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.