Highlights

Well, 'twould seem as if one year is over and another is about to begin. I've been looking forward to 2011 for quite some time, and now that's it finally here I have one thing to say:

What took you so long?

Twenty-ten was decent though, I suppose; had its ups and downs like every other year.

I totaled my first (and hopefully last) car, took some AP tests, went to QB nationals, went to QB camp!, moved for my senior year, went to Utah and saw lots of family....uhh....yeah. Exciting stuff. You know it.
In all honesty though, despite my meager recap of 2010, this past year has turned out to be one of the most important/pivotal/memorable of my life.

I'm excited to see where I'll be next December 31st. Happy New Year.

"Charm is the way of getting the answer yes without asking a clear question."

--Albert Camus

Merry Christmas!

Physics

Dear Physics,

I hope you're satisfied that you are the lowest overall grade I have ever received throughout my high school career.
Does this make me feel a bit like a failure? Perhaps.
Does this do wonders to my self confidence? In the wrong direction, yes.
I experienced nothing but frustration throughout my acquaintance with yourself, and I do not regret that this class will be ending soon.
It's not you, it's the class itself. The teacher, the lack of organization, the typos that caused me to feel confusion and vexation. I'm sorry I can't help but associate you with the class; do forgive me.
I wish future students a better experience than my own.

Yours etc.,

Me

Spiraling Downward

Have you ever felt like you were losing grip, not with life or reality or sanity, but with someone close to you? Sometimes I don't know what to say, and then I worry too much about what I should say, and pretty soon having a conversation with someone becomes a nightmare, this frightening task I dread and avoid.

Lately I don't know what to say to this one person. I try to say things, but I get the feeling they're not entirely....there. Most of the time my life isn't wildly exciting, hence I don't have anything outrageous to tell. I know that they have a life and they don't always have time to sit down and just talk to me. I'm sure they're busy with important things, I can take that. But at the same time, I'm saddened that it's been too long: too long since I saw you, too long since I actually talked to you.

Slowly, despite my feeble attempts, I feel as if I'm drifting away in a lonely raft built for one, and I can't seem to prevent it.

The Battle in My Head

I've been thinking a lot lately about anthropology. Once upon a time, when I was younger, I wanted to be an anthropologist. An even longer time ago, during my brief stint as a child, I wanted to be a horse trainer. Well, I grew up and realized that I had other interests than simply horses, and discovered anthropology. Actually I'm pretty sure quiz bowl came first, but anyway.

What happened? When did I decide anthropology wasn't the right field for me? When did I set that aside and let this concept of curatorial work consume my future career goals?

...I don't know.

It seems as if moving back to the South has sparked this inner anthropologist within. I frequently note trends that differ from the North and I'm constantly thinking "why?" (Mrs. APEuro would be proud.)
Why does school seem to not be as big a factor?
Why do so many people love football?
Why are boyfriend/girlfriend relationships so rampant down here, like the plague in Florence during the fourteenth century?
Why are there so many churches?
Why does there seem to be almost no separation between church and state?
Why does my school tell me to stand and say the pledge of allegiance every morning?
Why is everything so laid back? 

Most of these questions are easily answered. (Such as, you're in the Bible Belt, Emmeline, of course the boundary between church and state is hazy.) But I keep asking why, why, why. I can't seem to trace the genesis of many of my questions; the list of whys seem to continue infinitely.

And then I start thinking. Do I really want to major in art history? Why not anthropology?
And then I shove that creeping whisper of doubt into the back of my mind, hoping I'll just forget about it.

"Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too--even when you're in the dark. Even when you're falling."

--Mitch Albom

Saywhaaaaaa?

Sitting in APUSH, working on a worksheet that deals with John Adams' presidency.....note: Adams was president from 1796-1800.

This kid sitting next to me asks me, "Would this be under economic?" Looking over at his page, I see he has written: Stamp Act of 1765. Confused, I mumble, "yeah." He then asks, "what about the Declaration of Independence, Boston Massacre, that stuff?"

Honestly, I don't know what to say other than, "this is John Adams' presidency we're talking about, not the American Revolution and the events that led up to it." Does he realize there's a difference? Does he realize there's more to the early history of America other than the Revolution?
I actually did say that to him...and glancing over at his paper, he still has the Stamp Act written down. Siiiiiiiggghhhh.

And then this girl is saying how she got out of her detention. Why did she get the detention? She was texting her father. She claims to have "3 Cards" she could pull to get out of the detention: she's a new student, she's an excellent student, and ...crying.
She's serious.
First of all: it's December. Surely, SURELY, you've noticed that no one is blatantly texting in school. This should hint at the fact it's against the rules. It's something called "common sense." Ever heard of it? Also, no texting in school is pretty universal.... Secondly, wow, so you have good grades. Your point? That exempts you from the policies of the school, receiving the consequence for your actions? No, it doesn't. Who are you to think you're above the rules? Thirdly, really? You're willing to cry to get out of picking up trash for an hour after school?
Calm. Down.

Dear Blog,

I made this catalogue of things I want to tell a person/people...but I haven't really had the chance lately to sit down and talk to someone, as in have a legit conversation that's not about college, where do I want to go, what do I want to study, and "Emaline, make sure you apply to BYU." So here's some things I wanted to tell someone(s):

I kinda sorta got a nine on my AP lit essay. My first. We had to write an essay about a character in fiction that's portrayed in such a way that we see them as evil or immoral, and yet the author somehow still manages to make their reader feel sympathetic towards their character. I wrote mine on Heathcliff, and my teacher said she felt more sympathy for him than she had ever felt in her life. This makes me feel very accomplished.

I'm writing a literary analysis on Alexander Pope's The Rape of the Lock. Is it terribly nerdy that I'm enjoying it? Because I am. Immensely. It's an awesome poem. I love satire/mock epics.

I spent two nights my Thanksgiving break reading in Barnes and Noble. One night I read all of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese. It makes me want some guy to write me poetry like that. But seriously, I love them.

Speaking of EB Browning, I'm on a poetry kick right now. Like I'm reading it quite often. As in, I bought Immortal Poems of the English Language last night and have not stopped reading it ever since. I never really thought of myself as a poetry kind of girl until recently.

Swimming. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Why did I do this again? Oh, yeah, to stay in shape. Is it worth it? ....That last question has yet to be answered. I'm just so frustrated with the people on my team. It's ridiculously easy and yet they still manage to constantly complain. Seriously, stop talking and swim. I'm really close to saying this to certain people on my team.

Why am I having feelings of doubt about college? Where do I want to go again? Should I apply to UT Knoxville or the U of U? How the heck am I going to pay for this? Why did I have a moment where I forgot I wanted to major in art history? I have no back-up plan. I wrote an essay, pg 87 of my autobiography, and told the readers at VCU I wanted to be a curator in Germany at that point in my life. Truthfully, I have no idea where I'll be in one year, five years, or ten years.

I kinda sorta...entered in a wrong digit for my SSN on my college apps. How does this make me feel? Horribly stupid? Spacey? Embarrassed? Discouraged? All of the above.

I just finished Madame Bovary. I think it's terrible that for the first section of that novel, I kept thinking to myself, "yeah, I can relate to that." I mean, it's about this married woman who regrets her marriage and out of boredom and dissatisfaction with her life commits adultery with two different men. In the end she commits suicide by eating arsenic. What could I possibly relate to in such a story? Her feelings of disappointed hopes, things not turning out how I pictured them or how I wanted them to turn out. Never being satisfied, always wanting more. Being bored with monotony, feeling as if my life would be a straight, dead line on an EKG screen. But then I see Flaubert's masterful skill in which he subtly reminds the reader that she had a lot to be thankful for. Her daughter, her home, a husband who simply adored her. And then I hate Madame Bovary, and I hate myself for sympathizing with her, for being discontent with a life that is so abundant. I didn't expect this novel to impact me like this.

Luke comes home in April. Gosh, I miss that kid. The older I get, the more I see myself doing things he did. I wish I was more like him though.

We're going to Utah for Christmas. I'm kinda disappointed about this, kinda excited though. I'll get to see all my family, which will be nice. I have a very large extended family, and as a result they're fun to be with. I'm not anticipating the 27 hour car-ride however. That. Will. Suck. Somehow I've done this before....maybe I'll just have to take some Benedryl before I leave so I can sleep for most the way.

For some, weird, unknown reason, I keep referring to people in my mind as "darling." Why? This reminds me of Humphrey Bogart or some black-and-white film character. I sincerely hope I never accidentally say it out loud. That would be odd.

Pinano

Lately I've been thinking about getting back into piano.

I played for eight years, the longest I've yet to stick with anything, and I kinda/sorta miss it.

(Not all of it though--just the playing part.)

Not the practicing and stumbling through notes/playing the wrong notes/not playing up to tempo part.

But hey--practice makes perfect, right?

I wish I were better at piano, more driven and motivated to perfect my skills.
Piano represents another area of my life in which I am solidly mediocre.

I'm not great, I'm not terrible. 

Just OK. 

I can read notes easily, I can reach my fingers more than an octave.

But it's still average. 

My life is stuck in this mire of mediocrity.

Maybe instead of blogging, I should do something about it.

Inception?

"Ever drifting down the stream--

Lingering in the golden gleam--

Life, what is it but a dream?"

--A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky



Lewis Carroll has finally answered my question about the ending of Inception.

The top never stops spinning.
....Or does it?

Wait.
Dangit.
Where's my totem?

Good Point

 

No way.

Wowwww

During second block, this guy in my APUSH class said I always look really bored. Well, duh. It's APUSH and we hardly discuss anything that's relevant, so I'm left with a lot of time to kill in that class....of course I'm bored. There's not much I can do when Dr. McBee is off on some tangent and I can't tune him out.
He then proceeded to call me a God among insects (intellectually speaking, he specified). Umm....no, sorry. I'm not. He also keeps asking me why I'm not in a magnet school. I don't know how to answer this; I can only shrug so often. Honestly might be a start. "I did try to get into a magnet school, but for some reason my writing score wasn't high enough, yet my math score (which also happened to be my highest score) was. Yes, I'm still trying to figure this out, too. So, there you go--proof I'm not good enough for a magnet school. Content?" I don't like  talking about it.

Then in third block, my teacher told me that I looked mad. I kind of laughed at this and said no...but yeah, I am ticked that my school is making me take wellness when I already took health as a freshman. But still, I didn't think I looked angry. Bored perhaps, lackadaisical, definitely....I thought my face was more expressionless. Guess not?

And then, as I'm reading MasterPlots in the library, this kid comes up to me, asks my name, then proceeds to tell me he's "got a guy that's interested" in me. He then checks if I'm single. I have many issues with this. First of all, uhhh, who are you? Second of all, I have no idea who he's talking about and he's a wimp to send some other guy over to tell me this. Do it yourself, pansy. How old are we? Third of all, even if I was interested (although I have no idea what he even looks like other than he was wearing a gray shirt?) I don't know who this person is. My mom told me to stay away from strangers, and I think that's an excellent philosophy. No thanks.
The worst part: I could feel my face turning red. But luckily I was bent over reading, so no one saw it and I was left to myself, feeling awkward, peeved, and annoyed.

Then I noticed that MasterPlots was published by the Salem Printing Press, and I laughed.

And then...this kid next to me, in the Media Center, asked me if I was a student. After replying in the affirmative, he says, "Oh, I thought the ring you were wearing was a wedding ring. My bad."

What is with today??

Heute

Today I....

--Went to swim practice, but my coach never showed up, so I went home.
--Watched the latest episode of The Office.
--Took my sister to her choir concert, then spent an hour or so roaming around downtown Gallatin with her.
--Went to an art sale...and bought a painting.
--Watched Seven Pounds. Good movie.
--Wrote my last college essay. YES!
--Got through a unit in physics.

Snaps for being productive.
Also, I'm really excited about my painting. I will post a picture of it sooner or later.

Gauging My Thoughts

Brother Kinman: And what book did John write? Revelations. .....
Me: Revelation.
Heath: Are you one of those people who just has to be right about everything?
Me: No, but they won't accept Revelations in quiz bowl.


Yes, this is how I think about [almost] everything.

Ouch, that really hurt

I was running into the YMCA the other day (Hurry, quick! Get there before they lock the doors!!), when the sidewalk suddenly dropped to a lower elevation. I didn't notice this, and so I stumbled over my ankle, and landed on it sideways.

"Ouch, that really hurt, Charlie!"

I don't even know where that came from, what caused me to say that, or why I said it, but I said that...in a British accent. So I continued running to the YMCA, laughing as I did so and getting weird looks from people as I ran past them.

Now my ankle is sore, and I feel kind of dumb about the whole situation.

But that is a funny YouTube video.

Senior Quote

"Life imitates art far more than art imitates life."

--Oscar Wilde

Each of the seniors at our school had to submit a quote that they liked or felt defined them. I forgot to submit one in time, so my teacher gave me a sheet to fill out and told me to turn it in at the end of the block. Frantically racking my brain for some quote, any quote, I had no idea what to put down--like I memorize quotes. European dictators, artists, Shakespeare works, and Norwegian playwrights, yes, but not quotes. Just then I heard this guy say the above quote. Twas ever so convenient, seeing as how I love this quote and find it to be so true.

Isolation

I was talking to this kid the other day in APUSH, and somehow we (or rather he) started talking about the differing concepts of isolation. The one--solitude--is generally seen in a favorable light, a desired reprieve from the maddening world around you. The other--loneliness--is seen as something to be pitied or avoided; a state worthy of one's sympathy. Regardless of whether we wanted to or not, humans have differentiated between these two identical ideas. They're on the opposite end of the spectrum despite their synonymous nature.

This concept really fascinated me because it's so true. I love how we, as humans, throughout history, have taken two synonyms and twisted their connotations so drastically that it completely changes our perception of the words' meanings. I had never thought of it before. It shows how we can manipulate the English language and as a result manipulate emotion, thoughts, and other aspects of the world around us.

Personally, I have always been one to value the peacefulness of quiet solitude. I crave time to myself, to hear myself think, to not be disturbed by anyone or anything. I think it stems from my up-bringing in a relatively large family. There is hardly ever a dull or quiet moment.

Moving to Tennessee....well, I've learned that loneliness and solitude can co-exist.

Oh--and happy Halloween.

Confession

I was laying on the couch, trying to decide if I wanted to work on physics or AP US history....and I decided that I wanted to blog.

I went to the Vanderbilt quiz bowl tournament. It was horribly unorganized and our team didn't do very well. (It was 80% of my team's first tournament. Cut us some slack.)

But just being there and playing--hearing a question about Tetzel and another about Gustavus Adolphus--made me nostalgic for Michigan. I miss my team there. I miss working with them, winning with them, losing with them, laughing with them. My team here is fine, I like the people....but it's not the same. It's really difficult for me to adjust to a new team. It's a new feeling, a new experience. I'm not entirely sure I like it so much.

I find myself relating to Holden Caulfield quite a bit lately. Minus the whole "excessive swearing" bit....Ahhh, angstangstangst!!!

A Poem

I should write poetry

‘Tis easy as two, three.

I’ll write using couplets,

Then throw everyone off when I don’t rhyme

Or maintain a regular metre.

(Yes, the British spelling.)

And all conventional aspects of poetry

Will never be the same again.

What will all the critics say then?

Keats, Keats, Keats

"Axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon their pulses: we read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author."

--John Keats

Seriously?

This morning in seminary, we were talking about unpardonable vs. unforgivable sins and murder came up. We were talking about different situations, and one girl (Paige) pointed out that some children in the Congo are forced to kill their parents as a part of war. Some other girl in my seminary class pipes up and says, "Yeah? And what are we supposed to do about it?" After she said this, some kids in my class started laughing, but I just sat there...slightly shocked and incredulous.

Did she really just say that?

It was probably one of the most insensitive things I have ever heard someone say. To treat others' misfortunes with such a flippant, sarcastic attitude is beyond rude. Maybe you can't do something about it right now (although I would disagree) or it's difficult to prevent people from committing such heinous crimes, but at the very least you should be aware as opposed to ignorant. You should be sympathetic, and that kind of knowledge should arouse within you a desire to make the world a better place. I was appalled at her remark, her nonchalant and stagnant attitude towards the trials others face, and I regret not saying something to her about it. It was not funny and I'm disappointed that some people laughed at her remark.
Gosh. Seriously?

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

--Edmund Burke

Quiz Bowl Terms!?

I found. A list. Of quiz bowl terms. If you are in quiz bowl and are reading this, I would urge you to assimilate these terms into your ever day q.b. vernacular.

Cadbury's Creme Egg: a good, well-crafted question.

Clubbing baby seals: Playing teams far below your level, e.g. Berkeley going up against a sophomore high school team.

Cult of Speed: belief that moderators, esp. in timed tournaments, should read as fast as possible and that the more questions read in a round, the better. Also, see Samantha M.

Dark Side: the evil aspect of the Force; knowledge acquired solely through studying for quiz bowl

Go, go Gadget: a phrase uttered to conjure up helpful spirits to answer a question

Gogol, Nikolay Vasilyevich: A Russian playwright and author whose full name was required at the 2001 Riverside tournament; overzealous underlining by packet writers

Gunfighter reflexes: quality or skill demonstrable by being the first to hit the buzzer when an easy clue reveals the answer to everyone at once. A person with gunfighter reflexes is a gunfighter and a question where everyone slaps their buzzers is a gunfight.

Knee-Jerk: someone who pays no attention to the question but only buzzes because of a single word or phrase, e.g. saying Erasmus when hearing the word "folly"

Ride the Pony: a strategy for achieving some points on a bonus where the team has no idea on the actual components, but has a general idea. Problems emerge when: 1)the answer is correct, forcing the team to come up with another answer, and 2) none of the answers are the chosen "pony," causing extreme consternation.

Using the Force: correctly answering a question through apparent pure luck, blind instinct, or supernatural intuition without any real knowledge.

And for the record, I was trying to find a witty quote to put on our teams' shirts. All suggestions appreciated.

Frabjous

"Like fabulous, but with a lemon twist."

--The Urban Dictionary

I'm kind of in love with this word. It's in Lewis Carroll's poem "Jabberwocky" and it's pretty much amazing.

Page 87

I have this prompt for a scholarship essay that asks me to write page eighty-seven of my autobiography and imagine where my life would be at that point.

Uhh...I do know that I want certain things accomplished by then, whenever "page 87" is--I interpreted it to be age twenty-nine. But... I don't really know? For all they know, I could have an extraordinary childhood full of interesting details that led to my psychological development later on in life and by page 87 I would only be 10 years old. Or I could have a really short autobiography--because, let's face it, if I ever deem myself important enough to write a book about my life, it would be very short due to a severe lack of exciting circumstances--and I would be like 80 years old.

I really want to cut my essay off mid-sentence, like they would have to turn to page 88 to find out what happened next.

Also, is it appropriate to use the phrase "geeking out" in a college essay?

Interesting

Last night at swim practice, we played the "name game." Everyone went around, said their name, grade, school, and something interesting about themselves. When I went, I said all the information, and for the something interesting said that I liked to read. Then Leah pipes up and claims that she's my sister, and my swim coach says, "Oh, hey! That's something interesting about Emaline!"

Uhh. Didn't I say reading? Does that not count? No one else said reading. I think it's interesting.

Analyzing My Cowardice

Do you ever feel afraid of something and you have no idea why? Like, it's something totally normal and commonplace...but you're just so hesitant about it that it seems innate.

Today I told myself I was going to go ask my coach if she had signed up for the Vanderbilt tournament. I even walked to her room, saw her leave her room, and followed her down the steps before chickening out and deciding to ask her "tomorrow." Why do I hesitate? Have I ever mentioned that I have difficulty approaching people? Sometimes I feel socially inept, but only to a certain degree.

I feel like I'm too much of a people pleaser...and then I start thinking of Mrs. Volansky and how hard she tried to make everyone like her. Then I thwart my thought process there, because I do not want to be like Mrs. Volansky. Sorry.

After analyzing why I couldn't find the guts within me to ask my coach about the tournament, I arrived at the above conclusion. I'm definitely making more than an effort to establish a quiz bowl team, but I don't want to push too hard that I drive people away. That thought was followed up by, "so what? It's your senior year, you'll never see these people again after May, who cares?" Occasionally it works.

"I often give myself very good advice, but seldom do I follow it."

--Alice

I bet this whole quiz bowl thing is getting boring to read about. I think my frustration is spilling over onto the blog. Sorry I wasted three minutes of your life if you actually read the entire post.

I'll make the next post about something wildly exciting. Promise. Well, my definition of wildly exciting.

Arbitrary Aspects

I learned today that in the deep South (we're talking Alabama and Georgia) that the American Civil War is sometimes referred to as the War of Yankee Aggression. I don't know whether I should laugh at that or be a bit shocked. There should be a word for such a feeling. If this was 1984-Orwell style, I would make up a word for it by combining two separate words, shortening the English language, and doing my Party a service. It would be patriotic to make new words. That's cool.

My quiz bowl practice got cancelled today. I can't fully express my disappointment. We have one practice a week, and a tournament (Eeee!! Totally excited!!!) next Saturday that we're not ready for. We need to practice! Why can I not pound this into my coaches' brains? Why won't they return my e-mails? Why can't we actually practice with the buzzer system? Why won't they sign up for the Vanderbilt tournament on the 30th?
These are the important questions pertaining to the universe.

Also, I'm going to be eighteen in like...six days. Holyshiitakemushrooms, this sounds old. I know that when I'm forty, eighteen will sound so young, but gosh, it sounds so responsible. I can invest in mutual funds, buy cigarettes, register to vote, buy stock market (yeah, not happening. October 1929 has scared my off), and be tried in courts as an adult. Samantha also informed me that I could move to Great Britain without my parents' consent. That's probably the most exciting bit about turning eighteen.

Sigh

I went to Lowe's one time, and I found this paint called "sigh."

Apparently, this really amused my mother...because I supposedly sigh a lot. I would argue that it's just how I breathe. You might be wondering why this post is called "sigh." Well, it's mainly because I've been sighing a lot more than usual due to the chaos that is life. It's how I deal.

And I just had the thought. I could totally write about that in a college essay. The one where they ask you what makes you "unique and colorful." I never really know what to write about those, although I think my religion and family size are pretty easy to write about. Considering that less than one-tenth of one percent of the world's population is Mormon, I figure it's pretty "unique."

College essays are making me stressed. Actually, it's more like the cost of college that's stressing me out. I think I have a few options. A) Suck it up and focus on getting into BYU where it's only $2,400 (or so) a year, B) try for a really good scholarship at an OK school, or C) just get into a bunch of debt....ugh. Yeah, I have a love hate relationship with BYU's tuition costs. For some reason, I really like these small, private liberal arts colleges that are $30,000+ a year. It's dumb.

Which is another thing--I've been using the word dumb quite a bit lately. I don't know where I got it from, although I know Clayton uses it. Hmm, maybe I got it from him? I decay.

I've been cast as Portia in Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice." My stage debut. I'm going Broadway all the way. Who needs college when I have an acting career ahead of me?

Me, too

"Look at all these books! I wish I had a rich uncle that would keel over."

--Ms. Friedman, in the SCHS library.

I'm pretty sure this is what I think every time I walk into a book store.

Knowledge

We were discussing something totally relevant to US History in APUSH today (yeah, that was sarcasm) and I zoned out for a while...then when I decided to zone back in, I heard my teacher say, "Just because you're innocent doesn't mean you're ignorant. I'm not any happier now that I know so many things. In fact I'm saddened by some of the things I know."

For some reason, the truthfulness of this observation really hit me.
I love knowledge and I crave it the acquisition of it, but knowledge can be so depressing. Knowledge has sometimes been described as the great equalizer. Why do we sometimes look down on others who may not know certain things, whose society may seem primitive to our own? I think this is more applicable to history as opposed to nowadays. Who are we to say that we are the better society because we're more "technologically advanced"? Are we really any better off than other cultures who don't have the conveniences of modern day medicine, our living standards, etc? The meaning of life consists of happiness and making others happy. Happiness isn't something that comes with material possessions.
Gosh this world is screwed up.
And the above paragraph was all over the place. It's difficult to find fluidity within my thoughts anymore. It's too spastic. Ahhh.


Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Join quiz bowl and become evil.

Wickedly Wondrous Words

Words are wonderful.

What I love the most about some words is how they can contain a whole concept within just a few letters. If that didn't make any sense, I hope the following words (and their awesomeness) clarify any confusion you may have. And if you do know what I mean by the previous statement, does it seem obvious? A discernible bit of information? Rather a stupid observation?

Tintinnabulation: the jingling of bells. It's six syllables long, which is actually longer than saying "the bells jingled", but it's extremely fun to say and type.

Beek: To bask or warm in the sunshine or before a fire. I had no idea that this word actually existed until today. It's Dictionary.com's word of the day. Isn't it fabulous?

Antebellum: before or existing before the war, especially the American Civil War. I think of Gone With the Wind.

Anachronism: something or someone that is not in its correct historical or chronological time, esp. a thing or person that belongs to an earlier time. I prefer to use this word in its adjective form, anachronistic.

Defenestration: to throw out a window. I like this word AND the mental image I conjure when I hear this word. Ha. Hahaha. (Although it's probably not that funny if you're the one being defenestrated. Is anyone else thinking of Prague right now?)

Orthoepy: the study of proper pronunciation. My reaction when first seeing this word was, "Oh my gosh, that exists?!?"

Vellicate: to touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements. Once again, my reaction was, "There's a word for that??"

Confabulation: the act of confabulating; conversation; discussion. It's 9467 times more fun to say "confabulation" than discussion or conversation.

Premorse: having the end irregularly truncate, as if bitten or broken off. I imagine something (mostly a rock) with jagged edges, symbolic of a bigger idea.

Fantod: state of extreme nervousness or restlessness.

Do you get what I mean? Some words are more than just an adjective or an action. They're an idea completely embodied within a word, an entire concept expressed so wholly in a matter of several letters. They sum up so much so perfectly.
I love words.

Pretty Prosy Poem

"If all the world was apple pie

And all the sea was ink,

And all the trees were bread and cheese,

What would we have to drink?"

--anonymous

We have been reading a lot of poetry in AP Lit recently. I kind of liked this poem. Not sure why, it's kind of whimsical, but perhaps this is why I like it. Yesterday we read "The Flea" by John Donne and that was really...something else. We broke down that poem and peeled back all his fluffy language and dug our way through his metaphors only to discover that he was trying to seduce a woman using the analogy of a flea. Classy, John, classy.

Walton's Wise Words

My courage and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate and my spirits are often depressed.

--Robert Walton, from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Nothing like stumbling upon a quote that's very fitting in this time of my life and finding a fantastic Chirico painting to post on one's blog.

Busy Buying Books

I like bookstores. Quite a bit actually. I think it's sad I've yet to come across one since I've been in Tennessee. They're oddly comforting...they inspire a sense of awe. So many words, so many ideas, so much knowledge kept in one place. I want to read them all (except for the youth fiction crap/contemporary novels and the random biographies on Angelina Jolie and other people who are still living. What makes you think I want to read about their life? They're not even dead yet.). Reading them all would be amazing, but you know what would be even cooler? Buying them all. I'm really worried that books in print will become obsolete in the dystopic future, hence I feel the need to purchase as many books as soon as possible. Plus--books just look cool. Sitting on a table, a chair, a bookshelf, my bed. They're so ubiquitous.
It's simply amazing how some authors can manipulate the English language. I think....that the most important part of being a writer is being able to write well. I've never cared much for plots. Sure, they're there, but I really love the way authors utilize language to convey more than just a storyline. I don't have to relate to the main character or understand what they're going through to love the novel. I need to appreciate and respect the way the author has written the story. For example, my favorite novel is Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. I can't relate a bit to the storyline (loveless marriages, murder, creepy house keepers, etc.) but I love the way du Maurier writes. Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Emmuska Orczy, and so many others simply captivate me with the way they employ this language.
And so a love for reading is nourished.

Penultimate Post

Dear Mitten:

It's my second to last day here. I don't count Saturday, because I'll be driving the whole day. It's been a good six years. I've learned a lot and discovered even more about myself and the world I inhabit. I'm not sure if I'll consider you or Tennessee as the place I'm "from." Probably the latter of those two options. Don't take it personally. I just happened to have lived there for a longer amount of time. It's been decent, but it would appear it's time for me to move on.

I'll cherish my memory of you and hopefully I'll be back soon.

Yours, etc.

Me

p.s. I was never a fan of your winters, but your falls made up for it.

Picture Penchants

I really like the word penchant.

I also like alliteration.

I am also really excited for this month of Alliteration August.

In lieu of that fact that this is my first AA (Alcoholics Anonymous!?) post, the following are some pictures I have a penchant for:

This picture of Vivien Leigh.

Scissors beat paper: enough said.

Asher Durand's Kindred Spirits. Ahh, look at that lighting and shading.

Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog, by Caspar David Friedrich. Currently my favorite artist. (For the time, until I find a new artist that I like even more.)

This picture of Mel Ferrer and Audrey Hepburn, on the set of War and Peace.

Sleep

I just want to crawl in a hole until this storm that's raging can pass over, colliding with my surroundings while I peacefully sleep, unaware of the tumult that's engulfing me. I just want to rest, carefree and blissfully.

But I'm too late. I'm already aware.

I already know the stakes.

I already know the consequences of a decision that I will either have to make or one that will be forced upon me.

This next year of my life seems so trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet for the present (carpe diem) I'm reluctant to act on this observation. I'm hesitant to up and leave a life I've established, teammates I've worked with these past few years.

Why must all these things happen at once, so quickly? Overload.

Father Time seems to have betrayed me.

Empire Falls

Or, more appropriately, A Waste of My Time.

Seriously, why the heck am I reading this book?

Does it have literary merit? No.

Does it have a point? No.

Am I interested in reading about a dilapidated town with discouraging residents? Perhaps if it was written well.

Honestly, what's with the Russo's diction? It's unrefined, coarse, uncreative, and common. Much of his subject matter is so Freudian it makes me sick.

Empire Falls represents a lot of things that I don't care for in a novel, especially in contemporary fiction. It's cliche and very discouraging.

I'm very disappointed, Kidle, VERY disappointed. I had much better expectations for AP Literature.

I'm not even bothering to finish this book. If you really knew me, this would be saying quite a bit.

Quiz Bowl Camp!

It was pretty good. I learned a lot, actually, especially about poetry. Now I know all these poets and famous lines from poetry (like Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard is full of good quotes). You learn some quizbowltastic* facts at ACE, too. Some of my favorites?

• Mussolini started out as an elementary school teacher. Does anyone else find this a bit scary? It's like saying Hitler used to run a day care in his backyard or something. (OK, perhaps the Hitler part is worse...but still.)
• Kepler got a chunk of his nose cut off in a duel with some other astronomer. Apparently Kepler was like, "I'm the greatest astronomer!" and some other guy was like, "No, I am!!" Kepler may have been the better astronomer, but he was not the better swordsman...
• Samuel Coleridge wrote Kubla Khan while high on opium. While writing it, a man from Portlock came and interrupted him but he got the wrong address and when Coleridge went back to finish his poem, his high had worn off. Sadly, he couldn't finish it. (You are very welcome for that bit of information. Now go and power that question in a quiz bowl match.)
• The chancellor of Germany before Hitler, Papen, greatly underestimated his successor. Here's how it went:

Hitler: Papen! Convince Hindenburg to make me chancellor!

Papen: LOL, yeah he's so old he won't even know what's happening. I think he crossed the Alps with Hannibal.

Hitler: ROTFL!! But seriously, will you help me!?!?

Papen: [thinking Hitler is a weak leader and that he can use Hitler's failures to make himself president of Germany] Yeah, OK!

...do I need to finish the rest of the story? Obviously he underestimated Hitler, seeing as how Papen isn't even mentioned in most textbooks.

• Andrew Marvel's "To His Coy Mistress" talks about vegetable love. Seriously. I don't even know what it means:

"My vegetable love should grow/Vaster than empires, and more slow"

• If you were to travel to a black hole, time would slow down. Also, black holes are bald. ("No Hair Theorem.")

I'm probably forgetting some others...oh well.

*Quibowltastic is an original Bianka Rose. It's going on the same list as hupix, I do declare.

Art Museums

I try to live a life without regrets, but I think this is impossible for many people if not everyone. Some regrets I have:

• visiting Berlin and not going to ANY of the art museums there. Checkpoint Charlie was interesting, but seriously, no art museums?
• going to Chicago and NEVER going to the art museum there (it has Nighthhawks, American Gothic, and so much more. I drool over their collection of Impressionist paintings).
• only going to the DIA and the museum at the Parthenon in Nashville, although the former does have an excellent Dutch art collection and the latter has a great accumulation of Hudson River School pieces.

Conclusion: I need to get to more art museums.

The MOMA is screaming my name, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam is simply waiting for me, the Uffizi is getting a bit impatient with my lack of funds to even get to Italy (as am I). The Louvre knows I need to see its treasure trove of art, the Prado is keenly aware that its Goyas are a magnetic force, the Hermitage is beckoning to me with its Rembrandt collection. The National Portrait Gallery in London has the only verified portrait of Jane Austen while the National Gallery (in London) has masterpieces from Giotto to Cezanne. So many places, so little time, so little funds.

Why don't I live in Europe?! I think this is the real issue here.

Book Covers and Other Things

I have Samantha to thank for my book cover craze right now. So, thanks? These for Lemony Snicket and these for Harry Potter were pretty great. I'm also really liking the ones for Penguin Classics. In May it dawned on me that they put classical art on the covers of many works of literature....ever since then, I always look to see what the cover design is. I have a Gros on my copy of War and Peace, I saw a Pride and Prejudice with a Manet, a Man in the Iron Mask with Rembrandt's magnum opus, and a collection of Charles Dickens with sketches by Boz. (I'm not a big fan of Boz right now actually. Well, perhaps I should say: I'm not a big fan of the art community for attributing many of Rembrandt's works to Boz, who was a pupil of his. Yeah, I'm kind of upset over this.) For some reason though, I find this really exciting.

I have a lot to do, mainly for quiz bowl. The other day I discovered that the library has this book I've been looking for and guess what? I've already read most of the book. I stumbled upon it last summer and started reading it, however I did not finish it nor did I know that it was recommended by quiz bowl forums. I feel rather accomplished.

Quiz bowl camp is getting close....I'm kind of really pumped.

It blows my mind....

Several things blow my mind. For instance,

• the size of the universe. Just think about it. If you were to fall in space, where the heck would you go? Would you just float in space? Is our universe within another universe? Oh my gosh, it creeps me out. Conclusion: The universe is HUGE.
• the concept of eternity. Do I really want to live forever? What would I live for? What would I do? Wouldn't you get extremely bored? I feel like some things have to end, even if eternal happiness is promised. Conclusion: Eternity is a really, really, really long time and sounds extremely boring.
• the concept of a Nazi-Zombie-Communist. You might be thinking, "But, Bianka, Nazis and Communists hate each other. They can't co-exist within the same being." Conclusion: A dead person who shares equally with all while believing in a supreme race. I dig it.
• time. I mean, what's with time? We try to measure time and our whole world is bound by time. Really, there is no such thing as time. The future is quickly becoming the present and the present quickly becoming the past. There is no time. Conclusion: It's a conspiracy.
• Volansky. What the heck goes through that woman's head? Conclusion: I will never know, nor do I necessarily want to know.

Camping, Stars, and Rain

I'm going camping for a whole week. I'm looking forward to it.

There's something oddly soothing about camping; it's relaxing.

I remember the first time I really saw the stars was while camping in Montana. Yes, of course I've seen stars in the night sky, but not like this. There was something different about these ones. There was little to no air pollution and when you looked up, the sky was permeated with them. Little clusters sprinkled across the sky, natural illumination as far as the eye could see. It was breath taking as I lay there with my father while he showed me constellations. I remember thinking that it looked as if God had taken a salt shaker and shook it vigorously across the sky.

In ninth grade I learned in Earth Science that for most stars, it takes eight years (or more) for their light to reach Earth. Ever since then, I've always thought that looking into the night sky is like looking into the past. Then I get all nostalgic and then common sense kicks in.

Shut up, nostalgia.

Anyway, camping. I hope it doesn't rain. There's actually a 50-60% chance that it will, but I'm crossing my fingers that it doesn't. Rain is terrible while camping. We're going tubing and hiking, we're making peach cobbler and s'mores.

Yeah, it should be good.

Hello?

Hi. It's been a while....

New layout! Thanks, Andrea! I really like it, by the way.

Summer is here. Why does it take forever to feel like summer? Just when it starts to feel like summer, it's time for school to start again. This seems kind of unfair.

Last Friday, on the last day of school, I felt like I would be back there on Monday, doing homework during one of Watson's lectures, cringing/rolling my eyes at Volansky, loving one of Bryen's classes, and falling asleep in Shupick's chem class while Vera drew something wildly exciting. The normal routine of life. But it's over and I'm sad. I think I'll miss many aspects about school. It provides me with a motivation to work. I need to stay focused this summer; we're looking to have an amazing quiz bowl team next year. I just hope I'm here.

I'm glad summer's here anyway. I don't have super exciting plans (no Germany this summer), but I am going to quiz bowl camp! NERDS OF THE WORLD UNITE! (Yeah, that was a Communist Manifesto reference.)

Super psyched nonetheless!!

Also, I've learned something a bit...frightening? exciting? surprising? since school ended. I'm not quite sure how to respond or if I'll even need to respond. Probably the latter, but it's OK.

Ahh, the relaxation of summer.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

I've been reading Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and I find it to be a very humorous yet insightful play. The titular characters are the protagonists (obviously) in this play adapted from Shakespeare's Hamlet. Essentially, that's what this play is: Hamlet from the perspective of his two friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The following is a passage from the play, one I find particularly interesting:

"Guildenstern: ...you can't act death. The fact of it is nothing to do with seeing it happened--it's not gasps and blood and falling about--that isn't what makes it death. It's just a man failing to reappear, that's all--now you see him, now you don't, that's the only things that's real: here one minutes and gone the next and never coming back--an exit, unobtrusive and unannounced, a disappearance gathering weight as it goes on, until, finally, it is heavy with death. "

Death--whether this version of Hamlet be told by Shakespeare or Hamlet's two comrades--seems to be a prevalent theme throughout this play...however I think I like Stoppard's more light hearted and well-balanced version somewhat better. I would definitely recommend it.

My Kind of Humor

"Hey! Just wanted to say I loved the Book of Kells."

I love geeky humor.

Can you even read the Calvin and Hobbes one?

Anyway. It's been over a month now. Odd. It's not like anyone really missed me, but I usually blog more often. Though I should warn you I'm not going to be blogging for a while. May is a busy, busy month. I feel like all I do is sleep, sleep, study, study, or just repeat myself for rhetorical effect. Something like that. These fragments are getting worse.

Spring Break

This break will be nice. For many reasons, actually.

But really, it will be nice to take a break from many things, not just school.

That's all I have to say. I'm starting to think my blog is extremely useless/boring.

Facepalm.

I read the following sentence during World History today:

"Female children normally did not receive an education, and in times of scarcity when food was in short supply, daughters might even be put to death." (Dukier & Splievogel)

First thought: "They were eating their daughters?!?"

On second thought: "...Oh, they killed them so they had fewer mouths to feed. I get it. Meanies."

So...basically, for two seconds, I thought people in the Ming and Qing Dynasties were cannibals.

Gahhhh

I look at things things now and all I can think is: "Oh, look, a Doric column. Oh, look a pendentive dome. Oh, look, Roman influence! Oh, hey--that's some Neoclassicism! Oh, there's some Rococo. Oh, hold up, got some Baroque there. Oh, why do all of these thoughts begin with 'oh'?"

And then people-*coughNeha/Michellecough*-have to remind me that I have AP tests in less than two months?!

Thanks.

But seriously.

Also, I've been...slackerish lately.

Oh, gosh it's frustrating.

I'm too influenced by outside sources. I will not succomb!

Also, according to Eshwar, I'm Shakespeare. ??? OK.

Something I call an MLIA/FML moment....

So today in AP Lang, we were reading the passages in the "entering the conversation" in our book and summarizing them. I'm reading them, being productive and actually working on the assignment we're supposed to. Meanwhile other people are talking about some of the selections or just things that aren't related to AP Lang at all. I here something about a passage concerning 24 and Law&Order and start to think, "Have I read that yet? Guess not." Then finally, I come to the sixth and final conversation passage.

Thinking that there was only 5, I turn to Abby and say, "What!? There's six! Dang it! I thought there were only five"

She responds, "What? No, there's only five."

"...What page are you on?"

"760, what page are you on?"

"...880."

So, I had been reading the wrong series of passages for the last hour of class. It made a lot more sense, seeing as how I had been reading the passages in the Nature section of our book when I was supposed to be reading the Popular Culture section....no wonder all the passages I was reading about dealt with global warming instead of the media.

The Parthenon

For my brief mid-winter break, my sisters and I traveled back in time to see the Parthenon in its glory days, complete with Phidias' ornate 41 feet tall statue of Athena. Somehow it had been moved to Nashville, Tennessee....It was pretty fun.

I've also resolved to NEVER read the same book at the same time with my sister Leah. Ever.

What'd you do?

Tennessee

Going back to Tennessee was like...visiting a place that had dissolved into pure memory. It was an odd sense of deja vu as we drove through Hendersonville: a town that had at one time seemed exciting and big but now appeared as a simple, sleepy, and small Southern town. As we climbed over hills or turned corners, it was weird seeing places that I recognized yet had seemed to have forgotten. It's like these mental pictures were dug from the bottom of my memory and brought into clearer focus. Fuzzy places that I had seen in my dreams were now reality, whether it was a corner on Old Shackle Island Road or a hill on Timberlake Drive. We passed the roller skating rink, our old house, Shipley's donuts, the pool where I learned to swim, and so many other places that were a part of my (somewhat brief) childhood. We even went to Kid's Kingdom, a community playground that had been a mile long ten years ago but has somehow shrunk in my absence. In the five years since I've been there, so little has changed. The South is so constant it's almost relaxing. I realize that I've missed more than just the mild winters. It's the gorgeous autumn weather, the laid back lifestyle, and the rolling hills that shape the layout of civilization.

Happiness in a List

According to the UN, the following countries are the top 10 best places to live, in chronological order:

1. Norway
2. Australia
3. Iceland
4. Canada
5. Ireland
6. the Netherlands
7. Sweden
8. France
9. Switzerland
10. Japan

I don't know about you, but this list is hilarious. It also makes me kind of really happy. I want to live in at least seven of these places.

Iceland is number three. Perfect. Two-thirds of the Scandinavian Peninsula is on this list. What's up with Finland? Slackers.

What's at the bottom of this list of 182 countries? Niger and Afghanistan. Apparently, Norway makes eighty-two dollars for every dollar Niger makes.

Eva Braun

I think Eva Braun has to be one of history's most interesting figures. Anyone who was lucky enough to date Hitler already makes them extremely interesting. She was his "companion" since they had met when she was 17. He was 40. Eva's sister had been Hitler's mistress before she committed suicide. Braun lived a life of luxury, unaware of the difficulties that came along with World War II. She was spoiled, allowed to read American and European magazines when the rest of Germany was cut off from the outer world and suffering from food shortages. She was fond of nude sunbathing and photography and often combined the two. She had no interest in politics but her loyalty to Hitler technically makes her a Nazi. Hitler, however, didn't quite find her to be acceptable in society. They were rarely seen together before his rise to Fuehrer. After being his wife for only 40 hours, she committed suicide by biting a cyanide pill. Apparently, the German public was largely unaware of her until after her death. This was not her first attempt at suicide. She had tried to kill herself twice during her 16 year long relationship with Hitler. Honestly, I don't blame her.

Oh, the joys of quiz bowl projects!

Deutsch Klasse

You know you're in Herr Baldwin's German class when you associate anything German with...

• Trogdor, Mummra, and the Pantones
• Das Taco: the German-Mexican Taco Restaurant.
• a mini-Starbucks that sells Pantones paraphernalia
• speaking German in Indian, valley girl, English, Australian, and Southern accents
• good intentions but a failure to act on them
• Disco Pogo, Das Geht Ab
• "Hey, Misser B-Win, I found a mistake! Can I have a red pen, please?" -Tim Reimers
• Hannover 96
• a disliking of people who live in Bremen and Russia
• "Uh, I think it's das. Let's ask Tim."
• Boshaft!
• "So...I was going to grade your papers, but I went to a concert instead. However, I got a super cool T-shirt!"
• Mallorca is more than just a small island owned by Spain

Are you sad you missed out on the awesomeness? Yeah, I would be, too.

You Don't Know Me...

That's got to be one of my favorite songs ever. It's by Ben Folds, featuring Regina Spektor. Just in case you were wondering.

So the other day, Mrs. Volansky posed a question to us in AP Lang. She said something along the lines of:

"Do you know someone whom you have a tense relationship with? No matter what you say, you just always feel stupid for saying anything in the first place and half the time you don't know what to say. Someone who-no matter how hard you try-you just can't seem to figure out? Someone who you can't follow their line of thinking whatsoever?"

Ha-YES.

I hate it. So much. (Referring, mostly, to the first two sentences.)

But that's not the point.

I feel like, no matter how hard you try, you'll never understand someone so completely that you can guess what they're thinking. No matter how hard you try, you'll just never be totally in sync with anyone. You don't know what I'm always thinking. I don't know what you're always thinking. So deal with it. I don't feel the need to know absolutely everything about you. As a matter of fact, I don't want you to know absolutely everything about me. It's something of a disappointment when you know someone so completely that they're no longer an enigma. I will never really comprehend why you believe that all aliens are green, that Al Gore is a great politician, that the JFK assassination was a conspiracy. And-quite frankly-I'm fine with accepting your beliefs the way they are without fully understanding them. It makes the world a more interesting place to live in.