Okay, I’m quite pissed off now, because Ecto Beta just ate a post. Alright, I suppose it didn’t just eat it. All I know is that it was here before, and now it’s not. So I have to start over again.
My sister called me on Wednesday afternoon to ask me about my math test that morning. Kinda. We talked about the math test, and how I feel that I completely bombed it, which is perfectly normal for me. We even discussed how the math problem that took me two hours to do was on the test. I mean, the same exact problem. It was a little weird. And still, it took me a minute or two to figure how to do it all over again.
Then, K drops the conversation down to a new low for misunderstanding. “I started my corset,” she tells me. Which I then made her repeat three times. The first because I didn’t hear what she said. The second two times because I didn’t understand it.
The first thought that popped into my head was that she wore the corset that I got her for Christmas. She hasn’t done so yet, and it is within the realm of possibility that she would find that an acceptable topic of conversation. But no, she meant something else entirely.
She’s talking about piercings.
Which isn’t so strange, actually. K has a lot of piercings. Multiples on her ears, her nipples, her neck, and her wrists (although, she had to take those out since they used to get caught on things).
A corset is a line of piercings, either up the side or the back, that remind one of the way a corset gets laced up. If the piercing is done with rings (instead of bars) it is possible to lace up the piercings when healed.
I didn’t know K wanted a corset done. If she told me previously, it completely went out of my head. I was kinda shocked a little when she told me. She’s super thrilled that the piercer will do all of the piercings for $100 (I don’t know how many total, probably eight), and she had had four done already. She also complained about the pain, and the only response I had was to call her a weirdo.
Really, it was the only response possible. She told me not to tell mom, so I couldn’t say anything about what she had done, since my mom was in the same room with me.
However, she didn’t tell me I couldn’t post about it. So don’t you go telling my mom. And, when she’s all done and laced up, I’ll be sure to take a photo to share. You know you’ll want to see it, and she’ll want a photo for MySpace. Loser.
—”Several Ways to Die Trying,” A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar: Dashboard Confessional
How many times can I say “contraries” in one paragraph without fully understanding what it means? A lot, apparently. And, I’m shocked that I can spell words that I’m not quite sure of the meaning of. I mean, allegories? Who doesn’t have to look that word up to make sure they’re using it correctly. Don’t answer that.
This round of essays sucked so hard. So unbelievably bad. I didn’t know I could write such utter and absolute crap. I am almost sure that the Hamlet essay I wrote senior year in high school was better than the one I turned in Tuesday. And my Brit Lit paper, I think, didn’t answer the most important question of the prompt, which I couldn’t formulate a coherent answer for. Also, no external sources used, which mean I had to make up this crap all on my own. At least there’s no chance of her thinking that I plagiarized, it’s that bad.
The really really sad thing is that I actually did sit down and do an outline for the essay before I started. Granted, I did it right before the essay, when if I had done it a few weeks ago, I would have had plenty of time to do some actual research. I am a bit shocked that I remembered how to do an outline, I haven’t done one in so long. When I post the essay, I’ll be sure to scan in the outline as well, so everyone can see how I kinda-sorta followed it, but not really.
However, the outlining process leads me to believe it’s not all bad, and I’ll probably try to do it again on the last of my essays. Why I didn’t think of this approach 16 weeks ago, I have no idea. Oh, yeah, because I keep getting the easy A’s, that’s why. I should probably stop depending on those if I plan on transferring next year.
And the worst part has to be that it’s the same teacher, so she’ll get to see me suck it on all levels. I’m almost afraid of the final in Brit Lit now, because I have no idea what it is going to be on, and the in class essays are always harder than the take home ones. Which makes no sense to me at all.
The only good thing that comes from my being done is that there are only two essays left in the term. On in ENGWR 301, on Frankenstein, and the one on education that I’m asking everyone for their help on. Because I really am going to have to use outside sources for that one.
All this crappy essay writing has left me tired beond all belief. I’m still exhausted, even though I managed to get to bed before midnight last night. And I had to bring my laptop to school this morning to bring you this blog post update. Which makes my backpack super heavy, as my Brit Lit book weighs just as much as my laptop.
At least it’s sunny and warm out, which should keep me from trying to sleep durring the day. I have four Math assignments due tomorrow, which I haven’t started because of the essays. I’ll be just as exausted tommorow, as well. Thank god it’ll be Friday, though. That’s the only good thing about the end of the week.
—”Build God, Then We’ll Talk,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco.
In lieu of my regular blog post, and because I’m beginning to have nightmares about all the essays I have coming due, I am pleading for your help.
In my 302 class (English 1C), I have to write a 6-7 page paper on how education (high school, college) is depicted in film, and how that differs from reality. To help me, what I really need is to have numerous people fill out a small survey.
The films I am using for my paper are 10 Things I Hate About You, Legally Blonde, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (if I can rent it somewhere). However, you don’t have to have seen these movies to answer these questions, so please, if you’re attending college, have attended college, or are thinking about attending college sometime before you die, please take pity on me and answer my questions!
Please please pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top?
Alright. Thanks. I owe you one. And if you have a questionnaire , I am so there to fill it out for you.
- Before you entered college / high school, which movie (can be any one you’ve ever seen) did you most associate with how college / high school would be once you arrived?
- Why?
- Were you disappointed if your ideal didn’t match up with the reality of college / high school?
- Were there any parts of “film life” that matched up with real life?
- Anything else you’d like to add?
To answer the questions, don’t bother rewriting the questions (I know it sounds lame to actually have to state that, but I would do it, so I don’t doubt others would too). Either leave your responses in the comments, or drop me a line at lisa@unsympathetic.net.
If I use your responses, I’ll email you and let you know, because I will need a little bit of info to fill out my “Works Cited.” And as always, I’ll be posting the essay as soon as it’s done, so anyone can read it.
Thank you so much for your help!
I must be the only woman, who when holding an infant wants one less instead of more.
I went with You to go visit friends I hadn’t seen in a long while, (Long while being four to six months) and who I really hadn’t planned on visiting for a long while yet. But, You had renewed the acquaintance, and had invited me to go along with him. I did, because it was either go, or be ditched on a Saturday night, and I wasn’t about to do that again.
Our friends had just had a baby girl four weeks prior, and the moment I sat down, and soon as L. was able, she handed the baby over to me. Which was fantastic, really, because I love holding babies, actually. W. is a good baby, adorable in all the right places, as wiggly as a worm. She was also fussy, and didn’t want to quiet down until I was standing and moving around. Understandable really, because L. was more active at night while she was pregnant, working overnights and such, so it makes sense that W. is now active at night.
However, once W. was in my arms, I was sentenced to hold her for the rest of the evening. The others played Champions of Norath, while I sat in the back, holding the baby. I was really quite annoyed that no one even talked to me because they were so intent on their game, and I didn’t say much because I know Dustin hates it when I talk while he’s playing, so I figured they would to.
By the way, this video-game-playing-while-I’m-left-out is one of the reasons I didn’t particularly care about hanging out with these friends on a regular basis. Not once have they invited me to play with them, even though they play every time we hang out. Depressing, really.
While I was holding the baby for about two hours, I began to think about how when I had a baby, I’d be sentenced to the same fate. I know everyone says it’s different when it’s your own baby, but I think I’d still feel trapped. I remember looking down at W. face, and thinking to myself that I didn’t know if I really wanted to be responsible for such a little thing for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
While I want a baby (just one), holding someone else’s lets me delay in wanting one for that much longer. Which is a good thing, because I don’t see myself having one any time soon.
—”The One I’m Waiting For,” Mmhmm: Relient K
Last Friday, I had to go to court for a ticket.
It was a really lame ticket, which I got in March for evasion of fare payment on the lightrail. Which is kinda true. I forgot my pass one morning, and I didn’t have the cash on me to buy a ticket when I realized that my pass was on my dresser instead of my pocket.
The really sad and depressing thing about getting the ticket was that I knew I was going to get it before it happened. They don’t do fare checks everyday, and they hardly ever do them in the morning because the trains are too crowded for the officers (either two or four) to get through the car before the next stop. But, every time I forget my pass, I am guaranteed to jinx myself into a fare check and a ticket.
Anyway, I went to court, which is the first time I have ever actually gone to court for a ticket of any kind. After standing in the wrong line because the directions were unclear, I went to wait in the court room. Fare evasion is heard along with traffic tickets and illegal camping. I would suppose everything that has a fine instead of a punishment is heard there.
So, as I’m waiting, there are a lot of people called ahead of me. Illegal camping never gets a fine, since the only people ticketed with that are the homeless. Instead, they get four hours of community service at Loaves and Fishes, which isn’t a hardship, since most of them spend their time there anyway. The homeless get community service instead of a fine in almost all cases.
The traffic violations are interesting, because people seem to think that they have a good enough reason to have their ticket dismissed. For example, one guy received a ticket for driving a vehicle that wasn’t registered, and didn’t have insurance. Why did he get pulled over? Because he ran a stop sign. He pleaded guilty to running the stop sign, but argued that it the registration problem wasn’t his fault because it wasn’t his car, and he didn’t know.
Oddly enough (to him), it was his problem, because he got a ticket for operating the vehicle, not owning the vehicle. So, for reference, if you’re going to drive a car that doesn’t belong to you, double check whether it has all the important documents or not, because it’s still your fault that you’re driving it.
Moving on. Fare evasion for lightrail is a pretty common occurrence, given that there were 10 people in a row who all had the same ticket. When you stand up in front of the judge, she asks “How do you plead?” And most plead guilty, and pay their ticket. There are a few who plead not guilty, and then they have to go about proving that they in fact weren’t evading paying the fare.
By the time I got called, the judge didn’t even ask me how I plead (which I would have plead not guilty). She asked, “Ms. Hightower, do you have a valid pass for March?” Which I did, because I have a semester pass through the college. I showed it to the bailiff, he verified it, and my ticket was dismissed. Which I knew was going to happen, because the office who gave me my ticket told me it would.
In all, it only took me an hour from when I left work to go to court to when I got back to work, so it didn’t take me very long at all. But, if I really had been evading fares, I wouldn’t have gone to court at all. I would have just payed the fine, because well, I really think going to court is a waste of time if they’re going to make you pay it anyway.
But, that’s my day at traffic court. It’s kinda interesting, but small claims is better. Occasionally you get to hear arguments there.
—”But It’s Better When We Do,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco
It feels so very weird to be reading a book.
I haven’t read a book that isn’t required for class in for about four weeks now. I tried to pick up Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon while we were in San Diego (I had packed it for my traveling reading), and I just couldn’t get through it.
While it looks like a good story, when You and I picked it out at the book store, we only read the back cover. Unfortunately, though, we should have actually read a few pages to see. It turns out, this story is written very much in the style of the Victorians, and while I don’t mind that, I wasn’t expecting it.
With in the first few pages, it was so obvious that it was Victorian. Not only is there capitalization in the middle of sentences— which always distracts me—it is also a story-within-a-story, much like Frankenstein. Also, the writing style is very old fashioned. So, while it’s not bad, it wasn’t a story I could read with distractions all around me, and since I was reading in the airport, there was nothing but distractions.
When I got home, I just never picked up the book, and when I decided to read for fun this week, I picked a completely different type of book.
The book I am reading is as close to romance you can get while still being in the fiction section. The Virgin’s Lover by Philippa Gregory is set at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s reign. After only one day, I am halfway through the book, and I feel really bad for the wife of Queen Elizabeth’s Master of Horse. Either she’s going to be put aside (divorced) or killed. It’s inevitable, really. This book is set in actual events of the past, even though the story is all made up.
It just makes me love historical fiction more, you know.
—”Ain’t that Unusual,” A Boy Named Goo: Goo Goo Dolls
I have been writing.
No really, I mean really writing. As in fiction. As in, a story. I started writing it ages ago, when I still lived in the apartment. I remember starting it actually. I grabbed a notebook, and sat outside by the pool. There was no one swimming because it was a windy day. I hand wrote about 10 pages. The next day, I did the same thing. The day after that, I only wrote five. And then I put it away.
This story that I’m writing is crap. I suppose it will be good one day, but at the minute, it’s crap. The main character (a high school senior) is telling me the story from her point of view, but she keeps leaving out the important things. She wants to tell me the mundane, and I want to know the reason behind everything.
I don’t really mind this crap first draft. She’s telling me her version of events, and how she things and feels and acts. If I’m lucky, I’ll get the major love interest to tell me his side of the story (not that it’s a love story), because he’s as untalkative as they come. He is so obviously in love with her, but he doesn’t say a word, and when he does, it’s any utter surprise.
Did you know characters could take over like this? When I started writing, I started with a vague notion of high school. I didn’t know I’d get this sullen girl who can’t see what’s right in front of her. Some times I want to inject myself into the story, to tell her to wake up and see him already. But I think she will on her own, in time.
I just wish she’d finish telling me this scene. She keeps crying, and it goes on and on. I mean, I think I know why she’s crying, but I’ve been working on this scene for a week now, and she tells it to me so slowly.
If I ever finish it, I might let someone read it. But, probably not. Not until the second draft, when I can tell the story myself. This first-person-present-tense isn’t helping me any. It slows the story down, which she needs so that she can tell it to me, but I want to rush things along.
Can you tell I’m not a very patient person when it comes to writing? We’ll see how it goes, I suppose. Until I get seduced away by another story.
—”The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco
I have felt guilty all morning, knowing that I didn’t have a new post up. So guilty, in fact, that I’m writing this here at work, in Microsoft Word, no less, even though I thought I’d never do a post again without Ecto (and, oh, how I love thee, Ecto).
If it’s not so obvious, I thought I’d let you in on a little secret—I usually future-publish my posts. Oh, not too extended into the future. If I went on vacation, I wouldn’t write posts to be published in the interim. Usually, I write the posts the night before. I’ll spend an hour or two, even on the short posts, because I write in between homework assignments, and while I’m surfing the internet.
I hope you don’t think I’m a cheat because of this. I just remember looking at my post after I had finished writing it, and thought to myself, this can wait until tomorrow. Especially since I finish my posts after 10pm or so, and I’m sure I don’t have a majority of my readers drop by after then.
Also, it turned out to be handy, because even though I use Ecto, I have to go in and hand-edit all of the posts in the wp-post panel, to tag them correctly. It is my fondest wish that Ecto and WordPress will play friendly one day, but then it’d have to be WP-Ecto, because there are features involved that I know would involve a core hack of everyone involved.
This delayed posting, though, can get me into trouble sometimes. When I write about something that happened today, I have to stop and remind myself —no, that’ll be yesterday tomorrow. That’s why there’s a lot of “yesterday, such and such happened, and it reminded me—” I try to avoid that to keep from becoming repetitive, but it’s a very slippery slope I know I’ll fall down one day.
The best thing about delayed posting, though? The part where I get to really think about what I’m going to post about. Nearly nothing I write about is dependent on the day I post it. If I write about a math class that happened today, I could just as easily tell you it happened last week. Being able to take my time leads to much better posts. I’m not rushed to get something up in the morning, and when I think about something I want to write about, I know I don’t have to immediately get to it. If it’s still rattling around in my brain a day, a week, or even a year from now, I know it’s something that I really want to write about.
Although, there is something to be said for-on-the-spot blogging. This post is nothing near what I wanted to write about last night, or what seemed like a good topic when I got of the train this morning. So, now I have this diatribe explaining my process, and two more ideas to round out the week, along with half-baked ideas that are whining for me to write them from Ecto.
Oh, and the reason I didn’t have time to write last night was because I had to do four math assignments—which took me three hours—and by the time I was done, my hand was cramping horribly. Also, I had to get up early to finish copying the last two assignments out of my note book (why I thought the notebook was the way to go, I have no idea), so I just went to bed at 10:30. I know, lame of me.
—”London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco
Yesterday, my sister came to pick me up from work. We hopped into the car, and she was listening to a CD she had borrowed from me, Villains, by the Verve Pipe. The CD was skipping badly, which isn’t a surprise since it’s old. I asked her if we could just listen to the radio, and instead she popped in another CD she had borrowed, the self-titled album by Third Eye Blind.
This album came out in 1997, when I was a Freshman / Sophomore in high school. I don’t know what it is, but this album is just one that I (and my sister) have to have in our collection. I can sing every song without thinking about it. You used to quote song lyrics from the album, and I could finish off the song. It’s very strange that their second album never even touched the greatness that this first one did.
K and I were talking about the album, and how her favorite songs are 11, 12 & 13, while my favorites are 2, 3, 6 & 10. And the fact that we know the track numbers is amazing, because we don’t know track numbers on most CDs. Also, it turns out that both of our first websites were Third Eye Blind fan sites. I will admit that my fan site was a 3EB slash Everclear site, but that’s because I loved them both at 15.
I used to sing “Semi-Charmed Life” to myself when I did dishes at Taco Bell. I still sing it to myself when I’m walking home from the bus stop. I can sing “Jumper” with out any prompting, and “How’s it Going to Be” is the best break-up song, ever. Period.
I know everyone has a short list of CDs they can’t live without, and this one is definitely at the top of mine. If you haven’t heard it (and how could you not have, if you listen to alternative? They released practically every song as a single), you should definitely check it out.
Listening to this album just takes me back to high school, and that time in my life when I didn’t really have anything to worry about. But every time I listen to it, it still feels new and relevant and important. And I find another reason to love it all over again.
Just so you know. And Villains by The Verve Pipe is up there on the list. I suppose one day, I should actually write the list out…
— “Thanks a Lot,” Third Eye Blind: Third Eye Blind
K's attempt to help me with my homework.
I was slaving away at my math homework last night, and I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I think I’ll need some tutoring this next week to catch up, since I missed class last Friday, and I know we’ll have a test this next week, if not today.
And I feel like I’m so behind. I’m not following quietly along, and I do worry that some how I’m going to bomb this last third of the semester, and fail the class. Which will really suck, because I don’t want to have to take this class again.
So, here’s an example of a math problem that I had to do last night:
The sum of two numbers is 20, and the sum of their squares is 218. Find the number.
The written math portion you see is done by my sister (my hand writing isn’t that bubbly – she helped me over AIM), and she lost me from the beginning. I’m supposed to solve this problem with a quadratic equation, and not with using Y. The biggest problem I have is that I already know the answer, and I can’t get the problem to fit into my solution.
I worked it out on my own, but I got to the end, and didn’t know how to factor it out to get the answer that I knew was waiting there for me. Then K double checked my work, saw that I was a moron and corrected it, and finally, I could figure out the problem all the way to the end. It took me two hours to get this problem right. And, it’s not even a hard problem.
I really dislike math. I wish I could just skip it, or fake it or something. Or, at least have notes when I take tests. Because then I could do an example of each type of problem that could possibly appear on the test. Like I’m ever going to do a problem without referencing a book.
- “Like a California King, ” So Much For the Afterglow: Everclear
