McDonald's

I'd just like to say, the shoes are way too uncomfortable. I wish I could wear only socks.

Catholic Apologetics.

I had to fight for this class and by golly I'm going to enjoy it. I already had a blast the first day, and came home with seven Bible verses to memorize and I know where they all come from and why they are important and in which context they are used. I'm really excited about learning everything I'm going to learn this year and I am so happy it just made my day. Literally. It really did make my day. Anyway, I have nothing about the same topic to blab, so this is the end of my blog post.

Lord of the Flies

I have never been left breathless by a book until now. And this was the second time I had read the book cover to cover. The whole story goes so slowly until the end. In the last chapter, the biggest and scariest action of the book happens and the chase seen and the who climax is right there. The falling action was two paragraphs long. It took me three hours to get my breath fully back.

I have a theory

If you don't like something. An activity, say. If you don't like it at all. You hate it with a passion. Pick something. Anything. You hate it. But you have a friend who loves it so much. This friend cannot stop talking about it because of how much this friend loves it. It is a perfectly harmless activity. Painting, say. You hate painting, but your best friend loves it. After a while, you get to know about painting. This friend will tell you everything from famous painters to techniques to ideas that this friend wants to use. Soon, you will begin to notice things. Say you are in an art museum. You will recognize a specific technique that an artist you have actually heard of and say, "wouldn't it be cool if they had used this technique for this area to make a ____ kind of look?"

You will second guess yourself.

You will start to like painting.

You will hate yourself for liking it. "Wait! I wasn't supposed to like this! I've never liked it!" Who knows why you disliked it in the first place. Maybe you had an awful art teacher that picked favorites and you weren't one. Maybe your older sister was a painter. Who knows. But you have a friend who loves it, and now that you can participate in the conversation, you will start to like it. Maybe even love it. Or at least love listening to it. Maybe it is easy to enjoy listening to a friend be excited about something. That is always fun. But when you can come to terms with a former foe of an activity, something good has happened.

Clearing your Head

Sometimes you think you're clearing your head, when really you just want to know something that is practically impossible to know. It keeps gnawing at you and you can't do anything about it. You want the question to leave you alone, never to bother you, but you care about what the answer is, and you really want to know. Your "clearing your head" is never complete until you know that answer. Being alone will never help. Only the people with the answers will.

Regarding a note of caution I saw at the FIM...

PLEASE DO NOT PUT ANYTHING ON THIS HISTORIC PIANO

This pretty much makes people scared of the piano. Not only will they avoid putting anything on the historic piano, they won't play it, or even touch it. In admiration, a struggling musician may finger the music stand at the top, or the area just below the keyboard. However, no notes will be played. This is to the institute's benefit. Not one musician will dare play a note on this historic piano. What need is there for tuning? That's a lot of money they can save for tuning pianos that are actually used. Who cares if a C# becomes a G? No one's using it. But what happens if a daring young student touches a key? Presses down? Makes a sound? Finding out that playing a D will give you an A° chord would be quite surprising. It's such a historic and beautiful piano! How dare it be so out of tune and broken! To the relief and chagrin of the FIM, I'm the only one who knows.

Cell Phones

There are a few things I would like to say about cell phones...


My sister seems to hate text messaging. She says why text now when you can talk later? I prefer to talk, but in my defense, she told me that over gmail chat, so I had to argue. I text a lot more now than I did before my dad got me unlimited. I was so impatient to get unlimited, but now that I have it, I wish I didn't. My friends are no longer afraid to text me, because I can't yell at them, saying every text they send is a dime out of my parents' income to spend on the cell phone bill. Now they text me a lot. Well, not a lot, but more often than before. I don't mind it so much, because I can hold a conversation after my parents go to bed and I would be uncomfortable making noise. It's kind of cool when my phone rings and I get to think "someone just sent me a message." I still prefer phone calls. You can get the tone of voice over a phone call, but not over texts. I like looking at the phone before I answer it and think, "someone cares about me enough to make a call rather than sending a quick, impersonal message under 160 characters that doesn't always need a reply. Someone wants to talk to me." I like that. I was never fond of talking on the phone until I got one friend that would chatter my butt off on facebook chat, but phone calls were nonexistant. Literally. This person didn't even have my phone number (but does now...). I decided that, among other reasons (it seemed to be taking up all my spare time), I would get off facebook for Lent. Six weeks from Ash Wednesday to Easter I would require phone calls. (Note: on Ash Wednesday, my text messages still cost $.10 each) The phone calls didn't increase one bit. I just talked to that person less. Which made me sad. This person was very fun to talk to, among other things. About a week into Lent, my dad got unlimited texting for my phone. My no-facebook thing wasn't working. Because this person had my phone number, and could now text me for free. Now the impersonal messaging of facebook was transferred to my cell phone, and I never got a chance to talk to that person on the phone. Sure, we talk once in a while. I make all the phone calls. This person never calls me. After I got unlimited texting, I was tempted to get back on facebook, because what was the point of not being on it if I'm getting the impersonal messages somewhere else? May as well have bigger conversations, with more than 160 characters per message. But I had made that promise, so no facebook for me until Easter.

I like texting. It makes me feel important. I can hide it, if I need to, and it's quiet, if I can't talk. But if I'm sitting at home doing nothing, or in any other position in which I could take a phone call, I would prefer that to a text that says, "hey, what are you up to?" Either way, I prefer seeing people in real person over anything else in the world. I wish I got to see some people more than once a week, but if texting is the only way they will communicate with me on the days that I don't get to see them, well, I guess I'll just have to put up with it.

Exhaustion

Out of curiosity, how many of you check the dates of which I post these things? Or do you just read them? I just read yours, if you have one. Though sometimes they are very important.

If you are trying to make a point, then later change your mind, it is good for those reading it to see that when they wrote a blog post on this date, it was before some other happenings, which is why there is a contradictory statement a few days (or the next day, in this case) written in a new post on the blog.

Sure, logic is not always the best thing. But sometimes you need it to get through some things. You don't want to hurt anyone, but sometimes that is necessary in order to make amends. And if you do it only for that reason, the person you have to hurt won't be hurt for long.

And then sometimes the person is only hurt because of exhaustion. After a good night's sleep, they will feel much better. And because I'm Anne, I have to throw in something random. That leather jacket was really soft.

Philosophy

The days are long, but the years are short. No. The days are loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong and the years are short. Have fun while you can. Do everything you can before you don't have time to do what you can't.

English Class

Okay, so this blog post will have nothing to do with English class at all. I remember, though, in some book I read, there was an English teacher (not Albert Pederson, but he wasn't an English teacher, anyway) that taught her class about writing. Well, don't most English teachers? Anyway, this teacher told the class about a specific type of writing called stream of consciousness in which the student just writes and writes and writes without really bothering to make any sense of anything. I guess I'm trying that here, but I don't really know where it's going to take me. I remember I read about it in fourth grade, because we had to do some sort of journal in Mrs. Tucker's class and I tried to do stream of consciousness. But then I ended up talking about the fact that the American flag is red, white, and blue. I'm not really sure I got the point of it, because I was just looking at things and talking about them, and was making even less sense than I am right now, because here I am actually connecting my thoughts. You can actually physically see where my thoughts are going, because I wrote all of them out. The one I did in fourth grade was choppy, becasue I said "The American flag is red white and blue. The word 'dog' is on the chalkboard," and you could really tell that I had no idea what the heck I was doing. But anyway, my stream of consciousness is slowing down, and I guess that's a good thing, because I'm sick and I really need to go to bed right now. It's only 8:21, but I could really use the sleep. I never caught up from Kairos, because I had to be at Lapeer East High School for vocal solo and ensemble the next morning really early, so I didn't get a chance to sleep in. It didn't help that I was in a group with a girl who was sick when we went up there, so she just infected all of us. So now I'm sitting at the computer trying to spew out a stream of consciousness when I have less than half a glass of orange juice sitting in front of me waiting to be finished before I can go back upstairs and try to fall asleep again, in a bed that will be waiting for me comfortably. Having a runny nose really sucks, because there's no comfortable way to sleep. You can't sit up, you can't lie down, you can't do anything. And you can't keep blowing your nose, either, because your nose will turn the color of blood and you'll look like a clown. I looked like that all day, but I didn't care, because who was I trying to impress? Exactly. No one. So I just blew my nose all day. And I skipped pit band (for the musical) and working concessions and Schola practice, all so I could come home and sleep. And did I sleep? Not a wink. Yet, at least. I tried for an hour, but obviously it failed, because I'm here writing another blog post, am I not? I only have a few sips of orange juice left, and once that's gone, I am most definitely going to bed. I'll stay up there all night if that's what it takes. I want to sleep. I have people to see tomorrow, and I don't want to be coughing and sneezing all over them. Okay, I won't be doing that, but it would be nice if I didn't have to cough or sneeze at all anywhere near them. I'm not even sure if everyone's going to be there at the party tomorrow. I know at least four of us will be. One might go to another party, one might not be able to get a ride because he has drivers' ed and would have to be late, and one is returning from Florida today, so I'm not sure if she even remembers about the party. We're hoping she does, because we got the host a really cool present (it's a really late birthday party), and it won't be nearly as cool if not everyone is there to see it. But alas, my orange juice is gone, and even though I'm getting better at typing the word 'juice,' I still want to go to bed. So I'm going to try one more time to cuddle up underneath my covers, forget about my stupid runny nose, and go to sleep. Off I go, and if you read this whole thing, I applaud you, because it was rather long and boring. But hey, that's me. Well, my talking, not me. I'm sure I'm not long; I get made fun of for being short all the time! So anyway, off I go, to the land of sweet dreams, and the land where the beds bite. Yeah, that's right, the bed bites me.

Coming Soon...

I feel like I should put another post up. A good one will come this weekend. I'm still catching up with my Kairos make-up work. I have to write a song to tell the story of Beowulf's battle with Grendel. Fun fun fun...

Being and Nothingness

WARNING: THIS POST HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH JEAN PAUL SATRE. OR PHILOSOPHY AT ALL.

Ms. Stewart said in class if we finish our work, we should have something to occupy our time with, rather than just sitting there doing nothing. She can't seem to comprehend how you can actually have nothing to do. Her being a teacher, and watching my mom work, I can see where she's coming from. But she also mentioned that she knows there are days when you just have to do nothing, even if you have things to get done. I wish I had days like that. But those days are the days I feel fat (I'm not saying I think I'm fat.). Even if I act like I just need to do nothing, I feel awful for sitting around not doing something productive. I wish I had more motivation actually to get off my butt and do something about it.