"Open" Finals?

What seems like a great idea to begin with can turn out to be a not so great idea...open finals. In theory open finals are an excellent way to not waste time doing nothing in classes. However, these "open" finals are not open for everybody. I have two math finals this year--pre-cal and trig. That means I have to take the pre-cal with the seniors. That test is tomorrow morning (the only final I have tomorrow). I just found out that I'm not allowed to leave after it just because I'm not a senior. Doomed to another day of such an intense boredom it might kill me.

I'm One of the Good Kids, I promise

Two things can lower your ability to make good choices--consuming mass quantities of alcohol and hanging out with a group of friends. Last Friday my friends and I made a choice that seemed (and still seems) like a harmless one. We drove by a traffic cone laying in the road, so, we picked it up and put it in the car. Our parents found out. Two out of three sets of parents were angry. We ended up putting the traffic cone back. I'm told that the cone mysteriously disappeared the next day.

That's right, listen to the monkey!!!

Majority Rules

Shouldn't majority always win? With the whole idea of democracy the majority should always rule. This is not how it went down in Spanish class. A couple of students--maybe two--wanted to learn animal vocabulary so Mrs. Morgan gave us animal vocab. There was also homework on this "fun" unit. The quiz is tomorrow and the only words I know are cat, cow, monkey and dog. The final insult was I still don"t know how to say my favorite animal in Spanish--an ostrich.

The most infruiating and shortest question in the world:

WHY?

Twelve sounds like a good thing--twelve doughnuts, twelve presents, or twelve hours of sleep. Twelve couild also be a bad thing: anyone else sensing a repeating theme between my last three blogs? Twelve bruises, twelve broken ribs, or twelve math assignments are all bad things. The only thing completely pure is candy: candy is never wrong.

Regret sounds like a bad thing--regret the loss of youth--but it can also be a good thing. Regret that you didn't get hurt climbing down the tree (which could happen if one is a masochist). I used to regret getting bad grades in math, now I'm just resigned to it, a good grade is an anomaly.

To reconcile always seems like a good thing--reconcile differences with family and friends. However, reconciling can be a bad thing--a dog reconciles itself to the fact he/she can't sleep on the bed, students reconcile with the fact they all suck at math (no exceptions), and drivers reconcile with not getting the best parking spot.

I hate the people who write something really short--like one sentence--and call it a post.

So bored...here's a poem that was in the whalers museum in Hawaii...it rhymes


For here 'tis same as at Maui,
The women are all for trade;
Calicoes, rings and scrimshaw work
Are sought by every maid.


Here's another one...


'Tis a damn tough life of work an' strife,
We whalemen undergo,
But what care we when the gale is done
How hard the blast did blow?
We're homeward bound, 'tis a joyful sound,
With a full ship, taut an' fre
We'll not give a damn as we drink our rum
With the gales of ol' Maui.
Rollin' down to ol' Maui, me boys,
Rollin' down to ol' Maui,
For we're homeward bound from the Arctic Grove
Rolling' down to ol' Maui!




If you liked the first one text MAID to 555-3324
If you liked the second one text RUM to 555-3692

Airplanes

First off: I hate airplanes, time change, and two and a half hour layovers. Oh yeah, I also HATE crying babies. If you're going to take a child under three on an airplane CONTROL YOUR YOUNG! There I was trying to read Hamlet and do my one million other assignments when a baby started to cry. That baby cried almost the whole five hour flight--when that child stopped another one started. I hardly slept and only read an act in Hamlet. Right now I'm sitting in DC in a two hour layover waiting to go to Harrisburg where we have to drive another two hours to home. I also hate bossy flight attendants who come around waking people up to move their seats a whole two inches. (is it just me or is the number two coming into play a whole lot in this blog?)


PS--what is it with old ladies always carrying those ugly flowered suitcases? I must have seen about ten to twenty of them.

Body Booboos

People who have known me for awhile say one thing: I'm a bit of a klutz. If I thought my trip to Hawaii would be any different, I was wrong. Our first full day at the beach was when the first calamity occurred. Mike (someone my mom works with--the trip was won through my mom's work), my brother, my sister, and I were body surfing on the waves and I was thrown by a big one on the sand and I cut up my hip (onlookers said the wave threw me pretty far--I believe them, it hurt like crazy).

A couple of days after that I was body surfing again (don't I ever learn?). My mom was standing behind me and a wave threw me (my nose namely) into her leg. A mixture of white snot and sea water ran out of my nose...gross. The next day my nose swelled up, I think I broke it. I'm going to the doctor when I get back, although there's nothing he can do if it is broken. My new litany: don't sneeze, don't you dare sneeze.

After the nose incident nothing else bad happened. Why? I think it's because one of the shop owners gave me an angel blessed by a priest supposed to give good luck. Maybe it works--creepy.

Comment sparked while walking through the mall (I think):

ME: I have ESP.

Other person: What?!

ME: an Extra Special Person

Half a Horse

Physics is an all around crusher: enticing me with the belief this next test will be a success while whittling away at my self-esteem. Thank goodness I have so much self-esteem. A recent blow was a lab to find out how much horse power you have by taking your weight and doing some mathematical mumbo jumbo with how fast you run up the stairs. Due to my small stature (although I don't think it's that small) and disinclination to run up stairs fast with jeans on, my results weren't that great. My friend was half a horsepower, which is average for a girl. What did I get? Point four. Yup, I'm not even half of a horse. Great, no power. Thanks for bringing this to my attention physics!