A Family 10,000 Strong

Just to dash everyone's hopes right away, I won't be writing about anything grandiose or majestic about the end of high school and our futures.  Not because I'm not feeling those things, but because if you want to read that stuff you can look at almost any one of the other forty-odd blogs.  Instead, I'd like to talk about why I like high school, specifically our high school.  Today was really a microcosm of why I love Chagrin.  Take my interaction with Ms. Serensky (can I call her Bobi Jo now, or does that have to wait until after graduation?) at lunch today.  First of all, she sat down at our table.  There was a long silence as we waited for some update on our blogging assignment, but she ACTUALLY JUST TALKED TO US!!!! Teachers really seem to care about the students, even outside of school.  She asked about getting a copy of our Springfest video just to use to annoy Mr. Maas.  This is what really makes Chagrin high school feel like a community - the teachers and students all interact with each other, they intermingle like one big family.  That's something that will be hard to find at college, that sort of intimate atmosphere, so I'm glad I enjoyed it while I could.

DJ Osama Spin Laden (feat. DJ Quiet)

I thought the idea of writing a rap for my farewell post was going to be original and creative, but clearly Chris stole my idea.  Darn you High Stile.  Well I have my own name: it's DJ Osama Spin Laden (well, I'm between that, DJ Scratch 'n Sniff, and DJ Scratchatory Rape to be honest), and my rap will obviously be featuring a beat made by our very own DJ Quiet (Mr. Maas).  So when you imagine this being rapped, try not to imagine it being played too loud:

Started off with a blog and a dream,
Made it the greatest and the latest
Now I'll step off the scene.
I was typin' all day til my hands would hurt,
Professor always appreciate it, lovin' my work.
Forgot to blog, tough prompt, strenuous, grinding,
Better late than never I'm calling it perfect timing.
But we all had a little bit of fun,
cause when it's all done,
you throw your shoes down and call it a good run.
I admit that I had feared that all these blogs would just burn me,
I don't know where I'm headed but I know it's a journey,
And my bags are packed, so can you hand me my itinerary,
I'm off to Duke, where the basketball's just ancillary.
This is what we gotta notice today,
We all blogged to make sure they never throw us away.

Top Ten Reasons to Take AP English

10.  If you want homework, this is the class for you.  You'll get plenty of it.

9.   One time a kid asked me for my autograph.  He heard about my 9-.  That could be you.

8.  Multiple choice games.  I wait nine weeks for these bad boys, and it's usually worth the wait.

7.  Trying to live up to the legacy of the Dream Team.

6.  Annotating books - realizing that you basically rewrote the book in the margins is a real self-confidence booster.

5.  That Harry Potter poster in Ms. Serensky's room that reminds me what a true Gryffindor is.

4.  Those few days of discussion that get really intense and people start yelling.

3.  Moushumi's mustache.

2.  I guess you kind of learn how to write.

1.  You'll learn new spellings of the traditional names Bobby and Joe.  Bobbie and Jo.  Separate, they may be boys's names, but apparently when you combine them it's a girl's name.

The Exam

(Algernon, McMurphy, and Clive crowd around me to watch me take my A.P. test and want to talk to me, but clearly I am busy)
Clive: "'Look, can [we] come back in half an hour?'" (McEwan 156)
McMurphy: "'do I look like a sane man?'" (Kesey 47)
Clive: "'is [he] hanging together well? Structurally, I mean'" (McEwan 175)
Algernon: "[he is] the visible personification of absolute perfection" (Wilde 31)
Clive: "'I recently saw [his] name on a list of some very distinguished people'" (McEwan 179)
McMurphy: "'is that real serious?'" (Kesey 47)
Algernon: "I think [he] has been a great success" (Wilde 30)
McMurphy: "'is this the way these leetle meetings usually go?'" (Kesey 57)
Algernon: "there is no use speculating on that subject... [[Clive] puts out his hand to take a sandwich, Algernon at once interferes] Please don't touch the cucumber sandwiches.  They are ordered specially for [Alex]" (Wilde 3)
Clive: "'I'm terribly sorry'" (McEwan 180)
Algernon: "My dear fellow, it isn't easy to [do] anything now-a-days.  There's such a lot of beastly competition about" (Wilde 7)
McMurphy: "'let's get out of here... I ain't scared of their little [test]'" (Kesey 290)

Green Light to the Red Light District

Amsterdam.  A city of vibrant people, of unique culture, of drugs and prostitutes.  Amsterdam the novel is no different.  Ian McEwan's masterpiece has an elaborate plot, full of suspenseful twists and turns worthy of Inception.  While this tale was no less dark and depressing than most of the other books we have read this year, McEwan presents this mood in a way that is kind of funny in a sick, British way.  Take, for example, Vernon's incredibly awkward encounter with Frank Dibben in the restroom: as Vernon contemplates firing Dibben, he observes that "Dibben was in fact relieving himself quite copiously, thunderously even" (42).  Firing someone is by no means funny, but one cannot help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  And there is a twisted sort of humor in the fact that both men develop "a taste for revenge" and kill each other in the exact same manner (162).  It is this type of subtle humor that prevents the reader from utterly despising the otherwise despicable characters.  And despite the overriding humor of the novel, McEwan beautifully crafts a nightmarish plot and such petty characters that it soon becomes clear that both Vernon and Clive had "lost [their] reason and something had to be done" (161). And the novel not only generates an enormous amount of suspense, but also calls to attention several troubling moral quandaries - the question of whether or not to publish the photos of Garmony, Clive's Lakeland Rapist fiasco, assisted suicide, etc.  Reading a book that dissects conventional morality in such a way and then discussing it in depth seems to finally confirm Ms. Serensky's assertion: "You are all smart" (Ms. Serensky). 

Top 10 Most Thrilling Academic Moments of My High School Career

 Just as a precursor to my list, I would like everyone to know that I am fully aware that no matter how objectively I phrase this, it will have the capacity to sound pretentious.  That is merely a product of my achievements (see, I told you).  So I'm just going to go for it.

10) Economics Stocks Game: I won the stock market game in Econ. last year.  No one would admit it now, but that game was filled with "dedication and clarity,... like lighting a fire by rubbing two sticks" (McEwan 109).  To be entirely honest, I only won because one of my stocks, initially valued at about $20 per share, had its company bought out by an enormous corporation.  So for a short while the stock jumped from the original $20 to around $1000 per share (the price of the larger corporation) due to computer error.  Naturally, I sold my hundreds of shares quickly.

9) Becoming best friends with Mr. Maas: Don't listen to what anyone else says - I am Mr. Maas's best friend that is a student.  Just the other day, as we did integrals together, he asked to borrow my pencil, and the "nature of the request, its intimacy and self-conscious reflection on [our] friendship... created... an uncomfortable emotional proximity" (McEwan 54).

8) Spanish Four Video Projects: If you were to ask any of our school's Spanish teachers about either the movie Zapatalones III (ZIII) or Obi Wan Quijote, the teacher would inevitably know of our legendary movies.  Whereas other groups used the limitations of the project (it had to be in Spanish after all) as "a mask for mediocrity" (McEwan 66), my group (Chris Lange, Brian Binder, Austin Sauey, and myself) crafted epic 25-minute films.

7) Winning the Springfest Dodgeball Tournament last year as a member of East Washington Mafia: Although this moment is not technically academic in nature, it occurred during a school day.  We staunchly refused "to be a martyr to them" (Kesey 157).

6) 199/200.  On the Amsterdam Essay.  An 8+/9- speaks for itself.  However, I'm legally obligated to include a quote, so I'll continue - my classmates clearly wondered "how it was possible that anyone could manage such an enormous thing [I] was" (Kesey 161).

5) National Merit Finalist: It was truly an honor to be selected as a National Merit Finalist.  It allowed me to represent our school on a national level, and it's an opportunity that a very select few received in our school.  It was then that I realized that "everything [I've]  done was with reason" (Kesey 266).

4) Voted most intelligent (and funniest) by the senior class: Yes, it's true.  Essentially, I now have an established comeback for anything Donley says.  He knows that "there are principles at stake that one cannot surrender," so he is forced to answer to me (Wilde 44).

3) The formation of the Dream Team and our two victories: Perhaps the four most decorated males at our school joined forces one day to form what is clearly the most vaunted team in A.P. English.  Our opponents, of course, wish that we were not so intelligent and "not quite so very alluring in appearances," but such is the burden of success (Wilde 35).


2) Taking the SAT at 23:80 (military time, with a few extra minutes) at 2380 Enlightenment Boulevard, in room 2380 as the 2nd of 3 boys in my family (and 8th of my extended family, 0 of whom are girls) to take test.  I am now quite relieved to be done, as "even these metallic problems have their melodramatic side" (Wilde 23.80)

1) My acceptance letter from Duke: This day validated all the others in my academic career.  Please don't speak badly of Duke - "only people who can't get into it do that" (Wilde 47).  With the additions of the esteemed John Shoemaker and Thomas Donley to our freshman class at Duke, the future seems bright.

Plum Into Poetry

"Plums.  We're reading a poem about plums.  How riveting."  These, of course, were my initial thoughts as we began our unit on poetry in A.P. English by reading William Carlos Williams' "This Is Just To Say."  I found it inane and trivial, to say the least - it "bore the exculpatory ticket of high intent" (McEwan 66).  I could probably write a comparable poem right now:

This Is Just To Say
I have used
the toilet paper
that was in
the bathroom

and which
you were
going to use
after a large meal

Forgive me
it was four ply
double quilted
so soft

These, though, were just my first thoughts - I soon saw a new side of this small, simple poem.  It transformed in front of my eyes from a bland string of words to a painting of "enticing sweetness and melancholy" (82).  The depth of our analysis impressed me.  We had uncovered in a shallow-seeming poem "rich orchestral textures of sinuous harmony" (145).  Perhaps there was something to these poems.  "This Is Just To Say" helped me realize that poems can require a great deal of thought and insight to fully understand.  Then again, it doesn't rhyme, so there was clearly room for improvement.

The Rise and Fall of a Dynasty

On the day of our first multiple choice game this year, everyone quickly found their teams, scheming to assemble a squad replete with some of the titans of A.P. English.  I myself joined what would later be known as the Dream Team, the much-maligned group of Thomas Donley, Sam Schiferl, John Shoemaker, and myself.  Of course, we were merely an assemblage of driven, motivated students looking to do our best on the multiple choice test, preparing for the later A.P. test and doing our teacher proud.  As most English students know, though, the Dream Team was lambasted from the very beginning.  Unequivocally, mercilessly we were torn at by our opposition and neutral third parties.  We may have talked ourselves up a bit, merely for the purpose of building our self-confidence of course, but we could feel the class's undeserved hatred for us "rearing up, higher... beyond human capability" (McEwan 146).  By assembling a strong team and employing some competitive banter, the Dream Team had hoped to push our class to its intellectual limits and, in turn, help everyone become a more confident student.  Yet "we live, I regret to say, in an age of surfaces" (Wilde 47).  The other students seemed incapable of grasping our underlying intentions, so in return for our subtle benevolence we received only enmity.  Though deeply saddened, we still competed that day, doing our best to maintain a competitive yet controlled environment.  The game was played, and we lost.  I will not lie, even this loss felt like someone had "touched on each side of [my] head with wires" (Kesey 69).  Yet the real tragedy that day was not our loss, but rather the inability of our peers to realize that we only meant to enhance their academic experience through our style of play.  Why, then, was this my favorite day of A.P. English?  Well, our peers thought that they had defeated the Dream Team once and for all.  But out of the ashes of the fallen Dream Team awoke an entirely new beast, a phoenix rising intent on revenge for the abuse that it had endured.  The Dream Team crumbled.  From its foundations rose the Redeem Team.

Lanark Gives Lane an Intervention

[Location: England.  Time: Friday afternoon.  The Situation: Lane (The Importance of Being Earnest) and Paul Lanark (Amsterdam) are both shopping at their local Costco when they accidentally collide and are forced to begin a conversation:

Lane: My apologies, good sir.  I didn't see you rounding that corner.
Lanark: No problem at all, chap.
Lane: Say, you haven't seen any cucumbers in this place, have you?  You see, "there were no cucumbers in the market this morning" (8).
Lanark: No, I'm afraid I haven't, and I've purchased items from all throughout the store.  "I suppose you'd call it sampling" (178).
Lane: Oh well, thank you for your help.  OH MY, WHAT IS THAT DREADFUL BEAST THAT RESTS UPON YOUR SHOULDER?!?
Lanark: That is "the Flea itself"!!! (178).  Quickly! Swat it away!
Lane: No.
Lanark: Why not?
Lane: I don't want to.
Lanark: Why?
Lane: "I didn't think it polite" (1).
Lanark: But that is a flea, which would of course care little for the manners of men.
Lane: I never think it a good idea to swat fleas, sir.  One day, they may swat back.
Lanark: Are you attempting to befriend that flea?
Lane: Well, yes, I suppose.  "I don't know how many years on this Earth I got left.  I'm gonna get real weird with it." (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia).
Lanark: What? In Costco? I absolutely refuse to listen to such dreadful talk. Good day.
Lane: Good morrow, sir.

A Walk in the Park

From the diary of Clive Linley:

     Today, the students of Ms. Serensky's A.P. English class absolutely tore me to part for failing to do anything when I witnessed an altercation between a man and a woman.  One student, Carolyn Weaver, went so far as to say that I must "take some of the blame for the rape and murder of the girl," and many other students echoed this sentiment.  Of course, I must wholeheartedly disagree with these ludicrous accusations.  I was, after all, merely taking a relaxing walk through the countryside when I heard a man and a woman "arguing - a marital row, most likely" (92-93).  And by all appearances, that's precisely what it was.  Although at one point "the man took a step toward her and seized her by the elbow," I thought little of it - from what I had seen, this was a simple domestic dispute (93).  I had absolutely no business getting involved in this altercation, as I knew neither the parties involved nor the background surrounding their fight.  If I had attempted to step in, "they might both turn on [me] for presuming to interfere" (94).  Unfortunately, I had seen nothing that suggested the gravity of the outcome of this dispute.  How was I to know that this man was a rapist and murderer?  Should I have thrust myself into an apparent marital dispute and asked if the man was planning to rape and subsequently murder this innocent woman?  Apparently, I should assume that every man that yells at a woman is a murderer.  The cruel, heartless students seemed to be suggesting this.  I will cry myself to sleep tonight.

Sincerely,
Clive

Afternoon With Algernon

Me: Good day, Algernon.  Nice to see you on this fine morning.  I'm here to talk to you about A.P. English 11.

Algernon: Ah, yes, I'm familiar with the subject.  I have a bit of a history with it, in fact.  When I took the class about 100 years ago, it was taught by a certain Bobby Joe Serensky (Mr. Serensky to us, of course).  He was a generous professor, always lenient with grades and forgiving on late assignments.  At the end of each class, after assigning our reading for the night, he would say, "Resist the desire to read carefully for tomorrow, students."  I believe, if I'm not mistaken, that you know his great-granddaughter, Ms. Serensky.  Is she of a similar disposition?

Me: She... uh... well... I guess you could say that... uh...

Algernon: "Come on, old boy, you had much better have the thing out at once" (5).

Me: She's a much more difficult teacher than her great-grandfather, to be honest.

Algernon: "I'm sorry for that, for your sake" (1).

Me: No, don't be.  I actually appreciate it - Ms. Serensky's lack of generosity makes it feel as if you truly earn your grade.  An A is worth something.

Algernon: That sounds dreadful. What precisely is wrong with you?  You actually want to work?  The mere thought makes me shudder.  And what would you say was your least favorite aspect of A.P. English 11?

Me: Well, probably all of the reading required over the summer that we used for maybe a week or two.  We had to read four books if I remember correctly, and it seemed sort of pointless to read so much and such specific books.

Algernon: "Oh! it is absurd to have a hard-and-fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn't" (4).

Me: Not really.  I understand that we need some sort of academic structure to our summers to prevent our brains from essentially melting into unusable piles of neurons and synapses.

Algernon: I understand completely.  One must have new experiences in order to continue growing as a person.  For example, "I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose.  Bunbury is perfectly invaluable.  If it wasn't for Bunbury's extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with you at Willis's to-night" (6).

Me: (Awkward Pause) Did you just ask me out on a date?

Algernon: No, you asked me.  "You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations" (6).

Me: This is getting a bit too personal for me.

Algernon "Got nice neighbors in your part of Shropshire?" (2).

Me: How do you know where I live?!?! Stay away from my family!

Algernon: "I don't know that I am much interested in your family life" (2).

Me: You're right about that.  It'll be hard to be interested in my family from prison! (After I have you arrested and imprisoned for sodomy and gross indecency under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885, also known as the Labouchere Amendment).

The Hobo

College.  A bastion of higher education.  A place where students gather from around the world to better themselves academically.  With these thoughts in mind, I entered my first college class at the University of Richmond, a creative writing class.  The day prior, I had asked my host student, Will, what classes he had the next day.  He listed them off: "Organic Chemistry, Integrated Physiology... oh, and Creative Writing" he shakes his head vigorously with this final addition, suggesting that Creative Writing comes far from recommended.  As a visiting student, though, I want to experience the full range of college classes.

So despite the warning, I awake early that morning to attend Creative Writing.  I'm barely in my seat when the professor announces that we will be having a special class today - each student will be assigned a person (a faculty member, university employee, etc.) to interview and write a short biography for.  I, personally, fail to see the "Creative" aspect of this Creative Writing assignment, but I go along.  As the professor doles out our interviewees, I take a quick peek at the slip of paper that Will gets - Dr. Vaughn, Pre-Health Advisor.  That seems reasonable.  I glance down at my own slip - The Hobo.  That's all it says.  I lean over to Will: "There must be some mistake.  I... uhhh... I got a hobo.  Well, not even a hobo. The Hobo."  Will assures me that this is, in fact, a real, specific person: "He's a famous hobo that always walks around on campus.  The employees have tried to force him to leave, but he always comes back, so they've just given up by now."  Come on.  I have to interview a hobo.  The professor then hands us a list of questions to ask and sends us on our respective journeys.

As soon as leave, however, I realize I have no idea where I am going.  Where am I supposed to find a hobo? I need to think like a hobo.  My hobo self theorizes that perhaps I will find my man outside of the dining hall, looking for food that students don't want as they walk out.  Bingo.  I spot my hobo as I draw near to the dining hall exit.  He certainly looks the part - there would be no confusing him with your average student, with his long, dirty-looking hair.  Gathering my courage, I approach The Hobo and ask if I can interview him.  He accepts, swelling with pride when I dub him a "campus celebrity."  Only then do I open my piece of paper and examine the questions.  Upon seeing them, I realize that this will be an incredibly awkward interview.  Here is an approximate transcript:

Me: "So what is your name?"
Hobo: "Jermaine."
Me: "So what do you do for a living, Jermaine?"
Jermaine: "Nothing.  I wander around looking for money or food."
Me: "Yeah, sorry, I totally knew that.  I just have these questions I have to ask... So, where do you live?"
Jermaine: "The streets."
Me: "Yeah, again, I sort of knew that.  Sorry I have to ask these.  This is weird.  So, what do you think is your most important contribution to the university?"
Jermaine: "Well, sometimes when kids throw a half eaten candy bar on the ground, I'll pick it up and eat the rest.  So I sorta clean stuff up, I guess."
My thoughts: "Quick, Alex, pretend that that's not repulsive.  Say something encouraging."
Me: "That's great, a regular environmentalist.  You should get paid to do that.  One last question: where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Jermaine: "Dead."
My thoughts: "Dammit, the man's suicidal.  He'll probably kill me first.  Pretend it's a joke.  A really funny one...  Oh, sweet mercy, he's smiling.  It was a joke.  Laugh with him."
Jermain: "I'm just messin' with you man - I think in ten years I'll have a nice job at this school, cleaning the gardens or something."
Me: "Well, Jermaine, I certainly hope you do.  Thanks for your time."

Of course, I didn't even have to write the biography, because I left the next day.  I certainly experienced a college class at its most quirky and terrifying, though.  This assignment, whether it intended to or not, really captured a lot of what college is all about - it forced me to step outside of my comfort zone, meet new people, and experience the reality of the outside world.  I hated it.  But I want more.

Spongebob: The Rise and Demise

As a kid, I grew up on Spongebob Squarepants.  As an adolescent, Spongebob remains a timeless classic to me.  Others, including adults, would casually dismiss Spongebob as an immature show for children.  I beg to differ.  The humor is, believe it or not, surprisingly high brow.  Here are a few quotes as examples:

"The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNZSXnrbs_k&feature=related

-  "Is mayonnaise an instrument?" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKB-wWK_K_Y&feature=related

- "Now you must acquire a taste for... free form jazz" - Patrick Star
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4sEcIHG0Yc&feature=related 

"Squidward, you're steaming. You're like a steamed vegetable, only smarter" - Spongebob Squarepants


"You can't fool me. I listen to public radio!" - Squidward Tentacles

"But don't a genius live in lamps?" - Patrick Star

"Dumb people are always blissfully unaware of how dumb they really are" - Patrick Star

Here is a longer excerpt:
Flying Dutchman: "Listen! We're heading down to Bikini Bottom tonight for a little haunting spree, so I want this ship to look good and scary!"
SpongeBob: "You mean you want it to look good...and scary. Well, I think we can probably..."
Patrick: "No, no, I think he means he wants it to look so good that it's scary"
SpongeBob: "Or maybe that by looking so scary you forget that it doesn't look good!"
Patrick: "I don't get it"
SpongeBob: "Look, it's easy, it simply means that..."
Flying Dutchman: "Never mind what it means! I just want it to look scary! That's it! You know, mold growing on the ceilings and bugs in the sink"
SpongeBob: "So, you don't want it to look good?"

As good as Spongebob once was, though, it has fallen upon dark times.  After the third season, most of the writers and the producer left the show, and it has suffered ever since.  All I ask is that everyone give it a chance (at least seasons one through three).

Academic Challenge

Academic Challenge, or Ac. Chal., as the kids are calling it these days, is one of the best kept secrets of Chagrin Falls High School.  This selective club is the high school equivalent of the Skull and Bones, the secret society at Yale University whose members have included George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, and William Howard Taft.  Or, rather, it was - Ac. Chal. was unfortunately disbanded this year by Coach Josh "D.J. Mixmaster" Maas.  Mr. Maas, the faculty adviser for the club, told me last year that we would not have Academic Challenge this year.  When I asked why, he responded, "Because I don't like to lose."  As bad as this sounds, Mr. Maas is right - we never stand a chance against most other schools.  It's not that we lack intelligent students.  The problem is that our Academic Challenge team members are all involved in sports or other extracurricular activities.  However, at Solon, for example, kids on the team do Ac. Chal. and Ac. Chal. only. 

I have discovered the secret that will ensure our future success, though.  For years I have heard legends of a time bygone when our team achieved great things.  But these seemed to be just mythical tales of better times, twisted by time and proud students.  Recently, though, I heard something that forced me to reconsider my opinion of past Academic Challenge teams - rumor has it that a certain Ms. Serensky was once an integral part of the squad.  A coach.  Coach Serensky.  It has a nice ring to it.  Imagine the possibilities with Mr. Maas and Ms. Serensky together at the helm of our team.

The most intriguing aspect of this is the idea of Ms. Serensky in a social setting (sort of).  Take last year, for example - we had a chow down after one of our competitions for Ac. Chal., and we invited Mr. Maas.  And he actually showed up.  He spent a few minutes talking to parents upstairs, but then came downstairs to hang out with the kids - that was where he felt more comfortable, playing ping pong and watching t.v. with us.  Just imagine playing ping pong with Ms. Serensky.  Brought to you by the one and only Academic Challenge.

Jokes That Have Never Produced Laughter

If you are hosting a dinner party or looking to spice up a speech given to your coworkers, these jokes will not help you at all:

1. "A man goes into a bar.  He has a dog with him.  The dog is wearing an eyepatch.  The man says to the bartender, "Ask me about my dog."  Unfortunately, the bartender does not hear him, because he went deaf in one ear as a child.  He serves a woman at the other end of the bar.  When the bartender comes back to the man with the dog, the man forgets what he was going to say about the dog.  He orders an imported beer and enjoys the rest of his evening."

2.  A priest, a rabbi, and a nonreligious man are all on a plane flying across the Atlantic Ocean for different reasons.  The plane experiences some engine trouble, and one of the wings catches on fire.  The plane starts to go down.  Luckily, there are enough parachutes for everyone, and evacuation is orderly.

3.  A duck walks into a pharmacy.  He says to the pharmacist, "I need some soothing ointment for my beak.  It is very chapped."  The pharmacist replies, "We have nothing here for ducks."

4.  A dog goes into a bar.  He is wearing an eye patch.  The dog says to the bartender, "Have you heard the one about the one-eyed dog?"  The bartender, who is deaf in one ear, thinks the dog is making fun of him.  He asks him to leave.  The dog says, "Don't you have a sense of humor, deafie?"  At the end of his shift, the bartender is tired of all the jokes.  Today it's the one-eyed dog.  Yesterday it was the horse with rickets.  The day before: ants.  He lives in a small room above the bar.  He spends the night alone there, as he does every night, listening to his battery-operated radio, which picks up only a bad jazz station.  He listens to bad jazz with his bad ear.

A Child Is Born

Papers are data sheets's twisted children.

Omegle

With the popularization of the internet, so many things have been made easier: shopping, staying in touch with friends... child predation.  Yes, it's no secret that the internet is a veritable playground for child predators - just watch Dateline NBC.  So the other day when I stumbled upon a curious website called "Omegle," I was intrigued.  This is a website on which two users are matched up randomly and can chat in real time.  To me, this screamed child predation.  So I decided that, being an intelligent 17-year-old young adult, I would confront these child predators head on - I was going to beat them on their home court (meaning Omegle, of course). 

I sat down at my computer and began my first conversation.  Here's the transcript:

You: Hello.
Stranger: age
You: You want me to give you my age?
Stranger: yeah
You: Well this got creepy in a hurry.
Stranger: no i just dont wanna be talking to some 35 year old pervert or some 10 year old
(against my better judgment) You: Well I can assure you I'm neither - I'm 17.
Stranger: me 2 - 18 soon
You: That's quite the coincidence.  Or are you just saying that you're 17 to establish a connection between us which, as a 35-year-old pervert, you will later use to obtain my personal information and "become friends" with me?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Mission accomplished.  One (assumed) pervert down,  many more to go.  As I progressed, though, I realized that my first conversation might very well end up my most successful.  Here are a few of my other conversations:

Stranger: Are you a hot 18 year old girl with a video camera?
You: No.

Stranger: hey asl

You: Ask Something Lengthier.

Stranger: AGE SEX LOCATION

You: Shouting doesn’t help.

You: Also, may I suggest a question mark?

Stranger: soory

Stranger: age, sex, location?

You: Better, but a capital letter to start would be just peachy.

Stranger: Age, sex, location/

Stranger: ?

You: Now, if you would be ever so kind as to phrase the questions as a full sentence, I would be much obliged.

Stranger: Hey, may i have your age, sex, location?

You: That’s much better

You: No. 

 

Stranger: talk dirty to me

You: Okay.

Stranger: do it

You: So I haven’t showered in 8 days, and I get some really oily peanut butter and…

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

 

Stranger: check out this omegle thats only hot girls www(dot)BabesOfOmegle(dot)com, works on iphones too

You: That sounds plausible.

 

Stranger: I'm looking for that guy I talked to from canada earlier.  is that you?

You: No, but thanks for appreciating me for who I am.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

 

Clearly, Omegle is a strange but powerful tool - you get a certain rush from talking to a total stranger.  However, the people you meet are not always the most intelligent, open-minded, or, quite frankly, normal.  It certainly was not a hotbed for child molesters (though that first person was pretty shady), but rather a hotbed for eccentric people.  I can't tell you how many weird conversations I had in just an hour of using Omegle - I'm not sure if I'll ever use it again.  I'm afraid. 

Ron Swanson's Pyramid of Greatness

Although I like the new requirement of a picture for every blog post, to be honest it hasn't really contributed that much to the posts.  Pictures are thrown in at the end of a post, a quick afterthought added to fulfill a obligation.  I'll admit to doing this a few times.  With that in mind, I decided for this post to use a picture as the focus of my blog.  First, some background - I was watching t.v. last week, flipping through the channels when I stopped on a show I had never seen before, called Parks and Recreation (on NBC, I believe).  What I saw, and what you are about to see, blew my mind:

 

This, my friends, is the Ron Swanson Pyramid of Greatness.  Ron Swanson, a character in the show, used this diagram to coach young children in basketball.  Because I found it amusing, I'll go over some of the more humorous elements of this pyramid.  I'm aware that it's difficult to read some of the smaller writing (this is as large as I could get it), so just click on the picture to see a larger version of it.

I'll examine the implications of a few squares here and there: 

Level One: Poise: "Sting like a bee.  Do not float like a butterfly.  That's ridiculous."
Analysis: Swanson brings up an excellent point here.  Although stinging like a bee is helpful in nearly any situation, floating like a butterfly has never helped anyone.  No one is afraid of butterflies.  Bees kill people.

Level Two: Masonry: "Building walls makes you strong.  Defending them makes you even stronger."
Analysis: Examples - The Great Wall of China, defended against the Mongols.  The wall in my backyard, defended against bears, neighbors, and hobos.

Level Two: Crying: "Acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon."
Analysis: Swanson ensures that his basketball players will be true men by banning crying in nearly any emotional setting.  All their unexpressed, pent-up emotions will make them play harder, albeit at the expense of their long-term emotional well-being.  He's not their therapist, though, he's their coach.

Level Three: Intensity: "Give 100%.  110% is impossible.  Only idiots recommend that."
Analysis: Thank you, Ron Swanson, for solving one of the great mysteries of modern science.  Why do people say you should give 110% when that would clearly be ridiculous?  If we could give more of something than we have then all of the problems in the world would be solved.

Level Five: Attire: "Shorts over 6" are capri pants.  Shorts under 6" are European."
Analysis:  Shorts. Must. Be. Six. Inches.

Level Five: Skim Milk: "That's right.  It's on here twice.  Avoid it."
Analysis:  Skim milk is clearly the drink of the devil.  It looks like milk, feels like milk, smells like milk, but tastes like water.  The skim milk industry must be brought down.

Level Seven: Weapons, Wood Working, and Welfare Avoidance.
Analysis: Collectively, level seven contains the three pillars of a great man.  Weapons: for protection from enemies, wild animals.  Wood Working:  Allows you to live off the land, make chairs or tables as gifts.  Welfare Avoidance: A true man needs no assistance, particularly from the government.

Level Eight: America: "The only country that matters.  If you want to experience other "cultures," use an atlas or a ham radio."
Analysis: There is a reason people in other countries speak English better than we speak their languages.  It's because America is the greatest country on Earth.  I could learn Chinese if I wanted to.  How would that benefit me?

Level Eight: Buffets: "Whenever available.  Choose quantity over quality."
Analysis:  Another hallmark of American society - anyone in their right mind would choose an unlimited amount of terrible pizza over a few slices of "good" pizza.  There's a reason Cici's Pizza is still in business - fat, intelligent Americans that recognize a good deal when they see it.

Level Nine: Honor: "If you need it defined, you don't have it."
Analysis:  Honor is greatness.  'Nuff said.

Questions

A few days ago, I had an interesting conversation with a good friend of mine, the one and only Colin Groneman.  After a hard day's work in Chemistry, we sat down and decided to talk about anything that confused or intrigued us.  Here are some of our topics:

  - Try to think of a new color.  Not a mix of colors you already know.  Not a new shade of an old color.  A brand new, never-before-seen color.  What would it look like?  Of course, we quickly came to the conclusion that new colors cannot be conceived because humans can only see waves that exist in the visible spectrum of light.  There are a finite number of different wavelengths of light, so we can only see or even imagine certain colors - the spectrum of visible light cannot be expanded. 

  - What if colors are not definite?  What if they are subjective?  What if what I call orange is your purple?  This was soon dropped, as it didn't really lead to anything else interesting.

  - Where and what are thoughts?  I could tell you as easily as the next guy that thoughts are caused by the firing of synapses in neurons in the brain.  I also know that the firing of a single synapse cannot form a thought.  So at what point does the firing of synapses lead to the formation of thought?  At what point does the whole (a thought) become greater than the sum of the parts (a single synapse firing)? And where does the thought reside?  In the brain, surely, but that's rather vague.  Perhaps a thought just exists as an overall state of the brain, sort of like an emotion. 

  - Then I told Colin about one of my favorite things to try to do: think about what you are currently thinking about, really evaluate your thoughts.  When you start to think about your previous thoughts, though, you stop thinking what you were just thinking.  It's confusing.  For a split second, though, I find myself able to step outside of my thoughts and observe them, even commenting on how intelligent they are.

  - Why can't we bring people back to life?  The medical technology exists that allows us to pump a heart artificially, make people breathe artificially, even stimulate certain areas of the brain to make them move or act in certain ways.  So why can't we combine these to re-create life?  What is missing from that equation?  A soul, perhaps, or merely a combination of complex biological factors that cannot all be remedied?

  - Double negatives do not exactly cancel each other out.  This is sort of a theory of mine.  People often use double negatives in a way that suggests that their presence cancels out.  If you really think about it, though, I'm not sure if they do.  If, for example, I say that you are not not smart, I am not really saying that you are smart.  I'm saying that you are not "not smart," or that you are not stupid.  But if you are not stupid, you certainly are not necessarily smart.  Oh yeah, loophole.

  - Where is Waldo?

  - "Sometimes I just lie in bed at night and just think about infinity" - Mr. Maas.  This famous Mr. Maas quote also intrigues me.  The concept of infinity, when you really think about it, is quite unfathomable.  Try to imagine the biggest number possible.  I can add one to that.  Try to imagine an infinite number of anything.  You can't.

This is just a small sampling of our musings.  Now, with complete creative freedom in my blog, I have decided to just write about whatever pops into my head.  As you can see, it gets pretty abstract.
  
 

Blogged to Death?

A few weeks ago, I read a New York Times article about blogging.  It discussed the impact of blogs, not on society and the world, but on the individual that does the blogging.  As an individual that is currently blogging, this topic interested me.  The article said that in the non-stop, fast-paced world in which we live, professional bloggers are pushed to their physical limits trying to keep up with all the news and events occurring worldwide.  A few people have even been killed by blogging - they suffered massive heart attacks while blogging for long periods of time.  Other bloggers complain of weight loss or gain, sleep disorders, exhaustion, or other maladies born of the nonstop strain of blogging in a world that never sleeps.  Of course, we as students probably do not need to worry about any of this - we blog in a much less stressful environment.  Still, it is something to think about - has blogging affected us negatively in any way?  Do we get less sleep or feel more stress?  Has blogging become more of an annoyance and less of a creative outlet? 

Personally, I think these blogs are an excellent tool that will help us both as writers and as thinkers.  The most redeeming aspect of blogs is that they are done outside of school.  This may seem trivial, but it changes everything.  In school, someone may be meek and introspective, never really sharing their thoughts with their peers.  But when they leave the classroom, this student may become someone else entirely, especially when they write.  We may get a glimpse into someone's life that would not have been possible without our blogs.  Never before have we been able to see the writing of other students, and it is an invaluable resource.  With so many different styles, topics, and people, we are bound to learn something each and every time we read a blog.  I do not think the blogs can be classified as "fun" or "entertaining" for everyone - that is more of a personal preference.  No one can deny, however, that these blogs have changed their perceptions of people, events, and the world around them.

The Five Types of Studiers

As this semester comes to a close, everyone begins to study frantically with the hope of making the move from a high B to an A or a high C to a B.  This flurry of studying has shown me that people study in five distinct ways:

1) "The Showman" - This person has been awake for so long studying that they have effectively lost touch with reality. But they do know what they are doing (as does everyone else), because they have been documenting it ad nauseum via Facebook status since they started studying.

How they think they did on the exam: “I totally rocked it, there's no way I get anything less than an A."

How they did on the exam: Failed.

2) "The Peace of Minder" - No one has seen this person outside of school in weeks. They started studying just after Halloween and have not looked back since. Not studying would mean doing frightening things like having fun, enjoying life, or seeing the light of day. Wary of taking these risks, this person studies pretty much constantly leading up to finals, but to be honest no one really notices or cares.

How they think they did on the exam: "Really well."

How they did on the exam: Really well.

3) "The Real Deal" - As far as preparing for a test is concerned, this person has done everything right. They have talked to the teacher, reviewed their notes, converted those notes to flashcards, reviewed those flashcards, scanned the flashcards onto their computer, looked over the professor's study guide, made their own study guide, looked over that study guide, and fulfilled their daily sleeping requirement - every day for the past three weeks.

How they think they did on the exam: “Oh, I most definitely failed.”

How they did on the exam: Aced it.

4) "The 'Got It in the Bag'" - This person feels absolutely no need to study. I mean, they went to all the classes, took the notes, and did the homework. What else is there to do? The only thing this guy has planned is to sit back, relax, and criticize all the “uptight bookworms" by liking their pre-finals panic Facebook statuses. While his classmates try to do some last minute cramming, he is watching the second season of Arrested Development on Netflix. As test time approaches, he will start thinking about maybe “skimming through his notes a bit," but it is too late, the panic attack has already begun.

How they think they did on the exam: (Curls up into a ball and weeps) 

How they did on the exam: Did Not Complete (Curled up into a ball and wept)

5) "The Big Man on Campus" - The school's star athlete. Why should he bother studying when he will make millions of dollars as a professional athlete in the near future?

How they think they did on the exam: "What exam?"

How they did on the exam: Passed, with help from an anonymous tutor.

I know what everyone is thinking: What type of studier are you, Alex? I think that answer is better left to the imagination (hint: a rare blend of numbers three, four, and five - I plan to get A's, often curl up into the fetal position and weep, but also will make my millions as a professional athlete), but the more important question is: which type are you?

Homework Hangover

Teachers have puzzled over the question of how to make homework fun for centuries.  Well, I have found the secret - do it sometime between two and three o'clock in the morning.  Everything's fun then.  Thomas Donley and I have discussed the phenomenon on several occasions and have come to the conclusion that we legitimately enjoy homework we do that late at night.  Thomas even went as far as to lament the fact that he hadn't left enough of his data sheet for tonight to keep him up that late - on previous data sheets, he had worked well into the early morning.  The result, which I too have experienced, is a curious sensation, a sort of homework high, during which homework becomes incredibly fun and rewarding.  I'm not kidding.  For weeks I kept saying I would get to my college applications eventually, but I could never bring myself to actually work on them.  Then one Friday night after a football game, I sat down at my desk and wrote college essays until five in the morning - I finished five supplemental applications in one night.  And it was honestly a lot of fun.  At some point while doing homework (for me it's around one o'clock), you begin to get very tired.  If you can push through that first wave of fatigue, you're in the clear - instead of feeling drowsy, everything becomes incredibly pleasant and enjoyable.  Of course, the next day in school you have to deal with the inevitable flood of fatigue - a condition I have dubbed "homework hangover."  The symptoms are noticeable - dull, inattentive demeanor, a lack of motivation, constant snacking, bloodshot eyes, twitching, irritability, and a loss of bladder control.  But I would say that it's worth it, especially if you haven't tried it before.  Come on - all the cool kids are doing it.

Electroshock Therapy

Shortly after beginning our latest book, we often discussed the cruel, inhumane treatment that the patients received in the hospital.  I argued that the treatments given to the the patients were, at that time, thought to be cutting edge and effective.  A few days ago, I stumbled across an intriguing video concerning the modern use of electroshock therapy (ECT), which is also used in the book to treat patients (www.ted.com/talks/sherwin_nuland_on_electroshock_therapy.html - Caution: this video does contain some offensive language, including the F-word, but I included the address because I found it highly educational).  For those of you that do not wish to watch the video, it is a talk delivered by Sherwin Nuland, a man that underwent a series of ECT treatments in the 1970s.  Nuland received the therapy to treat his crippling depression, and he goes as far as to say that ECT saved his life.  Thus, in modern times, ECT is now being used to treat depression - and recent studies have shown it to be quite effective.  Admittedly, ECT does not work quite as well on schizophrenic patients (most of the members of the ward would have likely been schizophrenic in some capacity).  However, a fair number of inmates in the hospital were likely depressed, so the "cruel, inhumane" (as we saw it) ECT treatment probably helped them.  This shocking revelation may not change your view of the hospital's medical staff - most people would likely still see them as primitive and sadistic.  It did, however, illustrate the power of literature to me - propaganda like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest that criticized ECT prevented it from being recognized as a viable treatment option for people suffering from depression.  Ironically, Ken Kesey was trying to reform the treatment of mental patients with this book, but ended up criticizing a therapy that is quite beneficial.  Before this, I had never really considered the possibility that an engaging, well-intentioned book could cause such harm.