Happiness Is A Warm Gun

26 04 2008


I’ve felt disconnected for the past few weeks, like nothing was important–including this blog.  Especially this blog.  I click on that login button and I go “UGH, do I have to?”  Not anymore–I feel rejuvenated!  It was this odd chain of events that led to me spending the majority of my weekend with Ms. Rachel Ellane (she is no longer Ramxpage) and working my high school’s junior-senior prom.  And I’ve never had more fun.

As if to remind me how miserable I was during me and Rachel’s spat, our HSAP prompt asked me to recall my fondest memory (or one of them anyway).  The first thing that came to mind was the first time I ever ice skated–and that was with Rachel.  And, in an odd, roundabout way, it made me realize guys are not more important thand a good time.  Does that make sense?  This whole yaer–my whole high school career, in fact–I have let guys make me miserable and make me cry.  And the only crying I’m going to be doing is when my favorite teacher leaves.  (Don’t worry.  I’ll still talk to her–that’s not what makes me cry; I’ll be crying because she’ll finally escape the tyranny of our high school.)

I’ve always said that the line about hapiness coming from within was pretty much bullshit.  Shows how much I thought I knew.  Because, at the moment, I am completely content inside.  Rachel and I are back to normal–annoying each other for fun–and I don’t really like any guy at the moment, except for the boy in my class, but I’m taking that extremely slow due to some advice. (*cough*diane*cough*)  So that means the only thing I’m stressing over is what I’m wearing to HSAP testing tomorrow.  (Sounds like a disease, doesn’t it?  AIDS, HSAP, HIV, can you name the STD?)

I’m watching Ratatouille, which is an amazing movie.  You’ve got to love the characters.  Speaking of charactesr, I should work on a post for my writing blog.  It’s going to be interesting juggling all the internet crap I’ve got piled up.  I recently revived my livejournal for Rachel, so I’m juggling that, two wordpress blogs, twitter, etc.  Joy.  Plus, I forget, like, everything.  I forgot to message people on Twitter because I was caught up in Backseat Goodbye’s “Hello Yellow” (which is all RACHEL’S FAULT.)

So, I’ll leave you with this song that sums up a lot.

Sometimes I fear that I might dissapear
In the blur of fast forward I faulter again
Forgetting to breathe, I need to sleep
I’m getting nowhere

All that I’ve missed I see in the reflection
Passed me while I wasn’t paying attention
Tired of rushing, racing and running
I’m falling apart

Tell me
Oh won’t you take my hand and lead me
Slow me down
Don’t let love pass me by
Just show me how
‘Cause I’m ready to fall
Slow me down
Don’t let me live a lie
Before my life flys by
I need you to slow me down
-“Slow Me Down” by Emmy Rossum


Intimidation At Its Best

14 02 2008

When I look at a lot of the blogs I have recently started to visit, I get really, really intimidated.   Maybe not so much by the posts–which intimidate me sometimes–but the comments.  These people sound so intelligent and I have absolutely no idea what they are talking about!  It makes me look like a fluff when I sit there, trying to figure out what they’re saying when it is really one of the simplest things in the world.  The comments I was just trying to read on Students 2.0 made my eyes wide, because I was going to comment.  I was so scared of sounding like an idiot that I just refrained from saying anything whatsoever.  Like that quote by Mark Twain:  “It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.”


This is what I feel like in the cyber world.  My comments are usually just quirky little things to bring smiles to people’s faces, but when I look at others’ comments, I lose my train of thought, and my palms get sweaty.  I don’t want to look like an idiot to these people.

I was talking to the Shield–my favorite teacher’s anonymous name–about the technicality of a lot of these people’s blogs.  It’s so technical to me sometimes I can’t even comment, because I don’t even know what’s going on in the first place. 

When I was writing my post for the Students 2.0, I was pretty satisfied with it, thought it was pretty good.  Then I saw everyone else’s.  Let me tell you, it wasn’t a confidence booster.  Was I stupid compared to these people?  Maybe. They are older than me, so they’re probably going to academically know more than me, or their vocabulary is more advanced.  Well, I thought my vocabulary was advanced, because I stopped reading the typical teen novels when I was 12, so I thought I was pretty smart.  Which, I am compared to my classmates, but not to these people.  They make me feel…not stupid, but maybe they make me feel uneducated, like I don’t know anything.

But, I do know stuff.  Most of it won’t really help me in the academic world, but it will help me with people, which will probably serve me better than anything else I may learn.  I mean, I didn’t even know what a mortgage was until the Shield explained it to our class.  I was ashamed, I can tell you that much. 

So, if I’m feeling intimidated when I’m reading comments, I don’t even want to know the reaction my post will get.  What if they hate it?  What if it isn’t as deep as everyone else’s?  I don’t claim to be a shallow person, but I’m not exactly deep either.  You have to catch me on the right day, because I don’t like thinking deep, because then I look at my life, and I see what’s wrong with it.

Only problem is, I’m not going to take the steps to fix it, becuase I can’t hurt people.


Ah, The System

22 01 2008

I think that teachers in this country have it rough.  Not just rough, but extremely rough.  I don’t know if the joy of teaching someone something would actually compensate for the…oppression? 

That word is a little harsh.  But, still.  They cannot express any opinions–outright anyway–and it just seems like they are constantly looking over their shoulders for the administrative force.  It’s sad. 

One of my teachers had an Obama sticker stuck to her back and did not notice it until towards the end of the day, and she was freaking out.  She was going on about how she could lose her job and all this stuff.  I didn’t believe her, until she was being dead serious.  How awful would that be?

To work with someone constantly watching you, calling you on your mistakes?  To fear expressing yourself because you might lose your job? Doesn’t that infringe on the freedom of expression thing or something?

Watching your teachers fear for their jobs is hard.  Although, I have noticed something.  The teachers who are afraid of the system are people.  Not that any of my other teachers aren’t.  But the frightened ones actually lead lives and have opinions.  The ones who don’t?  I honestly do not know if they have an outside life.  I know one of my teachers does not…Hamz, Fluffy, and Ramxpage all know what I’m talking about. 

Oh, and check the blogroll.  beyond-school, my dears.

Define Teacher

3 01 2008

I haven’t really given thought to what teachers do.  Yes, they teach me 5/7 days of the week for a good portion of my day.  The tearm teacher is used…well, I don’t thik it’s used enough, or for the right things.  I was thinking during geometery about the three teachers I’ve had so far for my math course.  The same thing happened last year with my global studies class.  What makes a teacher a teacher?  What makes them a good teacher or a bad teacher?

Teachers, I believe are very limited.  They have course plans, lesson plans, they have to enforce the rules.  Admittedly, though, I feel better when they enforce the rules–the sensible rules, mind you  (we have this rule about inhuman hair color, and it makes me laugh because no one cares.  There are hairstyles that attract more attention than the kid with pink hair.)  The system doesn’t think highly of the teachers.  People can say whatever they want.  The system does not appreciate its employees, outside of the administrators.  So I wanted to make clear what I think about all of my teachers. 

Good Teachers:

We are not allowed to hug teachers anymore.  All of the teachers that decided to sleep with their students screwed the rest of us over.  (No pun intended.)  But, a good teacher is one that you know they would accept a hug if you wanted to give them one.  I have teachers that dont, won’t, and absolutely hate the students they teach.  A good teacher can give advice when you ask, because they’ve made mistakes, too, and they want to help you to do well.  They do everything they can to make you understand, even if it means they have to go over the time they had allotted for that section.  The good teachers respect you and your opinions, and when they see the mistakes you make, they take you aside, tell you the weight of your mistakes, and help you as best as they can.  They teach you about life, and you’ll most likely remember for the rest of your life.

Bad Teachers:

I had someone say something along the lines of there are no truly bad teachers.  I coulda smacked ’em.  But there are.  They aren’t necessarily the ones who barely teach you anything.  That can be bad for your grades, but those teachers show you more about life.  The bad teachers are only worried about how they will look in the administration’s eyes.  They want to get you to your exam, not caring about how much you are stressed, or how hard you struggle and yet you never succeed.  I understand it’s all about the level course you are taking, but the difficulty of a college clas…what the AP teahcers don’t understand is we are taking 6 different classes, we have a bed time, we eat, we have a fmaily.  These teachers expect us to dedicate our lives to their class and that isn’t fair, because those are the clases that may not help you in your major, your career.  The bad teachers could care less about the choices and mistakes you make.  That doesn’t really make them a teacher.  Not at all.

The world is not divided into good and bad people.  It’s black, white, and gray,  our world.  There are no absolutes, no final opinion on anything.  Like the classic debate of religion; of abortion and its ethical properties; of the death penalty and its ethical properties.  But, there’s nothing you can do but assert your opinion, which I just did.

Dedicated to:  Shields.