Yep. Gray, dead, and cold. I am not in a good mood.
I don't even know why I'm posting this, because I don't really feel like talking at all.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Anna's Box of Doom.
I forgot to mention this in my last post, and I'm too lazy to edit it.
On our 2nd or 3rd week at CC, Anna folded her sticky note (which contained a comment on my science paper) into an origami box. Well, it was a seriously awesome little box, so I told her that I wasn't going to open it until I was on my death bed.
And I'm not.
So, every week, we always get into a stupid play-fight about it. xD And I assure you, I am going to keep my word. When I'm like 97 years old and the doctors have told me that I don't have much longer, I'm going to call Anna on my old-fashioned smartphone at whatever nursing home/wherever she'll be staying at the time, and I'm only going to say three words: "I opened it."
On our 2nd or 3rd week at CC, Anna folded her sticky note (which contained a comment on my science paper) into an origami box. Well, it was a seriously awesome little box, so I told her that I wasn't going to open it until I was on my death bed.
And I'm not.
So, every week, we always get into a stupid play-fight about it. xD And I assure you, I am going to keep my word. When I'm like 97 years old and the doctors have told me that I don't have much longer, I'm going to call Anna on my old-fashioned smartphone at whatever nursing home/wherever she'll be staying at the time, and I'm only going to say three words: "I opened it."
Let's be thankful for Cardassians.
My composition paper wasn't as horrible as I thought it was going to be, but it was still pretty horrible, and I forgot to bring the key word outline (which I forgot to write in the first place, actually).
So today I walked into my Classical Conversations class to find that Mrs. E had written "We're thankful for:" on the back whiteboard in giant letters, along with instructions to write down three things we're thankful for and sign it. I don't really know why she didn't wait until next week, which would be closer to Thanksgiving, but I wrote down my list of things anyway.
1. Cardassians
2. Sushi
3. Internet
Yes, in order. It kinda stood out since everybody else wrote stuff like "God, family, school" (maybe with the exception of Anna, she wrote "Cupcakes, bunk beds, and my baby sister". That's probably why she's my best friend, too... she somehow manages to be %100 normal and completely, insanely one-of-a-kind at the same time). Speaking of Anna... for our next assignment, she passed around a paper and told us to write random ideas on them, and she would put all of them in her paper.
This was the list, if I remember correctly:
Purple fairies
Cardassians (I bet you'll never guess who wrote that)
Pink-bearded pirates
Giant earthquakes and lightning
White unicorns
Green grass (Mrs. E wrote that)
The center of the Earth
Death beds
Annnd... IT'S A FOUR DAY WEEKEND!! *happy dance*
Yep, there will be no school for me on Friday and next Monday. Which I'm glad about, because I thought my brain was going to explode.
So today I walked into my Classical Conversations class to find that Mrs. E had written "We're thankful for:" on the back whiteboard in giant letters, along with instructions to write down three things we're thankful for and sign it. I don't really know why she didn't wait until next week, which would be closer to Thanksgiving, but I wrote down my list of things anyway.
1. Cardassians
2. Sushi
3. Internet
Yes, in order. It kinda stood out since everybody else wrote stuff like "God, family, school" (maybe with the exception of Anna, she wrote "Cupcakes, bunk beds, and my baby sister". That's probably why she's my best friend, too... she somehow manages to be %100 normal and completely, insanely one-of-a-kind at the same time). Speaking of Anna... for our next assignment, she passed around a paper and told us to write random ideas on them, and she would put all of them in her paper.
This was the list, if I remember correctly:
Purple fairies
Cardassians (I bet you'll never guess who wrote that)
Pink-bearded pirates
Giant earthquakes and lightning
White unicorns
Green grass (Mrs. E wrote that)
The center of the Earth
Death beds
Annnd... IT'S A FOUR DAY WEEKEND!! *happy dance*
Yep, there will be no school for me on Friday and next Monday. Which I'm glad about, because I thought my brain was going to explode.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Okay, it's rant time
Why? Because this is ticking me off.
It's pretty ridiculous, the number of profiles that I've seen on any website that go like this:
"Hi, my name is ____. My mother and my older sister died a few years ago. I now live with my father, who is drunk most of the time, and he smokes crack and he beats me up for no reason. I am bullied at school and I have no friends. Everyone hates me and I hate myself. Every day, I try to convince myself that I shouldn't commit suicide, but I have no idea why I'm still here. I cut myself and I never talk to anyone."
And what makes these things hilarious is that they always casually add something like "Send me a friend request!! :D" at the end.
Now, where I should I start? Rants are the only things that I enjoy organizing, so of course my points are all numbered.
1. First of all, this is usually a lie told by hormonal 13-year-olds who are blowing their situation waaay out of proportion ("My father is a drunk crackhead who beats me up" probably means something like "My dad won't buy me an iPhone and he won't let me date this one guy"). Sure, nobody cares about you, yet you are somehow finding the money to get internet service. That 'net stuff ain't cheap, people. Why don't you get off the internet and try to make some friends?
2. Okay, let's say that every single word of that story is true. You do cut yourself and you do hate yourself and your father does beat you up.
How, in the name of Dumbledore, is posting it on the internet going to help you?
Despite popular belief, you have the power to get the heck out of that house. Call the cops on your dad. If you have internet, I'm pretty sure that you have a phone, too. Even if you don't, just get out of the house and walk to the police station. Or, heck, walk anywhere. Yes, I know that there are probably really young children who think that they're trapped in the house (or they don't have the ability to leave), but if you're old enough to get around the internet and spell that well, I'd say you're old enough.
3. If it was true, you wouldn't post it on the internet. You just wouldn't.
When I was around the age of 8 or 9 years old, there were these teenagers who lived on the same street as me and my little brother. They verbally tormented us whenever we were within range, which was quite often, because I was "friends" with one of their younger siblings. It hurt like heck, to the point where I often wished I was dead, and I'm still getting over it.
Unless somebody asks me about it (and then I won't post it on my profile page or a public forum, I'll PM them), I don't randomly start rambling about it. Why?
Well, what the heck would that do? Stir up some temporary sympathy from some total strangers who will never see me as more than some pixels on a screen? I've found that everyone I know who has gone through similar pain won't ramble about it in a forum, either. Because we don't see our past issues as something to brag about, for God's sake. We view them as a really suckish part of our life that we'd rather forget.
4. This is bragging. Yep, nobody is ever going to admit to it, but it is. "I've had more depressing, traumatic experiences than you have! So, THERE!!"
Yeah, that's pretty much what is going on. And it's probably the most stupid thing about it. You know, pain is pain. We're all human, and we've all felt it before. We understand it, we know what it's like. Whether you're a millionaire with a twelve-bedroom house or an Indian street kid with no family, you get it. Pain. You recognize it, you know it when you see it.
Which is why I find it stupid to compare our different hurts. So maybe the worst thing that has ever happened to you is when your hamster died, YOU. STILL. GET. IT.
Does being more hurt than somebody else somehow make you better than them? Is it supposed to give you some kind of right? Does it help society in any way?
Dear Oralius. This concludes my rant.
It's pretty ridiculous, the number of profiles that I've seen on any website that go like this:
"Hi, my name is ____. My mother and my older sister died a few years ago. I now live with my father, who is drunk most of the time, and he smokes crack and he beats me up for no reason. I am bullied at school and I have no friends. Everyone hates me and I hate myself. Every day, I try to convince myself that I shouldn't commit suicide, but I have no idea why I'm still here. I cut myself and I never talk to anyone."
And what makes these things hilarious is that they always casually add something like "Send me a friend request!! :D" at the end.
Now, where I should I start? Rants are the only things that I enjoy organizing, so of course my points are all numbered.
1. First of all, this is usually a lie told by hormonal 13-year-olds who are blowing their situation waaay out of proportion ("My father is a drunk crackhead who beats me up" probably means something like "My dad won't buy me an iPhone and he won't let me date this one guy"). Sure, nobody cares about you, yet you are somehow finding the money to get internet service. That 'net stuff ain't cheap, people. Why don't you get off the internet and try to make some friends?
2. Okay, let's say that every single word of that story is true. You do cut yourself and you do hate yourself and your father does beat you up.
How, in the name of Dumbledore, is posting it on the internet going to help you?
Despite popular belief, you have the power to get the heck out of that house. Call the cops on your dad. If you have internet, I'm pretty sure that you have a phone, too. Even if you don't, just get out of the house and walk to the police station. Or, heck, walk anywhere. Yes, I know that there are probably really young children who think that they're trapped in the house (or they don't have the ability to leave), but if you're old enough to get around the internet and spell that well, I'd say you're old enough.
3. If it was true, you wouldn't post it on the internet. You just wouldn't.
When I was around the age of 8 or 9 years old, there were these teenagers who lived on the same street as me and my little brother. They verbally tormented us whenever we were within range, which was quite often, because I was "friends" with one of their younger siblings. It hurt like heck, to the point where I often wished I was dead, and I'm still getting over it.
Unless somebody asks me about it (and then I won't post it on my profile page or a public forum, I'll PM them), I don't randomly start rambling about it. Why?
Well, what the heck would that do? Stir up some temporary sympathy from some total strangers who will never see me as more than some pixels on a screen? I've found that everyone I know who has gone through similar pain won't ramble about it in a forum, either. Because we don't see our past issues as something to brag about, for God's sake. We view them as a really suckish part of our life that we'd rather forget.
4. This is bragging. Yep, nobody is ever going to admit to it, but it is. "I've had more depressing, traumatic experiences than you have! So, THERE!!"
Yeah, that's pretty much what is going on. And it's probably the most stupid thing about it. You know, pain is pain. We're all human, and we've all felt it before. We understand it, we know what it's like. Whether you're a millionaire with a twelve-bedroom house or an Indian street kid with no family, you get it. Pain. You recognize it, you know it when you see it.
Which is why I find it stupid to compare our different hurts. So maybe the worst thing that has ever happened to you is when your hamster died, YOU. STILL. GET. IT.
Does being more hurt than somebody else somehow make you better than them? Is it supposed to give you some kind of right? Does it help society in any way?
Dear Oralius. This concludes my rant.
So, I'm hating Composition more than usual.
This week, I have to write a five-paragraph paper about the garden of Eden.
Except... it doesn't provide me with a source, like it usually does. Instead, it wants me to write my paper off of somebody else's... I think. The rules are confusing the heck out of me, it's really not funny and I know for a fact that I'm going to screw it up.
Anna, on the other hand, is having a rather enjoyable time with this assignment. I have no idea what she's writing, but she mentioned unicorns and pink geese. I'm not sure, but I think that this is our last bible-based thing we have to do before we start a different curriculum, thank God. Sure, I may be christian, but I hate using school curriculums that are based on the bible. HATE IT.
Luckily, however, my weekend is going to consist of four days, thanks to the fact that I'm homeschooled and my dad's birthday is today.
Except... it doesn't provide me with a source, like it usually does. Instead, it wants me to write my paper off of somebody else's... I think. The rules are confusing the heck out of me, it's really not funny and I know for a fact that I'm going to screw it up.
Anna, on the other hand, is having a rather enjoyable time with this assignment. I have no idea what she's writing, but she mentioned unicorns and pink geese. I'm not sure, but I think that this is our last bible-based thing we have to do before we start a different curriculum, thank God. Sure, I may be christian, but I hate using school curriculums that are based on the bible. HATE IT.
Luckily, however, my weekend is going to consist of four days, thanks to the fact that I'm homeschooled and my dad's birthday is today.
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