Well, I'm not turning my daybook assignment thing in tomorrow. Not unless numbers: 6, 9, & 10 write themselves and 7 miraculously improves between now and 7 am. Fortunately, Mr. Craig prefers good writing that is late to mediocre writing by the due date. He also doesn't mark good writing down if it's late. Which is good because I'm not at all proud of 7.
Daybook 7 (which I loathe):
Society every where is in a conspiracy against the manhood of everyone of its members—R. W. Emerson
Society requires conformity, in the form of a common ideal or necessity, to function. Without this common ground, it degenerates into a mass of individual people incapable of agreeing on anything. Therefore it is the very nature of societies to repress and limit individuality. This relinquishing of power is necessary even in a society of two, like marriage. In order for the marriage to work, neither partner can be allowed to rule over the other. Both must be willing to compromise. Sometimes, as in the case of transcendental
Daybook 5:
The moving finger writes; and having writ moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it—Omar Khayyan
Life is written in Sharpie ™ not pencil, and there is no white-out. Once something has been done, there is no changing it or casting it in a different light. Explanations, regardless of how intelligent they appear, are synonymous with excuses. A lifetime of good behavior will not wipe the embarrassing event from the memory of others. Crying will not change a thing. Nothing can change the past is an absolute that humans have always had trouble understanding. Adults tend to justify tragic or unfortunate events by classifying them as karma or acts of god.
Children take a different route: flat agreed upon denial. “Let’s pretend that never happened” are the magic words that echo from my childhood. This phrase was used whenever something bad happened or the game became too strange. It was the reset button. Five words and the game returned to a more normal level. It was completely normal. Just as much of the dialogue as princesses and talking cats. It didn’t really change anything. It just allowed a bunch of six and seven year olds to move quickly and get back to the matters at hand.
Sometimes, I think the pretend game and its magic eraser phrase just made the eventual realization that I couldn’t take back my actions all the more painful. Still, I can’t say that I would rather it not have happened. It helped the lesson stick and it’s not much use now. “Let’s pretend it didn’t happen” is written in Sharpie ™, just like the rest of my life.
Daybook 8:
If each knew everything about the other, we would forgive more easily—Hafiz
I suppose we would. If we understood the motives, desires, and feelings behind each person’s actions and they ours, forgiveness would come easier. We would understand the other person’s point of view, and while we might not agree or condone it, truly condemning it would be much harder. Unfortunately few humans are capable of this level of fairness. Most, if not all, are biased in favor of their side. This is understandable
High school girls are an excellent example. There will be these two girls, who for some reason unknown to the general public, cannot stand each other. Maybe Girl A is part of student government and Girl B isn’t. Or maybe they both liked the same guy. Or maybe they just don’t get along. Pretty soon Girl A is complaining that Girl B is calling her a slut, when she, Girl A, isn’t. Girl A will generally go on to state within the next sentence that Girl B is a slut or other derogatory word. Girl B has the same complaints and response as Girl A.
Granted, I am not completely innocent either. I have been known to hold grudges for years. However, I don’t start rumors. Instead I write stories featuring the people I find disagreeable as villains or cannon fodder. While this is not exactly normal teenage girl behavior, I find it to be more productive than starting rumors. The subject never reads the story and remains ignorant while I am either forced to write a flat character, some thing I find abhorrent in all writing, or develop an understanding of the character, if not the person. After all, in order to write a convincing character requires a thorough understanding of the character’s mood, desires, and motives.
Daybook 4:
As soon as one sees with one’s eyes the whole, which one had hitherto only known in chaotic fragments, a new life begins—Johann Goethe
In this quote, Johann Goethe states that once one is able to see the whole and understand it, a new life begins. In short, he describes an epiphany; or; as pop culture labels it, the “light-bulb moment.” The instant in which things just make sense. It’s almost like the point in a mystery novel when you realize exactly who the murder is and where they’re hiding or the moment when the last puzzle piece is dropped into place. Both of these instances require a sudden burst of understanding, but they lack the key element of an epiphany. A new life does not begin.
My own version of an epiphany happened last year around December. It was the first ski team practice and I was attempting to edge. Edging is when the metal edges of the ski cut into slope, allowing the skier to hold a steady “C” shaped curved. This works because most downhill skis are shaped like a stretched violin. Mine weren’t. Shortly after realizing this a pair of Volkl Six Star SuperSport skis came in to my possession.
The difference was amazing. Unlike my old skis, which had to be manhandled into turning, the Volkls turned with the slightest amount of pressure. They cut through the snow effortlessly. There was no going back after that experience. It was truly the beginning of a new life. At least, in relation to skiing.
Daybook 3:
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting—Wil
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. The turn of phrase is almost medieval in flavor. It makes life sound like something that is to be endured, like a journey into the darkness of human folly. The passage is not medieval however. It’s from the poem “Ode: Imitations of Immortality,” which was written during the Romantic Period by England’s Poet Laureate, William Wordsworth. He, and many other romantics, viewed birth, and growing up, as stepping away from Heaven and allowing the world to tear us away from our divine origins. However, unlike medieval philosophy where the only way to redemption was through personal suffering, the romantics believed that through Nature one could reclaim the lost innocence of childhood. Nature was unfettered by the creations of man and therefore pure. It was a reflection of the soul before birth.
Daybook 2:
Humankind cannot tolerate much reality— T. S. Elliot
We cannot tolerate much reality because we are not conditioned to. In schools we learn conformity. We are kept in line by an intricate system of cards, warnings, colored slips, and eventually letter grades. From the day we start school until graduation we are taught one thing: OBEY. Regardless of whether we’re taking pre-calculus or health, we’ve been trained. The few who avoid such training are squashed with various labels: defiant, problem child, mouthy. They are not allowed to succeed until they conform.
However, it is they who have the best chance of understanding reality while keeping their sanity intact. An example of this would be the character Larry, from The Razor’s Edge (1984 film version). Larry could have, as Isabel laments, done well in school, save for the fact that he was not content with parroting answers and accepting the teachers’ words verbatim. This refusal to conform might be viewed negatively until one considers the fact that out of all the other characters in the movie, Larry is the only one to survive his encounter with reality. The rest crumble when their precious illusions break. Gray is devastated by his father’s suicide and the crash of the stock market. Sophie returns to drugs and alcohol after Isabel’s cruel remarks, and is later murdered. Isabel simply refuses to comprehend even the idea of reality. She has been conditioned to conform and as a results, sees only her cage. Is it any wonder then why humankind cannot handle reality? Few have been truly exposed to it, and those enlightened few walk the razor’s edge between knowledge and madness.
Daybook One:
The unexamined life is not worth living—Socrate
Unexamined: not looked at closely, never thought about. In life, this would refer to never second guessing one’s own motives. Socrates declares that a life lived in this type of ignorance is worthless. Of course, he did die because of his search for the Truth, so it’s no wonder, really, that he’d feel so strongly on this topic. Socrates argues that the essence of us, the sentient being that watches our thoughts, is our soul. He found this sort of self-examinati
An unexamined life would be a life lacking such thought-watchi
The only thing that I can relate this to would have to be horseback riding. True riding is defined by unity between the horse and rider. The horse feels like he can express his opinions and be listened to, while the rider is in control of the destination. Allowing the horse to have his own opinion and still do what you, the rider wants is much more difficult than it seems. Allowing the horse to decide the destination is dangerous; horses are like small children and will take advantage of this lack of discipline, regardless of the kind intentions. The way to do it, I learned some Thursday last month, is by giving the horse your self. Essentially, laying down all walls and boundaries, and simply being at the most basic level imaginable. This is impossible without the awareness of self that comes from examination. For how can we give that of ourselves, if we do not even know what we are giving?
So to further explain my condition:
I started to experience mild cramps in my abdomen and back around the 29th or so. Because I normally get pretty bad cramps (anything that I can feel through Ibuprofen counts as pretty bad) I just thought my period was starting. It didn't start until the 1st. However, it was strange because normally cramps only last the first two days. I still had cramps on the last day.
On Thursday morning, around 2 AM I woke up with severe pain in my stomach area. My whole stomach-six-pa
Thursday is horseback riding day and due to the rise in prices I only ride 3 time a month. This was the first riding day in 20 days that I was going riding. So I got a ride to school. First period was okay. I didn't much like standing and watching the experiment. But I was fine. Sitting was nice. Second period sucked. IT's also Math. I was okay in 3rd period (English). I hurt a lot and was pretty much clutching my stomach (lower and upper).
I talked to my friends there. [fire_stone] thought it was celiac disease which is brought on by stress sometimes. [AlleyKat] thought it wasn't appendix-itus because it hadn't been hurting as long as her's and the pain wasn't localized. If anything it hurt more on the left side than the right.
4th period was okay. I don't remember being in much pain.
Lunch sucked. The pain went away after I ate a little.
Ceramics and Spanish were fine.
Then I went to horseback riding. I hurt a bit when I was saddling Easy. When I put the stirrup up over the horn and my stomach brushed against it, it really hurt.
I managed to get through riding. I loped a bit. It was awesome once I finally got my feet out of the way. Granted the bouncing probably wasn't the best thing. After I got off and finished taking care of Easy it really hurt.
My riding teacher said that I looked off and kinda sick. She told me that if the pain got worse I had to go to the hospital.
At about 2:15 AM on friday I woke up with extremely bad pain. We all went to the hospital and ended up waiting FOREVER. I had a bunch of tests run on me. I finally got pain medication and it stopped being a 8 or 9 pain level and went to 3 or 4.
The blood test was inconclusive, but the MRI/CAT scan thingy showed that it was appendix-itus.
I went in for surgery at about 11 AM on friday and was out in 40 minutes. The funny things is the woman/nurse who went in the operating room with me was the mother of a snowboarder on the other high school's team. I gatekept with him once in freshman year. So that's going to be an interesting conversation: "Hey you're mom was my nurse when I went into the OR for surgery!"
I got out on Saturday.
I'm up and walking and eating.
So, my dog. Well, I've had her since I was four. And while I can remember getting her, I don't remember life without her. Seeing as I was four. Not that I want to remember life without.
Well, she's 12 now. Just turned 12 actually, on May 1st (not her really birthdate, but it was somewhere in there).
The last two weeks she wouldn't eat. I was the only one who could get her to eat. Of course, now she isn't eating anything (not even soft dog fog). She'll lick at it but that's it. She's not drinking any water either.
My parents are already planning her funeral.
I just want to be there when they put her down.
I just want to cry on someone's shoulder. I don't want to hear about how I should celebrate her life (contrary to popular belief that is the last thing anyone wants to be told), and I don't want to hear anything about she's going to be in a better place. None of my friends know how hard it is to say goodbye to someone you've known for 3/4 of you life. Anna's dogs died when she was around seven. She didn't have them when they were puppies. And it's easier to handle things like this when you're younger. You're not as attached.
The hardest thing in the world is watching someone die.
Stolen without any hestitation from [Teufelsweib], barrowed without permission from [Tableau Vivant]
H0W SEXY iS UR NAME
Add the letters in your first name using the numbers below =) And Write it at the bottom! And re-post it with "H0W SEXY iS UR NAME"
*under 60 points= not too sexy
*from 61-300 points= pretty sexxy
*over 301-599 points= VERY sexxxxy!!!
*beyond 600= beyond verry verry verry sexy!!!!
A=100 B=14 C=9 D=28 E=145 F=12 G=3 H=10 I=200 J=100 K=114 L=100 M=25 N=450 O=80 P=2 Q=12 R=400 S=113 T=405 U=11 V=10 W=10 X=3 Y=210 Z=23
S-113+T-405+R-
S-113+A-100+R-
So either way, my name is VERY sexxxxy!!!.
H-Hitler
Hitler was born on April 20th, 193?. His father beat him and he wanted to be a priest (until one molested him). He was severely bothered by the fact that a well-known Jewish man might’ve been his grandfather. Adolf Hitler loved his church group, until one of the priests molested him or something. He chereished apristions of being an artist, however due to the fact that he wouldn’t paint people, he was not admitted to the art college. He nearly committed suicide or well, that might have been his girlfriend. He was a messenger runner person for the soldiers in WWI. He was Not Happy when the German generals signed the armistice. He liked the war guilt clause even less and when the nerw gov’t came to be gues who was part of it. Yeah, that’s right. Hitler was. He wasn’t high up at all. In fact, he was supposesd to be going around ferreting out comuunisnitsic and socialists. Instead, when he discovered the People’s nations scocialistic society, he joined them and it 193? Got them elected. He then, when the dude in power died (of natural causes *coughcough* arsenic) took control of Germanyt, annexed the Sudetenland and Austria. Then he manufactured a case for war with Polan and invaded them. Hitler was a trouble guy. He was seriously pretty messed up. He had confidence issues. At the end he was on a lot of drugs. He was really insane, brilliant, but insane. If only he’d been admitted into art college.
This is why I'm not going to be a History major.
I find this entirely too funny.
Sadly, there are facts in this. And it will be fine as long as I add facts and get rid of the humor.
NOTE TO SELF: this is not an uncyclopedia article. It's school work.
My subconcious hates me.
Last night I had a dream about teaching some class (voluntarily) and stuff. I leave the room for one minute and then Anthony is in there miming the words and dancing to "Sex and Candy". IT was disturbing.
Then it moved on to me dragging Marilyn around everywhere to go to something that was way far away any way.
This is why I don't do drugs. I get the same effect from sleeping.
I'm about to do something really stupid.
I can feel it.
I should be:
Cleaning my room
Duing long over due labreports
Practicing my violin (but the metronome will steal my SOUL!!!!)
Isn't this interesting?
A Gnostic Valentine [taken from a wikipedia text.]
Slur it together and you get Agnostic. Interesting, huh?
Whenever my mom has a problem she buys a book on it.
Dad's philosophy is "If I ignore it, it will go away."
I brood over it. I don't worry. There is a difference. Brooding is darker, and it makes me sound like a literary character instead of a worrywart.
Worry involves waiting by the phone.
Brooding involves sitting at my computer in a Ryuzaki-like manner.
I pscyco-analyze the problem. And do quick online research if I need to. Then I plot to solve the problem.
http://www.the
This is where Kitty wants to work. Or any other coffee shop that is not Starbucks. As Kitty sees it, it's better to work in a coffee shop than Subway or other places where high school students go. First it means that you don't have to deal with a lot of people you know. Second, there's the element of dander. "Clumsy" Kitty might trip and scald you with your order.
Reasons to hire Kitty:
Excellent grades. (We have to get work permits through the school, and I'm pretty sure that they're not going to let you work if you're failing.)
Knows how to look put together, yet avoids the look of magazine clone.
Does not like the taste of coffee. (No way that Kitty will be tempted by the constant interaction with coffee.)
No caffine addiction. (I'd imagine that having someone with a caffine addiction work for you is like hiring an alcoholic to bartend.)
Kitty's mom is always on time.
Kitty's friends are wellbehaved and will buy something if they come in (as opposed to loitering around distracting Kitty)
Kitty is very good at mixing things, to the degree that it unnerves her Chemistry teacher.
Kitty is intelligent and learns fast.
The Twelve Days of Anthony Torture (in the Name of Christmas Spirit)
On the first day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
A parana in a fish bowl.
On the second day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the third day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the fourth day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the fifth day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the sixth day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the seventh day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the eighth day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Eight girls a fiddling,
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the ninth day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
Nine mothers nagging,
Eight girls a fiddling,
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the tenth day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Ten Assassins failing,
Nine mothers nagging,
Eight girls a fiddling,
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
Anna'n'Sara sent to me:
Eleven parrots cursing,
Ten Assassins failing,
Nine mothers nagging,
Eight girls a fiddling,
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
Sara'n'Anna sent to me:
Twelve archers shooting,
Eleven parrots cursing,
Ten Assassins failing,
Nine mothers nagging,
Eight girls a fiddling,
Seven priests a praying,
Six siblings a farting,
Five golden hams,
Four roasting birds,
Three French jokes,
Two slabs of bacon
And a parana in a fish bowl.
I'm evil.
I called him today.
And dammit, it just felt so .. right. Or complete. He's always been like that for me.
The best way to describe is that you've been missing something your whole life and never noticed until it's suddenly there.
It's always been like this. Since 7th grade in fact.
He used to be lovely and himself.
Now he wants to be popular. MAybe he always has. He's more aware now. And somehow less aware of what he is, what he becoming.
I keep trying to tell myself that it's over. He never liked me in the first place. I always had. Since the first day I saw him I wanted to know more about him. He's always been a mystery.
It probably doesn't help that I've annoyed the hell out of him for 7th and 8th grade. He went to a different school in 9th and now he's back.
Mom always told me that the man you marry is supposed to fit like an old pair of pants.
Maybe I was scared of him. In a way. I annoyed to drive him away. I tend to do that to people. I get scared that they might like me, then I have to say and do things to make it so it can never happen.
I've told myself it will never work. He wants to be popular and you don't give a damn.
But oh, he's beautiful.
I had myself convinced for a while that I only liked him for appearances, and he's really a jerk. But then, he has a good heart.
He's not horrible.
I never liked blondes before him. Ever. I preferred the darker haired boys.
There was a moment, two years ago, when I realized how deep it went.
I saw this boy and my first thought was, 'he's cute,' which was closely followed by 'he looks like Anthony.'
It would never work.
I'm friends with his sister.
I'm friends with his cousin (who doesn't exactly like him)
He's concerned with image (I don't care, much)
I wish my heart would realize that.
I can never stop it. Since I met him. He doesn't feel the same way. It's not fair.
I don;t let many people affect me emotionally. Anna, Kaitlyn, Logan, Zora (but it's more of a protective thing.) and Anthony.
He's the only boy on that list.
Sometimes, when I don't talk to him for a while, I forget about how good it feels. Then I make just a short phone call and it all comes back to me.
I shudder to think that he is the one.
It would be terrible.
I'm of the slightly jealous type (however oblivious I may be) and he flirts, a lot.
We have enough in common that it could work, but enough differences to make it impossible.
Nothing is impossible (aside from slamming a revolving door)
I thought the reason I couldn't get over him was that I just don't give up on anything.
I don't want to sound like one of those idiots who meets the love of their life at age 12.
But why can't I move on? Why is it only him that makes me complete? Why can't he feel the same way?
This isn't a good thing.
Talking with him or being around him either leaves me extremely happy or depressed or both. Happy because everything was right. Depressed because it's never going to happen.
Maybe it will. (oh God here I go again. I don't want back there.)
I could...
Or maybe I couldn't.
No harm in finding out, right?
Raise my hopes if only to crush.
And I love(?) him for it.
Hope is happiness, but the feeling left behind when it's crushed is so much worse than before.
And here is the main arguement. IS it better to be happy for a little while then deal with the aftermath or not to care at all?
Is it better to love and lose than to not love at all?
I think we all know what my answer will be indefinitely. It's terrible, but I love it.
Anthony H. Thomas.
The cause and answer to my probelems. Antidote and poison all in the same beautiful package.