Sunday, December 27, 2009

'Twas the night before Christmas (legal version)

I didn't write this. It's from an email from a friend.

“Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain
improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the House") a general lack of
stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and
around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/
St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") would arrive at sometime
thereafter.

The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House, were
located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations,
i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited
to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in
said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as
"I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the
second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma had retired for a sustained
period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of
headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.)

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the
unimproved real property adjacent and apparent to said House, i.e. the lawn, a
certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of
the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the
cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of
wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter the "Vehicle") being
pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8)
reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the
previously referenced Claus.

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the
approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal
co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner
and Blitzen (hereinafter the "Deer"). (Upon information and belief, it is
further asserted that an additional co-conspirator named Rudolph may have been
involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer
intentionally and wilfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences
located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle
was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or
nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or
implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the
chimney.

Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue
from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the
aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking what
appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances
and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor
children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts.
(Said items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor pursuant to the
applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.) Upon completion of such task, Claus
touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of
the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as
"lookouts." Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.

However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House,
the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: "Merry
Christmas to all and to all a good night!" Or words to that effect.”

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Random Harry Potter Spewing

I'm beginning to really not like Wednesdays. I'm not sure why exactly. The day itself is fine. I have Sparks from six to seven and it's usually a good time to watch six year olds run around like crazy possessed beings. Maybe it's because there's no blog on Wednesdays.

I'm about to watch Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I really do love that movie. It's so funny and clever and wonderful. Yes, the Burrow part is pointless and stupid, and yes, Dumbledore drives me absolutely crazy with his abrupt meanness but I still thoroughly enjoy watching it. There's one part in the middle especially that has some of the funniest scenes all grouped together. Cormac McClaggen is so good. All the actors are really. They've all sort of grown and it's been so fascinating to watch.

I am upset because my dvd did not come with any special features whatsoever. We've always bought the two disk special edition and this year, for some reason, we did not. Which means all deleted scenes must be viewed on YouTube. It's not that bad, considering, but I am a little sour.

There's something incredibly wrong with Harry's hair. It's kind of sad, really.

GAH! My sister can be infuriating. I have to go. See you in the soup.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A Loud Realization

It's been a few days since people across the country remained silent for a day to raise awareness for the millions that live without rights and without a voice. The challenging day was full of reflection and the following is a realization I made which I'm sure participants everywhere shared.

I think everyone who participated in Vow of Silence learned a very important lesson. Not being able to communicate verbally means not only no voice and the added strain and difficulty of communicating, it means not having an opinion, no being able to ask for help, and not being able to tell people how you feel and what you want. It means you can't get what you need and depending on other people to help you attain certain things. It means dependence--on paper, on your writing implement and on the people around you to be understanding.

On November 20th, I realized that the Vow of Silence is not just about challenging yourself to remain quiet for 24 hours. It's also about experiencing the frustration and the hopelessness that comes with understanding that you can't call out for help or express your feelings. It makes you realize that every child in the world who doesn't have the rights they deserve needs our help to get those rights. They can't do it on their own.

Silence sucks.

Monday, November 9, 2009

It's 5:18pm, where is the sun?

I feel like avoiding schoolwork and my novel for a while. What wins the competetion of what I'm going to do? If you guessed read Going Bovine and eat month old sweet & salty bars, you are WRONG. I'm going to write a blog, because I've been feeling neglectful and I actually do want to write at present. Just not NaNoWriMo. [I'm so used to the swiggly green line under so much of my work that I feel obligated to tell you that last bit there was a Fragment. Would you like to Ignore it?]

November seems to be moving along at an alarming pace. It is also sucking up my daylight hours and I'm not at all pleased about that. The notion that maybe if I got up earlier and went to bed earlier I'd have more daylight hours in my life just crossed my mind. And then it flitted out as soon as the teenage instinct to sleep all the time started threatening it. It started to say that I could still sleep just as much, just at a slightly different time, but there is absolutely no reckoning with those teenage instincts. They are violent and unruly.

I thought the whole point of daylight savings is that you have more sun, or something. It seems to be failing epically because it is 5:18pm and it is dark outside. I am not happy.

This is the point in the blog where I struggle with a new topic and wonder how I can string two random thoughts (like daylight savings and ... together). It might be easier if I could figure out what ... was.

Maybe I can write about the fact that I'm a neat-freak with not enough space for the stringent organization I would like to have in place and a rebellious sister who thinks that leaving her socks on the floor is acceptable.

Maybe I can write about the fact that I'm a terrible artist (at least at stuff like drawing and sketching stuff). To prove my point I will share an example in which I tried to draw a picture of my sister for my art course using pen and ink and it turned into a awful drawing of an Asian looking version of Harry Potter. Why do artist's make it look so easy to draw apples and pears when really it's all just a vicious lie. They trick you into attempting your own sketch of a banana and when it turns out to look like the moon they laugh at you for trying. Or at least, the little artist people in my head do. I'm sure real artists have more tact.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

It's Halloween, yes, but more exciting than that--what could you more exciting than Halloween you ask--it's the eve of NANOWRIMO. I cannot begin to describe how excited I am to begin my novel.

That's basically all I had to say.

Halloween was so-so. Walking, candy, costumes. Seems pretty normal by now.

I should be doing school. I am very behind. *head falls on keyboard* dskflcggfgfffgfvjk

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Jo Bro haterz

I'm angry, and what do I do when I'm angry?

If you guessed write a rantish blog post, you would be correct. You win a cookie.

What spurred this emotion? (direct quote below from two unmentioned FB "friends")


"95% of teens would cry if they saw the Jonas Brothers at the top of a skyscraper about to jump. Copy and paste this if you are part of the 5% that would sit there with popcorn and a camera and yell "DO A FLIP!""


When I first read this, I didn't even know what to say. That's unusual for me. I was just so shocked.

My first reaction was to leave a lengthy comment on the person's status. It went something like this:

I just want to say that I think this is really mean.
You don't have to like their music, but wishing death upon them? That's pathetic, sad and just plain awful.
I'm really disappointed that this message is being passed on. I mean, come on guys, seriously?
It isn't even funny. Do you really want to watch someone kill themselves? Suicide is not a laughing matter.
Go f....ly a kite.

After that, I posted a status update about how disappointed I am in these people.

I don't like the Jonas Brothers. I don't like their music (save for Love Bug) and I'm not too thrilled with about the time they said they'd have a special interview with home schoolers and then advertised to us instead. But I don't want them to die. I don't want anyone to jump off a skyscraper.

What's is wrong with the world? Sometimes I worry.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Just don't sing

Two things today. I'm not going to number them, because I want to grant you your proper intelligence. If you can't differentiate the two, specifically separate, things I write about in this blog, you should go back to kindergarten. Or you could try good old fashioned homeschooling. I'm leaning towards option 2.

I got a pirate kite. Actually, I won it. Technically, I didn't play any part in the winning, but still, it's in my possession. And I flew it. Only it didn't really fly. Whenever I stopped running, it plummeted swiftly towards the ground. Maybe pirate ship weren't mean to fly. Or maybe the wind just hates me and wants to mess with my mind.
--------*
Advice: don't ever sing in the shower. Or in the bathroom. Or as you do housework. You will be mocked mercilessly. A sample conversation:
Singer: *singing*
*Singer comes out of the shower.*
(People are sitting at dinner table)
Person 1: Are you okay, Singer?
Singer: Uh... yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?
Person 1: I heard you kind of wailing in the bathroom.
Singer: Oh... *pauses awkwardly and tries to collect self*
Person 1: What were you doing? Were you crying?
Singer: *silently calls Person 1 a mean spirited b**** * No, I wasn't crying. Dinner is great, Person 2.
Person 2: Oh, thanks. Let's talk about the parakeets at the zoo.
*Singer attempts to forget incident ever happened, while also making a note to never sing anywhere again, until completely alone*

I'd like to inform you, Person 1, that there is such a thing as tact that would have prevented this painful conversation and the after effects, and maybe you should try and get some.

This is incredibly sad. Now the only time I'll be able to express myself is when I'm alone. Instead of enjoying the freedom of having access to whatever television channel I want, I'll have to have karaoke sessions just so I can outlet my singing habits.

*This is for the people with low intelligence--I didn't feel like now was the time to give you self esteem issues.