before we shipped ourselves off to Japan, so here I am writing this 20 minutes before I'm supposed to carpool to the airport. Procrastination is the story of my life...

High school...I'm not sure what I think about it at the moment. There's a haze of disbelief around the whole graduating shebang, so much so that every day just feels like a weekend, rather than A) a day of summer vacation gone by and B) a day of pre-college summer gone by. At this point, it still feels like I'll be showing up to school Monday in a sleepy daze complaining about whatever homework there is to complain about.

The past 4 years certainly did pass by like a warm summer's day. It's been fun, it's been happy, and I've learned to think (I think). It most definitely hasn't been a "High School Musical", although it was high school, and I did burst into song in the middle of school with several of my cohorts.

The things I remember most about the past 4 years would be all the stuff I didn't do at school, like rolling down hills, going to Ikea, loitering in front of the local drug store playing cards, and all manner of stuff that belongs on clichéd lists of lazy summer activities. In retrospect, most of the things we did sound so charming and picturesque, like things that would come out of a sugary sweet, cavity inducing movie or book, though they really were anything but. "Hanging out at the drugstore" doesn't even begin to touch on the weirdness, banter, chocolate, and punching that came with it. (Though "VEGGIES AND CREAM" and "YEEEEUH BOIIIIII" somehow do)

And now the waking dream (or nightmare) that was high school is now over, and the future dreams of college are about to begin in a big way.

Y'all had better prepeare, we're taking the world by storm!






(Addendum: My apologies, I didn't get to finish this post before carting off on the airplane and heading to Japan, so this post is now a week late. Rest assured the main body of it was written before the airplane landed.)

Expect more Japan posts!

On the Job

Lifeguarding's not as boring as they say it is.

I also got a t-shirt, a tank top, AND a sweatshirt. Free t-shirts usually seal the deal for me (if you had seen me at JavaOne, you would understand), but I got SO much more.

Work-wise, I was uncertain and shy. And confused. If someone had had an underwater spinal, I think I would have had a heart attack and just added to the list of problems. But luckily, the patrons were unable to see that. A lifeguard has POWER. Some little kid wasn't minding his mother and getting out of the pool like she was telling him to. She spent five minutes trying to convince him while I looked on from far away in amusement. Finally, because it was in keeping with pool rules that nonswimmer kids can't be in the water without parents, I took one step over and looked him in the eyes. He got out.

Yessss.

I think I also started to appreciate the process of growing up a bit more. I've spent a few days cleaning up my room and throwing out a bunch of old papers, and the phantoms of reminiscence have been hovering over me for a while. Today just served to emphasize, in Mr. Dunbar's words, where I have been and where I am going. I was guarding a parent-child swimming lesson where the kids were TINY and the parents were holding them up and teaching them how to put their faces in the water. Other proud parents were standing on the pool deck and camcording and taking photos and encouraging them. It was kinda sweet.

Still, my sense of humor tends to drown out my sentimental side. I was amused at how the little kids were flailing around in the water, half-drowning. And I wondered--did I ever look like that?

Moving On

What a CRAZY awesome week (with one exception).

It was pretty much fun with the friends EVERY day until Friday. I'll give a brief rundown of the incredible awesomeness before I go on to the more serious things.

On Monday, there was a lot of rockbanding, during which I did what I do best and wailed on the drums, still unable to play past the medium level unless someone else did the footpedal for me :(. I also got a new song addiction: Move Along by the All-American Rejects. I also watched the best Pixar movie ever. Yes, Wall-E was great but Up is just AMAZING. There was no random, magical ending. The physics of it might not have been perfect (if the house could float with them inside, then how could they anchor it to the ground?), and I was slightly dissatisfied that the Asian boy was portayed as chubby and having very little real-life experience (instead, invested in his books and what they taught). However, it must be noticed that his VA was actually Asian. Baby steps, I guess.

Then there was mooching of free food at the school barbeque, and afterwards the Senior Awards Ceremony, during which both Quail and I were regaled with awards. I got a few that I didn't know existed. A bit shocking, and random parents came up to me afterwards to express their congratulations. EGO BOOST X 1000!

On Tuesday morning was graduation practice, which was not notable in any way. However, it also came with a trip to Raging Waters! It wasn't perfect weather--kind of cold and foggy, which sucks when you're spending the whole day dripping. Still, we managed to make fun our own way while standing in long lines, whether it was by singing "Chickenman" or becoming involved in long, completely pointless discussions. We also almost missed the bus, apparently having gotten the departure time wrong, but we made it :).

Wednesday, of course, was graduation. WAHEY--or not. It was a lot less exciting than it sounds, and a lot shorter-feeling than I expected. I spent the entire time worrying that my cap was sliding off my head before I figured out how to use my tassels to maintain it in horizontal equilibrium on my head. Still, I had to walk extremely slowly to shake the board members' hands, which was kind of embarrassing. Note to the next generation: unless you have a large head, clip your hat to your hair to save yourself a lot of worry. I lost my cap in the tossing afterwards, but I didn't mind because I had taken the tassels off (another note to those of you graduating later).

Immediately afterwards was a trip to the USS Hornet. That would require a blog post all by itself, so I'll just say that it was AWESOME. Except for the tour through the boat. Tip: when there's a party on a boat, no matter how bored you are, don't spring for the tour because it's a waste of your time...you also have to spend a lot of time standing up while your elderly tour guide takes a leisurely break in the only chair. That sucked.

We got back to school at about 4 am, then there was a mini-sleepover, during which an all-nighter was attempted and failed. We slept until 12, then had a productive time planning JAPAN. We're leaving in 8 days ^_^ How exciting is that?

Then all the things I need to do hit me in the face. I gotta start being concerned with finances as far as paying for Japan goes. I've sold books on Half.com and made about 20 bucks (even subtracting the amount I paid to ship), but unfortunately I don't have a checking account and all the money was diverted to my parents--so I pretty much just lost a lot of time spent walking to the post office and spent 10 bucks out of my own pocket.

I also really need my license, but haven't gotten the insurance papers today in time for my test tomorrow. I also don't even know if I CAN take the test tomorrow because I may need to work. Lifeguarding, which I planned to do in order to earn the money I need for Japan, turns out not to be as reliable as I had hoped. With the two weeks' leave for Japan, I haven't received constant hours yet, a fact that my dad saw fit to lecture me on last night.

Talk about your pointless lectures. I don't even know what he was trying to tell me. He was pissed about the lack of a definite plan. I get that. But I offered to cancel Japan (did not LIKE it, but if I had really needed to I guess I would have) and he got even madder. When y'all become parents in the future, before giving your kid (or charge, because I am no longer a kid!) a huge lecture, PLEASE have an idea of what the hell you're trying to tell them and don't drag out the lecture while you're trying to figure it out yourself. And especially don't repeat yourself 20 times and keep cutting off the other person when they try to repeat themselves to hammer it through your thick skull. Also, when they stop talking, it's not because you're right (so PLEASE don't feel like you are), but because they are SICK and TIRED of you not listening to what they're trying to say and have just given up on you. Because, seriously, repeating your point does not make it right and will not change the "facts" that you are hung up on.

Sorry about the rant there, but I'm pretty sure a lot of you with occasionally unreasonable parents will understand. But I'm not condoning precociousness and impudence on the Eyrie here, because your parents are your parents, and no matter how much you hate them at times, they did pay about a million bucks to raise you by the time you're 18. That's a million bucks they could have spent on themselves. So...note to self, don't begrudge $20 going to their bank account, earned by selling books that they paid for.

Once again, countdown to Japan: 8 days!

Coincidence? I think not.

This weekend, instead of working on my English project (memorizing a 10-minute scene from Crime and Punishment to perform in front of my classmates, who will undoubtedly be bored and drooling), I decided to read Twilight. Fortuitously enough--or not; it may simply be an augur of unpleased gods--guess what showed up on xkcd today? http://xkcd.com/591/

Before you all kill me (or hug me to death, depending on which of my friends you are), it was a spur-of-the-moment decision that had been haunting me for a while. Ever since catching a snippet of the movie , I've been wondering exactly what made those fangirls scream every time the dude--the dude--appeared on the screen. How could a simple novel incite those teenybopper fangirls to produce high-decible noises outside the pitch of human hearing?

No, I have not become a fangirl. Fampire. Phanpyre (that one actually looks cool. Maybe I'll adopt it for my new username somewhere). I have not randomly fallen in love with Pattinson, nor do I find Taylor Lautner any cuter than I already did. Thus, my experience proves that Twilight is not magical and does not have any subliminal messages encoded into the text, or panels of addictive scents sewn into the bindings. It is nothing more than a teen phenomenon. 

I did read the entire series--3.5 books in 2 days, and 4 in 3. I was...rather unimpressed. Meyer knows how to write, but I do wish that she had picked a different topic. The first book, as many complain about, describes to death (no pun intended) how hot Edward is. Fine. I get it. I don't really care. But I was astonished at how many ways she came up with to reiterate that fact, as there really wasn't anything repeated -- other than "the smooth flat planes of his chest." Unfortunately, that one has been brought up about 20 times. Argh. I'm chugging through the last one (still avoiding memorizing those lines--no one cares about Zametov, anyway :( ) but becoming more and more unimpressed as I continue. I find it a bit predictable--no, very predictable. Then again, at this age, I have been exposed to so many storylines and TV sitcoms that I have a horrible habit of knowing what is going to happen next, rather like a rabbit with well-tuned intuition. Or a freak with wikipedia at her fingertips. There are still some stories out there that shock me, like One Piece. 

Speaking of which, I'd like to display a bit of a conversation between me and Quail last week.

Hawk: "Epic One Piece is epic."

Hawk: "Epic Naruto is...~makes face~"

Quail: "Fail. Epic Naruto is fail."

Come on, Kishi, we know you have it in you >_>.

I never did get around to my half.com story, so I can save that for another time.  

I hate spiders.

Ever since Friday, I've been followed around by creepy-crawlies.

Rather than write out a nice, prosey story, I shall conduct an Eyrie first and post snippets from my AIM conversations during the attacks.

Day 1

Hawk (10:46:22 PM):  i was going to the garage to put my laundry in the dryer

Hawk (10:46:25 PM):  and i see

Hawk (10:46:31 PM):  two FAT spiders hanging out on the wall

Hawk (10:46:34 PM):  so me being scared of spiders

Hawk (10:46:41 PM):  i get the flyswatter from the top of the fridge

Willing Ear (10:46:47 PM):       ewwww

Willing Ear (10:46:49 PM):       spiders?

Hawk (10:46:56 PM):  and take a few eons to get the courage to whack one of them

Hawk (10:46:57 PM):  and i miss

Hawk (10:46:59 PM):  but it's dead

Hawk (10:47:01 PM):  so it falls onto the floor

Hawk (10:47:07 PM):  then i stare at it and poke it

Hawk (10:47:10 PM):  and it vanished

Willing Ear (10:47:13 PM):       O_O

Willing Ear (10:47:15 PM):       WHAA??

Hawk (10:47:21 PM):  i think i poked it into the crack between the wall and the floor or something

Hawk (10:47:26 PM):  so i'm like

Hawk (10:47:28 PM):  ..scareed

Hawk (10:47:32 PM):  then i move on to the next one

Hawk (10:47:35 PM):  brave, intrepid soul that i am

Hawk (10:47:44 PM):  and this time i hit it

Hawk (10:47:49 PM):  but it's also dead, because it just falls to the floor

Hawk (10:47:54 PM):  then it starts twitching or something

Hawk (10:47:59 PM):  and i look at it in confusion

Hawk (10:48:01 PM):  suddenly i notice

Hawk (10:48:06 PM):  the corner it fell into

Hawk (10:48:08 PM):  is covered

Hawk (10:48:10 PM):  by a spiderweb

Hawk (10:48:23 PM):  with a daddy longleg (formerly just hanging out) that is now running for its life

Hawk (10:48:25 PM):  so i swat it

Hawk (10:48:28 PM):  and it's still moving

Hawk (10:48:33 PM):  so i get down onto the ground

Hawk (10:48:38 PM):  and beat the bajeezus outta that thing

Hawk (10:48:41 PM):  and i just realized

Hawk (10:48:48 PM):  i never ended up putting my laundry into the dryer

Day 2

~smashes a spider and doesn't sleep in her room that night~

Day 3

Hawk: dude it's ridiculous

Hawk: there was a pillow wedged between my bed and the wall

Hawk: i pull it out

Hawk: two spiders

Willing Ear #2: ewwwwwwwwwwwwww

Hawk: and one was squished

Hawk: ._.

Hawk: yesterday there was a big hairy one and i used my caltech welcome packet to kill it

Willing Ear #2: ewwwww

Willing Ear #2: omg

Hawk: sniffle

Hawk: and that's not even to mention FRIDAY's escapades

Hawk: ughh

Willing Ear #2: wow

Willing Ear #2: well... at least it's eventful?

Really, eventful is not something I prefer when it comes to spiders. 

Okay readers, so lots of people my age have had their baccalaureates and grad ceremonies and doodah. Unfortunately, I have no less than five more projects to do and lack the work ethic to do them. But anyway, I believe I speak for both of us avians when I say that we will have a bit more time now to actually post and entertain you all. So there are a few upcoming blags (are blahs on a blag considered blag?) that you'll want to keep an eye out for.

Last day of fanime tomorrow. Expect summary/opinion writing (maybe Quail will post some pics?). And also to come: a Hawk epic/narrative on my half.com selling experience.

Seeya soon, guys! And (^_^)V/ live long and prosper.

On the eve of something awesome

Finally finally finally.

The tests are done, the projects have begun multiplying like mutant hamsters, the hot weather is making me break out...

The stress has caused conversations between me and my friends to degenerate into a repetitive cycle of "YEUHH BOI!" "SHUT UP!" "when I'm talking to you" and, my personal favorite, "a foofle leffer thuffer thuffs."

Yes,  I think we are a bit burned out.

But we're almost there. After an incredible senior cut day involving wart-nosed squirrels, a canoe on an empty lake, and mashed potatoes inside a movie theater (not to mention SPOCK, which Quail has already expressed sufficiently), I think I'm recharged enough not to completely slack on my projects.

Though, today, for Spanish, I gave a little thought to an "anuncio" I was supposed to present. I made up a deep news story about changing social classes for that announcement (of course, not spending more than three minutes on it). Guess what? "Anuncio" means....commercial. Sigh. Thus, I winged that presentation like the mother of Pegasus.

I'll work a bit harder on math and physics projects, I promise.

But for now...FANIME TOMORROW!! I'd like to thank Quail for making my cloud pants for me, since I will be half-assing a White Beret from Oda's magnum opus One Piece. Half-assing meaning I have the hat and the pants, but will be substituting boots with "da fur" for combat boots and a white muscle shirt (stolen from my brother, which he does not yet know about) for a light purple tee (somehow, that was IMPOSSIBLE to find. Srsly). 

Still, it will be a smashing ~12 hours of otaku-ing, fandom, and wasting money. 

This, my friends, is adventuretime.

Live long and prosper

I know all my friends are completely sick of this, but....

SPOCK.

Celebratory hoopla

Oh birthdays.

I'm too young to think of them as "just another year gone by"! What ever happened to parties! Piñatas! Sleepovers!

...Right, AP tests.
I place all the blame of the death of my childhood upon standardized testing. Fie on you, devilish multiple choice + guessing penalty! Curse your FRQs and DBQs and 'short' essays and other sundry torture devices!

Oh standardized testing, how I wish to be done with you. Soon the only tests we have to worry about are mid terms and finals! Oh frabjous day!

Speaking of standardized testing, are they all really that standardized? For the AP, perhaps, the curve takes care of making sure the grade distribution is equal, though I really do question the system when 86% of the people who take AP Chinese receive a 5.

For the SAT, there are clearly some groups that suffer and do poorly on the test not because of some flaw in their reasoning capabilities, but because they may not speak English well enough to discern the correct grammar of the sentence used above. Heck, it's difficult for native English speakers to do so as well (not alleviated at all by the fact that public schools are receiving less and less funding, and laying off more and more teachers).

There are some who would argue that this bias is by no means the fault of the test, and that the test does give an accurate score in regards to capabilities, since one won't be getting far without English.

At any rate, the rest of this discussion should be directed towards changing the system in a way that will be reflected in the test. It should also be written later.

Tata!


Also, Flailing Quail is about to become a bulldog. Ruff Ruff.

Mailed.

I shall be a beaver. A dorky beaver. A warm, dorky beaver basking under the waving palm trees.

And the 8 AP tests I am set to take over the next three weeks are now completely worthless.

Chickenman!

As requested by Hawk:


I'll upload a better picture after I get my hands on a camera. Webcam pictures aren't so great.

Accompanying song:
Chickenman
Lyrics by Flailing Quail

Chickenman, Chickenman
He ain't got no chicken in his pan
He ain't got no poultry in his van
But he's got a fine chunk of ham

Chickenman, Chickenman
He's got a sunburn and a tan
He sits next to the electric fan
And when you rang the doorbell, he ran

Chickenman, Chickenman
He gets a whole lotta spam
He clears his inbox when he can
But he's Chickenman.

(meant to be sung in a blues-y manner with a bit of a swing to it)

Can you tell my aspiration is to be an artist/singer/songwriter?

Studying for APs? Naaah

Quail has kindly included my lament about unfair Picture This judging, but SciOly turned out differently than expected. Quail and I plunged into the Cell Bio test without having studied a lick. The test was 40 questions about strange proteins and cell functions we had never heard of. To the tune of "Chicken Man" ghosting through our heads, we blasted through that thing, selecting answers at random.

And we got third place. 

Unfortunately, WIDI was not as successful, for reasons we have not yet ascertained. I'm not too happy about that, but two medals at States is no chump change (The other was a first place from Health Science. Wawoot). 

Right after waking up at 5 AM and 5 hours of testing and running around a pond filled with the fattest koi ever, I blasted off to prom. It was a whirlwind of glitter, chocolate fountains, and angry policemen. Not very many pictures were taken, but the whiplash in my neck from all the dancing/headbanging will serve as sufficient memory. 

Note to Quail: Please post the lyrics to "Chicken Man," and possibly a video as well. The Internets deserves to see it. 

Relentlessly marching on

As Hawk stands in the background with a bodyguard-like stance, I am currently listening to Phantom of the Opera and contemplating studying Cell Biology in the next 3 minutes, but that seems like plan doomed to fail.

Also, as Hawk would like to protest: King --> Kingdom. They are like peas in a pod. More related than brothers and sisters!


Quail also stayed up until 2 AM altering her prom dress, and currently is popping caffeine mints like the candy they are.

More to come after today finishes.

Lay your weary vocal cords to rest

I'd forgotten how tiring social functions are. The lone warrior prowling around the forest of legs and chairs and sofas, drink in hand, looking for victims to corner, or rather, the small mouse timidly approaching a roving band of friendly capybaras, reassured that everyone is a rodent, but all the same intimidated.
No, that was just an excuse to put in a picture of a capybara.

All capybaras aside, the Yale admit reception was (wait, did you know that 'capybara' is not in the Firefox spellcheck? Blasphemy!) very informative, in an informal way. It was relaxed and easy-going, and people generally mixed quite well. It was like a colloidal suspension of two types of particles that mix well together.

At any rate, I have not posted in far to long, and have been remiss in my duties. I suppose I shall report on the status of Science Olympiad, which is currently in a state of disarray due to changing schedules. We did, however, make shirts! Oh happy day!

Pictures tomorrow.

.

Decisions, decisions.

A picture says a thousand words.

Oops, sorry. Wrong one.

Ah, there we go. 

In other news, LEAVE OBAMA ALONE. So who cares if AIG gave bonuses to its executives. The media should go focus on Nicole Richie's baby or something more exciting and real than what this crazy situation is being made out to be. Why put Obama under scrutiny when the money wasn't doled out by him? It's like blaming an employer for giving salary to a closet pothead. Besides, AIG had contracts to keep with its employees--to break them, they'd have to fire the workers. And I'm sure we'd all have loved that, which is the exact opposite of the point of a bailout. I don't think I've seen commentary about the situation any better than the most recent xkcd comic:

http://xkcd.com/558/

Thank you, Randall Munroe.

Similarly, the whole "Special Olympics" bowling situation is insane. What, a guy can't make a joke now that he's the President? He apologized...it's fine, it's over. America is composed of a potpourri of hypocrisy--a nice melding of different shades and degrees of it. In a society that acceps dead baby jokes (the majority of us may not, but they exist and therefore are propagated somehow), how dare we waste hours of media scrutiny and minutes of typing up blog posts focusing on a two-second self-derrogatory comment made by some guy who is under an incredible amount of stress? The man was on Leno, for crying out loud. If humor on Leno isn't based on deliberately offensive comments, I don't know what it is. If society really cared about the comment that much, Leno would have to precede his nightly monologue (he is the one who does monologues, right?) with a long list of people to apologize to for the previous night's escapades. 

Please. Just let the man do his job so when I get out of college, I can have a job without relocating to China. 

Onward!!

This week promises to be a nice one, as there is really only one full day of school. Unfortunately, that happens to be tomorrow.

GO GUNN! Somehow, beyond all reasonable suppositions, we have made it to state championships. The day was insane. It was windy, freezing cold, and our lovely canopy was pretty much useless since there was no sunshine. I had a free hour slot in the morning, during which I shredded a raisin bagel fretfully. Then I ran off for five hours of consecutive testing before I could eat lunch, a pathetically cold and congealed teriyaki bowl in a Styrofoam takeout box. Woe was me.  

The awards ceremony was rather discouraging, since I only placed in one of my events. Admittedly, I could have studied harder (or at all, particularly for health science, which I volunteered for three hours prior to its test time). The entire team was rather dour throughout the ceremony, since very few of us were called to receive medals--and as Quail mentioned, no first places. We were also all wearing black by some crazy coincidence. But when we were called for third place, we all went crazy (even crazier than we had been doing the Soulja Boy "youuuuuuuuuuuu" across the gym floor). 

But now, for states, I think the team is sufficiently pumped up to study harder and medal stronger (state medals are prettier, anyway). Besides, we will have Gunn shirts. Nothing says unity like a biohazard sign. 

Styrofoam cups and pipe cleaners? Wtf? Please have Kinex next time. Please.