Her Hand

It was like shaking a dead fish, like it was going to slip through my hand into another dimension. I am making a post about this because I now understand why people think women have weak handshakes. I almost laughed because I thought she was just joking around, but the punchline, the real grip, never came, and she was as sincere as anyone could be. I tried to shake her hand properly but it was no more than a rubber hamster. Some sort of magic trick: the hand hardly moved yet it was fleeing. Was she playing a game? I was reminded of the incident just now while watching a Youtube interview of a transsexual porn star and how her handshake should have tipped the interviewer off. That one, at least, was a joke.

I can assure you that it is better not to ask questions.

First official 5k

More details later, but I finally did it. 33:15. Not terrible considering I haven't ran in a month and I don't think I've ever ran a 5k outside. When I went back on the treadmill, I realized my comfortable pace went from 6.5 mph to 7.5. Nice. I lost a ton of muscle though :(.

No, Girl on Twitter. You are not the only person who knows French, so you snidely telling us to look up that French phrase you used is not only a waste of time, but it makes you look foolish. You must be familiar with the concept of a loanword because what you just said has entered the English language.

Remember that time that didn't happen?: Poor oral hygiene and dishonesty

Here's one for Chicago public education.

When I was in second grade this new kid showed up. We were in gym class and the teacher asked what her birthday was. She had no idea. Besides thinking she was an idiot, I didn't think much of her (I was in the second grade and I thought you should know your birthday by then, yes. Let's get over my asshole thought-process).

Later that day, the class filed out to go to the bathroom. Now, my teacher, Ms. Farrell, I believe, waited outside. The new kid, a few other classmates, and I were the remaining people in the bathroom. I can't completely remember what happened between the bathroom and the incident which this post revolves around, but I remember that it involved her offering me stickers. Here's the way I think it went. Right before we left, the new kid asked me if I wanted a sticker. Of course I want a sticker.

She let me pick but said not to take the large, cat stickers. No problem. I noted that she was being strangely nice.

Right before we left, she demanded I give the stickers back to her, so I, perplexed by her instability, gave the stickers back to her after I told her that she explicitly told me I could choose any sticker just not the large, cat stickers. I pointed out to her that I didn't even touch the cat stickers. It wasn't even a big deal. Kid doesn't know her own birthday, she needs these stickers.

Here's where shit gets fucked up. She starts screaming and throwing her hands up and here I am, trying not to laugh. Now I'm trying to get her to stop being a histrionic hellion. Our classmates are equally confused. The girl walks out and a few classmates follow her in curiosity. The remaining classmates and I discuss what the fuck just happened.

The classmates that left come in and tell me that this girl is talking to the teacher. In a matter of moments, I get called out to the hallway.

So you thought things were unbelievable so far...

Now this teacher tries to be sly, tries to get me to admit first what I did wrong. Of course, I have no idea at this point what she's about to accuse me of.

"You know what you did. You called blahblahblah the B WORD."

This is news. By the way, I was burning up at that point because, one, I couldn't believe my teacher and I were discussing "the B WORD", and, two, IS THIS BITCH CRAZY? The teacher and the girl.

So I tell her the truth: I didn't call that bitch a bitch. The conversation (AKA her dramatic demonstration) I had with that girl didn't involve the word bitch in any form.

The teacher flatly says, "You're lying. Stop lying."

I was never more angry.

So here's where her scientific mind comes in. She tells me to show her my tongue. If it's white, then it proves to her I'm lying. Now, this kind of pseudo-test would be completely illegitimate and inappropriate in any normal situation, but apparently because I'm just a kid, I'm not supposed to know that this is a hokey piece of shit. I couldn't believe I was being subjected to this flawed sort of test, but at the time, I felt like I had to listen to a teacher (no more, no more). She told me my tongue was white which was likely a result of not scraping it, not a result of telling a lie.

Yeah, so basically I was accused of calling someone a bitch, and the verdict was that I was guilty because some pathetic idiot got hired as a teacher. The end.

Mohammad Reza Golzar

looks like

Charlie Sheen

Pretty, pretty

Today we discussed the ethics of meat eating.

Well, there goes my plan of pushing off important issues in order to exempt myself from facing my utter depravity.

Thanks, philosophy!

Now, for your enjoyment, a series of sad cows.

Now for a repository of thoughts on the matter:
I don't derive pleasure from the fact that the cow I'm eating was likely tortured and killed. I derive pleasure from its tasty flesh, and I would be equally happy consuming imitation meat. However, fake meat does carry with it that tinge of emptiness of knowing that what you're eating is not the robust muscle tissue of a once vigorous animal.

I Get to be Gawky Again!

I think my natural clumsiness has been intensified by my sudden growth spurt.

Things I've broken or otherwise damaged since yesterday:
- A Pyrex cup
- My foot
- My dignity

Ever since late May, I've been finding it difficult to walk without smashing my hip into something, contorting my legs, and tripping.

Also, my perception of height has completely changed because I'm still functioning in a mode in which height is judged by relativity, and the basis for comparison was my former height, which I thought was my permanent height. I mistakenly think someone is taller than I am, but my perception is slowly catching up with reality.

I think I've grown at least an inch, possibly two. It isn't like when I had my first growth spurt and I would wake up every morning and hulk over the sink more than I was hulking the day before.

Oh, Threadless

I came upon you one fine day through my roommate (Hi, Leah). You never fail to make meh smilez.

I was browsing the site, when I came upon this brilliance:

I thought, "This is swell! I needed one of these today. Now I can warn others before they get angry at me that this particular park was executed poorly and I'm not going to repark because deal with it."

And then I thought, "Well, why in heavens would I need to buy a 15-pack? Or... a 30-pack? I think I just need four at most (one for each side of my car)."

And then I realized that these were meant to be stuck on others' cars, and only I would consider sticking it on my own car.

I can see this being used as it was originally intended. In a manic spree, perhaps. In the bubble of hot anger and indignity. You know how road rage gets. Ain't nothing like some cathartic road rage.

I'm joking!!!!

Catcher in the Rye is

kind of a funny story.

Homophobia and racism don't make you attractive.

Is anyone still confused?

I fell in love this week. What'd you do?

Yeah, Jay Pharaoh, obviously attractive. I kept thinking about how great it would be to have the last name "Pharaoh". "I'm Pharaoh", "Hey, I'm Pharaoh", "They call me Pharaoh". Imagine getting to fill out forms! If I'm having a bad day, I'll walk into a bank or hospital or something, fill out a form, and just watch people read my name. Yeah.

I had a slightly crooked thought that if I grew tired of him, he could just pretend to be someone else. Obama maybe?

Isn't everyone's grandma the best cook?

For serious though. This stew is OFF THE CHAIN. Allergic reactions be damned, this pork is good. My grandma could cook baby liver and it'd probably taste good. Sweet, sweet baby liver.

Adventures in Wonderland

My parents used to chide me about my friends, and I refused to listen. It's taken a long time, but I've finally realized that the people you hang out with really affect you.

In middle school my teacher called my parents in and told them how surprised she was that I was friends with this person and that person.

It's been a few years now. One got into ecstasy. Another got into cocaine. And another got into heroin. It's like Alice and her encounters with various colorful characters.

Adults can be wise.

Learning new languages

I'm going to learn Russian. I was passionate about languages, but over time I somehow became less passionate about life in general, and the things I loved became second to school. I remember being so dedicated to French and Spanish. I tried teaching myself French when I was younger, and I recently found a notebook with all my careful entries, and I couldn't believe I was once capable of being so thoroughly in love. I read everything I could, studied every night, and listened to French songs, comparing the lyrics to translations. I know it didn't just stop one day, but it feels like it did. As for Spanish, I grew sick of the busy work that is characteristic of the Stevenson World Languages department. I understand that any exposure to the language is part of the immersive learning experience, but the way these assignments are tossed aside, the meaninglessness of the crosswords and other insipid activities, have made me quite jaded. I took another language, Mandarin, at school, and with my combined experience, I can attest that the language department needs to be seriously reevaluated. Most of the things we do waste time on preparation rather than learning. Need I remind everyone of the glitchy language labs? I mean, we had to retake the freaking AP because the system failed so badly.

Point is, I'm going to do what I want to do, and I want to learn more languages. I know a few spare words in Russian because my entire neighborhood is Russian, but I'm light years away from being even remotely conversational. My knowledge of Russian is like the average English speaker's knowledge of foreign phrases that have been incorporated into the language like "je ne sais quoi", "joie de vivre", "jolie laide", and "taco".

Learning a new song

Getting into piano again. I always have bursts of love and hate for the piano. I tend to get enthusiastic about a song, and then slowly forget it until I can only play the beginning. I'm going to finish this one though.

My sister and I used to have a thing for Linkin Park (Pre Minutes to Midnight), and "Numb" makes me nostalgic. No matter how much hate Linkin Park gets now, you just can't deny that "Numb" was a great song. It's especially beautiful on the piano. TheKen's version is divine.

Here's the sheet music.

Tangled... IN THE WEB OF SEXUAL METAPHORS

Our class is watching movies because, well, the only kind of work getting done after APs is of the cruel and unusual kind, and we are the "unicorn class" or else known as 8th period AP seniors... which means we're not going to get anything done (that doesn't mean we weren't assigned another novel, The Submission).

So besides gorging ourselves on sweets and prepping for yet another smorgasbord this Friday, we've been watching films with, uh, academic merit, ie. Tangled.

So far, I've really only learned that a frying pan makes for a formidable and versatile weapon.

Oh, and one more little thing I learned:
THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT SEX!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All right, so with stretches of the imagination, anything can be about anything, but I think I'm experienced enough to distinguish between purpose, effect, and unfounded insight. The evidence is blatant, blatant in a way that the writers wanted to eschew subtlety. To deny the true meaning would be doing the writers an incredible disservice. It's insulting to believe they had no idea that their choices created another meaning, especially when the language is so deliberate. Now the only reason why I'm jumping on the opposition so crudely is because no one seems to believe me, and it's baffling.

The first third of the movie, I hadn't made the connection, but after listening to one particularly revealing musical number, the conceit was obvious.

"Mother Knows Best (Reprise)"

Rapunzel:
I think he likes me.

Mother Gothel:
Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented.

This is why you never should have left
Dear, this whole romance that you've invented
Just proves you're too naive to be here
Why would he like you? Come on now - really!
Look at you - you think that he's impressed?
Don't be a dummy
Come with mummy
Mother -

Rapunzel:
No!

Mother Gothel:
No?! Oh. I see how it is.

Rapunzel knows best
Rapunzel's so mature now
Such a clever grown-up miss
Rapunzel knows best
Fine, if you're so sure now
Go ahead, then give him this

This is why he's here!
Don't let him deceive you!
Give it to him, watch, you'll see!

Trust me, my dear
That's how fast he'll leave you
I won't say I told you so - no
Rapunzel knows best!
So if he's such a dreamboat
Go and put him to the test

If he's lying
Don't come crying
Mother knows best...

There's no way anyone who isn't a part of Disney's explicitly intended audience could miss that. Anyone mildly versed in cliches could see that. The tiara is symbolic of virginity and innocence, a relic of her childhood. Flynn wants the tiara. Of course, the tiara is really just a token; it's shiny, it's deemed worthy, and these are the profound reasons motivating Flynn. We see other male characters pursuing this tiara, but the two ginger giants eventually realize that the tiara is just a symbol; they want it in the flesh. Further supporting this theory is when Rapunzel's mother warns, "This [tiara] is why he's here! / Don't let him deceive you! / Give it to him, watch, you'll see! / Trust me, my dear / That's how fast he'll leave you... If he's lying / Don't come crying / Mother knows best"; someone please argue with that.

And when Rapunzel gives him the crown? The disappointment she feels when she believes he took it and ran is not accidental or one-dimensional. She returns to the all-knowing mother, convinced she was right all along about men.

See, we've got this impotent mother who's terrified of losing her youthful vitality. She's portrayed as a total vamp (the curvaceous figure, the clothing, the voluminous hair, the pointed, dark, red nails, the ordering around of two hyper-masculine brutes), yet we know that she's actually afraid. She's afraid of her blossoming, young daughter who is just about to turn eighteen. Convenient, huh? The story is worn from overuse. Rapunzel has the sexual power that the mother does not, and in the days before her eighteenth birthday, a dashing young man, the first man she's seen since being kidnapped, shows up on her doorstep.

Flynn is representative of the wild, unbridled world that is... the world. This includes, the opposite gender and, inevitably, sex. Rapunzel is awakened to this world for the first time, and she faces the overwhelming conflict between obeying a parent and becoming her own person, hesitant but curious. It's one of the first scenes. When she first sees Flynn, she is frightened not only by the intrusion, but also by what her mother has told her. In her eyes, she has just happened upon something she doesn't quite understand; she only knows that this person is attractive. Rapunzel is enthralled by freedom, but her mother tries to scare her daughter into obedience by wielding the unknown as a threat, especially the evils of sex. Carrie-esque, non? Disney injects these messages throughout the film, but in a way that only an older audience would recognize.

Rapunzel's hair has never been cut. Her hair is virginal. Maybe I'm the only one who sees it this way because my babysitter once told me that her father wanted her to remain as pure as possible and didn't like it when she got her ears pierced or her hair cut too much. Even without this experience, female hair is considered highly sexual. Rapunzel's hair is another symbol of innocence. Her hair is also representative of the naivety that comes with this innocence. That naivety is enforced by her mother, and Rapunzel is kept under her mother's control by means of manipulation. Her hair is a visual symbol of the cumbersome weight that her mother has cultivated, and it tethers her to her mother.

Expanding the underlying meaning of the film, sex is only one component of the world that Rapunzel is just discovering, and the film is about coming-of-age in general and the liberation that one must find through independence. The reason I mentioned sex specifically is because it is frequently referenced in the film as a way to support the overall theme. It's all weaved into a simple little story with a happy ending. Cute, huh?

I've discussed this with two others and it has resulted in only one person agreeing with me. Myself. I thought it was so obvious that I didn't even have to craft an argument because the film practically threw it at us (this would explain my haphazard organization and brevity).

What do you think? Before you comment, I'd like to be clear that I'm not delusional from being "horny" (Thanks, Sherry).

Page 230 of The Submission by 11:30pm.

Edit: Page 220 by 12:55am. 50 pages in 85 minutes. 1.7 minutes per page.

Today's run

I haven't been running in over a month. I went on the treadmill for 16 minutes and couldn't stop burping..... I know. They were fish oil burps too.

I have to try again tomorrow. Must get back on the hour grind.

I wub my fwends.

One Goal

Get to page 135 of The Submission by 5am.

Edit: Achieved at about 3:30am. You know what they say about successful people... they set moderate goals. Psychftw.

If I ever want to work for Google, which would be sublime, this blog would put me in the "NO" column. Note to future self.

My dog

chooses only the finest fabrics to piss on. Silk carpet shits for couture canines.

Yesterday he decided to smother himself in dead fish. This could quite possibly be more de la mode than the informative e-mails Marie Claire refuses to stop sending about crucial warm-weather hair protection. The sense of urgency was so compelling I almost had a heart attack.

Barf

I have to spend tomorrow morning in detention with 1000 of my closest classmates. This is why you do not skip school, Jessica. Stevenson, you should really look into screening students before letting just anyone chump around. Let's start with removing anyone who is a repeat offender of sporting the swagged-out bro look. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. The khakis don't add as much class as you think they do.

Edit: I will never understand the vapidity of my peers. 8am, all the cars are pulling up, pumping music because they're 2cool4school.
The girls behind me would not stop making ludicrous comments.
"Oh my gawd, you guys, we should just start dancing. AHA! What would they do if we all just started dancing?" (That's not even mildly funny.)
When the deans were trying to get our attention. "We can't heaaaaar you!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP."

And it went on like this with attempts to be funny or sound cool. They exerted a lot of effort in trying to seem bored and also attenuating their voices so they came out as nasally and, at the same time, guttural as possible.

PLEASE. Let's spend a little less time tanning and a little more time contemplating how many tractors we could fit inside the space between your skull and your brain.

The barren beach in the background of this template is a serious undoing of all this blog is supposed to stand for. Google, y u makez me weep?

Slow Times at Stevenson High

I haven't run for about a month. Let's see how fantastically sluggy my 5k time has gotten. I must eventually run a marathon *just because*, so I should probably start running.

Is it just me or...

is Illini Tower hideous? People are flocking to it, and I understand why; IT is trying to seem as hip and luxe as possible, but their attempt at crisp marketing ("SWEAT/FLEX", "EAT", "EFFICIENCY", "LIVE", "LEARN", "GROW" etc.) makes me gag.

Their study areas are barely sufficient, and the construction is obviously cheap. The furniture is cheap. Design is cheap. All the materials are cheap, and the walls look like they could be knocked down with a good punch.

I'd let them get away with their tacky marketing if the product could surpass it, but it doesn't.

The e-mail I got from an IT rep was color-coordinated. The attempt at trying to appear smooth, streamlined, and peppy are too much.

How are people falling for this and paying up to 20k for a poorly designed, obvious scam for their money? Do they feel special getting to swipe a little card into their room? Are they trying to make up for the brains they lack with unwarranted elitism? I get that IT is trying to come off as a swanky complex, but it did such a terrible job that no one in their right mind could be fooled.

I commend them on the attention they tried to put into their website design and logo, but it's merely a front to gloss over how much of joke IT actually is. Their website is littered with one-word summations as if their clientele can't read or don't have the patience to read. "Escape buses, parents, landlords and bills". OK. I get it, you're trying to appeal to a certain group of young adults. A very dim group of young adults.

And did you see their Youtube tour? CRIBS!! AHAHA. They took their target audience marketing to the next level. So overtly so that they had to have been satirizing themselves.

I can't get over how tacky IT is. Especially their stock furniture. Everything looks uncomfortable and plastic-leathery. And the rooms are tiny. Their amenities are nothing to boast about.

I admit, upon a cursory comparison of the IT website with other pch websites (LOL at Europa. IT makes me want to vomit, but Europa makes me want to take a 30-minute shower.), I thought IT would live up to what it appears to be, but a slightly deeper examination showed that this is the greatest, most intricately-schemed joke on campus. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I'm sure the people at IT are having a good laugh too. They have, after all, successfully netted the slower fish.

Hello, world.

Ha.
Ha.

First endeavor: improve html and other computer skills. I'm in love with my internetz, so I might as well learn how it works. I've wanted to learn how to code and make better graphics for a while, so here I am. I think the most tech I've ever gotten was learning how to make my Neopets pet page and "siggy" snazzy.

Oh, and guilds. Yes. Guilds.

And Photoshop. I've acquired CS5... by magic... dark, dark torrent magic. Must flex feathering fingers.

Yap.

Why a blog?
Tumblr is ridiculously boring. "Ooh! Pretty pictures" *scrollscrollscroll*. What else is an antisocial teen to do? World's difficult. Also, I realized that texts are unsuitable for harangues, discussions, aphorisms, etc. Sometimes I'll read over my texts, and think, "Damn. These are brilliant. I should have my own blog". I have too many thoughts and I'll either lose them or write them on scraps of paper and lose those. I needed to find a unitary outlet. I've got things to blather about and goals to remain accountable to, and others should have the opportunity to witness firsthand THE FORAYS OF J. Yes, I did just say that. So this is all from the goodness of my heart. Blogger's burden.