Southwest in the Northwest

Moving!

2006-11-18T17:46:00.000-08:00

I'm moving my blog. You can find it now, along with the rest of my new website, here, or at the following URL:

http://spencer.walstr.org/swnw/

Action!

2006-11-10T16:31:00.000-08:00

We definitely just shot a movie in my house.

It's definitely amazing, yet terribly cheesy.

I love it so.

Flying

2006-10-23T20:46:00.000-07:00

Another free-write. I really like this one. Don't know why.

She could hear the crowd, chattering and cheering, through the flapping walls of the striped tent. The elephants trumpeted, parading around the ring. She watched it in her mind's eye, following every step of the routine she knew so well. There; the elephant stood on its hind legs, and the audience clapped. Then; another elephant balanced itself on a ball, and the clamoring crowds applauded appropriately. She recited it in her head the way that some people mentally replay films. The girl had the better experience, however: her mental movies were matched with real sound.

The crowd was good tonight, she noticed. They wanted to have a good time, to laugh, and to be awed. It varied from night to night. Sometimes, the crowds were only looking for enjoyment, and they found it under the big top, more than they could have possibly imagined. Other times, audiences took their seats skeptical, with preconceived notions that muddied their experiences. Some came in angry, unwilling to chuckle or even smile. Others arrived in varying stages of heartbreak and depression. They told themselves they wouldn't find any fun in the circus, predictions that tended to be self-fulfilling. You get what you expect, she told herself, unless you open your mind.

Involuntarily, she sighed. Open minds were growing harder and harder to find, not just inside the tent, but in her entire world. It seemed that everywhere she looked, there were pundits spouting barbed condemnations. People from the Middle East were terrorists. People of faith were opinionated fundamentalists. Homosexuals were bizarre contortions of nature, and if you didn't vote, you were a communist.

It wasn't only adults spewing hatred, either. The children of the closed-minded often grew with visions as narrow as those of their parents. This was obvious in no place more than high school, where bigoted teens were quick to cast their judgments upon classmates that were even the merest bit unusual. A friend of hers had been singled out for tucking his shirt in. Wary of this, she and Nat had tried to keep their love discreet, but the ever-sniffing nose of society found them, and exposed how different they were from the rest.

Though an autumn gust nipping at her bare arms and legs caused the girl to shiver in her costume, the thought of Natalie warmed her insides. Natalie had made her understand the feeling of love, not the petty high school drama of relationships around them. With Nat standing beside her the entire time, she had broken down the walls that had contained her and restrained her for so long. Natalie had helped set her free.

The tent roared with thunderous cheering as the ringmaster narrated the elephants' exit. Poised, the girl stood waiting for her cue. From within, the ringmaster's deep silky voice wove the girl's welcome, and she stepped into the humid tent to the gaze of a spotlight and the gracious applause of two thousand hands clapping.

Adrenaline, the nectar of courage and confidence, flooded her veins once again, and she boldly strode to the ladder.

The ringmaster's booming tone lent to the audience tales of the girl's achievements, grandly exaggerated in the traditional manner of the big top. His resounding bass voice painted pictures of death-defying leaps from canyon walls and mountain faces. The crowd, stupefied, listened with awe. They had no clue that the esteemed girl of these yarns, who was currently scaling the skyscraper of a ladder, had a home in the very city they were in.

Being with Natalie had brought the girl more in touch with herself. Soon, she found within herself talents, passions, and dreams she had never imagined she could have. She began playing the harp, something that she would not have been caught dead with a year ago. The local theatre troupe found itself visited by an eager, talented young woman. It was as if Natalie had unlocked a door the girl had never known existed. The summer of that year, the circus came to town. It set up in an abandoned industrial parking lot by the river, and everyone crossing the bridges saw it. The girl went to watch the first weekend it was performing, and was captivated. She found a magic world beneath the behemoth canvas tent, where gaiety was the norm and the impossible was regularly proved otherwise. After the final show, the girl, thanks to Nat's gentle persuasion, approached the ringmaster and asked if she could audition for a role. He had declined originally, but slowly gave in. The girl auditioned fantastically, and left with the circus for a year.

She reached the platform at the top of the ladder, towering so high above that she could barely discern faces in the audience. Slowly, she reached for and gripped the trapeze, with a silent acknowledgment that this could be the last time she ever did what she was about to do. She stepped to the edge of the platform.

Tomorrow, she would go back to school. Her senior year. She would face the taunting masses, and she would stand tall, proud of who she was and what she had done. The words of the narrow-minded were only that, words, and she was no longer afraid. She was who she was, and no one could take that from her.

She looked down at them. They gazed back up at her, ready to be blown away. All of the women, the men, the children, the elderly; all the blacks, the whites, the Hispanics and the Asians; all the lovers and the fighters; all the believers and the skeptics sat on the edges of their seats, elated, waiting for her to astonish them with the impossible. And there, in a corner, her beautiful face watching the girl's every move, radiating a warmth she could feel at the top of the ladder, was Natalie, waiting softly and patiently.

The girl took a breath, and flew.

The Island

2006-10-22T00:01:00.001-07:00

Most certainly influenced by the Decemberists' "The Island". And Lemony Snicket's The End. And my recent surge in fascination with pirates. I blame this on all of them.

---

Somewhere, in the middle of a black ocean under a black sky, an island slept, the sands of its shallow shores gently caressed by the unceasing tides. Above, in shadowy heavens, the stark face of the moon cast a pale luminescence upon the beach. The waves swept the sands with soft hushes. The breath of the light tropical breeze quietly rustled the leaves of the palms. An air of serenity laid over the island, as if it had never known disturbance and never would.

There were no people on the island. There had been before, however; castaways were no strangers to its shores. Some of them had managed to survive, leaving nothing but footprints on the isle. Others left much more, never seeing their families or homes again. Many had gone mad and killed themselves, either by the noose, by diving off the cliff, or, if they had been lucky, with a pistol. In the end, their remembrances quickly vanished, consumed by natural forces– footprints blew away and corpses were claimed by the earth.

The empty island slumbered. The many exotic birds that lived in the jungle dozed on their perches, their heads tucked into their wings. Sleep caught the few mammals that lived on the island, quietly pulling them into its grasp. Another breeze stirred the palm trees, shaded black with night's brush. The waves rolled in, splashing the shore. The waves receded, leaving pinpoints of seawater glistening in the moonlight. The waves rolled in, and placed upon the beach a large wooden chest, along with the unconscious man clinging desperately to it.

Schedule?

2006-08-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

Honors English 10 - Hammonds
Honors Physics - Reynolds
Japanese 3-4 - ?
Health 2 - Hill
Chamber Orchestra - Stone
Future Focus - Arend
Pre-Calculus - Stidham
Illustrations - Telesmanich

What's wrong with this picture? Take a look. A good look. Something's missing.

If you picked "Acting", you're absolutely right.

By the by...

2006-08-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

If you don't use Firefox, and would not mind doing something a little curious, please drop me a line.

Linguistic Idiocy

2006-08-19T12:03:00.000-07:00

Alright, this has gone on long enough now. It's time for me to address something that's bugged me and many others for a long time. There is no excuse for it, and it only continues because people are being apathetic.

The problem is the continual degradation of the English language, and it's a problem indeed.

If you've ever been on the Internet, you know what I'm talking about. You see it everywhere, in e-mails and instant messages, on forums and webpages alike. It's also plenty prevalent in the non-virtual world, where people are perfectly content to flaunt their pathetically childish grammar.

Chances are, you're probably guilty of a couple of these things. Almost everyone does at least one or two.

Stop it.

There is no reason why anyone who's out of elementary school, let alone middle or high school, should not know this, especially in today's day and age of information availability. You are clearly either not thinking or don't care.

You're making yourself look like a fool when you don't bother to use English correctly. Wisen up a little.

And don't get me started with that "grammar Nazi" crap. If your primary language is English, then you are expected to speak and write it properly. Don't ask, "Who cares?" I care. Other people care. You are humiliating yourself and the language, and that's just stupid.

Here are some of the most common mistakes for you:

Your/you're: AAARGH. I hate this one. Look, it's extremely simple. An apostrophe denotes a contraction, a removal of letters. "You're" is short for "you are"-- the apostrophe replaces the A. "Your a grammar nazi" means nothing. "What's you're problem" doesn't either. Don't try to wave it off as being "easier to type", either. Adding the extra apostrophe and the extra E takes fractions of a second. It's easier to type "cow" than it is to type "colloquialism", but the two don't mean the same thing. "You are" and "belonging to you" don't mean the same thing either. Don't mix them up.

Its/It's: This one also kills me. As before, an apostrophe denotes a contraction. Which can be contracted here: "belonging to it", or "it is"? You'd better choose the second, because otherwise, you're wrong. "It's" means "it is", or "it has". "Its" is a modifier. What's wrong with the car? It's got a dent in its fender.

They're/their/there: "They're" means "they are". "Their" is a modifier. "There" refers to a place. It's that simple. They're headed there on their trip (in the car with the dent in its fender).

Who's/whose: Gah, don't you people understand apostrophes? "Whose" is a modifier. "Who's" means "who is" or "who was". "Who's car was that?" is wrong. "I saw a car today. It had a dent in its fender." "Whose car was it?" "Someone who's going to have to pay for some repairs."

Then/than: "Than" compares things. "Then" is an adverb, generally used in relation to time. "We noticed it had a dent in it bigger than a baseball, then left a message on the windshield saying we didn't do it."

Affect/effect: This one is a little different, but that doesn't keep it from being important. You don't effect something. You affect it. And unless you're using some fancy English for "feeling", you don't feel the affects of something affecting you. "Affect" is a verb. "Effect" is a noun. It's really that simple.

Pluralizing apostrophes? NO, NO, NO. You do not have calculator's, or squash's, or green bean's, or shoe's, or book's, or scissor's. Apostrophes do not pluralize. No. The end.

To/too: If you're still making this mistake, go talk to one of your grade school teachers. He or she will quickly lose faith in humanity, and tell you that "too" means "also", or "very much so". "To" doesn't-- it's a preposition.

Quotation marks are not emphasis marks. If you advertise having the "coldest" ice cream in town, I'm not going to be a patron of yours. Why? Because you're saying that your ice cream is the so-called "coldest". Maybe if you advertise the coldest ice cream in town, or perhaps the coldest, I might be inclined to have some. But not if the veracity of your temperature claim is in doubt.

Lose/loose: For Pete's sake. The two don't even sound alike. "Loose" rhymes with "moose" (unless you pronounce "moose" as "mooz"). If something is loose, it is not tight. You cannot loose something, and you're not going to find someone with a screw lose. "Loose" is an adjective. "Lose" is a verb.

Breath/breathe: Take a breath. Breathe in. "Breath" is a noun. "Breathe" is a verb.

Definitely: Look at that. See an A? No. That is how it's spelled.

Of/have: The phrase is not "would of". It's "would have". That's why the contraction is "would've". Think.

Really, folks. It's that simple. Bookmark this blog entry if it'll help you remember these things.

But, seriously, you look like a fool.

And who wants that?

Ninety-Eight Percent

2006-08-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

Do you believe in pot? 98% of all teenagers do or have tried smoking God. If you're one of the 2% that will stand up for marijuana, copy and paste this into your bulletin with the title "RABID LEMURS INVADE ANTARCTICA AND GET ME PREGNANT".

The topic of this post is ridiculous bulletins, stupid signatures, and absolutely moronic chain letters. With the recent surge in MySpace's popularity, these things have appeared nearly everywhere-- making absolutely absurd claims and demanding you follow the instructions they carry, lest you be cursed to a draw from some bizarre grab-bag of terrors and other minor annoyances.

If, for some reason, you have no idea what I'm talking about, here's a couple samples.

98 percent of the teenage population will try, does, or has tried smoking pot. If you are one of the 2 percent who hasn't, copy and paste this into your signature.

98 percent of all teenagers won't stand up for God. If you're one of the 2 percent who will, copy and paste this into a new bulletin.

(Taken from the end of one much longer thing)
Resend this with the title "Cleavage!" to throw people off... within 2 minutes. If you do, your wish will come true. If you don't, it will become the opposite.

Did u know? B4 u go to sleep at night there is 1 person of the opposite sex thinking of u. They want you they want to kiss u, They want to be with u they are always thinking about u b4 they go to sleep at night they are longing to be with u. This is all true not a fake if u repost this to in 5 mins the person that is longing to be with you will approach you in a month and ask u out or grab u and snog the face off u. But if you break this chain no1 will like u or ask u again for 5 years!!!

Post this in the next 200 seconds and you
WILL have
THE best day of your life THIS FRIDAY

You know what you get when you cross a bulldog with a Shih Tzu? You get that.

Let's start off with the "facts" or "true story" ones. You know, like the "fact" that both 98 percent of teenagers smoke pot and 98 percent of them won't stand up for God (Could it possibly be the same 98 percent?), or the "true story" about the evil atheist college professor who was shown up by the champion of good Christians everywhere, Albert Einstein. One thing should be blindingly clear about these-- they're completely and utterly untrue. Take, for instance, the number that's so often thrown about in these chain letters/signatures/bulletins, and the number that this post gets its title from: 98%. If you are to trust these absurd little memes, then nearly every teenager you encounter has smoked pot at least once.

But wait, Spencer, they're rebellious teenagers! They do that sort of thing! Sure, some do. But 98 percent means that if you took 50 kids in high school-- almost two average-sized classes-- only one of them would have ever not smoked marijuana. In other words, if you're a high-schooler, the chances are that in your Biology class, everyone has smoked the weed. Everyone. Including you.

Apply that to the "standing up for God" ridiculousness. Do you really think that in your Choir class, no one will stand up for God? Though there are some folks that like to claim otherwise, Christians are not a minority. In a randomly-selected group of 50 teenagers, I am certain you would find a good number of them firm and devout Christians (or Jews, or Muslims, or of whatever religion) that would immediately "stand up for God". (Lord knows-- har dee har-- that God, being the omnipotent being he is, can't stand up for himself-- but that's a different story.) Christians make up 76.7% of the American population. To think that 98% of all teens won't stand up for God, when more than three-quarters of them believe in him/her/it is just lunacy.

And for Einstein? He greatly disliked organized religion, and didn't believe in God as much as a sort of unorganized higher power. He most certainly was not the pious young man challenging that villainous, blood-sucking atheist professor. He simply was not that kind of person. (And, just so you don't forget, yes, atheists do eat babies. They're that evil.)

(And for the record, I debunked the Einstein thing with Google, the phrase "Einstein's religion", and maybe 5 minutes. Maybe. You're posting these pieces of crap on the Internet-- why don't you utilize the nigh-boundless hordes of information that the Internet cointains, and educate yourself a little? It certainly couldn't hurt anything.)

Face it: You cannot trust chain memes to be factual at all. I'm sure there are some more accurate than others, but the sheer amount of fabricated nonsense that gets spewed into these circulating cesspools severely outweighs the true information.

Be honest with yourself about these things. Do you really think that the ghost of the three-year-old knife murderer named Trevor is going to haunt you if you don't repost that meme within 200 seconds, or that your "true love" is going to appear next Friday and "snog your face off"? Do you really think that every one of your 118 friends, or every single person that reads your signature, wants to read another moronic "fact", or see another "amazing" magic trick involving numbers, names of people, names of songs, eye colors, and true love? No? Then why on earth do you repost them? Especially with the "facts" that you know aren't true-- why would you perpetuate such idiocy? "lol cuz its funny" isn't an excuse, believe it or not. In the real world, when people start babbling on with crazy made-up statistics and obviously false stories, we call them nutjobs, or Scientologists.

The world isn't all about you-- there are other people that are affected when you repost a stupid chain meme. If you want to share it with someone, then find someone to share it with, or perhaps a few people. It's like getting a Nigerian diamond scam in your e-mail inbox and selecting "forward to all". If you want to share, share selectively. E-mail and instant messaging are good for these. Heck, e-mail even has a nifty feature that allows you to send the same message to more than one person-- all you have to do is enter more than one e-mail address! For Pete's sake, though, don't be so arrogant as to assume that every single person on your friends list wants to read another Ninety-Eight Percent statistic. There's no magic power forcing you to repost these things-- when you see one, believe it or not, you can ignore it, or even repost it-- but edit the text to be more realistic.

Because your eye color may very well seem to tell you something about your love life ("OMG I HAV BLU EYES I R TEH HOTZ0RZZZZ!!!!!!!"), but posting it to your bulletin so that all of your 118 friends can see it really means one simple thing:

You're a sheep.

The masses have willed upon you a gift like no other-- the gift of phoney information and dinky little "surveys". In return, all that they ask of you is that you spread the gift to everyone you know, inciting frustration in some of them. So far, you've complied without thinking, just bending to the masses' will without bothering to stop and ponder at all.

Do yourself a favor. You've got gray matter in your head for a reason.

Use it.

Repost this in 20 minutes or else, next Saturday, the love of your life will appear at exactly 1:26 in the morning, and will snog your face off. Afterwards, they'll stab you through the heart with an ice pick while your mother watches on webcam, and will light up a marijuana joint like 98% of the teenage population. And they'll stand up for God.

Stoned.

House votes to keep U.S. judges out of 'under God' debate

2006-07-20T13:11:00.000-07:00

By Jim Abrams, Associated Press ; July 20, 2006

WASHINGTON -- The House, citing the nation's religious origins, voted yesterday to protect the Pledge of Allegiance from federal judges who might try to stop schoolchildren and others from reciting it because of the phrase ``under God."

The legislation, a priority of social conservatives, passed 260 to 167. It now goes to the Senate, where its future is uncertain.

``We should not and cannot rewrite history to ignore our spiritual heritage," said Representative Zach Wamp, a Tennessee Republican. ``It surrounds us. It cries out for our country to honor God."

Opponents said the legislation, which would bar federal courts from ruling on the constitutional validity of the pledge, would undercut judicial independence and would deny access to federal courts to religious minorities seeking to defend their rights.

``We are making an all-out assault on the Constitution of the United States, which, thank God, will fail," said minority leader Nancy Pelosi, a California Democrat.

The pledge bill would deny jurisdiction to federal courts and appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court to decide questions pertaining to the interpretation or constitutionality of the pledge. State courts could still decide whether the pledge is valid within the state.

The legislation grew out of a 2002 ruling by the US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit that the pledge is unconstitutional when recited in public schools.

The Supreme Court in 2004 reversed that decision on a technicality, saying Sacramento atheist Michael Newdow did not have legal standing to sue on behalf of his daughter because the mother had custody of the child. Newdow has since revived the case and last year a US District judge ruled in his favor.

Newdow, an attorney and physician, said in an interview that he hoped the bill would pass to expose the aims of its supporters. ``They're willing to ruin this country so they can keep their God in our country. "

Supporters argued that the ``under God" phrase, added to the pledge in 1954, was intrinsic to the nation's heritage and traditions and must be shielded from unelected judges.

Representative Todd Akin, the Montana Republican who sponsored the measure, said that denying a child the right to recite the pledge was a form of censorship. ``We believe that there is a God who gives basic rights to all people and it is the job of the government to protect those rights."

Davison Douglas, a professor at the William and Mary School of Law, said constitutional scholars are divided over whether such congressional restrictions on judicial review would pass constitutional muster.

He noted that ``past efforts to bar all federal court review of hot-button social issues have consistently failed. Hence, if this bill is enacted, it would be a highly significant landmark in terms of congressional efforts to control the actions of federal courts."

There is a companion Senate bill, but it is unclear whether the Senate will take it up in the current session.

Representative Dana Rohrabacher, a California Republican, said the effort to strip courts of authority could come back to haunt his fellow conservatives if liberals gain control of Congress in the future. As an example, he said Congress could prevent the Supreme Court from ruling on a state's decision to ban guns.

The Rev. Barry Lynn, executive director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, said that under the bill, ``religious minorities will no longer have the right to go to federal court to defend their deeply held religious beliefs."

---

Well, this is wonderful. Let's not just support the continued inclusion of that oh-so-controversial phrase in our own nation's Pledge of Allegiance, let's make sure that no one can challenge it! Yeah, that's good!

Big Brother doesn't want you to speak out against the Pledge, or against, heaven forbid, God. You will not challenge what Big Brother wants.

It's not about the words here. It's about the fact that the state is deliberately intending to oppress the people and directly prevent opposition.

This is bad, bad, bad.

Where are you going, America, and just what are you doing in that handbasket?

The Truth

2006-07-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

People of the world, I bring an urgent message. Heed me, or we may throw the Earth even further into planetary chaos.

I came about this knowledge through discussion with one "Mark". Anecdotal evidence supports the hypothesis that we may, in fact, be the same person. More testing is required. However, I feel it is required of me to share this exposé with you, so that we may save the world from almost certain doom.

Spencer: Where'd that Panamanian go, anyway?
Spencer: Ah. Mother.
Mark: "Mother calls."
Mark: Needing coal to be shoveled into her fiery maw
Spencer: Most likely.
Mark: Panamanians need fuel to keep going.
Spencer: The most oil-consuming counry is Panama. A Panamanian consumes about a barrel of oil a day.
Spencer: There are attempts in progress to make hybrid Panamanians. So far, however, none has proven successful.
Mark: They must remain shiny and well-maintenanced
Spencer: There are rarely recalls, however.
Mark: But sadly, this effect can be more efficiently achieved through sweating profusely in the tropical climate...if not for the imperial introduction of...
Mark: Air conditioning.
Spencer: I blame the Spanish.
Mark: Now every Panamanian is kept cooled by chilled air, which just takes up more energy.
Mark: So to avoid rusting and falling into ill repair - otherwise known as arthritis - they must maintain an oil consumption.
Spencer: There's the oil required to chill them, and the oil that is required for their operation.
Mark: Exactly right, Spencer.
Spencer: And they wonder why there's an oil crisis.
Mark: And thus, Panama is a virtual black hole into which petroleum reserves worldwide are quickly draining.
Mark: If only it weren't for those dastardly Spaniards. The bastards.
Mark: You will note the device employed here: the words "dastard", "Spaniard", and "bastard" all roughly rhyme.
Spencer: I applaud you, that was good.
Mark: Thank you, thank you.
Mark: It appears that this one particular Panamanian has been absent for a long time.
Spencer: Off consuming more fossil fuels, I'm sure.
Mark: My thought exactly.

While the decision was long, hard, and involved many lions, tigers, and rabid wallabies, my colleague and I came to the agreement that, though we could surely make a hefty profit from this sort of insider information, to do so would only spell disaster for the world, more clearly than any global spelling bee winner could. Braving all manner of lawyers, bureaucrats, and used shoe salesmen, we fought our ways to our keyboards and published this remarkable discovery for all to see.

It is now time for you to take the matter into your own hands, or hand-like appendages. Find a local Panamanian, and tell them you think what they're doing is wrong. Only by involvement will this problem be halted, and then we may finally be able to cure cancer.

All Fired Up

2006-07-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

Spencer's really pretty fired up right now, if you'll pardon the pun.

The topic of the day? Flag burning, and the people who are trying to put a Constitutional end to it.

I'll start with an unnecessary clarification. I'm talking about this flag:

I'm referring to the Star-Spangled Banner. Old Glory. The Stars and Stripes. Whatever name you wish to call it, I'm talking about the flag of the United States of America.

Let's examine the symbolism in this flag's design. The stars represent states in the current Union-- one star for each state. The bars, red and white, stand for the 13 original colonies, from which the country grew to what it is today.

As a symbol in itself, the flag is most generally used to represent liberty and justice for all.It stands for the visions of freedom that the founding fathers had when they established the country.

At least generally. Today, regrettably, the flag has become almost exclusively a trademark of the American Republican party, flying it almost a guarantee that the flier follows the conservative mindset. This dominance of the flag has severely tainted its symbolism, and it is a downright shame that it is such associated.

But I digress.

Burning the American flag is, obviously, a rather blatant form of protest. It is generally used to protest what is considered violations of the beliefs of the founding fathers-- in essence, to demonstrate that what the flag stands for is going up in smoke. The Supreme Court has ruled twice that defacing a flag (which extends to burning it) is completely covered by the First Amendment. It was first ruled in Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397 (1989), and reaffirmed in U.S. v. Eichman, 496 U.S. 310 (1990). While it is an act that many find shocking or disturbing, it is an act protected under free speech.

But if some people have it their way, it won't be for very long.

There has been efforts in Congress to pass a Constitutional Amendment that would prohibit "desecration of the flag of the United States." The full text of the proposed amendment reads as follows:

The Congress shall have power to prohibit the physical desecration of the flag of the United States.

This is an extraordinarily bad idea.

For starters, it goes against two previous Supreme Court rulings. There has been a lot of this recently, and it is a sign of distress for our nation-- the three-house system was established in order to prevent any one branch from holding too much power. The Supreme Court should be able to check and balance the judiciary branch's power, and it does so, at least somewhat, through its rulings. The Congress's disregard for these rulings is disturbing, to say the least.

My problem, however, is the cult that has seemed to grow around the flag. It has almost become a symbol of worship for some people, and that seriously bugs me. People react to flag-burning as though instead of a piece of cloth being burnt, it's the Constitution or all the people who've died defending the country.

This is ridiculousness. The flag is a symbol. Though many seem to have forgotten it, destroying a symbol does not destroy what the symbol stands for.

To the right is the almost-universally accepted "male" symbol. As I'm sure you know, it stands for men.

If I were to print this symbol out and with one clean cut of my scissors, decapitate it, what would happen? Would billions of males across the world suddenly lose their connections to their heads? (I mean physically. Many already have lost the mental connection.) Would men cease to exist? Would masculinity be suddenly erased, leaving only females and gender-neutral ex-men?

Of course not. One piece of paper would be turned into two smaller pieces, my scissors would get fractionally duller, and with my luck, I'd end up nicking my finger and having to rush to a nearby bathroom or medicine chest to stop the bleeding. I would still, however, have my cranium, my masculinity (both physical and incorporeal, though the latter is sometimes debatable), and my existence, as would the other three billion-some male humans of the world.

If symbols were actually physical embodiments of the ideas they represented, the outcome in that situation would be dreadfully different, and one clumsy kindergartener could effortlessly change the course of human history with a pair of plastic safety scissors. Luckily for us, you would be hard-pressed to find a pair of safety scissors that have changed the world, or that will do so.

The American flag stands for freedom, for liberty, for democracy, for any other noun you could care to fit in there. It can also represent those honored men and women who have so bravely given their lives to defend the country. (It also, should you really care to be nit-picky, signifies the 50 states and the 13 original colonies, though I doubt you'll find many people who protest flag-burning for the desecration of those ideas.) Old Glory can represent all of these things, yet many seem to forget that it is not these things. Burning the Stars and Stripes does not set a blaze to freedom. (It's too often on the march to catch fire.) Setting a torch to the Star-Spangled Banner does not instantaneously cremate the honored dead whose remains are laying in the ground. The ashes of an American Flag are not the ashes of the Bill of Rights.

The importance of a symbol is its immortality. I may decapitate all the restroom signs I wish, but that symbol will still say "male". After 2006 years, give or take, the symbol of a cross still represents Christianity, Jesus' love, and divine self-sacrifice. The ankh, an Egyptian symbol of life that was often portrayed as held by gods, is still used today to stand for both certain aspects of life, and magic. Though countless numbers of these symbols must have been lost in fires, earthquakes, to the sea or otherwise destroyed or desecrated, they and their meanings remain.

The amendment that these people are trying to pass does not do anything to preserve the honor of the flag. By attempting to ban its destruction or disgrace, they are giving the flag mortality. They are saying that the flag cannot stand being abused, that it must be protected in order for its message to persevere. In their crusade to protect the American flag's honor, they are dishonoring what it is and what it stands for.

This ban is ridiculous in more ways than that, however. The proposed amendment is remarkably devoid of detail. Obviously, its proponents don't want to draw attention to the fact that they're explicitly seeking to ban flag burning, because that would be too outright for them. However, let's look at the text of the amendment again:

The Congress shall have power to prohibit the physical desecration of the flag of the United States.

Physical desecration, hmm? Well, we all know what they're trying to limit. But isn't "physical desecration" a little prohibitive? What about these?

Many of the same people that would have "desecration of the flag" banned fly these sort of things on their cars. Most of us have seen them, flying down the highway with their stars and stripes blowing proudly in the wind.

But often, these symbols of "patriotism" are forgotten by their owners. 60 miles per hour of highway air tend to reduce them to soiled, frayed tatters after a few months. That is, if the winds don't rip them off their plastic poles to flutter to the roadway, where they're ground into the pavement by thousands of other cars, trucks, vans, SUVs, and ungodly huge combat vehicles converted unnecessarily to be fit for civilian use, to the disregard or ignorance of their owners.

How, praytell, is that any less of an offense than the intentional burning of the flag? As Elie Wiesel said, "The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference." While that was intended towards those who did nothing while the Holocaust of World War II occurred, the sentiment is quite true universally. People who "hate" the flag by burning it are not unlike those who "love" it by flying it on their doorstep. Both care for the country, albeit possibly in different ways. The burner wishes to inspire change and restore what he sees as lost honor and dignity to the nation by making a very loud, shocking statement. The flag-flyer at home loves his country, and flies his flag to show he is content, if not proud, of the way it is. There is care in each of these people's hearts. Care is lacking in the hearts of those who let their made-in-China window flags get desecrated by their morning commute.

Would the self-righteous "patriots" that fly their flags so proudly on their vehicles of choice and then buy replacements at Wal*Mart when they become unsightly or mysteriously vanished be targeted by the powers this amendment would grant Congress? I'm willing to bet not. While those protesters that burned the flag in a town square would probably be arrested and sent to prison or whatnot, the bumper-sticker patriots would most likely get off scot-free.

The amendment also says quite clearly that Congress will be able to prohibit the desecration of "the flag of the United States." This would quite cleanly put an end to people burning the flag I pictured above. But as is, this would be very ineffective at stopping flag-burners.

Why? Simple. The U.S. flag follows some very rigid specifications. If a piece of cloth doesn't follow those specifications, then it's technically not an American flag. Take, for instance, the following images:

(Images courtesy of John Scalzi's Whatever blog)

Can you see what sets all three of these flags apart from the official American flag? If you can't, then look again as I point them out. The first flag has a dot instead of a star. The second one doesn't have white bars-- they're grey! And the third isn't red, white and blue-- it's orange, white, and green! Three cheers for the orange, white, and green!

If someone was burning a flag with slightly orange stripes instead of red, would you bother to notice the difference? No, it's functionally identical to the flag we're all used to. You can tell what it is and what it stands for, regardless of whether it's orange or red.

The proposed amendment wouldn't do anything about burning these flags. It would utterly fail at preventing those who would burn star-spangled banners from expressing their message. If for some reason, the judicial powers decided that flags that looked similar to the U.S. flag could not be burnt-- then those who wanted to protest Liberian or Malaysian goings-on here in America would be the victims of an unfortunate side effect. This amendment would be totally useless at ending flag burning, unless it restricted the freedoms of other people as well.

Symbol burning isn't limited to those crazy hippies, either. There's a little group down in the South called the Ku Klux Klan. They're rather notorious for their symbol of the burning cross. Certainly, this offends people-- statistically, it should offend more people than a burning flag-- yet nobody's tried to do anything to end it? Why is this? Well, it most certainly couldn't be because burning or desecrating symbols, though undoubtedly offensive, is protected under the First Amendment, could it? If the Conservatives pass this amendment, the lot of which have aligned themselves with the Religious Right, then they're putting themselves in quite a hypocritical predicament, breaking the rules to please themselves in one hand, while admitting that they can't break the rules by remaining utterly oblivious in the other.

It's a funny thing, actually. The Republican party is very quick to toss the word "freedom" in its salad of pleasure phrases and core values, yet try as I may, I cannot see how this amendment, supported quite heartily by Republicans, could be painted as protecting or increasing freedom in any way. It is quite obviously a direct cross of the First Amendment, which is a cornerstone on which most of our freedoms are based. You don't even need to know about the Constitution to realize that telling someone they can't do something certainly doesn't make them more free. Certainly, not every law or concept uttered by the Grand Old Party has to be about freedom (that's the liberals' turf-- I kid! I kid!), but for as much that they make out of that ever-marching ideal, it's almost surprising that their words are nothing more than hot air.

Almost.

Finally (and I'm sure you're all sighing with relief at that word), there's the issue of necessity, or the lack thereof. Why on earth do Americans treat their flag like a badge of honor? What ungodly reason is there for us to so blatantly flaunt our flags on car windows and clothing, on front porches and fenders? When German exchange students came to Rex Putnam earlier this year, they told my class that they didn't fly flags or say a pledge of allegiance because it was too much like Nazi Germany. As user "13strong" posted on John Scalzi's aforementioned blog:

Being from Scotland, I'm always amazed about the amount of concern and attention directed at the US flag by US citizens. Believe me, nobody in this country gives a rat's arse what people do to their flags. People don't fly St Andrews crosses out of their windows/cars/offices/trousers. They sit on top of castles (although, I guess you guys don't have those...), and that's pretty much it. I think there's one outside the Scottish Parliament.

I realise, for US citizens, the US flag is a symbol of freedom, justice, equality, yada yada yada. But don't you realise how often those principles are violated in the US, or by the US in other countries? What's infinitely more offensive than burning a piece of material that symbolises your country's principles is the fact that those principles themselves are so often violated, with proportionally less uproar and public outrage than is given to flag-burning.

The other irony being that flags are usually burnt in protest against the violations of the principles which the flag represents...

What on EARTH is so goshdarn special about our flag? More importantly, why aren't people so concerned about the message that flag-burners mean to send by torching the banner? If Old Glory is important as a representation of freedom, why don't the same people that wish to end its burning do anything about the violation of the ideals it represents? They're more concerned with the cloth going up in smoke than the symbolism of the burning symbol, the message that the ideas that the flag stands for are going up in smoke.

Regrettably, this amendment almost passed recently, with one vote keeping it from doing so. One vote. That is pathetic. Passing this amendment would be a terrible restriction on Americans' constitutional rights, and things would only go downhill from there. When free speech becomes almost-free speech, what's to keep them from redefining "desecration of the flag"? The ambiguity of the statement is disturbing. It could mean burning now, but powers could later redefine it as speaking out against the flag. "The flag" could also be interpreted the same way as "the crown" can-- a term used to represent the entire government. If this amendment passes, what keeps them from limiting protests further and further, until all dissent is crushed?

You can't remain indifferent to this. This is a serious issue, and it will affect the life of every American should the amendment pass. Write to your congresspeople. Tell them firmly and vehemently-- as well as politely and civily-- what you think. Find like-minded people, and talk to those who disagree. We still live in a democracy, which means that the people can make change happen.

Don't let them take that away from you.

2006-03-24T00:11:00.000-08:00

Don't make waves.

Sit down, shut up, and deal with the way things are.

Because apparently that's the way things roll here.

If you don't like it, either shut up or get out.

Sometimes America frustrates me.

"Why Atheism?"

2005-10-21T21:27:00.000-07:00

I really will stop with the atheism posts soon. Really. But I wanted to post this, because I think it's a great speech to read, and makes some excellent points without being hostile or inflammatory.

It's entitled, Why Atheism?

I encourage anyone who reads this blog, theist or atheist or whatever belief, to read it.

And no, I'm not trying to "convert" anyone to atheism. I respect everyone's right to hold their own beliefs. But I also think that with that should come an open-mindedness to others, and I think this is a great resource.

(insert more apologetic babble here)

"The American Taliban"

2005-10-13T22:14:00.000-07:00

Help.

Divine Arrogance

2005-09-30T16:33:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong here-- I have no problem with any religion. If you're a Catholic, or a Protestant, or a Jew or Hindu or Muslim or Buddhist (though, technically, that's not a religion) or Rastafarian or Pastafarian or whatever, I don't care. Great! You are so totally free to believe what you will. Nobody has a right to take that from you, and the last thing I want to do is express feelings otherwise. I don't hate religion, I'm totally open to it. I just happen to be ath-- err, Pastafarian.

What bugs me, though, is the arrogance that seems to come as part of the package. It's not part of the letter, but one of those little freebie things in the envelope, the kind that you either love and adopt immediately or throw out on the spot.

For example: When, exactly, did Christians (not trying to pick on them, but it's the example I'm most familiar with) get the privelege to tell others that, because of their personal beliefs and choices, they were going to burn in hell? That's like me walking up to someone and telling them that they'll be tormented for all eternity because they're doing things I don't like. That's not being accepting, that's not avoiding judgement, that's not being anything but rude and arrogant, and I'm fairly sure Jesus wasn't cool with arrogance.

"Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself." The universal Golden Rule. Now, save for masochists and suicidals-- not that they're not people, but simply because they would have less-than-desirable things done unto others-- that rule essentially says, "Be nice, and use your head." I'm sure that the bible-thumping Protestants would absolutely hate for me to try to sway them to ath-- Pastafarianism. True, nobody's attempted to convert me yet, but I've seen it done to others. If they don't want to be swayed to a different belief system, what makes them think they have the right to do the same to anyone else? The Golden Rule doesn't say "Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself, unless, of course, you're trying to make people like yourself, in which case everything's hunky-dory." No! It promotes pure equality.

I'm fed up with religion being used as an excuse to consider oneself better than anyone else. "You're going to burn in hell because you don't believe what I do while I lounge around in heaven," or, even better (worse), "You're going to burn in hell because you do things I don't like while I enjoy the afterlife." If that's not pure, unbridled arrogance, albeit hidden behind a veil of theism, slap my knees and call me Sally.

I'm not going to have the arrogance to say there is no God. I don't believe there is, but that doesn't mean I'm right.

When will religions take off their cowboy boots and realize that without them, they're just as tall as everyone else?

Suppressing Originality

2005-09-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

Avast, me hearties!

As today was International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I dressed up in full pirate costume, along with me first mate, Smitty^*, as well as (of course) spoke like a salty dog of the seas. Aye, full pirate costume, with jewelry and a hat and a hook and even a parrot. 'Twas brilliant.

And once again, I was overwhelmed with hatred for society.

Arrr, take a guess at the numb'r one comment I got today, or heard out of the corners of m' ears. If ye guessed "He's gay," ye'd be hittin' the nail straight on the head.

That pushes me to the edge. Maybe it's just me pirate-y, Spencer-y ignorance, but how does dressing like a pirate on International Talk Like a Pirate Day make you gay? Last I checked, sexual preferences were determined by chemicals in yer brain, or other internal stimuli, not the clothes ye wear, or the lighthearted holidays ye celebrate.

So what if I wanted to dress like a pirate for a small holiday? Does that give anyone the right t' insult me, t' ridicule me, t' laugh at me, t' flip me off, t' call me gay? Narr, it does not. I'm just as much a person as anyone else, whether I be dressing as a pirate or prancing down to Putnam with me best friend clopping coconuts behind me or whatever.

What does society do, though? Does it encourage originality and uniqueness, encourage being yer own person and finding happiness where ye can, even if it be simple? Narr! It laughs at ye, it criticizes ye and ridicules ye, making you feel uncomfortable for tryin' to be yerself.

That's what I hate. Not the insults, or the rude hand gestures. Nah, I can shrug those off fairly easy. No, it be the driving force behind it, the closed-minded arrogance of society that says, "I am perfect, and you're not acting like me. Therefore, you don't deserve to be treated as an equal."

Here ye go, to all ye preps, to ye jocks and ye skaters, to all of ye popularity-fed jerks: Ye're not better than anyone else. Nobody is better than anyone else. We're all equals, regardless of what we do or how we act. Just because someone wears a pirate costume on a holiday called Talk Like a Pirate Day, just because he finds a coconut (bra) at Value Village and adopts it for its Monty Python-esque humor (and then uses it for such), just because he acts differently than you and all yer other brainwashed, unoriginal, shallow, closed-minded "friends" doesn't mean ye have any right to treat him any worse than ye would anyone else, any worse than ye would yerself.

What'll ye say, looking back on these years a half-score, a score o' years away from now? Ye'll look at the faces in yer yearbook, and read the signatures, and they'll be full of lies. The signings may seem happy, but the exultation is only skin-deep. Ye'll find a face, and remember, "That was the kid I teased, the kid I made fun of, the kid who I laughed at mercilessly 'cause he dressed like a pirate," or "because he was different." That's not a fun thing to remember.

Wouldn't it be better to remember the kid who was dressed like a pirate, and how ye simply shook yer head and chuckled a little, or shouted "Arrr!" at him? Break free of yer chains, of the preconcieved notions in yer head for these few moments. If ye remove the pressure from society hissing that a guy dressed like a pirate is just stupid, then what does it boil down to? A guy, dressed like a pirate, walking 'round school. That's funny. How often do ye see that? And yet, ye've gone and smothered those feelings, hidden them away, simply because they didn't fit with society's whispers in yer ear.

Let others do what they do, without hinderance or jeers from the sideline. Funny thing is, the people that you'll feel most challenged to do that with are the ones who already do the same for you.

* Nick

Leaving Home

2005-09-01T22:21:00.000-07:00

You can figure it out.

With a heave, he threw the last of the clothes boxes into the back of the red SUV. It didn't look like a typical moving scene– there were no piles of furniture, no bookshelves stacked precariously on top of each other with a sort of hidden excitement. On the contrary, it looked empty– four clothes boxes; one for each family member, and another four for personal belongings. They didn't need a moving van. They weren't moving their life. They were starting a new one.

They stepped hand in hand into the bare house. Was it truly colder, or did the lack of life in the hollow building give that illusion? Even the walls, once painted bright colors with bright names, like "Paprika" and "Honey", seemed drained. Their footsteps echoed around the entryway as they took a final tour of the house he had once had a life in.

Up the stairs they trudged, their hands still in each other's grasp. They silently wandered to his door, and pushed it open.

It shouldn't have come as such a shock, but there it was. His room was utterly barren. Boxes of items to sell were scattered across the dreary beige carpet. A garbage bag, labeled "Trash", was propped against a corner. He knew, as he had thrown them in himself, that all of his folders of drawings, every doodle he had ever saved from his school binder, the video game sketches from years and years ago, and almost every piece of art he had ever created sat in that bag. He had personally thrown away his memories. All the spirit had been removed from his room, and the life once harbored there now resided in the bottom of a trash sack.

Slowly, he absorbed it all, and slowly, he sat in the broken office chair amid all the scenery of cardboard cubes. He bowed his head, and silently, tears began to flow from his eyes.

'It's not fair," he said quietly. "How can they think this is fair?"

She made a sympathetic sound and wrapped her arms around him, sitting in his lap.

He recognized her and entwined her likewise. "I have a life here," he continued, pain beginning to stain his voice. "I have my friends. I have my acting. I have you. It's all here."

A shudder wrenched its way down his back, and he gave a small sob.

"And they're making me throw it away. Throw it all away."

His hands balled into fists, clenching the shoulder seam of her shirt tight.

"It's not fair. There's nothing for me out there. My future is here. They say they're acting for my future but they haven't got a clue about it…"

"Shhh," she whispered, kissing the protests from his lips.

He hid his face in her neck and cried.

But then the sound of the car's trunk slamming shut wafted through the window in the other room, and then the front door was opening with the noisy crack it always made. Then the too-cheerful call came, reverberating through the empty house. "It's time!" Then they were softly stepping down the stairs, his face still wet and her eyes beginning to shine, and then they were in the all-too-bright sun of the day, their eyes adjusting slowly.

Suddenly, she embraced him, and pulled him close. "You can't leave," she said, almost pleading. "You can stay here, can't you? With me, or with our friends. We can make it work, right? You're not allowed to move. Remember?"

But his response was a slow, solemn shake of the head. "I can't stay," he said, his voice gravelled by sorrow. "My family doesn't want it."

"Forget your family, forget your blood!" she hissed, her fingers grasping at his shirt. "Your real family is right here! You can't leave us!"

He sighed and held her tighter, closer.

"Please," she murmured. "Please don't leave." Her voice broke to a whisper. "I love you too much."

"I love you too," he sighed heavily, and kissed her.

The scene's colors eventually bled back through to his eyes; the grumble of the car's engine and his family's calls to get in, the rustle of the leaves in the wind slowly reached his ears. The world stopped spinning, and resumed its chaotic hurtle. Life appeared again, filtered hopeless and empty through his tearstained eyes.

Then he turned from her, and walked to the car.

He watched her out his window as they drove away, the angel of his life shrinking into the distance.

Divebomb

2005-08-24T15:44:00.000-07:00

(As taken from my journal:)

(Sunday, August 14)

Last night, after dinner, my dad asked me to stay at the table for a while. Curious. I put my dishes away, and did so, albeit a little warily. Had they seen my angry blog entry about the party? Were they going to suggest we talk about it, right now, right here, in front of Dan?

The answer was no. It started off as a kind of general conversation about my future, with tastes of peak oil in there somewhere. Alright, I could handle it. Fifteen minutes later, I'd be back upstairs, talking to friends as though nothing had happened.

But then it took a sharp turn: the concept of moving out of the city and starting a farm was one they were entirely serious about.

My mood took a nosedive.

I have never liked my parents' idea of starting a new farm life. I am certainly a city kid-- or at least a suburbs kid. I like modern amenities like computers and internet. Sure, I enjoy the occasionalmenial labor, the physical work. But I wouldn't want to make it part of my everyday life.

I haven't really kept this a secret, either. Whenever my parents brought it up, even as a "what if", I opposed. I made it very clear that I had no interest whatsoever in moving.

And then they tell me they're serious.

NO. NO NO NO NO NO.

I have a life here. I've got the greatest friends ever. Some of them have grown up with me. One can't simply drop something like that. Putnam is, by many accounts, a very respectable school-- it's got an awesome orchestra program, and its theatric arts department is said to be one of the best in the state. I want to follow a theatric career. I'm a brown belt in Aikido and enjoy training very much. I have a life here.

They expect me to happily, without resistance, drop it and move out, away from everything I've known, smiling all the way.

No way. No bloody effing way.

Of course my friends are helping, Ned bless them. Somebody-- I think it was Olivia-- came up with the idea of spending the school year at a friend's house, and going out to the country home-thing for vacations and breaks. That's the idea I like most-- after, of course, simply not moving. Ms. Stone has also offered to do all she can to help me.

I don't want to move.

Jumping the Hurdle

2005-08-18T23:40:00.000-07:00

He read the e-mail.

Slowly, one by one, all of the pessimistic clouds in his mind drifted away.

Severe disagreements were minor, if existant at all. There was overall open-mindedness. He was understood and generally agreed with. There were problems but no doubts:

It would happen.

He breathed a giant sigh of relief.

The Thirteenth Hour

2005-08-18T18:41:00.000-07:00

Things looked grim.

He had sent the persuasion e-mail off, but had received no response yet. The days were ticking by faster and faster; soon, the party would be days away, and he hadn't gotten any reply. His pessimistic side was beginning to flare up again, insisting that it wouldn't work.

But as the clock struck the thirteenth hour, things began to flow again.

He spoke to his orchestra conductor; an outstanding, open-minded woman. To his relief, she understood his views completely, knowing almost all of the kids involved as it was. She sided with him as well, knowing perfectly well that they wouldn't do anything wrong. Amazingly, she even offered to be a reference should his parents prove stubborn.

There was hope again, because people who were slightly more respected, more trusted, and less biased in his parents' world took his side.

And the stream of dreams, the stream of hopes and wishes began to flow once more.

To the Country

2005-08-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

I'm almost certainly going to be moving out to the country.

Wait. Before you get started, let me clarify. This move wouldn't happen until at least the end of my freshman year, so we've still got a little while. And notice the "to" there. I'm not moving out of the country, probably not even out of the state. I'm simply moving out to the country.

There's a few reasons why, as follow.

My parents are extremely in-tune to the concept of peak oil. That probably doesn't mean much to many of you, so let me explain.

As we were all taught, oil is not a renewable resource. There is a definite amount of it in the ground, and once we pump it all out, it's gone. At least for another few million years. Peak oil is the concept that, for reasons I'm not quite sure of, if you graphed oil production for as long as oil is available, you would see it steadily increase, and then it would hit a "peak", where the world was producing more oil than it ever had before and ever would. After that peak, oil production will decline, until we're producing none.

What does that mean? It means that after the peak, since we'll be producing less oil, it will be more expensive. Meaning that anything involving oil will be more expensive. That idea doesn't seem significant, but take this into consideration:

Nearly everything needs oil.

Take a picnic in the park. For one, it took oil to power your car, which you almost certainly used to get to the park. (Seriously, while biking is a very nice option, especially when a lot of things are close to you, not many people utilize it.) Looking back further, your car was created in a factory, which was powered by generators that almost certainly burned petroleum for fuel. The creation of plastic requires petrochemicals. It took fuel to deliver your car to the dealership where you bought it. Your car requires oil, more than you'd think.

But you're at the park, and you spread your checkered blanket. Blanket made of wool, let's say. The sheep that the wool came from were probably fed grain. Grain that was probably fertilized with petrochemical fertilizers. The wool was then delivered to a factory, which took oil, and then to a store.

Then there's your food...

Everything involves oil. My parents are aware of this, and want to stop depending on it as much. They figure we can't really do that here, in the middle of a fairly big city area.

So they want to move to a farm, where we can grow our own food and do other things that rely less on oil, so that when the peak comes-- and it's predicted to come soon-- and goes, we're not for the worse.

(And my dad has had this random idea to start a farm in his head for a while. Go figure.)

Unfortunately, I've kinda got a life here, as most of you know. (Yes, I have a life.) I'm surrounded by the best group of friends ever. I've quite literally grown up with some of you, having known you for six, seven, eight years. Putnam has one of the best drama departments in the state, or so it's said, and I want to pursue a career in the theatric arts. I am a city kid, no doubt, and I don't want to leave my life here behind.

I DON'T WANT TO MOVE.

Anonymous Comments

2005-08-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

Here's an idea.

Make 10 anonymous comments to people on your "friend of" list.

Forget 10. I'll make as many as I want.

I worry about your future. You could do great things, but there's obvious potential that things could go so wrong for you.
You're lying to yourself, and it's hurting everyone. I wish you could be happy again.
Have you ever been unhappy? Your good spirits are infectious. Wish I spoke to you more.
You know just how to balance deep thought and extremely ridiculous things. Thanks so much for sticking with me through all this time.
I miss how we were earlier. The melodrama of your life erased it. Mine too. I wish you would realize that you're not going to find a "miracle cure" for your problems, an outside influence that will make things all better. Change comes from within, and you seem to perpetually overlook that.
You're one of the smartest people I know. I hope you can find a way to get and stay happy.
Pity we don't live closer. You're great fun to talk to.
You're amazing for putting up with me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You helped pull my life up again from where it was.
What you did was painful, but it was the right thing. Hope you have the best of luck as life continues.
It's amazing what four years can do. You're such a different person now, and it's much easier to connect to you. We need to keep in touch.
It amazes me to watch you stand such pain and keep smiling, without wearing a happy mask. You're a great person, though I worry sometimes about just what you do when you're there. No matter though, you're still awesome.
I didn't know you in elementary school and still don't. I'm in awe at the relationship you have with a mutual friend.
From rivals to close friends. Funny how time changes everything. I will never get used to you talking about snogging.
You somehow manage to run into complete crap in your life and always end up on top. I envy that ability.

And that's it.

Hopping on the Bandwagon

2005-08-10T15:52:00.001-07:00

(Mirrored from my deviantART journal, so if the worst happens, I still have a copy.)

I looked around a bit and learned about the current controversy over now "Former Staff Member" jark. After looking at the situation, I read both :devspyed:'s journal, and the journal that justthorne posted.

And I am extremely irked.

For one, I believe spyed was completely out of place in what he did. Jark was not attempting to undermine the deviantART community, he was not doing anything that would harm it. He was simply speaking his mind and reacting to harsh actions, and got, as a result, removed from the staff. He co-founded the site. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't have the deviantART we've got today. And now, for expressing his opinions and attempting to protect his right to do so, he lost his contract.

Make matters worse, :devspyed: seems to be avoiding the inquiries, avoiding the conflict almost totally. He throws out bangflash, promising new features soon, to distract users from the controversy at hand. He hasn't attempted to flat-out explain his actions, he hasn't done anything but keep chugging along as if nothing happened.

justthorne's journal entry, and other things I've seen, are right. deviantART is losing the community feel. It's become more and more of a corporation, a business, a privately-owned gallery where art of all caliber hangs. And the art will hang there indefinitely, as long as deviantART decides it wants to keep it.

Everything I've submitted to dA is now their property, due to terms in the agreement that justthorne looked at. Every writing piece, every cartoon, every photograph. That makes me sick. A website offering a place for artists to showcase their work, easily the biggest artists' hub on the web, is no more than a camoflagued donation center. As demonstrated in the journal entry, my art is owned as long as it's on the site-- and deleting it doesn't exactly remove it from the site. If I want to showcase my art but keep ownership, well, tough, because I can't do it here.

I'm in indecision. This was once a great community, but giant changes have been made. I can't keep submitting art when I know that the moment I hit "submit", I sign away rights to my own creation, to a corporation that seems to be disrespecting its artists more and more.

In compliance with justthorne's suggestion, I'm hiding my entire gallery for a week. The art will be there, but nobody will be able to see it. Hopefully, with others' similar actions, it will become apparent to the staff that it's time some changes were made.

When my art returns, there may not be any uploads for a while. A long while.

I'm sorry, guys, but my freedom as an artist is more important to me than showcasing my work on a greedy site.

When it's all about money and the things that you need
Live a big lie and they all believe
Now I just find that somehow obscene
-Lyrics from "What A Scene", by the Goo Goo Dolls

More Frustration

2005-08-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Great. I need a new bike, right? Because mine is horribly small, and slowly falling apart. I use my bike a lot, to get to Aikido, to friends' houses, the whole deal. I save my folks a lot of time and effort by biking.

And how do they thank me? Certainly not by buying, or even contributing to help to buy me a new bike.

Yes, I shouldn't believe they'll always buy me what I want. I understand this. But this isn't just a "gimme" toy, it's a tool that will help both me and them. If I have a bike that fits, I'll be less inclined to start driving, and I won't need to mooch rides, since I can ride to just about anywhere I need to be. If I dostart driving, then they're stuck with naming me the primary driver of a car, meaning that we lower the insurance level on one of our current cars, or have to buy another car to name me primary driver of. Either way, they're probably losing lots more than the few hundred they'd have to shell out to buy or help buy a bike.

If I don't get a new one, I will eventually outgrow mine, or it will fall apart. Either could happen in a year, I'm certain. At that point, if I've outgrown it, riding it will be problematic for the knees, among other things. Problems with growing knees. There's a good idea.

Dad says that the last bike his parents bought for him was when he was in grade school. That's lovely, Dad, but we're not living in the late '60s or early '70s anymore. A bike isn't much of a novel toy, at least not for me. It's a rather important vehicle that saves effort for both you and me.

I shouldn't have to pay the full cost for something that benefits both parties.

Spencer and the Party Paranoia

2005-08-04T11:29:00.000-07:00

So there's plans for a giant party at the end of the summer, with a good portion of the group there. Gi-normously huge. Food, drinks, games, movies, entertainment. Singing "Kumbaya" around the campfi-- err, chimenea. (Okay, maybe not that.) The whole nine yards, enough to sufficiently blow the summer out with a bang. It'll be awesome.

And, as original plans go, it's to be overnight. Because just the sheer factor of everyone gathered together for a night and waking up the next morning adds 50 Awesome Points.

Of course, my parents are getting all uptight and paranoid about this. Adolescent guys and girls sleeping in the same general area? Egads, that's horrible!

And this irrational paranoia is starting to irritate me.

Yes, I see their foremost concern. Because we're at the top of hormone season, they're certain that we've been completely run over by them, and our brains are now swirling masses of chemical imbalances. They're afraid that with the concept of sleeping close, we'll go off and have some massive sex party. After all, we're teenagers. We've got no common sense.

For god's sake, can't they open up their eyes and wake up? If they'd been paying attention at all to my verve and energy towards my abstinence brochure in health, my comments on how I'm far seperated from society, generally who I am, they'd realize that I don't think sex should be happening anywhere near my age. Which means that I'm not going to be a hypocrite and go out and totally shame my name, and I'm certainly not going to let any of my friends do it, because that's part of my responsibility as a friend, as I see it. Keep them thinking with their brains, not their hormones.

Yes, I understand where they're coming from. I respect and greatly treasure that they're looking out for me. However, there needs to be a point where they acknowledge that they're being too paranoid and allow me to do some things they're concerned about. I have no intent of ever doing drugs. I'm willing to postpone driving for a few years (even though I'm fairly certain I'd have no problem with it). I'll even tear apart my entry slip to the SuperUltraMegaDeath Spikey Saw Blade Flaming Pit Trap of Doom Pirahna InstaKill Bike Jump contest. All of these I can clearly see concern with. But having teenagers of both sexes sleep in the same house when my friends and I are so clearly pro-abstinence should not be a problem.

Sure, there's the argument that we could end up 'caught in the moment' and lose ourselves. But that could only happen if there were initiative. Nobody in my group, even if their brain is 85% hormones, is going to end up anywhere near that point, because a) with 11 people, if one of them starts toeing the line, the other 10 are going to give them absolute hell and smack them around until they back off, b) once again, we have no intention of having sex anywhere in the near future (read: at least the next two years), so to get to a stage where it seems like an option is nigh impossible, c) we actually do have modesty, and the most we'll possibly get to that night is snogging, albeit very discreetly, and d) none of us is stupid. We know the possible consequences, and besides, feel that there's absolutely no place for it in our relationships right now. Finally, e) all of us respect my family enough to realize that if we did something like that, it would cross so many boundaries, it's unimaginable. Unthinkable. We would never do that.

Quoth Nick: "yeah, there will be some snogging at the party. but it won't be horrible. Sette and I do kiss, but in private; at Ryn's we only kissed once. KJ and Ryn kissed a couple of times only. We have so much peer pressure AGAINST sex, that there will be no problem. No matter how many raging hormones are flaring up, the others will smack us into shape. Nothing will happen. There's just no chance of it"

We're not egotistical "world revolves around me if they don't like it tough" fools. We know that it'd be objectional for Dan-- or anyone-- to be surrounded by people passionately snogging for hours on end. Which is simply solved: we don't snog for hours on end. Nobody would want that. That'd just be... eugh. No. If we do kiss, it'll be discreet, because it's obvious nobody wants to see it. The rest will probably be holding hands or arms around shoulders.

And here's a thought: We're here as a group, not as couples. We'll interact with everyone, and will be occupied with that, as well as games or movies or Kumbaya or whatever else has our fancy. When it comes time to sleep, we'll probably stay up for hours on end talking, and then maybe get two hours of sleep, but nobody is going to flock away and mingle with the other sex. It's just not done. We're responsible, and if there's one thing I've tried to illustrate with this entry, it's that sex is not going to happen.

I wish my parents would trust us.

Yes, there's possibility it would never happen anyway. But it sure would be nice to have the benefit of the doubt, to be trusted regardless of whether or not it would work.

If it's not overnight, it'll be from some afternoon-ish time until midnight or something. That wouldn't be so horrible either, but it seems like some of the awesome would fade a tad.

Who knows?

East Coast Travel Log: Monday

2005-07-05T15:05:00.000-07:00

(Please note: The days given in the log titles refer to the day that the log was created, not the day it refers to.)

8:01 am - I said I'd continue later, just didn't specify how later. Dear god, I just skipped a whole bunch of days.
(Editor's note: This comment was due to a mislabeling of earlier days' logs. Yes, I know that skipping from Saturday to Monday isn't 'a whole bunch of days.')

After touring Gettysburg, we went to DC and ate dinner at a buffet. As would become the norm, they had laid out a much smaller selection of food for us to choose from, including spaghetti, pizza, and salad. We ate, and then went to the hotel.

On Saturday, we did a lot of touring of monuments and memorials. We saw the Lincoln, the Vietnam, the Korean, the Jefferson. Jay took us to Arlington National Cemetary, and we toured it, then went to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. That was pretty spiffy. Like Brendan said, "If there's one thing I got out of that, it's respect for our military." He's right. Josh Evans, Melanie Crocker, Tracy Barker, and Jay laid a wreath at the tomb, with a ribbon that said "Alder Creek Middle School". SO awesome.

Then we took a look around DC. We saw a bunch of official buildings, but regrettably didn't get to stop at the National Archives or the Library of Congress. Shame. We did, however, walk around the Capitol, and poked our heads around the White House. There were a few protestors in front of the gates on the south end of the building, and lots of people talked to them and got pictures of them. That was pretty neat.

We continued our tour of memorials with the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Wow. That was a truly amazing memorial. It had an awesome design, with lots of cascading waterfalls, bronze sculptures, and stone. I got some really spiffy pictures of it. I loved it.

At some point in the day, we also went to see the World War II Memorial. That was another breathtaking one. It had a beautiful design, with bronze wreathes and lots of water. I got another bunch of photos of that, though people there were as inconsiderate as Hades, paying no attention to me when I was trying to take a picture. There was a really awesome portion called the Wall of Freedom or something like it, with 4,000 gold stars on it, but people were swarming around it. I understand the desire to see it, but they wouldn't even move for the second that it took to take a picture. Gah.

We ate dinner at a place called Poncho's (sic). The food was pretty good; they'd laid out on a table in the front a whole bunch of taco and burrito fixin's (yes. Fixin', plus -s.) I enjoyed it, and then we had ice cream. Mmmmm.

8:23 am (continued) - The chaperones had intended us to take a night tour of the memorials, but since it was Stefany Young's birthday, they called it off. Instead, we went back to the hotel, and swam for a bit. I meant to go call my home, but realized that I didn't have my phone card. I had loaded it into my other wallet, and left that one at home. All my 500 minutes of prepaid phone time were sitting on my desk in a cheap wallet. Yeesh.`

11:31 pm - On Sunday, we toured Mt. Vernon. That was pretty neat, though we couldn't take pictures inside. I got some good ones, though.

And then we went to the Smithsonian museums. It was pretty awesome; I think I liked the Natural History museum the most. Again, pictures were scarce, but it was a really awesome experience.

After five hours at the Smithsonian museums, we got back onto the bus and took a three-hour trip to Williamsburg. About halfway through, we started a talent show. I watched a good few people get up, and then got up and did a short comedy routine kinda sorta stolen from Brian Regan. Heheh. It got a good few laughs.

Today, we went off to Colonial Williamsburg and wandered around for an hour or two. It was pretty neat. I enjoyed seeing the buildings and architecture, and found the blacksmith's smith quite cool. Well, hot. But whatever.

Then we got lunch, went back to the hotel for 35 minutes, and hung out before we took what we were told was a hour and a half ride to Busch Gardens. We loaded onto the bus once more, the chaperones started the movie again-- "Sandlot"-- and we were on our way.

Ten minutes later, we were in Busch Gardens. Schroeder and the chaperones played a trick on us. Rawr.

Busch Gardens was simply amazing. So much fun. Brendan and I went on the ride "Apollo's Chariot" around seven times, "The Loch Ness Monster" five, "Alpengeist" twice, and "Escape from Pompei" about four times. I got some really awesome coaster pictures, and didn't lose anything. Woot. I got a T-shrit that said "Fear the Four", referring to the four roller coasters at the park-- Alpengeist, Loch Ness, Chariot, and a fourth called "Big Bad Wolf". It was an absolutely AWESOME day.

And we go home tomorrow. Wow.

East Coast Travel Log: Saturday

2005-07-05T15:04:00.000-07:00

7:44 am - You know it's a bad thing when you consider waking up at 7:20 "sleeping in".

Yesterday was much, much slower than what we did in New York. After eating breakfast, we loaded onto another bus, met our bus driver slash tour guide for the rest of the trip (named Jay), and headed off to Philadelphia. After writing in my travel log, I drifted in and out of sleep. I was tired.

Philadelphia was pretty nice. It was a beautiful city, and had some pretty cool history. The tour guide we had there, a woman named Ellen, knew a lot about the area and gave us a great walking tour. We saw the Liberty Bell, the Pennsylvania Statehouse-- also known as Independence Hall-- Benjamin Franklin's estate, Franklin's gravesite, Carpenter's Hall-- the home of the first Continental Congress... a lot of things. It was neat, but so much slower than New York.

Then we got on the bus again, and I drifted in and out of sleep again. The chaperones put on "National Treasure", and a few times, I would swear that I was aware and conscious the full time I was asleep. I would close my eyes, and when I opened them, the movie would have skipped a while. We got to Gettysburg, a tourguide named Blake got on the bus and we toured the battlefield. He described the battle there as Jay drove around.

When he was done, we stopped at the gift shop. I grabbed two pins, one of General Ulysses S. Grant, and another of General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson. I'm starting quite a collection of pins on my black corduroy shirt.

Bwah. Breakfast. I'll continue this later.

East Coast Travel Log: Friday

2005-07-05T15:03:00.000-07:00

6:03 am - Wow, is it really 6:03? Yeesh. Considering I woke up at 5:30 for my shower (and thought, "Airport security check?"), I'll have a reason to be tired.

Yesterday was simply awesome. After eating, we went down to the subway station at 50th Street. It was pretty neat; there was tile art-- mosaics, that's what you call them!-- on the wall portraying Alice in Wonderland characters. On our side, there was Alice and the White Rabbit. Pretty nifty.

We took the subway up to South Ferry Station, and went to the ferry in Battery Park. After waiting in line for a while, slowly moving through security, and standing for longer in a really hot, stuffy tent for the ferry to be ready, we loaded on.

Ferry ride = uneventful. Except for seeing Garret from Aikido on the boat. That was strange.

Then we got to the Statue of Liberty. I got some pretty good pictures, but the one thing I'll remember and regret about that is that I spent WAY too much time in the gift shop. Seriously. I'm usually good about things like that, but I just couldn't decide what I wanted, and I had to make sure that what I picked up was what I wanted, and I had to organize my pack and money... I ended up with an awesome keychain fob and a T-shirt. Overpriced, of course, but I couldn't really change that. It meant that I spent all of my leftover money from the previous day.

Then we went to Ellis Island. Pretty neat place. And that's about all to say.

After Ellis Island, we loaded back on the ferry for the last time and went back to the mainland. We slowed down at the park, and then were on our ways to the deli for lunch. That was some pretty awesome food. I bought a chicken fajita panini, a Snapple peach iced tea, and some barbecue potato chips. The panini was delicious, and the rest was pretty good too. Of course, I ended up spending $9.99 of my given $10, which was unfortunate, but I dealt.

After that, we headed outside and walked around Ground Zero--, which was right across the street from the café. Crazy. There was a sign on a door with a quote that I thought was particularly awesome: "Dissent is the highest form of patriotism." Thomas Jefferson, I believe. Really great quote.

As we walked around Ground Zero, I saw a younger kid carrying a violin case. I went and spoke to him, asked how long he'd been playing.

"Seven years, how long have you?"

"Not nearly that much... but close."

We had started a small discussion, when an African-American man waked up and started speaking. Loud. He asked where we all were from, and when no one answered, I meekly put forth, "...Oregon."

He siezed the oppurtunity and started informationally assaulting me.

"How tall were the towers?"

"I... I dunno!"

He started feeding me facts that he said were the TRUE facts. Before long, I'd been handed two laminated photographs, and he was spewing "information" left and right. I just stood there, kinda silent as he ranted to the crowd gathered. A news reporter was nearby, and jumped on the oppurtunity, asking the guy questions like, "How do you know this?" or "Just what are you doing?" He was a tough reporter, and got both on the guy's nerves and in his face. I stood and watched as it escalated. I may have been on TV in New York, and I'll never know it. Nobody will care, either. Funny how that goes.

After that, we walked around the city a bit more. We checked out St. Paul's Church, right by the site of the Trade Center, and then went to Trinity Church. They were both pretty cool. We walked around and stopped on a corner of Wall Street and looked at the New York Stock Exchange, and the site of our nation's first capital. I forget the name, but it was also where Lincoln was inaugurated. Nearby was the site of the first terrorist attack in America, where a horse-drawn carriage filled with dynamite exploded, damaging buildings and, I presume, people. You could still see the pockmarks in the nearby building from the explosion. So cool.

7:47 am (continued from last entry) - At some point, we went down to the subway again, and rode it around closer to Fifth Avenue. I got a really awesome picture of a few people as the subway rushed past. I love the subway, there's something rather cool about jetting around underground in a tin can. It also has the direct potential to be downright creepy. Whichever you prefer.

We got off at some station, and all filed off. Well, almost. As the train pulled off, Devin VanLeuven was still in the car. Whoops. We went topside and hung around a little spot in between some streets with tiny chairs and tables. The chaperones called around, and after about twenty minutes, Devin was back with us.

We hiked through more city, through a part of Central Park called "Sheep Meadows" or something like that, and past a retaurant called the Tavern on the Green. Schroeder, Brendan, Chris and I played a game inspired by the one on Whose Line, where we spoke only in questions. I got pretty good at it.

And then we were at Fifth Avenue. Our tour guide, a woman named Phil (short for something that sounded like "Philomena"), gave us the directions, and then we were off shopping.

I must say, I was heavily disappointed. There was no store that caught my attention. None. The only two that even mildly had my attention were the NBA store and the Disney store, and neither had anything I wanted to buy. All of the other stores were either cosmetics or clothing, which bugged me.

Then we moved on to Planet Hollywood. That just could have been the best part of the day. The restaurant was awesome, decorated everywhere with props from movies like the original Death Star from "Return of the Jedi". Our server-- or welcomer, I suppose-- was extremely charismatic, and a rather cool guy. We went upstairs, sat down, and ordered. I requested a grilled chicken burger, and had a glass of Sierra Mist, and then went downstairs. I looked around the gift shop, decided that I'd spend the unspent money from Fifth Avenue there, picked out some items, and realized I'd left nearly all of my money upstairs. Whoops. I went and got it, went downstairs, picked out the items, got them rung up, got $5 off from a coupon they gave me and got a free T-shirt for spending $8, and realized that it would cost more monyey than I had. I went back upstairs and ate dinner. And a brownie. Yum. Finally, I went back downstairs, with more money, and grabbed the merchandise I'd looked at earlier.

We went back to the hotel, freshened up, and finally went off to "Beauty and the Beast".

It was awesome. The music was really good, and the lighting and effects were spiffy. I really enjoyed the play.

Afterward, we went to Times Square, got our picture taken, and went back to the hotel. It was a really amazing day.

East Coast Travel Log: Thursday

2005-07-05T15:02:00.000-07:00

7:28 am - Just finished breakfast at the restauranty thing downstairs. Most of us got pancakes, except for Brendan, who got french toast. Rebel. Our server was pretty awesome, though.

Waking up was easy... once Schroeder called. Good thing, too, because if he hadn't, I'm pretty sure I would have slept in a whole lot longer. I gave him a sleep-slurred conversation when he called.

That phone has a really annoying ring.

East Coast Travel Log: Wednesday

2005-07-05T15:00:00.000-07:00

9:13 am - Wow. It's 9:13, and I've been on planes for about the last eight hours. No, not exactly, because we lost two hours already, and we've probably lost one more. Rawr. I don't care.

It must be said: It is damned near impossible to sleep on an airplane. Especially when you have a window seat. And there's a draft of cold air. And the pillows and blankets aren't on the plane anymore.

We're getting close to landing. I was just getting into the writing swing, too.

I got maybe one hour of sleep this morning. Good lord.

8:30 pm - Wow. That was pretty awesome. After landing, we went straight to the Yankees game. The weather started warming up-- considerably-- and we all burned. To some extent. I accidentally dropped my trademark corduroy shirt on the ground, and one of the sleeves got slightly sticky due to soda and other junk down there. I don't think very many people at all found the game enjoyable-- it was just way too hot, the game was too distant and diconnected, and the crowd-enthusing methods got old real fast. Not a perfectly positive way to start the trip.

But then we went down to Chinatown, shopped, and ate dinner. I bought a little sculpture thingly with two dragons for $9.99. For some reason, I ended up paying more than that...

We went to dinner at a strange little Chinese restaurant called the "Sweet and Tart". It apparently spanned three stories, and we got to eat up top. Yay? We were served little egg rolls, fried rice, chicken with bok choy, beef with brocoli, lo mein, and some sweet and sour pork, topped all off by ice cream and fortune cookies at the end.

And then we went off to the Empire State Building. I got a whole bunch of awesome pictures from the top, including a few of the sun as it shone through what were the only clouds in that direction. It was pretty awesome, looking out over the whole city. Central Park is huge.

I'm looking forward to another day in New York.

America the Fat

2005-06-07T22:04:00.000-07:00

Shamelessly stolen from Bruce Campbell, courtesy of KJ. Actually, there is some shame. I'M SORRY, BRUCE!

It's just too good to let go.

How did we get so fat?

That's right, you read it correctly, I said the "F" word.

As a society, we're getting fat - a bold, politically incorrect statement to be sure, but candy-coated phrases like, "Weight-Challenged," or "Gravitationally-Challenged" just don't cut it. Fat is a better word because it's short, to-the-point and conjures up the correct image.

Those of you who wish to challenge my "unsubstantiated, anecdotal" data can simply do your own "Fat Check." Next time you're in line to get a "Biggie" McDonald's fries, or a "Big Gulp" at the 7-11, take a look at your fellow man - See how many people are, generally speaking, fat.

But, don't take my word for it, listen to what the National Health and Nutrition Examination Surveys says:

33.4% of US adults, 20 years of age or older are estimated to be overweight.

That would be one in three of US. I'm including myself in this diatribe because there are half a dozen pants hanging in my closet that I can no longer button.

Obesity has strikingly increased during the last decade, as touted in the US National Health Interview Survey:

From 21.6% in 1983 to 24.0% in 1985, 27.5% in 1990 and 33.4% in 1993.

Okay...we're getting fat. But why? The odd thing is, we've got more low fat and low, or NO-sugar foods available than ever. Obesity researcher Jules Hirsch from the Rockefeller University estimates that there were about 500 foodstuffs available to Americans 100 years ago, compared with more than 50,000 today.

We've also got thousands of diet-of-the-hour books telling us what culinary combination is our friend or enemy. Almost every news program has a "Health" section as part of their broadcast.

If that isn't enough, we can turn on numerous exercise programs, or buy videos that tell us new ways to do all the stuff we learned in second grade. Come on, folks, with all that, we should be positively rail-thin by now! But we aren't.

We're getting F-A-T, FATTER, FATTEST!

Personally, I think the answer is multi-layered, but not that complex. For starters, somewhere along the way, we stopped eating REAL food. As a child growing up in the 60's, my after school snacks consisted of Space Food Sticks, Tang and Wonder Bread, so I speak from experience. Where did these foods come from?

Foods got more complicated because food manufacturers developed more sophisticated techniques to process food. Can't you just hear the dialogue going on in the Keebler board room?

"Hey, maybe we should put pink sprinkles on top?"

"Good idea, Jenkins! Let's add some swirly-wirlies too!"

I guess things like fruit and veggies just got too darn boring. They weren't sweet enough, or salty enough, or pretty enough. Maybe food SHOULD be boring. The more we jazz it up, the more we want to consume. Perhaps our grandparents had it right when they were greeted at the breakfast table by pulpy, bland Oatmeal. If I were King of the World, sales of Lucky Charms wouldn't be allowed before noon any day of the week.

Let's face it, you don't need a nutritional label on a good Fuji apple.

Even candy, after a while, couldn't be just sugar. It had to become red-colored sugar (remember Red Dye #5?) or Banana-flavored sugar. Why not just eat a Banana? No, it's got to be Zots, or Twizlers or, God forbid, Circus Peanuts.

It also seems that we no longer eat because we're hungry. We eat because there is no end to the amount and variety we can get our hands on - we eat because we can - 24 hours a day. We eat when we're depressed or anxious or stressed. My response to this is: find out what torments you and deal with the root problem - don't kid yourself that consuming an entire box of Little Debbies is gonna do it.

Let me dive into a few more scary facts about what we eat and drink. Thirsty? We all like frothy beverages. Who doesn't? The average person consumes about 129 gallons of fluid per year. This includes water, milk, colas, etc. The following is the breakdown:

44.5 gallons of soft drinks.

44.3 gallons of water.

Whoah right there, pardner. That means we drink as much soda as we do water. As humans, we're supposed to be composed of an extremely high percentage of water, not Dr. Pepper. Let's talk about the Cola thing. Here are some more fun facts:

Coca Cola is consumed 190 million times every 24 hours in more than 35 countries.

Bear in mind, this is a product with absolutely no nutritional value. The slogan for Coke used to be "Coke is it!" Coke is what? I laugh every time I hear about Coke's carefully guarded "special recipe." Heck, I can tell you what it is right now - SUGAR.

Millions of American are now being called "Colaholics" due to their addiction to the cola beverages. Cola has a higher physiological dependence than smoking and alcohol.

But, I digress, let's continue with the survey. We also consume per year:

26.3 gallons of coffee.

23.8 gallons of beer.

Yes, we do like our coffee. Americans consume 4,848 cups per second, 24 hours a day. For those of you who give a rat's butt about health, there is a 60% greater risk of heart diseases if you consume 2-5 regular cups of coffee per day and 120% greater risk for over 6 cups per day. Ironically, Caffeine also reduces the body's ability to handle stress. But hey, how can you resist those iced, double Mocha Frappachino Lattes when you've got a Starbucks on every corner calling out to you?

The thing that really sets me off, though, is seeing the end results of this unbridled consumption. I worked in Costa Rica a few years ago and I was shocked to see how much of the rain forest was being carved up. Why? So farmers could grow, you guessed it, coffee. Sugar Cane was the other major cash crop because, as we all know, you gotta put sugar in that coffee too. To finish up the beverage list we also drink:

23.5 gallons of tea, juice and other alcoholic drinks.

20.1 gallons of milk.

Milk is dead last on the list. Funny, that. And to think, as a kid, I wasted so much time on the unpopular stuff!

Oh, by the way, the downward nutritional spiral is continuing. 40% of the nation's 1-2 year olds drink an average of 9 ounces of soft drinks per day. Are you listening, Gerber? It might be time to introduce Baby Cola...

Every so often, a fellow's just got to have meat. In America, we literally vacuum the stuff down: Americans average 75 pounds of beef per year per person. Annually, we all scarf down 1.8 billion Hamburgers. In case you were remotely interested, Hamburger contains the highest percentage of saturated fat of any meat.

While I'm at it, since you got me started, I thought I'd get in another little dig - the primary reason for carving up the Brazilian rainforest, aside from agriculture, is to raise cattle.

I finally got my son to confess why he liked McDonald's. Was it the great taste or high quality of the food? No, he admitted...it was for the toys you get with the Happy Meal. Happy Meal? Nutritionally, it's a Sad Meal - a Tragic Meal. As a family, we go to Mickey D's only when Cannibalism threatens us on long road trips.

What's next? Pork - lots of it. We eat 44 pounds every year. So? What's the big deal? A guy wants to go to the ball game and have a dog now and then. Oh, but we consume much more than that. In an average week, Americans eat 350 million hot dogs.

Isn't it cool how most hot dogs contain large amounts of edible "offal?" The closely guarded definition is: animal skins, snouts, ears, esophagi and/or powdered bone. Give me a DOZEN of those!

If we're not cramming ourselves with burgers or dogs, we're eating chicken - 40 pounds of chicken per year per person. That amounts to over 6 billion chickens per year, nationally.

The really sweet thing is that most chickens in the U.S. are raised in giant coop farms holding more than 10,000 birds, each in it's own illuminated box so they can feed 24 hours a day. It's the American way.

One bright spot is the consumption of fish. Americans eat more fish than ever - approximately 18 pounds per person in 1990. Hell, we're over-fishing the oceans, but your heart will thank you for it.

As a result of this one way ticket to a thickening waist, we're bloating. Do we like it? No! I hate having to untuck my shirt so nobody will see that my pants aren't buttoned up. I HATE it! So does the rest of America, apparently, because we spend between $30 billion to $50 billion annually on weight-loss programs.

We've got to trim down and surely, there must be a "Magic Bullet" diet that's just right for us. We'll try anything that promises to burn, block, flush, or otherwise eliminate fat from our over-taxed systems.

Psst! Heard about Olestra? You know, the newfangled fat-free fat? Well, if you're not opposed to cramps, flatulence, bloating, loose stools and a condition called "fecal urgency," then hey - go for it. Don't sweat the small stuff.

Amphetamines are also very effective. The only teensy weensy downside is that they're addictive and can have an adverse effect on the heart and central nervous system. Details, details...

You could slap on a Diet Patch. Never mind that the FDA has seized a number of these products from manufacturers and promoters.

Maybe it's time to look into fat, or starch "Blockers?" Sure, you might complain of nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and stomach pains, but man, you'll sure LOOK good on the beach!

Perhaps it's time to put away all of those "diet" methods and cut right to the chase - just Lipo-Suck that troublesome fat from your body! It's so easy! Yeah? Well, I know a woman who did just that. She got a large amount of fat sucked off her expanding rump and her body, sensing that it now lacked the much-needed fat, dumped it right back on - in a different place! She now has the fattest, heaving breasts you'd ever want to see. Personally, I don't want to go there.

Okay, so maybe these don't work. Perhaps a phony weight-loss gadget will?

Everyone loves Electrical Muscle Stimulators. They do have legitimate use in physical therapy treatment, but the FDA has taken a number of them off the market because they were promoted for weight loss and body toning. When used incorrectly, muscle stimulators can cause electrical shocks and burns. Hey, no pain, no gain...

My personal, 1950's era holdover gadget, is the Appetite Suppressing Eyeglasses. They're nothing more than common eyeglasses with colored lenses and claim to project an image to the retina, thereby dampening the desire to eat. Yeah...okay...I'll order a dozen today.

Don't forget the Magic weight-loss earrings - devices that are custom-fitted to the purchaser's ear, purporting to stimulate acupuncture points controlling hunger.

Please...enough.

When these all fail, and my guess is they will, why don't we take a moment to re-think the Big Gulp syndrome and get off our lazy, cushioned asses? Almost 60% of us don't do squat when work is over for the day - other than grab a bag of chips and plunk ourselves down in front of the tube for the entire evening.

Okay, when "Xena" is on I'll let you slide, but come on!

Look, I'm not a fitness expert and I have no program to recommend or video to sell you. But I firmly believe that if we want to stop tipping the bathroom scales, we've got to CHANGE THE WAY WE LIVE OUR LIVES.

We don't need to diet. The word diet is a scam, it's a synonym for temporary. We need a permanent solution to these problems. We need to think about what we eat, but more importantly, why we eat.

We also need to find an activity - something we like to do, other than raising a beer to our mouth, and start doing it. Walking, for example, provides a great release at the end of the day or a great "wake-up" at the beginning of the day. We think we're tired, but you're never too tired to walk and you can do it until you're 100. Want to do more? Fine - jog, swim, or ride a bike.

It's a choice each of us make every day and it should be OUR choice, not something a commercial, or video or even a web site editorial (hee-hee) tells us to do.

That's the real beauty of America. We have the right to be free thinkers. Heck, you've got the right to get fat or stay fat. That's fine, as long as it's a conscious decision. The problems lie in the fact that we spend too much of our time being UN-conscious.

We can actively decide whether to "sleep in" on every spare day we get, thinking that IN-activity is going to rescue us. It is also our decision if we're going to immediately flip on that intoxicating TV first thing in the morning. You know what happens when we do? We get bombarded by ads, telling us what to buy, what to eat and where to buy it.

One of my favorite advertising ploys usually hits TV screens about 10:00 at night. That's when all the fast food breakfast ads hit you - to get you thinking in ADVANCE of your hunger so the next day, you wake up thinking, "Gee, maybe it should be a Mickey D breakfast day."

Never be confused by advertising. Advertising's sole purpose is to sell you something that you don't really and truly NEED. The ADVERTISERS need you to buy their product - that's the only need going on here. Try and go without some phony Brand-name product for a week and see if you miss it. Nine out of ten times, your life will be just fine without Spam, Jolt Cola, or Fruity Pebbles.

I don't want to come across as an expert on anything, because I am not. I do think we can all be served much better during the course of a given day by cutting down on the relentless EXTERNAL information we get and start looking inside.

Ask yourself if you're happy. If you are, make sure your answer isn't the result of some external thing, like that new dress, or new car, or that "extra-strength" anti-depressant.

If you're not happy, why not? What will you do about it? Even if a solution doesn't leap to mind, at least put forth the effort to THINK about it.

Reflection is one of the real freedoms we have in our lives. It allows us to step back from our harried lives and take a mental snapshot. Look at that picture very closely and make sure it's the person you have chosen to be.

Let's start making independent, rational decisions that we inherently know are better for us, and let's do it now.

Ban Dihydrogen Monoxide!

2005-04-12T20:22:00.000-07:00

Oh, this one's clever. It's real clever. You can read it, but don't take it too seriously.

(Credit to Nathan Zohner, wherever in life he may be in life now.)

BAN DIHYDROGEN MONOXIDE!
Dihydrogen monoxide is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and kills uncounted thousands of people every year. Most of these deaths are caused by accidental inhalation of DHMO, but the dangers of dihydrogen monoxide do not end there. Prolonged exposure to its solid form causes severe tissue damage. Symptoms of DHMO ingestion can include excessive sweating and urination, and possibly a bloated feeling, nausea, vomiting and body electrolyte imbalance. For those who have become dependent, DHMO withdrawal means certain death.

Dihydrogen monoxide:

is also known as hydroxl acid, and is the major component of acid rain.
contributes to the "greenhouse effect."
may cause severe burns.
contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.

Contamination is reaching epidemic proportions!

Quantities of dihydrogen monoxide have been found in almost every stream, lake, and reservoir in America today. But the pollution is global, and the contaminant has even been found in Antarctic ice. DHMO has caused millions of dollars of property damage in the midwest, and recently California.

Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:

as an industrial solvent and coolant.
in nuclear power plants.
in the production of styrofoam.
as a fire retardant.
in many forms of cruel animal research.
in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
as an additive in certain "junk-foods" and other food products.

Companies dump waste DHMO into rivers and the ocean, and nothing can be done to stop them because this practice is still legal. The impact on wildlife is extreme, and we cannot afford to ignore it any longer!

The American government has refused to ban the production, distribution, or use of this damaging chemical due to its "importance to the economic health of this nation." In fact, the navy and other military organizations are conducting experiments with DHMO, and designing multi-billion dollar devices to control and utilize it during warfare situations. Hundreds of military research facilities receive tons of it through a highly sophisticated underground distribution network. Many store large quantities for later use.

Upside Down

2005-03-14T22:28:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how quickly a mood can flip upside-down.

Damaged Dial-A-Song

2005-01-31T22:05:00.000-08:00

My They Might Be Giants CD collection is scratched. Badly. So badly that it's not even worth trying to listen to anymore.

My favorite music. Essentially lost. There's no way to copy it, no way to save it, really. I'd have to buy a whole new set. Spend a really unnecessary $25 for CDs I already have. CDs that would make much more sense in the hands of a person who was inspired very recently to become a TMBG fan.

Gah.

Can you tell I'm rather upset about this?

Blissiness!

2005-01-30T22:26:00.000-08:00

Bliss.

Happiness.

Blissiness.

I'll be lucky if I can construct logical sentences. Stick with what you've got, or just go read something else. You've probably got better things to do than follow the badly-narrated adventures of a fourteen-year-old. If you're looking for mature, so-fisty-cated blogs, look somewhere else, traveler. I'm losing it. Quickly.

Bikes and Such
I went down to the old Oak Grove playground with Aubrey last Sunday. We walked around, talked, tried to figure out if the playground equipment was anywhere near our size. (Surprisingly, a lot of it still fit. Kinda. Gotta love it when schools actually think ahead.) It was great, just being with her.

Birthday
Oh, yeah. Did I mention I'm 14? January 26th. Last Wednesday. I had an orthodontist's appointment early that morning-- well, early enough that it cut into school-- and it just so happened that the electives at school were showing off for the sixth graders that day. I got back right as they were sitting down, but had two great, relatively error-free performances. Except my teeth hurt. Very badly. Like, I couldn't chew.

Oh well.

Aubrey gave me a present, which I took home and opened to discover a set of 12 Prismacolor colored pencils, a sampler box of 9 different types of herbal tea, and a mechanical pencil. Plus lead. It was perfect.

I went out to dinner with my family at Olive Garden, and got a bowl of minestrone soup, a plate of stuffed shells with sausage, raspberry lemonade, and lots of breadsticks. Lotses and lotses. Excellent food, even if I couldn't bite without pain shooting up my jaw.

When we got home, we took time to recollect-- more accurately, we waited while my younger brother took a shower-- and then we ate a wonderful butter pound cake with whipped cream and strawberries. And opened presents. I got some really awesome gifts from my family this year, including:

A wooden brain puzzle from my grandparents Wharton
$10 and a beautiful journal from my grandparents Schnorenberg
A cartooning book from my Coloradoan aunt and uncle (Wharton side)
Another cartooning book
Four posters for use when I redecorate my room soon
A set of 24 artist's colored pencils
An awesome pencil sharpener
A set of graphite blending tools
An expansion deck for my card game called "Killer Bunnies"

Oh yeah. It was awesome.

Thursday (that day after my birthday)
And, as a belated birthday present from the school district, I got an algebra final! Wooo!

Actually, I aced it. I'm sure of it. It was much easier than I had expected, and everything came easily. I needed a D or higher to keep an A in the class... I'm certain I'll stay at an A.

And so, I went home, was getting ready to go to Aikido, and then Aubrey told me she had a concert that night. It sounded especially interesting-- all three levels; elementary, middle school, and high school were performing-- so I decided to drop Aikido for the night and go listen to the band geeks of the North Clackamas school district.

It was rewarding. The music was quite good, most notably the high school jazz band's rendition of Glenn Miller's "In The Mood". Very true to my memories of the song, and performed quite cleanly. The whole night was excellent.

MORE
I stumbled across the beautiful short film titled "MORE" on Friday, and fell in love with it. In fact, I wrote a Wikipedia article about it. But that's not to be discussed here.

I don't know especially why I love this short so... it's most likely the artistic way it's done. And the moral. And the overall beauty of it. Just watch it, before I turn into a pile of goop. It's amazing.

Laser Tag and Mexican Food
And so, we came to the climax of this last week. Michelle and I had been planning for about a week some semi-semi-extravaganza involving the Überorchestra, two games of laser tag, and Mexican food at La Conga, a decent Mexican restaurant on McLoughlin. It was supposed to be a belated birthday celebration, but it ended up just a gathering of four nutcases. With presents. Of a logic puzzle, a game involving ink blots, and a book of Edgar Allen Poe.

It was great.

So great, in fact, that I'm wasting lines to talk about it.

And when I do that, you know something's happening.

We got to Ultrazone a few minutes late, due in part to Michelle watching MORE before she left home, but that was okay. We purchased our games, and hung around until they called us. We ended up playing a game of air hockey each, with me providing the commentary for the match between Duncan and Michelle. Michelle ended up beating Duncan with a sound five-point lead. I played Aubrey, and won with a little less leway; a 7-4 game. It was a few minutes of fun, and we enjoyed it. And then we all walked around and talked until they called us.

The first game we played was mediocre. Aubrey and Michelle were just getting introduced to the game, and Duncan and I kinda... left them. As it turns out, that was probably a bad idea, because we as a team ended up ranking last, and a divided team makes easier targets. I came in 4th place of 8 players.

So we left the general area, congratulating everyone else on a good game, and hung out in the lobby until they called us again.

The second game was much smoother. Instead of splitting up, we took the upstairs section and held it for most of the game, sniping people off. As a group, we had more eyes, and more guns. It felt like a better game, but we still came in last place. Oh well, we had fun.

With that, we headed off to eat Mexican food. We ordered a large plate of nachos and some drinks, which we dug into quite quickly. Duncan sat in the corner, doing his "solitary" act, and Michelle had to force him to eat. But it was good food, good times.

And so we walked home, talking and reflecting on the afternoon's events and nearly getting run over.

It was awesome. I love my Überorchestra.

"I actually did support the ban of gay marriage..."

2005-01-16T13:46:00.000-08:00

"...before I decided not to."

Our dear president Mr. Bush has stated that he's not going to pursue the passing of a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage in all fifty states, because it would require 67 out of 100 Senate members to pass it. This interests me because if I remember correctly, didn't he say in plain terms during the campaign that he was going to fully support banning gay marriage? A statement that encouraged his conservative "base" to get him into office? Now he's gone and turned it all around on them.

What was that phrase Bushies kept using last year? It started with an F, some sort of foot coveirng. Flipper? Flip... flip... oh yeah. FLIP-FLOP.

Rejoice.

TwoThousandAndFour

2004-12-30T22:27:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I'm not going to be anywhere near capable of blogging tomorrow night, I thought I'd take the chance tonight to reflect on the past year. This could get angsty, repetitive, overly gleeful, adjective, or all of the above. Then again...

...so I think whoever's reading this should be alright. Heck, even I don't know where this one's going to go. Let's get started, then, shall we?

...ahem.

2004

JANUARY: Milwaukie got hit rather hard with an ice storm in January. So hard, in fact, that Christmas break was extended a full week. There was something cool about waking up each morning and hearing the radio saying that no, there is still not any school today. I slipped around on the two inch-thick ice that covered the neighborhood, and otherwise enjoyed the cold weather, but by the end of the week, I was really aching to get back to school, just to have something to do.

When I did get back to school, I was promptly reminded that many people's schedules had been scrambled before we left. Mine personally hadn't, but there were new faces in all of my core classes. In World History, one Aubrey joined the class, among others, and we formed a friendship.

About this time, also, I was beginning to shed the elementary school cocoon I'd been living in for the past two or three years. I was ending my random dancing habits, refining my sense of humor, and starting to grow a little more serious with life.

I joined a Homestar Runner fan forum on the 23rd of January, one that I still post at. Let me speak up here for Homestar Rules and say that they've got one heck of a good forum going on there.

I also turned 13 in January. Entered into Ye Olde Lande of the Teenagers...e.

FEBRUARY: Did anything happen in February? I don't think so, other than the continued shedding of the cocoon.

MARCH: Well, jeez, if I can't remember anything, there's not much point in doing a month-by-month recap, is there? Let's see...

By this time, my new classmates were slowly realizing that I was quite worthy of my 4.0 grades. I'd won just about every intellectual game the class had played, and my nerdiness was growing in a rather related sense. I had switched electives from Art and German to Leadership and Theater in January, and the latter was proving to be absolutely great.

And I learned Aubrey's birthday, which was conveniently after the Ides of March. Easy to remember.
Things are going rather slowly here, and it's not likely to change for a while, so I'm gonna fast forward...

APRIL - JUNE: April Fool's day, I slapped a few people with the Joy Buzzer of Doom. April through May in World History was spent building up a "wax museum"-- a giant labyrinth among the halls of the school in which all hundred and twenty-odd kids in my team (group of teachers and students) posed as various figures from time periods in history. I died of the Black Death. Yay. I played one of the lead roles in a small theater production, which went fabulously.

I began to like Aubrey, and eventually began to suspect she liked me too. Neither of us really did anything, though, so we stayed friends until the end of the school year.

On one of the last days of school, my team took a giant bus trip down to Seaside, to visit the Oregon Coast Aquarium. The teachers guessed we'd have probably an hour or two at the aquarium, and then we'd get back to school right as the buses left. They assumed that we'd have Greyhound buses for the trip. They also thought we'd be able to complete a little packet so we actually got something from the school-free day. As it turned out, only the second belief was true. We got back to school right as the buses were loading up. Of course, everything else was wrong. We got about 40 minutes at the aquarium due to a much longer bus trip than expected. Because another school district had the day off, we had to use their school buses instead of Greyhounds, in order to save money. And, since we had less time at the aquarium, the packets never got completed.

There was some really good saving grace of this story here... but somehow, I conveniently forgot it for this telling. Hmm. Shame. Oh well, just know that in the end, it was probably the best field trip I've ever been on.

Some time around here, I got interested in the band They Might Be Giants. This interest would have interesting effects later on.

JULY-AUGUST: This was, without a doubt, the UberSummer. My family traveled to the Redwood National Forest and then to Crater Lake for a week. I've got to say, the Redwoods are absolutely breathtaking. To see living things that giant and wild is just amazing, and then to go up to the most spectacular body of water (and surrounding environment) I've ever seen... it was awesome.

I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 sometime in this timeframe. Cue enflamed hatred for President Bush.

Aubrey and I both announced our feelings in early July (and yes, I did post about it somewhere). I'm already bordering on irritatingly obsessed, so I'll reccomend that if you want to learn a little more on this particular subject during this time period, research the earlier posts of this blog.

My family held their 10th annual Barbecue Cookoff down at Sunset Bay, on the Oregon Coast. I experimented with photography, and ate some excellent grilled fish. My grandfather on my mom's side won the honorary "Emeril" trophy this year, and took the three foot-tall pig statue home, leaving the rest of us full and rather content.

Also sometime this summer, I had a conversation with Michelle which made me realize how much I hate society, which led to the angsty rants you can see featured in this blog.

I picked up the violin again this summer, after a year of not touching one. Slowly, but surely, I regained what skill I had the year before, and hoped I was ready for chamber orchestra in September.

We went to the Oregon State Fair, and-- I'm ashamed to say it-- I didn't spend much time looking at the art there. Instead, I rode rides. Again, I blogged this, so go back and read, you lazy bums!

In early August, the Putnam Mafia Society held an honorary Members' Picnic. I went, and it was great. I got soaking wet, but I made Jim the Anarchistic Golden Spool and learned how to spoolwalk. Honestly, how can you think that's not good?

SEPTEMBER: School started. My first day started with me walking down to the high school for algebra, so I started my second year of middle school at high school. I live a confused life.

I slipped into chamber orchestra and algebra rather easily, which eliminated two stresses I had over the summer.

School continued rather uneventfully.

OCTOBER: Halloween = Good. Free candy. Got to see Michelle and tried to watch a really messed up disc of Van Helsing. 'Twas awesome.

NOVEMBER: Orchestra performed its first concert somewhere early in this month, and we did okay. Our holiday concert a month later would turn out to be much better, but for the first of the year, it was pretty good. I also attended the band concert a few days earlier, with much the same results.

My little brother turned 10 on the sixth. Go Dan!

A good friend of mine admitted she liked me. Once more... previous blog.

Beach Birthday Extravaganza! You know where to look for more information... that's right, previous blogs.

DECEMBER: The trimester ended, and I got a new schedule. Those geniuses in the office realized that if I kept my current schedule (at the time), then I'd always be coming in about ten minutes late to science, and missing things. They also realized that most of the time, my LA class starts with about a half hour of reading. They put the two together, and swapped my science and LA classes, which meant... well, go look back for yourself.

The orchestra and band paired up and made the school's first symphony. We played a piece together at the orchestra's concert, which turned out okay, and then played it again the following day for the school, which turned out much better. The orchestra part of the orchestra concert was much better as well; the chamber orchestra recieved thunderous applause more than once.

I also attended the second band concert. I love those band kids.

And then we got Christmas break. Bam. I delivered two gifts halfway through the first week, to Duncan and Aubrey, respectively. I then went off and spent Christmas Eve out at my grandparents' house with all of my extended family, swapping gifts and having a grand old time.

I woke up Christmas morning oddly satisfied, having given away seven gifts in all, as opposed to probably three last year. I am changed from the person I was, even last year, and I'm pretty convinced the change is for the better. I ended up recieving...

Black cashmere scarf
Art book on perspective
Headlamp
"Dr. Grip" mechanical pencil/pen
PhD mechanical pencil
Lots of lead
SanDisk Cruzer Micro flash drive and MP3 player
Dial-A-Song: 20 Years of They Might Be Giants
Some flannel lounge pants
Eats Shoots & Leaves, by Lynne Truss
1984, by George Orwell
Tin of chocolate mints
Tin of vanilla mints
$50 in gift cards to Barnes and Noble bookstores
$35 gift card to Borders or Waldenbooks
"Killer Bunnies and the Quest for the Magic Carrot" blue starter deck (it's a card game, apparently)
Box of Lindor truffles
"G. W. Bush" acrostic pin (I'll just leave it at that)
Expansion deck for Rush Hour logic game
"Be the change you wish to see in the world" imprinted journal
Return of the King: Extended Edition DVD
"I can dress myself" ribbon
Wooden tanto and bokken for Aikido practice
Two Towers soundtrack

Overall, a very good catch this year.

And tomorrow night, I'm going to go over to Duncan's house and watch the "sb_email.exe" DVD, every e-mail, in order, from 1 to 100. It sounds to me like one heck of a way to end one heck of a year.

Here's to those very few loyal readers, the number of which I'm thankful for. Hope everyone had a good year. See ya in 2005.

-Spencer

New Laws

2004-12-18T21:42:00.000-08:00

The following laws, designed to make the world a better place, are in effect the moment I become the High Exalted World Ruler. Please read and review them so that you know what to expect.

1. Puns are henceforth illegal unless someone laughs at them. Any puns involving the word "bear" are very illegal, and offenders can be sentenced to twenty years to life in prison.

2. Rap is now illegal. Anyone caught in possession of a rap CD or track will be forced to learn a string or wind instrument. Setting fire to rap CDs in public earns a $300 reward.

3. Book banning is now banned.

4. Use of IM terms and slang out of an IM window is illegal. This includes physical notes and writing pieces, as well as e-mails and forum posts. Offenders must memorize one letter section of the Merriam-Webster dictionary, starting with A and continuing from there. This law does not apply when the author was imitating an IM window, in the sense that they were quoting an online conversation.

5. In order to publish Flash cartoons or games online, citizens must first pass a "Flash Competency Test". This test will assess the user's ability to draw and use the capabilities of the Flash program. Using stick figures, incorporating bad quality sound or image files, and/or not being bothered to redraw characters at different angles and just skewing them automatically fails the test.

6. All Hummers will be driven to a remote spot in the middle of the Sahara Desert and bombed. All Hummer drivers will be shot unless they buy a new car within two weeks of this law coming into effect.

7a. Rap and hip-hop slang is henceforth illegal. For punishment, see number 4.

7b. Any product promoting the rap or hip-hop 'lifestyle' (e.g.: 'Bratz' dolls) is also illegal. Such products will be removed from stores immediately and burned.

8. Pants whose top edge sit two inches or further under the hip bone are extremely illegal. On first offense, offenders will be given a belt. On the second, offenders will be given a nice new pair of duct tape suspenders. After that, the offending pants will be siezed.

9. Pink bathrooms are illegal.

10. Leet is now illegal. All words must be composed of letters, or numbers when appropriate. Offenders will be forced to type in English or binary.

11. Verbally swooning in public movie theaters is now punishable with a $50 fine.

12. Senders of spam e-mail must now include their mailing address, home address, and all phone numbers with their message. Recipients may do whatever they please with the information. If they would rather put it into professional hands, send the information to spenchp69@yahoo.com, and the authorities will remove a large piece of furniture or first-born child from their house.

13. Pink is not, nor ever will be, the new black. All propoganda proposing otherwise is banned.

14. Laser tag now grants free admission to anyone who knows my middle name. Failure among the employees to recognize this can result in fines of up to $500.

15. All clothes are immediately available in every size, at all times. Failure to comply will result in two weeks in prison.

16. Racism, sexism, and any other form of unfair discrimination, including discrimination due to sexual preference is from this point forward very illegal. Repeated offenses can lead to life in prison.

17. The following words being used in a derogatory manner are very ultimately extremely uber-illegal and can be punished by life in prison or death by fluffy rabid poodles: "gay", "fag(got)", "queer", "homo" and any racial slurs. We mean it.

18. Reality television will no longer be scripted, and the cast will not be actors. Fifty (50) percent of the cast will be from some minority group, and bikinis will not be worn, especially around the house. Offending shows will be immediately cancelled without prior notice and the scriptwriters' fingers will be broken.

19. Canada is now to be named Canadia, and the citizens will be known as Canadans.

20. A new religion will be created, called "Lemmingonity". Those who follow a current religion blindly and allow their religion to make every decision of theirs, against all common sense, will now be classified as Lemmingites.

These rules shall be amended when High Exalted World Ruler Spencer feels the need.

Time flies like an arrow...

2004-12-14T21:58:00.000-08:00

"...fruit flies like a banana."

Whoa, time sure flies when things are happening. My last post was before the first band concert. I'm posting tonight a day after the second.

Jeez, I've been out.

So much has happened since I last blogged, there's a lot I feel the urge to talk about. Unfortunately, knowing how I post, everything's going to get about two sentences or maybe a paragraph, and that's not good.

Got to take it slowly, Spencer... breathe.

About a week after I left, I was hit with something that left me dazed and disoriented. A close friend of mine, in a conversation online, admitted she liked me. She was a close friend, but it was just so out of the blue and from one of the people I'd least expect a sentiment like that to come from. As if Shakespeare were pulling the marionette strings of fate from above, she just so happened to be one of the few people (then, at least) who knew I was with Aubrey. Eventually, things sorted themselves out, and we're still good friends, but she's moved on to better targets.

Sometime between this point and the next, I discovered the punk rock band Green Day. I have rather open music tastes, summed up by the rather inclusive statement "if it's tolerable and mildly good, I'll listen to it." Green Day's got some excellent music, in my eyes (or ears?), including Boulevard of Broken Dreams and American Idiot. Check them out sometime, even if you don't like punk.

The next weekend, I went off to the coast for the Michelle's 15th Birthday Bonanza Extraordinaire. I don't think I've ever had so much fun in a weekend. Just hanging out and messing around with a few of my best friends down on the uber-awesome Oregon Coast was great. I got loads of-- gonna toss my modesty out the window in front of me here-- really great pictures. I found a way to describe what I'm afraid of-- it's absolute, total perfection and things that are completely out of anyone's control, for you stalkers-- and played some mad Uno. I finished watching Van Helsing with a disk that actually played right, and pedalled around the city of Seaside for two hours in a rented "quadracycle". Actually, scratch that last point, it was just tedious and nerve-wracking (it's official, I'm going to get my learner's permit before Michelle does, and she's almost a year and a half older than me), filled with easily irritated drivers and uphill climbs. I swear, I could walk the city of Seaside in my sleep by now. Nonetheless, it was a totally awesome weekend.

Then came Thanksgiving. Mmmm, food. Need I say more?

With Thanksgiving passed, the Christmas season had officially begun. We got our Christmas lights up a week before Thanksgiving, which checked one hassle off the list. I decided to actually get in the spirit of giving this year, and went out and promptly spent roughly $100 on friends and family. Can't nobody say Spencer never did nothing for the peoples. Now, the gifts have escaped into my closet and onto my floor. I hear them late at night, scuttling around and whispering, "Wrap me... wrap me..." The day will come when I have to do that, but until then, I will ignore their scuttling and their futile cries. George Washington didn't wrap his men in wrapping paper before they crossed the Delaware on Christmas Night, did they? Didn't think so.

Aubrey got AIM. We began talking constantly. Overall mood rose considerably.

With a big whooshing sound that I'm sure could have been heard over in Idaho, the school trimester drew sharply to a close two weeks ago. Suddenly, there was no more computer drawing to do for Health, no more overachieving. Instead, I got PE, which meant less writing, on the good side, but more Spencer, more physical exertion (in gym clothes, that's the thing), which was bad. They also ended up switching my science and LA classes-- which placed me in second period LA with Aubrey.

Last weekend, another friend of mine held a birthday party sleepover/laser tag sort of thing. It was awesome, even though I didn't get to sleep until four in the morning the second day. We had lots of fun, and I ranked second and third in the two Ultrazone games we played. It was uber.

So much more can be said. I've finished three awesome LA projects that involved art skills in some way. The orchestra has a performance tomorrow night, where we're going to pair with select band members for one piece, and we're sounding really good regardless. My own personal skills on the violin have considerably improved. I finished the last trimester with a 4.0 grade average. I got to hang out with the band backstage before the concert last night. It's all so good.

But being a pessimist, I'm afraid of how it's going to fall...

2004-11-08T21:04:00.000-08:00

Bush won.

It was a week ago, and I'm still in disbelief. A president who's led us into a pointless war, incorporated all sorts of Christian values into his ruling, and has eaten through a surplus and straight down into the black zone was just reelected for a second term. I can't see how so many people find him a good leader, because, according to all my definitions, he's not very great.

Here's a few fun facts for you:

It's estimated that 70% of all public schools nationwide will shut down due to lack of funding in the next 4 years. That's 70% of all American kids without good education nearby.
My English teacher is moving to New Zealand at the end of the school year, no joke. The state of the country and its future is not looking bright for her and her draft-age sons, so she's going to take up residence in the land of the Kiwis. Besides, they need English teachers over there. Really.
If President Bush keeps running the country the way he's run it in the last four years, it's a good bet that the rich will get richer, and the poor will be poorer. The rich will have health and power, and the poor simply won't. Think Middle Ages, only now with Survivor.

And, as if Fate truly hated me last Tuesday, Oregon's Measure 36 just passed. Gays across the state just lost over 100 rights and lost the ability to marry. It's as if the majority of Oregon simply thinks that gay people aren't humans, which simply irritates me to no end.

There are so many points I could make about those two things right now, but I'm not in a debating mood.

And so, in the last week, I've been trying to find stable ground, footing where I can stay happy. Strangely enough, I'm not so obsessed with it now. Sure, it worries me, but there are other things that have whisked my mind away out of this rut of a topic and into... Mediocrely Happy Land. Like the fact that the Web toon creators JibJab came out with another highly amusing music video, called "It's Good To Be In D.C". Like the fact that the school band has their first concert tomorrow, and a certain baritone sax player will be up there playing, as well as at least ten other friends of mine. Like the fact that I'm reading a hilarious book-- Lamb, by Christopher Moore.

I'm happy, for sure, at least as happy as someone who's just watched his country's future make a sharp spin towards the edge of the toilet bowl can be.

2004-10-15T09:28:00.000-07:00

Things can turn around real quickly. I think it's only fitting-- I went from happy to angry, and now I'm slightly worried and confused. It's not threatening my sanity, but it's spun me around a few times.

My dad's found my blog-- I don't know how, but he has. I didn't intend to hide it from my family, but I wasn't going to advertise it to them either. There's some stuff in here that isn't the Spencer they know, which worries me. There are things I wrote about here that they don't know about, and I don't want them to think I'm keeping a boatload of secrets, because I'm not. I also don't want them to start thinking I'm a nutjob, because of some of my really moody posts. I swing into strange periods of emotions, but I'm honestly okay with life.

My life's okay right now, and I don't want them to start treating me different, really. That's the problem, because they could do a whole varitety of things. They could lecture me on keeping secrets, and require a 5-paragraph essay every day when I get home from school on how the day went. They could form the belief that I'm in need of psychiatric help (which I'm not), and send me to a psychiatrist. They could suddenly become more open and "tender", and I don't want that. I'm perfectly fine with my life right now.

Here's to hoping it works out okay. Cheers to everyone.

Yes, society still sucks.

2004-10-07T22:40:00.000-07:00

Society strikes again. I knew the overjoyed feeling of happiness couldn't last. Today, it seemed, everyone and their dog was wearing a "Yes on 36" bumper sticker on their shirt. While I agree that everyone has a right to their opinions, what really bugged me was the type of people I saw them on, and what kind of answers I would get if I asked them "Why do you support Constitutional Amendment 36?"

Measure 36 on the Oregon ballot modifies the state Constitution so that it bans gay marriage. There's no reason at all to do this that isn't religious that I can see, and any government in the United States cannot take side religiously.

What irked me today-- although it didn't really surprise me-- was that a huge amount of the people wearing the Yes on 36 stickers were in the mainstream, popular, close to society group. (And the punks. But we won't get to that later.) I could just imagine it, if I asked them why they supported 36:

Spencer: Look, just why do you support Constitutional Amendment 36?
Them: Why not? Gays are sick fags!

(A different person walks up wearing the sticker)

Spencer: And why do you support 36?
Them: What are you, a freak? Gays are stupid! And you don't support it? You must be gay!

They would never have any idea other than simple (and sickeningly disrespectful) bashing of homosexuals. That disgusts me, because I see society at work again. "Oh, the great TV says that gays are all stupid! They're all ugly, and a man kissing a man is just plain WRONG!!!!" It's so damned closed-minded that I want to scream. The kids in my school are such slaves to society, it's a wonder I haven't gone looney yet.

Oh, wait.

Then there's the assumption "since you're for them, you're with them". I support gay rights. In society's eyes, that means I'm gay. So does that mean if I support women's rights, I'm female? If I support immigrant's rights, I'm from Canada? You don't have to be in a group to support it. I'm not gay, but I bet society would sure like to think I am. It makes things easier.

The society I live in seems to think a lot of things make you gay. Be sure not to do any one of the following, or you're a homosexual. And remember, homosexuals aren't people. They're evil demons that should all be burned at the stake.

DON'T...
-ride a bike
--if you do, don't wear a helmet
-bring lunch in a lunchbox
-play a card game at lunch
-watch a card game at lunch
-do good in classes
-listen to non-rap, non-hip hop, non-punk, non-heavy rock music
-wear something that's not typical of goths, punks, or athletes
-support gay rights
-hang out with a group of unpopular people
--hang out with anyone who does anything on this list, for that matter
... OR YOU'RE GAY.

My society also seems to think that being called gay is an ultimate insult. You could call me gay, and while it'd be an entirely false statement, it wouldn't really bug me. So you're insinuating that I find romantic pleasure in males and not females. It's not true, but how is that supposed to hurt me? Homosexuals are normal people. They aren't "like" normal people, they are normal people. They're as different from everybody else as we all are. Yet society wants us to believe that they're ugly, disgusting, abnormal freaks of nature. That's just wrong.

I honestly wish I knew more gays and lesbians. It's a strange request, especially for someone my age, but it'd be a way to show the world that they're normal-- although the world hasn't been doing much listening to me lately. It would also be some sort of change. It would honestly interest me to know someone with different sexual preferences. Not because it "turns me on", but because I'd be truly interested-- not appalled or shocked. I'm among the few in my middle-school society to think that way, that gays and lesbians are people too, and while I'm proud of it, it's also a sad thing. What kind of life is the TV dictating, where we respect only those who are like us, and make excuses as to why we don't like others? It's a saddening thing, and I wish there was more I could do to stop it.

Still happy?

2004-10-07T08:12:00.000-07:00

Yup, there's got to be something wrong with me. My life is still a happy one. The glow is fading a little from the blinding glare it was last week, but I'm still on the plus side of the mood scale.

Orchestra is going wonderfully. We're sounding better and better, and I'm really into a lot of the pieces we're playing. Our teacher handed out Krispy Kreme donuts the other day. We've got an awesome collection of songs that are going to fit just perfectly with our October concert. I'm doodling messages and little characters on the white board. It's all good.

School's tolerable as well. I'm breezing through all of my classes, easily passing. We're discussing the upcoming election in history. I got 101% on a math test-- and this is a high school-level course. I'm a middle schooler. Language arts is easy, as always.

I've been getting a lot of ideas for my story. I'm still trying to get a solid idea of the storyline, but it's definitely coming together. I also finished a fifth comic in my comic series, one I'm extremely proud of.

I went to the bowling alley with two of my best friends on Sunday. It was awesome. We played two games of bowling, the scores amazingly doing a complete 180-degree spin between them, played a few games of air hockey (they were on the other side of the table, but it was really me against me), and then hung out at a little table and drank soda until a creepy bowling alley worker stared at us funny. Then we went outside, ran around the building, and talked. Simply awesome.

We're planning on doing it again next month, and I think I'm going to invite-- wait for a second. Think. Reread some of my old blog entries. If you're still clueless, go away and shame yourself, because you have the comprehensive ability of about a third grader. We have no idea what the three (four) of us are going to do, but I'm inviting her anyway. Hopefully, if she wants to go, her parents will let her, although the three of us (that'd be me and the aforementioned two friends) are really strangers to them. Ah well.

That was a beautifully confusing paragraph. Let's hear it for pronouns!

And then there's the Halloween dance coming up. Personally, I dislike middle school dances. The music's way too loud, there's way too many people, and they're all standing around talking. Way too much. Quite frankly, I'd prefer to do something more enjoyable (computer lab! Woo!).

There's more. Or not. Either way, I need to head down to the bus. More rantings and ravings eventually.

The great will overwhelm!

2004-09-22T07:58:00.000-07:00

I'm as close to ecstatic as I've been for a long time. On the inside, of course.

It's sometimes staggering how so many things can go right. You'd think that there's some sort of universal limit-- "No more than four things can go right for a person at one time, or else!", but apparently, there isn't. Here's what's got me so bouncy, in no particular order:

1. Orchestra. Lots to say here. We're all doing extremely well in orchestra on a number of pieces, and I'm feeling much more in place there. Once I had time to practice and hear what the songs sounded like, I quickly got the hang of them. On top of that, my orchestra's been invited to play in the lobby of the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall immediately prior to an Oregon Symphony performance. We play for forty minutes, then get free admission into the auditorium. Good seats, too. We were the only middle school orchestra in the state to get invited to this. I'm so proud of myself.

2. Writing. Not as much to say here. I've been striving for an idea for a bigger story to write for a long time, and I think I've finally hooked on one. If I can tone my skills, this could be good.

3. Schoolwork. Easy stuff. I finished a project for my Health class a day before it was due, and I'd drawn every image, written every letter on the computer. Ten pages of effort, plus front and back covers, and I got it done before it was due. Algebra's breezing by easily, as well. We're still reviewing, and homework scores have been great. We've been chewing gum in Science (for an experiment, really!), covering extremely easy stuff in LA-- easy for me, although I really don't see how eighth graders couldn't know how to pronounce words in the English language now-- and I got a perfect score on a USA map test in History. Good times, good times.

4. Soda. I've been staying just slightly after class in Health to reorder the textbooks in the shelf, along with my friend Kipp. We aren't asked to, we just do it. For doing that, our teacher gave us twice as many donut coupons as everyone else did, but as it turned out, we could only redeem one of them. In exchange for the other, she let us go pick out a soda from Ms. Park's office-- another PE teacher. As it turned out, though, Park's office is basically on the far end of the girl's locker room. Warily, Kipp and I called into the locker room, "Hey, is Ms. Park in there?" We couldn't care less whether or not she was there, we just didn't want to parade in on any girl in there and be forever labeled as perverts. After no response was given, we slipped in, unlocked her office, grabbed a soda each, and slipped out, nobody the wiser. It was good soda (diet black cherry), but didn't have enough sugar for me to relive the aptly-named Sugar Hype of '04 World History that I had last year. I was just acting then, but I was just about bouncing off the walls. Anyway.

5. House painting. My house is getting repainted, becoming a much cooler dark olive gray. Now that the outside is (somewhat) better-looking, we can get back to work on the inside. That means my room will look cool soon.

Look Cool Soon: Making a Room Cooler After Taking Care of the Outside.
a Self-Help Guide by Spencer Wharton

There's other little small things, but I won't go into them. Suffice to say that I'm a happy happy guy.

Happy happy.

Really, it started out brown!

2004-09-13T22:32:00.000-07:00

It's hard to blog about something when anyone who reads it will have no clue what you're talking about, quite possibly even yourself.

That's what makes it fun to write these things.

I train in the martial art of Aikido, and have for six or seven years. Aikido is a relatively nonviolent martial art, offering ways to end conflict in your favor without seriously maiming the other person. "The way of harmony through universal energy." Ai Ki Do. Even the name sounds pacific and harmless. It's really not a competitive art.

There are twenty levels of rank, denoted by belts. In order, the first ten are:

-Yellow
-Orange
-Second Orange
-Blue
-Second Blue
-Purple
-Second Purple
-Brown
-Second Brown

The next ten are all levels of black belt.

Over the past months, I've been preparing to take my test for brown belt. In case you're still clueless, let me ellaborate. Brown belt, in the ranking I partake in, is three steps away from black. Roughly two years of training.

And this isn't simple stuff I'm doing, either. To earn a brown belt, you have to demonstrate that you know how to "break fall"-- fall in a way that lands you safely, involving flipping in the air and a precise arrangement of arms and legs. You've got to know how to defend yourself from someone grabbing both of your hands from behind, grabbing one wrist with two hands, stabbing at the top of your head with a knife, and lunging for your stomach, as well as a one-on-one melee-style practice where anything goes. You're required to do techniques that could break someone's arm or wrist six different ways. This isn't extremely violent stuff, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

And so, I tested today, along with three other friends who were prepared to take this test. It's a kinda misleading name-- my instructor will only allow us to test when he's sure we know how to do the criteria. It's not as much a test as it is a demonstration.

Test or demonstration, I was, in my opinion, the most prepared there. I've been preparing for months for this rank, and most of what I had to do came easily and smoothly. I had a partner who could take the ukemi (attack well and stay connected energy-wise the whole time) wonderfully. There were no tricks, nothing I forgot, nothing that I'd overprepared on. I breezed by the test, and became among the fifth students in the history of Aikido Northwest to ascend all the way from kids' rank white belt (before yellow) to brown.

Afterwards, we went over to Round Table Pizza for some dough, tomato sauce, processed milk, and sliced meat. It wasn't the best pizza, but it cured hunger, and I've certainly had worse. We hung around, drew stares from other patrons, and many hugs were passed (mostly from me to a friend who really enjoys recieving hugs from me. Don't ask).

And now, I am exhausted. There's more to say about school today, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Oh, yes. School.

2004-09-09T16:20:00.000-07:00

I left from lunch from the cafeteria a little later than one of my friends. Coming out of the door of the school, I spotted him, so, because I had energy to burn and I wanted to get to him quickly (because that's just how I am), I started sprinting to him.

A teacher called after me. "Hey, no running!"

Let me clear any confusions up. I was on the black top. I was looking ahead, avoiding anyone in my path. If it was impossible to avoid them, I would have stopped. I tie my shoes tight, and I balance myself pretty well when I run. There was no lurking chance of danger to myself or anyone near.

Yet they don't allow running.

This drives me insane. What is the problem with running a couple hundred feet? Am I going to go wacko nutjob on everyone and start playing "bumper cars" with my body? Don't think so. Am I going to slip, fall, scrape my knees and elbows, and have my parents sue the school? Of course not. (There's no point to suing the school, we pay for it, so in a roundabout way, we'd be suing ourselves.) There's no real reason that I can think of why I shouldn't be allowed to run to catch up with a friend. But it's enforced: NO RUNNING.

Orchestra. I've had five years of practice, and one year that I was out of it. I am rather dreading this class, because not only am I pretty bad at it (generally just sight-reading the notes), but it seems so phenomenal, because if I can't do it well enough to get an A, it will crush my hopes of getting a 4.0. I just don't want that to happen, but it might.

School pictures are always awful. I spent all morning working on getting a smile right for them, and as I'm sitting-- more like kneeling, actually-- there, the photographer person decides that I need to be at a totally different angle. She tells me to tip my head, and I do so, watching my perfectly planned picture slowly fall to pieces. I try to quickly think up how to adapt to this situation, and still look alright, while she tells me to smile. My mouth opens, and about a half-second before the bulb flashes, I remember, "Hey, I don't want to open my mouth!"

Take two. We adjust the angles all over again, pulling the string out, turning my shoulder, tipping my head, and I'm thinking, "So, in a perfect world, all the school pictures would be exact clones of each other, save for those small facial details?" I'm giving my little smile-- I haven't done big smiles since my lip was torn open by a dog-- and she asks me to smile, so I increase it by about two millimeters. She adjusts the focus, counts down vaguely, and then FLUPF!! It's done.

I want them soon so I can accidentally drop them in the sewer.

I have loads to practice on my violin, so it just might be a good time to end this entry.

So long, sweet sweet summer...

2004-09-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

Summer wound down to an end for me today, and I think they picked a great day for it. It was bright and sunny all day (although, some out-of-the-blue snowfalls or thunderstorms would have earned this day the title "Best End of Summer Ever"), and things seemed to go my way.

I woke up to the buzz of my alarm clock, and the thought, "Hmm. There's hazardous material in the room." I shut the alarm off, went back to snoozin', and was awakened again by the second buzz. This time, I thought that it was just "going through a list", and had been repeating itself for a long time. The beeps meant it was doing things right.

I've been entertained by those thoughts all day.

After a few hours of vegging out (and having fun doing it!) at the computer, I decided that, since school starts tomorrow, it might be a real good idea to find out just who my math teacher was. With that in mind, I called the high school and my middle school, and left messages on both machines. I entertained the thought of strolling down to the high school and asking the counselors there, but promptly changed my mind after realizing there were students down there. I walked back home and mulled around on the computer a bit more.

I had decided earlier that I'd go on a final bike ride of the summer today, and so, after sitting at the computer, I popped onto my bike and started my 6.9-mile ride. As it has for the past six months, my route took me down Aubrey's street, and like I have for the last six months, I vaguely looked around the neighborhood for the address she'd put on her Shizno News subscription form. I've driven myself to wide-eyed insanity doing this before, just because the numbering system down there is awful. AWFUL.

I wandered around for only a few minutes, determined not to spend too much time on this, and, just as made my final swing around the street, noticed a number on a mailbox. I'd finally found the elusive house. Pretty nice timing for it, too.

I returned home, not as exhausted as I thought I'd be, and shortly afterwards recieved a call from my school. My assumptions as to who I had for my math class were correct, which was good, because I got the "nice" teacher. Things were working out nicely.

The rest of the day was spent lounging around again-- reading good books, playing computer games, and talking to friends. I think I'm actually kind of glad that school's starting-- the monotony of summer's starting to bore into my skull.

Another year, here I come...

And now for something completely different...

2004-09-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

And now... a man. With three buttocks.

Okay, so maybe not. I'm afraid I don't have a triple-butted man to offer you, but I can offer my story of this year's trip to the state fair. Not as exciting, but if you hold on for a while longer, we might be able to arrange an interview with Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson.

For the last four or five years, my family (read: my mom, brother and myself) have made it a point to go visit the Oregon State Fair each year. Really, it's not as much of a "cowboy" thing as people seem to portray it as. This year, while it almost makes me take shame in my supposed disrespect for the arts, I spent most of my time on rides, in the midway, or eating, or en route to one of those things. And of course, seeing as my mom isn't of the rides type, I went with my little brother.

On good days, Dan's an awesome little kid. He's old enough to have conversations that matter with (example: "OOOH! LET'S DO THAT ONE NEXT!"), and seeing as we're the only two kids in the family, there's a special bond that almost glows and shimmers when the sunlight touches it.

Aww.

On bad days however, Dan is like a land mine with a timer attached. You don't wanna touch him, because he'll explode-- or maybe implode, retreating to his own world and constructing a two-foot-thick invisible concrete wall around himself --and you don't wanna leave him be, because sooner or later, something's gonna set him off. I always think that he somehow got my share of the moody attitudes that supposedly come with becoming a teenager, because he slams himself into his room three times a week on average, hating us all.

And, as you might guess, yesterday was-- a good day! Ha, fooled you there. Yes, Dan and I were all happy and brotherly yesterday, which was a good thing when you're supposed to be riding rides together.

The rides were certainly enjoyable. My favorite was the Enterprise-- to describe it would take a few paragraphs, and in the end, still leave you thinking "What?", so just know that it was a fun, a two-person-per-car fast spinny ride and leave it at that. We had a great time on other rides as well. No motion sickness, no severed limbs, better than most family trips.

So of course, I had fun on the rides. But they got my poor, socially cut-off middle schooler brain thinking: Wouldn't this be fun to do next year with Aubrey?

I know, I can hear you all groaning. "Can't he think of anything else?" The answer is yes. I could spend my time thinking about the chewy technical bits of shomenuchi yonkyo, reviewing my algebra so I'd be ready for next year, fulfilling my age's stereotype by ranting about how screwed up I percieve my life to be, or using my blog as an absolutely perfect journal of everything I think, feel, say, or do during each day. But I don't. So humor me, and let me talk.

There are some minor blips on the screen as always. Numero uno: Presuming we'll still like each other after another year. I don't plan on contending for Mr. Repulsive 2004, and I'm not going to go totally clingy, ignorant, or downright strange, so I think that's okay. Anything could happen, but I'll do what I can to keep things going my way.

Numero dos: Telling my folks about her. This is where I silently chide myself. If I were on top of everything, the day I'd learned that Aubrey had liked me as well, I would've told my parents, in order to reduce any suspicion. Of course, I'm not, so this whole thing is going on rather behind their backs. I sigh at myself sometimes-- I can recite speeches in front of classrooms of seventh graders, speak to an audience of hundreds, perform a silly play for thirty classmates, but can't tell my folks about a girlfriend. I imagine some school meeting of some sort where the parents are there, and Aubrey's parents coming over, and identifying themselves as "Aubrey's parents." Confusion comes from there-- "Aubrey? Who?", and then the resulting mixup and problems. I could probably sort it out with my mom and dad, but if I'm seen as the kid who runs things behind their backs... might not be the best thing to be portrayed as.

Still, a day at the state fair next year with Aubrey sure would be a nice change in my life. Having someone to sit close to on rides who's not a direct relative would be quite welcome.

There I go, once again, spinning off from a safe topic to talking about Aubrey. I am hopeless.

Hail our great lord Ti Vi!

2004-09-02T11:33:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one who sees just what's wrong with society?

No, of course not. There are others who see it too, but they're few and far between. Which is a shame, really, because majority of those people are really enjoyable to talk to and interact with.

What am I talking about? I'm talking about how we let our own opinions be dictated to us from media. Kids watch TV and movies, and form beliefs from those. A girl doesn't wear a pound of makeup every day? Pff, well, she's not "hot". There's a guy who gets straight A's in school, and doesn't play football, paintball, or doesn't skate? Hmm. He's a freak. He might even be gay. We're all so sure about this because the TV tells us these things. Let's all pray to the TV!

Wasn't there once a time when intelligence was appreciated, not scoffed at? Today, anyone who cares to get good grades in school, likes to believe that they could get somewhere high in life is immediately labeled "nerd". If you should-- God forbid --help someone in any way bigger than lending a pencil, you're positively weird. It almost seems like society doesn't want us to get anywhere in life.

It really truly sickens me. Compassion and even the slightest traces of caring are "stupid". Being unorthodox makes you uncool. Hell, in the society I live in, you can even be criticized for a shirt you wear. A shirt. Something you wear for one day. No, they don't care that you didn't have much else to wear, you're not too happy with it yourself, "I thought it was funny when I bought it." Wear the wrong thing, and you're pretty much doomed for eternity and a few days.

Oh, make sure you listen to the right kind of music, or may God have mercy on your soul. If you don't listen to Eminem, AC/DC, or Metallica, there must be something wrong with you. And if you listen to oldies, country, or-- Heaven forbid-- even classical? You can say "adios, señor" to any possibilities of making friends or even being accepted as slightly cool.

And yes. It is true. If you play card games or chess at lunch, you are gay.

The insensitivity-- oh, by the way, if you use words longer than three syllables, you're a nerd as well --of it all absolutely drives me insane. It may just be a middle school thing, but it's certainly awful.

There needs to be a holiday for us outcasts all around the world to celebrate our removal from the center stream of society. January 26th, to pick a day out of nowhere. We could listen to whatever we wanted, at whatever volume we wanted. Wear whatever shirts we felt like, do absolutely anything at lunch. We'd show the world what its problem is, and maybe pick some more people off of the branches of pop culture. It might not do anything, but it'd be fun.

Imagine what you want, but don't say it out loud. After all, that just looks freaky.

Angst Ahoy, Cap'n!

2004-08-24T12:05:00.000-07:00

A grey, gloomy, stormy day. Weather that's nothing new to me. What's new today is the emotion it brings with it.

Normally, I would be enjoying this to the fullest. I beam when others despair, I'm a black dot when everyone else is white. By all of my standards, I should be basking in the gloominess of the day. I recieved Gmail yesterday, finished a really fun drawing and started a new one that's going excellently, had an awesome time at the Putnam Mafia picnic, and I'm going to test for a brown belt in Aikido soon. I have no reason to be so screwed up. But since when did I need reason for anything?

It may have to do with the fact that I've somehow glued myself to the computer and yet haven't. I've been freely roaming, I've get stuff done when it's needed, I take time away to draw and read and practice violin. I'm by far not an Internet junkie, I don't eat at my computer, use it as the only source of light in my room, keep it on 24/7, but I feel some sorta attachment it. It's not a loving bond or some sorta junk like that, but it's a very disorienting feeling.

It also may be that I just hooked myself into a really big art project, drawing for a couple of home video games of a few smaller kids in my Aikido class. I've got this strange sense of foreboding, that I'm gonna be working on this for years. I can't do that. For starters, I hate large amounts of comissioned work. That's one extremely easy way to cut off my creativity and send my daily mood on a downhill spiral. Then there's the factor of time. Taking high school-level algebra classes next year and the homework that they require, plus the homework that normally comes with eighth grade, plus Aikido classes, plus the near-inevitable violin practice, plus other around-the-house things, the orchestra and theater performances... it all stacks up, and finding time to draw might be a challenge. Unfortunately, if I don't work consistenly enough on it, I will be working on it for years. To possibly worsen the situation, I'm not going to let myself get a GPA under 4.0 this year (it hasn't happened before, but I don't want to let it happen), and that means effort put into work. Effort usually requires time. Ooh, what a sticky wicket I'm in. The final cog in this all (or the wrench) is that even if I had unlimited amounts of time to work on the game project, I could not bring myself to work solely on the project when drawing. I get so many ideas that need to be put on paper, I'd never be able to put them away and focus on a single project. It just doesn't work. These guys are really great, and I don't have any intention of ruining their game's future, but if I got too involved in this, I could be seriously harming my artistic abilities, however small they may be.

Could it also be that we're planning to hold some sort of party with my friends here at my house, and my room looks like crap? Sure, when put in context with my younger brother's room, it's pretty nice, but my room is awful. I've got a costume from a history project last year thrown against a wall, there's a brown paper bag of children's books to be donated to my brother's school, a pile of miscellaneous old clothes is pushed neatly against the wall, my bookshelf is overflowing with books (to emphasise my nerd qualities, for sure), I've got a mess of drawing supplies and drawings over my desk, old Lego toys to be sold on eBay (someday) are waiting patiently on the floor, I have Japanese papers in a stack near my mismatched garbage cans, and my computer game rack holds less-than-redeeming games, due to the shared nature of my computer. My closet homes old craft supplies, a four-year-old recorder, a broken laundry basket (why do we keep these things?) a pianoish keyboard smaller than my current computerish one, two backpacks, four spare pillows, games that were never moved out, a roll of wallpaper from when we redecorated my bathroom (a very rewarding project. No more birds watching me when nature calls.), a bunch of writing journals, thesauruses and dictionaries, last year's binder, drawings, a bunch of plastic lanyard ropey stringy stuff, a box full of mysterious contents, and old Lego comics that haven't been relocated, sold, or burned yet. My walls are not only bare, but a rather bright and perky shade of aqua green. Under my bed I've got trading cards from three sets that I never touch anymore. Ever. The only salvation is knowing that someday, we'll clean it out and make it much better-- giving it a Hollywood theme, with dark slate blue walls and possibly a new lighting fixture.

Until then, it's a goddamn mess that I can only barely pick away at.

It doesn't help the situation that next year, even without the party and the game art, is gonna be a mess. I'm going to have to walk down to the high school for math classes every other day, which certainly will induce some stares and awkward situations. Being labeled a "nerd" back at my school isn't gonna be great either, but I'll get over that quickly, I've been labled "nerd" for so long in my life, I just accept what they say as their opinions, and get on with life. What is gonna bug me is if people get all stupid about me going out with Aubrey, seeing as she's certainly not among the "popular" kids at school. Why is everyone so damn ignorant about that these days? They've got their ideas of what's "cool" and what's not, what's "hot" and what's not... it's so stupid, which is why I loathe most of the middle school society.

Writing this just gets me so more irked at the world. Gah.

Before I launch into head-on stereotypical teenage angst, I should go eat something. Scream into my pillow to vent frustration. Kill ants. Talk to someone who'll honestly listen, not just focus on another chat window.

Gah.

Mac killed my inner child.

2004-08-22T20:06:00.000-07:00

I have seen my share of parodies of Apple's recent "Switch" commercials, but this one truly takes the cake. It's seven times longer than the average "Switch" commercial, but it makes up for that with its highly contagious humor. The language is rather strong at some points, but it's a really funny watch.

I like the handle here. That's so you can attach a chain and use it as a BOAT ANCHOR!

One of the coolest features about the Mac is that it's really easy to shut down. All you have to do is be using a piece of software and then --POOF! It goes away! It's gone. It's shut down. You didn't push any buttons, you didn't close, you didn't even save. It's just gone.

Unless you want to shut down a Mac, oh, that's a whole nother story. I mean, you try to close a program, and it locks up. And then you do that funny --what is it, the clover leaf period thing? The unnatural and ultimately useless interrupt key! Then nothing moves! Then you push the power button, and it won't turn off! You go around and unplug it, and you'd better hope you're not on a laptop, because then you've gotta find the damn battery and pull that out or the thing will never shut down!

It's the only operating system I know of where click and drag doesn't mean you copy or move anything, no, you're just making shortcuts on the desktop!

So I get a little caution window saying "Careful: Interrupting this program may lock up the system." So I try to click OK, BUT THE SYSTEM'S ALREADY LOCKED UP!!

Mac killed my inner child.

It's fun.

I finished the fourth in my comic series today, a --did you guess?-- "Switch" parody. Sorta. The time between finishing this comic and the last is a new record-- six days. It's certainly not much to celebrate, but an interesting tidbit nonetheless.

The Putnam Mafia Society's picnic on Friday was a blast. I gave life (not birth, fools, life) to Jim the Anarchistic Golden Spool, who I lovingly stood on, threw, and sat upon during the Spoolympics. It wasn't as segregated as I thought it would be, although I definitely had some disadvantage social-wise being among the smallest five there. I got absolutely drenched, although I had a chance to look spiffy in my Black Death shirt and my corduroy jacket.

Registration for the next year of school is on Thursday. Another chance to show off my shirt, especially since Aubrey, who was also planning to get the shirt, will be there at the same time.

Wooo... I love bouncing around from topic to topic.

The Tale of Spencer and the Theatre

2004-07-30T16:48:00.000-07:00

"Gasp!" exclaimed the Spencer as he turned the corner and read the boards on the front of the theatre. "Where be thy Dodgeball? Be it possibly gone?" Indeed, it was so, the film dubbed "Dodgeball" by the neighboring peasants of yon village was not to be seen. Like a travelling troupe, it had packeth up and moveth away.

He was of much perplexedosity, but would not leave, lest the fair maiden Aubrey arrive and not see him. Catastrophic events would rain amuck did that happen. Instead, the Spencer leanth against a wall and re-read his copy of the Shizno News, issue of the number fifty.

Within fifteen minutes (since he had arrived at the time of 11:10 or so), an automobile parkth, and out did come the lady Aubrey. The two discussed the situation of not seeing Dodgeball on yonder boards, and thought about what they might do in alternation. They settled on watching the film Spiderman 2. The Spencer hadth already seen the movie, but as it was long in time and full in entertainment value, he agreed wholeheartedly.

As the film played, not much did the Spencer nor Aubrey do. The air conditioning, on the other hand, did more than its share. This did not ruin the movie, however, as both Spencer and Aubrey enjoyed it fully. By the time the movie was done, the lady and the Spencer were beginning to turn a most noble shade of blue.

As they exited the theater, with feet of blue and shivers playing havoc on their ability to stand straight, Aubrey remembered that she needed to call her mother, and promptly went outside. Spencer did remind her that yon pay phone was inside. Both of them. He pointed out yon smallish sign saying "Phone". The lady Aubrey made the call, and the two of them went outside and stood awkwardly on the curb, waiting.

As the mother arrived, the two bode farewell, and parted, Spencer walking the 15-minute walk back to his castle, where he consumed a most delicious peach. Mmmm, mmm.

Silence? Pshaw.

2004-07-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

I spent the first two hours of my day trying to hold an online vow of silence. Last night, I became rather fed up with my words being misinterpreted, mistaken for insults, and made fun of, so I though that I'd stop talking. I knew that something this rational wouldn't last very long, so I planned it for only a day.

Well, that didn't work either. Two hours into it, I realized two things:

a) I was feeling much better than I did last night, and
b) it was getting increasingly difficult to imagine not talking to my friends for a day.

Oh, and my away message sounded extremely childish.

Now, certainly, I have managed to go for nine days without talking to friends online, but when it's pure choice, and the computer desk also occupies the rest of your day as your drawing space, you try ignoring the world*.

So, around ten o' clock, I gave in, and joined the world of the online once more.

I'm going to see Dodgeball tomorrow with Aubrey. It's not the top choice for a movie to see together, but hey, it works. I've been thinking through all the possibilities of what might happen... I might get popcorn in my face... I might choose the one seat that has no cushion... it's endless. And highly amusing.

*not an actual offer, and so, it's not valid in every part of the world. Except New Zealand. Seems pretty good at that already, I suppose.

Ten Miles on a Bicycle

2004-07-16T18:36:00.000-07:00

I slugged through breakfast this morning half-awake, anticipating a nice chance for extra rest after my younger brother and dad left. Instead, I found myself becoming more alive in the shower, watching the concept of a nice, peaceful nap slip down the drain. Oh well, I thought, a peaceful shower's okay too.

I didn't get that either. My dad called me in the middle of my shower. I begrudgingly turned the water off, wove a towel around my waist, and answered the phone. As it turned out, my younger brother wasn't registered for the summer daycare program today, and so the only way he could get in would be if there were any cancelations. They were eading home to wait for word of vacancies.

It wasn't even eight o' clock yet, and my day was looking like a bad one.

I schlepped back into the shower, thinking of all the things I wouldn't be able to do if my brother and dad stayed home all day. Finishing, I dressed, spiked my hair, and took the five steps to my computer.

Within an hour, there was a cancelation, and so the two extra bodies in the house were out the door.

I had to go get music for my violin, so I hopped on my bike and headed down the highway to the music shop. After purchasing the book, I decided to take a long way home, and rode a loop back to my house.

The ride itself was enjoyable, and rather uneventful. No psychotic maniacs running after me, throwing knives; no squirrels dashing under my wheel. For the most of the ride, I contemplated the feeling of joy I got yesterday after learning that the girl I've had a crush on for the last six months also liked me. While it was a rather childish reason to be overjoyed, it's a rare one, and so I'm attempting to remember it before it fades.

By the time I was nearly three-fourths of the way home, my legs were aching like crazy, and my mouth was getting sticky from lack of moisture. I managed to pull myself home, opened the door, and made a beeline towards the fridge, where I poured and immediately downed a glass of cold, fresh water.

Upstairs, on my computer, I Mapquest'd my route, piece by piece, and found that it came to about 9.48 miles-- which I rounded to 10. I thought I had a good reason to be exhausted, seeing as I'd averaged about a pace of 10-15 mph.

I unceremoniously spent the rest of the day scheming a poster for my local highschool's mafia, and surfing the web. While my day had started off looking a bit unfriendly, it worked itself out by midafternoon.

Bleh. Awful entry. Oh well.