Short Grab Bag

Alrighty. In my haste to get my thoughts about Regionals up and running, I forgot to bring you other important news.

So, starting at the very beginning. The Monday after Regionals, I had an audition for a summer production of Much Ado About Nothing. I think it went rather well - I used a piece from Moliere's Two Precious Maidens Ridiculed. It's all about this hopelessly romantic teenage girl lecturing her father about how a suitor is supposed to behave around his beloved.  The callbacks were posted the next day, and I've been called back for Hero, Ursula, and a member of the city Watch. I'm quite excited, really. Hero was the role I'd been hoping to be called back as, but if I get any of those roles, I'll be most pleased.

On Tuesday evening, my mom got back from Minnesota. She spent three weeks back there with my uncle, during the course of which she got a sinus infection. Thank you all for keeping her in your prayers.

Today is quite busy. About a month ago, Lady Specs emailed me about the Christian Heritage Conference. Turns out, someone had volunteered me to help with the Speech and Debate presentation that Lady Specs was organizing. I've spent this last week stressing about what I would say. I finally finished the script today. So at noon, I'll be heading over to the conference, and after that, well, well, well... It's also Lady Spec's 18th birthday today, so she's having a dance in honor of it. Which should prove interesting.

Well, that's all for now, folks!

B

Music Wednesday

My apologies on the lateness of this post. This weekend has been crazy, and I only just got around to it.

Let me introduce you to The Voice, by Celtic Women. Normally, I really dislike this group, because it's so commercial, and certainly isn't true Celtic music. Yes, I prefer real bagpipes to some caterwauling by a girl group with a fiddle. But I love the lyrics to this song, so I overlook the band who sang it.

The Voice

I hear your voice on the wind
And I hear you call out my name

"Listen, my child," you say to me
"I am the voice of your history
Be not afraid, come follow me
Answer my call, and I'll set you free"

I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice, I will remain

I am the voice in the fields when the summer's gone
The dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow
Ne'er do I sleep thoughout all the cold winter long
I am the force that in springtime will grow

I am the voice of the past that will always be
Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields
I am the voice of the future, bring me your peace
Bring me your peace, and my wounds, they will heal

I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice

I am the voice of the past that will always be
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice of the future
I am the voice, I am the voice
I am the voice, I am the voice





B

Regionals

This weekend was the Region 3 Invitational National Qualifying Tournament. It was pretty fun,actually. I guess I'll give you a rough day-by-day high and low-lights list.

The tournament started on Wednesday, so bright and early at 5:30, I stumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed and no tail in sight. I needed to get down to Renton by 9:00 because extemp rounds started at 9:30, and we had articles to file. When I got down to the church, I discovered, along with KK, that Calvin had printed out an entire stack of papers that needed to be filed before the round. Can you say 'panic'? Extemp would have gone rather well had it not been for the fact that Mr. Shane Baumgardner, one of the extemp powerhouses of my region, had been in my room all three times. I kind of psyched myself out. This excuse is not saying that I would have done better if Mr. Baumgardner had not been in my room: It was an extreme miracle that I qualified to Regionals in the first place. I then had a debate round, which was interesting and not entirely pleasant. After coming out from about four hours worth of analysis and argumentation, I was greeted by an onslaught of inquisitive friends. Questions flew over my head like flies over a particularly ripe cheese. Keep in mind that I was operating off of very little sleep, and you'll understand that moving from a nice, quiet debate round to a noisy circle full of friends did very little for my sanity and comprehension. It was completely overwhelming. And naturally, Grey and Ophelia were at the very heart of the culprits, and I mean that in the best possible way. I skipped the social event at the Space Needle because I needed sleep, and getting up at 4:30 the next day was not conducive to sleep.

Thursday was chaos. Rounds started at 7:30, after announcements at 7:00. There were four debate rounds plus three speech rounds, and by the end of the day, I was pretty well exhausted. On the plus, I ran into quite a few old new friends from last time around.  All Thursday, I was pretty bummed that Mrs. Hudson hadn't done her speech about hats. Oh, also, I had a judge who refused to make eye contact with me in my OO. It was a little jolting, because no matter what I would do, this parent WOULD NOT look at me. She was even staring at the other judges, but I was apparently too horrific to look at.

On Friday, I got in a huge discussion with some other debaters about the Big Bang theory, Old Earth and New Earth Creationism, and Biblical interpretation. It was CJ and I against the world. Well, not quite as melodramatic, but still, it was a good argument. It's probably cemented my status as a resident freethinker even more firmly, but I happen to believe that "any society that looses its troublemakers goes downhill," so I'm comparatively alright with that.

On Saturday, I woke up with my eye swollen shut, so I got to wear an eye patch! Also, on Saturday, I had a dandelion fight with a TP debater I had just started talking to that day. We figured out that if you walk upwind of your target and shake the seed head of a dandelion, your target gets a face-full. This started an all out war, which was absolutely amazing, except that Mr. Owl got a video of it.  We found a Rubik's cube, and I solved one side almost completely, but I got stuck with the last square. Mr. Owl got the last square in place, and then claimed to have solved the entire thing. It was a lolwut moment, if I ever saw one. :D Calvin was awkward with CS as usual, but it was still kind of entertaining hanging out with them. I will never view Coca-Cola in the same way again, nor Axe, for that matter. See, the original Calvin, whom I shall refer to as StickMan for the rest of this blog, brought a can of Axe deodorant spray with him, and on Saturday, proceeded to stagnate the air for a twenty-foot radius around him. Bell was sleeping a couple feet away, and StickMan got the idea to spray Bell with the Axe. He creeps over to the sleeping debater, and thoroughly marinates him with the stuff, and Bell didn't even wake up. It was hilarious, amazing, etc.


And throughout the tournament, I had a very fun time imitating Theresa Hudson's accent, who was running Regionals. I hope she didn't over hear me, though. ;P

B

Run

Let me introduce you to a favorite of mine: Run, by Snow Patrol. I acquired it this summer when I was expanding my music library. It, too, came up on Pandora. I'm not quite sure why I like it, so just go and listen to it for yourself.


Run by Snow Patrol.

I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Wish List

Every Tuesday, I walk to the library. There, I spend an hour or so browsing through periodicals, books, encyclopaedias, and other resources in preparation for extemporaneous club and debate. This usually brings me into contact with the other patrons of the library. A couple times now, I've had to explain "why I'm not in school."  It doesn't bother me too much, but the various comments I have to bite back when questioned do. So this post is going to be great! It'll only be the punch lines, not the buildup. Ready? Here we go.

1. No, I do not know your cousin's daughter who homeschools in Virginia.

2. No, I don't want to communicate with your cousin's daughter in Virgina.

3. Just because there's a 'home' in homeschool doesn't mean I spend my time there.

4. Just because there's a 'school' in homeschool doesn't mean I need 10 hours a day to get my learning done.

5. No, I don't own a copy of the Constitution.

6. No, I don't have the Declaration of Independence memorized.

7. Keeping a bunch of teenagers racing with hormones in close contact with each other five days of the week doesn't count as socialization.

8. Why, yes! I have lots of friends. You just can't see them.


9. No, I don't like, eat, like, icecream? for like, you know, breakfast?


10. Don't look so surprised. It's not like every homeschool family is large.


11. Not all homeschoolers school the way your cousin's daughter in New York does.


12. Have you ever heard of autodidactic tendencies? No? Go look it up and then ask me that again.


13. Prom? You mean, there's socializing? I'm sorry, as a backward, fundamentalist homeschooler, I don't think it's alright for guys and girls to be in the same room as each other, let alone talking to one another!


14. You've completely convinced me. I now firmly believe that after living a long, full, life, doing a job that I love, pursuing knowledge, after finding adventures everywhere, after marrying the man of my dreams; I believe that I'll look back on my life and say that the one thing I regret is not having had a boyfriend throughout high school because it really would have made my life complete.


15. I agree, I don't sound like other kids my age. Do you have a problem with that?


16. No, no. No offense taken. My fundamentalist, wack-job friends from the vast right-wing conspiracy will never know.


17. Now that you're done, can I quiz your kid about everything they've learned at school?


18. Yes, these are, in fact, pants. You're not hallucinating.

19. Oi! Don't disrespect the van!

20. This conversation was scintillating, I'm sure, but much like a chanson de geste, it has waxed loquacious and time itself is fleeting.



Thanks! You have no idea how good it felt to just release some of the pent-up sarcasm. I can now go back and continue my polite, non-committal conversations.
You know, it's getting so bad I'm considering just calling myself "library schooled" and leaving it at that.

B

Airship Pirates

You may remember I talked about Abney Park a few Music Mondays ago. This song of theirs is a bit different than I Am Stretched On Your Grave. See, this one is a little more ... robust. It's about a group of pirates who sail the skies in their airship. It's called, surprisingly enough, Airship Pirates. I think my two favorite parts of the song is the helicopter propellers introducing the song, and the violin's scrawls throughout. It's good if you're trying to distract your mind from, say, the 100 sit-ups you're attempting to do. But it's also good in its own right, so I'll leave you to enjoy.

Airship Pirates by Abney Park

Our fires high and the airbags tight
Food's low but the skies are bright
Props spinning all through the night
We're low on cash but seen another target

Goggles down and the cannons up
My blood starts pumping as I drain my cup
I give the wheel a spin and I turn this girl around
We're way above ground but we're closed in on our target

Flying Jib is filled with air
East India ships filled with despair
We even up, her broadsides bare
Our cannons flair but it’s just a show of muscle

Steady on, she doesn’t need to burn
She tries to flee and she tries to turn
Grappling fire, we latch her hull
She’s starting to roll, but we’ve got her on a leash

With a crew of drunken pilots
We’re the only airship pirates
We’re full of hot air and we’re starting to rise
We’re the terror of the skies, but a danger to ourselves now

Expendable crew starts to reel her in
Our swords are sharpened and we're ready to sin
I’m three miles up, we're about to swing aboard
My tether's made of leather so I’m not about to fall here

A swish of air and my boots hit deck
No cash, no fuel, no not a speck
Our grape shots made this bird a wreck
And a glance below deck shows a crew of nuns and orphans

With a crew of drunken pilots
We’re the only airship pirates
We’re full of hot air and we’re starting to rise
We’re the terror of the skies, but a danger to ourselves

Tag!

Qwip tagged me with this one, which he wrote himself.

1. How many toes do you have?

14. In base 6, that is.

2. How many bones have you broken?


One. It was when someone mistook my foot for the soccer ball in a game and tried to loft it.


3. Name an epic thing that you have done.


I was carrying one of those food trays you get from the cafeteria to a friend with a plate of food and  a glass of water on it. I tripped over the invisible object that follows me a around, and the plate of food and glass jumped off the tray. Keep in mind this was a few feet from my friend's table. She turned around just in time to see me catch the food and water glass on the tray just before planting my face in the cement. Nothing spilled.

4. If you had a pet lemming, what would you name him?

Road Kill

5. What color are the clothes you're wearing right now?

Cream and brown, unless you're also counting the drawing on my arm, in which case: Cream and Brown and purply black.

6. How awesome are orca whales on a scale of one to ten?

Uhhhh.... Five? I've never really thought about it before.

8. How old do you want to be when you die?

Before fifty. Unlike the creator of this tag, I want to be doing something interesting when I go.

9. Name a pet peeve and an addiction.

Pet Peeve: People apologizing for things that don't need apologies ("I'm sorry, I have to get my bag. I'm sorry, did I open my sandwich without asking if you've had lunch. I'm sorry, I opened the door a little slowly. I'm sorry, I just expressed an opinion you disagree with ..." )


Addiction:  I'm addicted to well-written movie soundtracks.

10. Write a paragraph detailing your life. 100 word minimum.


My earliest memory is standing at the top of a very large hill looking down on my brother on the playground at the foot of the hill. I was public schooled from Kindergarten through Fifth Grade, a time period I prefer to forget. Public school is one of the reasons that I can't stand kids. I took up the violin in second grade. I was also in a ballet company basically from kindergarten 'till sixth grade. I was training to be a professional. It was in ballet that I discovered precisely everything that was wrong with my feet. I went en pointe and my firey, scary Russian teacher sent me to a foot doctor to see what the trouble was. Turns out, I had plantar faschitis, achilles tendonities, calcaneal apophicitis, epiphicitis, and sesmoiditis. In other words, my feet were screwy. In addition, x-rays discovered that I have extra bones in my heels and bone growths that severally limit my range of motion. The doctor put me in cast boots for two months and I had to drop out of dance, because while surgery could have fixed these problems, it was terribly expensive.  After fifth grade, I asked my parents to home school me, and they were kind enough to agree. I joined a choir, and a few years later, the NCFCA. And that pretty much brings me up to date - nothing much has happened during my years homeschooling.  Hah, 200-something words.

11. Name one thing that isn't really a secret, but that you haven't really gotten around to telling anyone.

I really like my privacy, so it bugs me when people ask too much about me.

12. Name another pet peeve.

The slurping and munching sounds people make when they eat noisily drive me nuts.
 
13. Sprechen Sie deutsch?

Ich spreche nur sehr wenig Deutsch


14. Tell a joke.

Zakos Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and, with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him a super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis

15. How many of the questions have you answered in a witty manner so far?

4, ish.

16. Compose a haiku.

 The cute crocodile
Opens his mouth for fishies
Grinning, licks his lips.

17. Have you ever noticed how sour candies taste even more sour if you rub them on the side of your tongue?

Yeah.


18. What book(s) are you reading at the moment?

The Phoenix Guard by Someone - it's a parody, of sorts, of Dumas' the Three Musketeers
Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang - It's part history, part biography, part memoir.
and a collection of Moliere's one act plays

19. How many doors are there in your house?

13.

20. How would you solve a problem like Maria?

Solitary confinement's worked before.

21. Think of something about yourself. Anything. Go on, think of it.

Now think of something more interesting. Write it down here.

Something more interesting: I got certified in Leave No Trace when I was nine, and then proceeded to bully older Boy Scouts getting their certification because I volunteered as an instructor about how to act around pack animals for several years after that. I think I enjoyed it a little too much.

22. What's wrong with your legs?

I'm the lady from the test.

24. What's your favorite show tune?


That's a hard one. Camelot's my favorite musical, and it's got so many good ones. The Simple Joys of Maidenhood, Camelot, The Jousts, the Seven Deadly Virtues, and Guenevere rank up there, though.

25. Okay, you can tell us what that first thing you thought of for number 21 was. We all want to know, even if it isn't interesting.

I missed my best friend's birthday party five years in a row.

I tag Jare and Lib.


B

Biology

I love science! I love learning about why the universe works the way it works. There is something perfect, pleasing, and beautiful about learning how God created everything. That said, I hate biology. Why? Because rather than dealing with the 'why' of creation, it deals with the 'what'.  What the names of bones are; what the respiratory system is; what photosynthesis does... All sorts of specific which, quite frankly, bore me stiff. I'd much rather study the science of dropping things (ie, physics) or the science of exploding things (ie, chemistry) rather than the science of living things...

Fortunately, for the most part, my biology class is tolerable. A sarcastic teacher who also prefers physics and chemistry helps. But because she's bored with the subject, she messes with the students, and yesterday was undoubtedly the worst science class I've ever had.

We started on animals yesterday. Previously, we'd covered botany, an interesting, enlightening, and thoroughly engrossing topic. Please tell me you get my sarcasm. The logical starting point is looking at invertebrates.

Because she had planned a dissection, the teacher only had a short lecture - fifteen minutes. She focused on stuff that interested her. So for the first five minutes, she gave an in-depth introduction to tape worms, complete with pictures, graphs, and all the biological impacts it has on the host. After that section, I was feeling kind of queasy, and desperately wishing that my grade didn't depend on my attendance of the class.

The teacher then announced that she'd spend the remnant of the lecture on spiders. In case you didn't know, I've got a case of arachnophobia.  For the next ten minutes, I looked anywhere but the slideshow, and by the end of the slide show, not only was I ready to lose my breakfast, but feeling thousands of crawling legs moving up my spine. It didn't help that the teacher was gesturing and pointing out things on the slides with the can of 14-inch-long worms that were about to be dissected. Basically, by the end of the lecture, I wanted to run screaming from the room.

Then the fun began. She called us to pick out our worm, and gave us dissecting kits. The worm on the tray in front of me looked like a scale model of the tape worms she had just told us about. My stomach gave a warning jump. However, since I was being graded, I picked up the scalpel and got to work. The only way I got through the intervening hour was by singing "The Gambler"'s chorus to myself.

See, I have a problem. When I read a book about someone experiencing pain, I start hurting too. That's one of the reasons I have problems with meat: I see the veins and I start hurting all over. And when I was cutting through the skin of the worm and pinning it back, it felt like I was peeling back the skin on my hand without anaesthetics and pinning it to the cardboard. And when it didn't feel like I was vivisecting myself, I felt sick because the worm was disgusting.

I felt sick for the entire day, and I am desperately praying that the next dissection falls on the week Regionals will be held. Because I don't know if I can even do it again.

Sickly yours,
B

Archery

Last night, my Venture crew got together with another crew and went to an archery range. It was, surprisingly, fun!

Before yesterday,  I'd never used a ranged weapon/toy/whatever you want to call it before. You could tell, too. My target hitting and self-injuring skills seemed to be directly proportionate - I didn't do the former a lot, but the latter more than made up for it. Because the arm-guard thingy didn't fit, it slid down my arm to where it wasn't useful, and I'd hit my arm with the string.


But despite the bruises forming on my upper left forearm, I had fun. So yeah, that's my report for the evening.

B

Prayer Request

Hey all -

I have a quick prayer request for y'all (in case the title didn't give it away).

My mom flew back to Minneapolis, MN early yesterday morning to spend time with her brother who is dying of pancreatic cancer. He is not a Christian. The doctors are not optimistic, and to tell you frankly, I think the main reason he's held on for this long is that God wanted to give Mom a chance to get back there.

My uncle's liver is shutting down, and the cancer is thoroughly embedded throughout his body. When he goes, he will leave his wife and little girl behind.

Please pray for patience and perseverance for Mom as she gets into the stressful dynamics of her family, and that she'll be a light in my uncle's dark places.

Thanks,
B

Post Script

As a post script to my post 'non sint' - if you did not know what I was talking about before reading the post, then you are not persons (B), (C), or (D).

Just to clarify. I have had conversations with the people involved, so I don't want random readers of my blog to think I am keeping things from them.

B

Inside of You, In Spite of You

I'm sure you've noticed how eclectic my choices in music are by this point. I'll drive it home and give you a rather nice goth rock song today. It's called Inside of You, In Spite of You by ThouShaltNot. If you're anything like most people I know, you're thinking "Okay, I knew Problematic was a little out there. But goth rock? She's pushing it now."

There's an interesting thing I've noticed about my friends. They look at a genre of music and judge it without even listening to it. Now, I'll be the first to say I'm not goth. I never was, I never intend to be, and if you refer to this post, you'll see that my views on the matter are a little ... strong.  But before you go and discount this song, take a look at its lyrics. Not only is the beat of the song strong and catchy, but the lyrics are actually quite amazing.

Inside of You, In Spite of You by ThouShaltNot


I am in the air now
I am in your lungs
I am written
I am spoken by a million flaming tongues
I'm the lens through which you see
I'm the process
I am the key
I am synapses firing bullets from a gun
I'm the world's mystique
I am the words you speak
I am language
I am hidden memories that you seek
I am the sun before you see me rise
I burn still when you close your eyes
I am the soul that never dies when flesh is weak

I am inside of you in spite of you
With strength and sacred grace
But for all you do
I'll carry you now
From this bitter place

I am in your future
I am in your past
I'm the echo of your footsteps
I'm your shadow cast
I'm the heat you radiate
I am the fury and the fate
I am each beat within your heart from first to last
I'm your action without thought
I am the instinct born inside you
I'm the bones from which you drape
I am protective skin to hide you
I'm the pull that the earth exerts
I am the rain that stings and the snow that blinds
I'm the architecture of your world and mind

I am the dawn of ages
I am the days seen through
I'm final entropy
I am inside of you
I am the clouds that cover
Your way into the blue
I kiss with life to give
All this in spite of you

Interesting song, neh? I apologize for the video of the song - I only found In Spite of You is fan-made movies. And Lord Cutler Beckett was infinitely preferrable to Edward Cullen.

B

non sint

Everyone cares about something. And that doesn't mean 'is vaguely interested in a detached sort of way.' No, there is an issue out there that is so huge, so enormous, so vast and important in their mind that they are truly passionate about it. For a couple of my friends, its the problem of malaria in Africa. For another, it's that sub-cultures can be Christian.

I've noticed a phenomenon among some of my 'courtyard' friends recently. They'll come up to me, and make a rude statement concerning my 'keep' friends. And usually, it's a hasty generalization or judgement on these people.

All this to say, the thing that makes me sad to the core, that makes me sick to my stomach when I see it happening is when I see people judge others without truly learning about them. That's my 'issue'.

The most recent one that happened was something like this: My courtyard friends started talking about people in the speech and debate league around the area. From other clubs, by the way. As I was saying, these people started talking about members of NCFCA in the Puget Sound region. They are more junior members of my club, in the way that I've been around NCFCA for much, much longer than they have. But that's besides the point. These club mates of mine commented on a couple old-timers from other clubs, who also happen to be good friends of mine.

My club mates (both of whom I shall now refer to as X)  remarked that one good friend (B) was an insincere actress whose kindness, niceness, sincerity, etc. was an act and that she genuinely didn't care about other people. X went on to say that (C) was a little better and not as fake, but was also an actress whose concern for others was only going for getting brownie points with the adults.  Ouch. That's the type of thing I'd expect a group of cliquey high-school girls to say about each other, not teen-aged young men (I shall not call them gentlemen because they were not).

On a separate occassion, persons X (a group which may or may not be different from the previous paragraph) targeted a different friend of mine. According to X, (D) was a dogmatic, pragmatic spoil-sport who didn't know how to take a joke, nor make one.

I don't take offense at what X say: If these guys actually knew (B), (C), or (D), they would realize how wrong, how unjust, and how skewed their opinions are. I've even said something to that effect to X. But they don't listen. Why? Because X are set in their ways: They've fallen into judging others before even getting to know them.

I do it too. Before I met (B) and (C), I was universally distrustful of gregarious people because of a bad experience I had in the past. I met them, and thought "Oh, I don't want to be friends with them" because they talked a lot. I've got another friend (G), who looks on the outside like a cloudcuckoolander with no firm grasp of reality, but whose insights and opinions can be startlingly sharp.  I've got countless examples of friends who I made hasty judgements about, and now regret those opinions. God has been gracious and showed me the error of those assumptions. I'm certainly not over it, but I've learned now to try and get to know someone before drawing a conclusion about who they are and what they're like.

What upsets me about these situations is that X and other friends don't even *try* to get to know the people they criticize. They meet a person, run into them twice, and then become the experts on who the person is. Not only that, but they are then as insensitive and back-stabbing as to tell others about this person without even having one, just ONE meaningful conversation with the person in question. It's wrong, and maybe I'm not expressing it right, but it should not be this way.

Not only have persons X ruined the chance of good, pure, simple friendship without any pretensions or false concepts for themselves, they've also sewn the seeds of rumors, lies and hypotheses in other people's minds. They're not just hurting themselves: they're hurting the ones they gossip about and anyone who remotely comes into contact with the rumors.

I don't know if that was remotely intelligible, let alone polite and politic. So what are your thoughts?

B

Extended Analogy

I can't remember if I've ever posted this here, and because my next post is dependant to a certain extent upon the analogy, I'll refresh your mind.

Friendship is much like a medeival castle. Every person is the master of a castle, including a keep, a courtyard, and the town surrounding the defensive structures. As we meet people throughout our lives, they travel into our town. The friendly strangers, the acquaintances, the friends of friends, they all 'live' in the town: the lord or lady of the castle is aware of their presence, and tolerates any activities, strolling players, etc. within the outskirts of the city.

But sometimes, there are exceptional strangers. They're interesting, unusual, or show friendly intent. And so, as the owner of the castle, we invite them into the courtyard of the castle. They're through the portcullis, the outerwall, the outer defenses. There are less people in the courtyard, obviously. These are the friends of the owner of the town. Not necessarily good friends, but ones trusted *enough* to get through the first layer of archers, pikemen, and boiling lead.  The lord or lady of the castle interacts with these people more often, many times going out to visit and socialize with the inhabitants.

And sometimes, if a particular visitor impresses the lord or lady of the manor, they'll be invited in the keep. There are no defenses up now, and it's pretty posh inside. These are your or my intimate friends. The ones we trust so much, we open up to them. Sometimes, they move back to the courtyard for a time, but they stay close.

Like it? I do.

Now, on to the post this is relevant to.

B

Personality (Dis)order

You may have noticed a link on the sidebar describing my personality: Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiver. When I took the test, I didn't have time to look up the attributes associated with INFP personality types. But I did today. Look at the results:

-creative
-smart
-idealist
-loner
-attracted to sad things
-ambivalent of the rules
-likes esoteric things-disorganized
-likes the rain
-observer
-easily distracted
-does not like crowds
-attracted to the counter culture
-can be pessimistic
-can feel uncomfortable around others
-can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings
-frequently losing things
-can be pessimistic

Up to this point, I wondered how they knew all this about me. It's like they've read my blog or something. These next ones were ambivalent. I haven't noticed it about myself, but maybe you have.

-prone to quitting
-prone to feelings of loneliness
-avoidant-sometimes can't control fearful thoughts
-prone to crying
-focus on fantasies
-acts without planning
-low self confidence
-emotionally moody
-can feel defective
-prone to lateness
-prone to sadness
-prone to dreaming about a rescuer
-disorderly
-private
-hermit
-can sabotage self
-prone to regret
-can be submissive
-prone to feeling discouraged
-frequently second guesses self
-not punctual
-not always prepared
-prone to confusion
-prone to irresponsibility


Yeah, those are the ones I'm rather ambivalent about. But these next ones are jewels. They're perfect "lolwot" material. 
-can feel victimized
-familiar with the dark side
-more likely to support marijuana legalization
-daydreams about people to maintain a sense of closeness
-wounded at the core
-feels shame

I'm still chuckling over the marijuana one. I love personality tests. They offer so much amusement potential. =D
B

Letter to the Editor

The third writing assignment for my rhetoric class. I got high marks on this one, so I thought I'd share.

Editor, the Times;

Richard Dawkins and other prominent atheists recently have asserted that Christianity teaches that “unquestioning faith is a virtue,” but they’ve not researched the issue properly. 

The Bible teaches in many books that truth is important, and that it should be actively pursued. 2 Timothy reminds us to “Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, handling accurately the word of truth.” In other words, the pursuit of truth is one of the things God calls us to do as His followers.

Mr. Dawkins also overlooked the rich scientific tradition of Western civilization when he claimed that Christians do not question beliefs.  Galileo Galilei, called the Father of Modern Science, was a firm Christian. Although it went against church doctrine at the time, he questioned prior beliefs about the universe and forever changed the way we do science. Newton, Bohr, Pasteur, Lavoisier, Kepler, Copernicus, Maxwell, and other influential scientists of the past four centuries were all Christians who questioned and sought after the truth. If unquestioning belief, rote memorization, and apathy toward truth were all virtues for Christians, then the depth of our knowledge about the world would be far simpler.

Christians believe that “the truth will set us free” (John 8:32), and an unquestioning faith simply does not fit into that belief.

Sincerely,

Problematic

Every Breath You Take

Music Monday, unfortunately, has been put on hold the past few weeks. But this week, I'm pleased to introduce you  to one of my favorite ear worms: Every Breath You Take by Sting & the Police. I love the backup music, not so much the lyrics. It's restrained and catchy.And actually, looking at the lyrics now, it sounds like a song a stalker would sing, but that doesn't make it any less awesome in my mind.

Every Breath You Take by Sting & the Police:

Every breath you take and every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you
Every single day and every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay, I'll be watching you
Oh can't you see you belong to me?
How my poor heart aches with every step you take
Every move you make and every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake, I'll be watching you
Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace
I dream at night
I can only see your face
I look around but it's you I can't replace
I feel so cold and I long for your embrace
I keep crying baby, baby please

Oh can't you see you belong to me?
How my poor heart aches with every step you take
Every move you make
And every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake, I'll be watching you
Every move you make
Every step you take, I'll be watching you, I'll be watching you
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay, I'll be watching you
Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake, I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay, I'll be watching you
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay, I'll be watching you
Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake, I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay, I'll be watching you
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take, I'll be watching you


Cheers,
B

Hysteria, Nausea, and Onomatapoeia

Disclaimer: What I'm going to say may sound mean, sarcastic, uncaring, or self-righteous, but I mean it in the best way possible. ;)

Popular guys crack me up. They really do. When I see them sauntering through the hallways with a giggle of girls following them, it takes all my self-control not to snicker, especially when the girls are all casting feral glances at each other. But you know what makes me laugh even harder? Guys who don't even know it. Yeah, the ones strutting their stuff with the girls are funny, but even they are overshadowed by the oblivious charmers.  These are the guys who remain ignorant of their popularity. I had a conversation with one of them recently who bemoaned his lack of followers. Apparently, he hadn't noticed the number of girls who follow him with their eyes. =D Anyways, I've been having a chuckle recently at the expense of these fellows. Pay no attention to the cynic in the corner.

On to the real purpose of my post. I apologize for my lack of posts recently. There was a tournament in Idaho this weekend that I spent most of March preparing for. I competed in Persuasive, Original Oratory, Extemporaneous, and Lincoln-Douglas debate. When all was said and done, I was 5th speaker and 5th LD debater, 8th Extemporaneous speaker, and 8th Original Oratory. My persuasive did not qualify to Regionals. Sad, but oh well. That leads to a tangential musing: I always seem to pick controversial, unpopular speeches. There was Animal Farm back two years ago, and now my Persuasive has gone and ticked off the judges. I guess they just can't handle my message. ;)

In other news, I won my first-ever outround in debate. I call it high cause for celebration.

So, pluses and minuses from the tournament:
+5th in LD, 5th LD speaker
- My flight B round starting as TP rounds ended
------ Getting to the extemp prep room late because of my late debate round
+ Two first places in extemp from that round
+ Breaking in OO and extemp
---- Calvin and Bill's incredibly awkward conversation skills
------ Verve not in Finals
--- Almost fainting on Saturday
+++ A much more subdued tournament because most of my club wasn't there
--- "Your emotions seemed forced and unreal" after I almost started crying in my funny OO on account of exhaustion
--- "Can't you choose a less generic example than Jewish people?"
+++ Exclusive Ballot party
+++++ I Talk Alone - a parody of "I Walk Alone" by Tarja that Jedi Gerbils and I wrote.
+ "Pep talking" Calvin
+ New Friends!
+ "I love your blog!" <-- That was unexpected, but rather cheering. I can't remember your name, but thank you. You made my night.

Yeah, on Saturday, I was feeling really quite faint and dizzy. So much so that when the tournament director asked for a timer, I volunteered without realizing I did until I got into the apologetics round. That was about the worst 80 minutes I spent at the tournament, because I was trying desperately hard to not black out during the speeches.

On Thursday, I was in the second flight for LD. Due to some unfortunate happenstance, the judge didn't show up on time. In fact, we didn't find him until the team policy rounds were ending. This isn't good: we're supposed to be finishing when the policy rounds get out. So we start, and the tournament director was good enough to hold the tournament back half an hour to give us a chance to finish. I get out of my round, only to be told that I was the first speaker in the OO room. I rush over there, and discover that my extemp draw is in 30 seconds. I rush as fast as my high heels will allow over to the extemp prep room, and arrive almost five minutes late because I had to detour to find the postings first. Despite that, two judges ranked me first in the room. And I broke to semis, so I was quite happy. 

After the awards ceremony, I went over to Jedi Gerbil's hotel for an "exclusive" ballot party of sorts. We got Mrs. Incredible and her debate partner, Pooh and Tigger, and Jedi Gerbils and Barrelfighter, and Elsie (the girl whose house I occupied) plus R.B. together to read ballots. It eventually turned to a politics discussion, at which point another guest in the room started listening intently. Apparently, he'd never seen a room full of teenagers in suits and ties intelligently discussing the second election race of Pres. Clinton before. I have to wonder where he's been for the past 12 years.  Yeah, it was a highly successful tournament.

And now, to spend time cum mea familia. As an ending sidenote, I'm so happy to be able to hug people *taller* than me. Everyone I spent time with at Idaho was shorter.

Cheerio,
B

Ow

Forty-five minutes of abdominal exercises are painful the next day. Just saying.

Book Tag

I received this tag from Libby (Random Jot Downs) because I have fallen in public. Quite a few times, actually, but that's besides the point.
The rules are to grab a book (the nearest book to you), turn to page 123, go to the fifth sentence and post the next five sentences:

"Come on, you blob of glup," the cold Duke roared. "You may frighten octopi to death, you gibbous spawn of hate and thunder, but not the Duke of Coffin Castle!" He sneered. "Now that my precious gems have turned to thlup, living on, alone and cold, is not my fondest wish! On guard, you musty sofa!"

The book is called The 13 Clocks by James Thurber, which my own dear brother gave me to read yesterday, but now it has jumped to the first on my list. =D

B

Oh, and I tag Tay, from Fearless. Because I can.

Ensemble Recital

Sunday was my violin teacher's Ensemble Recital. That means we all got to play in duets, trios, etc. The first part of the evening was spent listening to the younger students play. The pieces were quite nice, but because the violin is an instrument that you create your own tones on, it was a little painful listening to the Anna Magdalena Notebook by Bach in three separate keys all at once. >.<

Then came the second half of the performance. This was the time for the older students to "shine" as my teacher put it. I was in the middle of the second half, so let me explain my piece before jumping in.

My ensemble piece was a series of Bartok duets. Bela Bartok, for those of you who were wondering, was a Hungarian (I believe) composer from the 1940s who traveled Eastern Europe collecting folk songs and arranging them into duets for two violins and no accompaniment. That "no accompaniment" bit is important, but so is the folk songs. See, Western music has a very distinct tonality and musicality to it. As we grow up, we are conditioned to think that some patterns of tones aren't musical. The Middle East has a different musicality, as does Africa and Asia. Even particular countries have distinct sounds - Indian music can be easily differentiated from Japanese.  What is considered musical in Asia may not be in African or European traditions, but because we recognize them as 'foreign' musicalities, we accept them as melodic.

Not so with Eastern European music. It's not the same as Western European music, but it isn't different enough to be 'foreign'. Every once in a while, you can hear a touch of Asian or Middle Eastern, but it's not different enough to be recognized as musical from somewhere else. This explains why a lot of students really hate Bartok - they don't think his music sounds like music, and if it does, it certainly isn't nice sounding.

So there I was, sitting on the side as the other older students played. First up: Moussorgsky. Then Mozart. Oh, look, a Bach!  Then there was Vivaldi. Those are all either Western composers or Russian (and Moussorgsky's Romantic music sounds quite a bit like other Western Romantic composers). At this point, I'm getting a little nervous. The other pieces have piano accompaniment. The other pieces have lush, full sounds that we like. They were harmonic, not dissonant. I glanced at my sheet music. In two measures, my teacher (who played the other violin part) and I had only four notes: E, D sharp, D natural, and C natural - sometimes at the same time. If you wanted to play something incredibly dissonant and mush-like, I could think of no better note sequence.

I listened again. Their pieces sounded hard. Mine sound simple, but the fingering is killer at times (especially the Bagpipes Variation >.<).

Yeah, I kind of psyched myself out before going up there. But it turns out, I did fine. A couple of unintentional grace notes in Bagpipes Variation, but nothing serious.

B

Olympia Days 4 & 5

I'm tired, so I'll make this fairly short.

On Thursday, in Page School, we had a mock Ways and Mean committee meeting. Along with Mrs.Incredible and one House page, I was in the conservative minority, but my proposal passed! My budget proposal was that we deport the illegal immigrant offenders in our jails back to their country of origin, saving $ 9 million. Mrs. Incredible and the house page's proposals didn't pass because they were quite conservative. I surprised one of the teachers by voting for a 1% income tax proposal, which was incredibly funny. He said: "Problematic, I can't believe you voted for that. I'm surprised!" because I had voted against all the other tax increases in the committee.

Also on Thursday, protestors from Evergreen College and UW showed up. They brought a coffin to protest a proposed increase of tuition for state colleges to balance the budget - apparently they were burying state higher education. And then they started singing in the Senate Gallery, getting through a verse and a half before being thrown out. The WSP brought some bomb sniffing dogs and about twenty extra officers for security.

It completely figures that the one day I decided to wear pigtails (Friday) is the day my Senator requests me to do the flag ceremony. I carried the American Flag. Besides that, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

It's a lame update, I know.

My conclusion: Paging is awesome. I am now interested in the United States Senate Page program. And I totally recommend the experience to everyone.

Now, I'm going to sleep again for a while.
B

Olympia Day 3

Celebrate good times, come on!! Woohoo!! *skips merrily around computer room* So, I finally managed to hook up with my sponsoring Senator this morning. I made three appointments to meet with her with her staff these past two days, and finally one of them caught her in her office. She ushered me into her leather and light decorated office, and proceeded to make pleasant small talk. She asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, but I have no real plans. Instead, I picked the one occupation I'm kind of interested in, and told her about it. Then she asked me where I'd study for the job. There's only one university in North America that offers the course... Yeah. When she heard that, my Senator talked about how attending out-of-state colleges is bad for the state because it draws the state's best and brightest away from our economy. Hence, I've got a new rule of living.

Rule 26: The riskier option is better than the safer option. Safer options lead to foot-in-mouth disease.

So, then I headed down to the Floor for the Senate page picture with the Lieutenant Governor, who didn't show up. Lame. And then it was time for floor duty. There was a resolution passed about Filipino Americans, which was considerably less lame than yesterday's, and the Senators voted on gubernatorial appointments before adjourning for caucuses. We waited for two hours, and then got another 40 minutes of nothing much. Thanks to paging, I have now lost all faith in the ability of my government to get anything done. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the Senators and Representatives appear to be the only people on the Capital campus who aren't doing anything productive. But that's just my tired, ornery grumbling, so pay no attention.

Also today, one of the male pages started flirting with me. >.< Why must this keep happening to me? O.O I was playing a game of speed with him when suddenly:

"My gosh, you've got an absolutely gorgeous smile! I just couldn't not say that." Comments of that sort continued for the rest of the day. I'm mildly perturbed. My usual way of coping with guys like this is: "Why thank you. I appreciate the sentiment." And then continue to be polite but more guarded in my behavior. Unfortunately, it recently came to my attention that my 'politeness' comes off as flirtatious at times.  Which leaves me with the dilemma of being rude and ignoring him, or being polite (my natural inclination) and encouraging him. BOTHER!

Dad came and ate lunch with me and Mrs. Incredible. He brought flowers with him. I am now the proud possessor of a couple yellow roses and a yellow tulip. They're very pretty, but when he pulled them out of the car, I felt both special and spatial. It didn't quite connect that he was giving them to me. My first impulse was "Thank you. And where did you want these taken again?" but I suppressed the urge, fortunately.

A Senator asked the LEG Page Dispatch Station to have the pages write 20 things that make a good Senator and 20 things that make a good page down for him, so I completed the Senator list, but I'm having trouble with the page list. Oh well, I'll finish it tomorrow.

In Page School, we listened to a Moderate Republican lobbyist talk. It was very interesting, and I got him to elaborate on some philosophical topics. Glee!! Then, the pages finished budget bills we started yesterday. We had to write three proposals for reducing the WA State Budget, and I surprised my (liberal) teacher with the three options of : a. a 2% overall decrease of WA government funding, b. 8% decrease of healthcare for state and higher education employees, and c. the deportation of the 500-some illegal immigrant offenders in WA State prisons. When he got to option b, he started tsk-tsking. Most happy.

Well, I'm getting sleepy, so tata for now.

Also, guys - any suggestions for dealing with this page? Despite many experiences with this in the past, I'm still pretty clueless. :P

B

Olympia Days 1 and 2

Yay! It's time for an update!

Sunday evening, I arrived at my host house, only to start morbid jokes with the girl whose room I'm sharing. Most salubrious for me beloved zany mind. After getting about 5 hours of sleep, I woke up for my first day of paging.

When I arrived at the page room in the basement of the Republican Senate Offices, I received, to my boredom and chagrin, the same lecture I got in page orientation on Sunday. But the catnap I snagged during that hour helped. Then it was off to page school, where pages go to school! Yes I'm tired, no you may not quote me, now do stop talking and let me continue. As I was saying I toddled off to page school. Now, I'll give the teachers this: they really do *try* to be honest and non-biased, but the succeeding bit is where they have a hard time. The first day's lesson was about wealth and income, and by the end of the two hours, it was clear that my teachers were, at best, very liberal, and at worst, slightly socialist. But what else should I have expected? So I called them on the socialism thing, which they handily dodged and moved on.

My first delivery of the day was from a Senate office to the Floor. The office needed a page quickly, and when I arrived, slightly out of breath, a giant bouquet of daffodils was thrust in my hands. Apparently, the staff had forgotten the flowers before the Senator left that morning, and I was told to hurry to the Floor to rectify the situation. A half-hearted "And please, don't spill" ushered me out of the room.

The deliveries I made over the course of yesterday took me from the basement of the Majority Senate Offices to the Republican Caucus room, to the supply room in a sterile, stark basement that would make a great horror movie set. Not to mention the Temple of Justice, and the Legislative building.

You could tell if you were in the Republican or Democratic caucus just by what was decorating the offices: The Democrats have big pictures of JFK, Harry Truman, and company, and the Democratic party symbol which looks suspiciously like Obama's running logo. In one office, I was greeted by a life-sized cardboard cutout of President Obama - I jumped, and the secretary told me everyone did that when they saw him. The Republican offices, though, had yellow ribbons and American flags and dried rose buds in them. I get a kick out of them.

Due to a rather unfortunate packing error, I wore a pair of Dad's black socks instead of my own yesterday. I'm not sure you know this, but he has bigger feet than I do. And bigger socks. So while my shoes were quite comfortable, the socks were not. One slid down into my shoe, causing a rather uncomfortable blister on the first day.  Now, on to the second!

This morning, I woke up early just like before and got ready in the dark as my hosts slept. I stumbled out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take my tylenol with, and was surprised by the father of the house. I almost screamed. But I controlled the urge.

In the morning, I was scheduled to be on the Floor until lunch. However, the Senate didn't convene until 10:30, giving me a half-hour to go watch some of the Ways and Means committee meeting. Then when the Senate convened, I got to listen to a half-hour of Senators making Points of Personal Preference as they lauded the Navy guests we had today. Apparently today was Navy day, which explains the Navy Brass Band, the Navy Color Guard, and the large contingent of highly decorate, big-ranking type Navy officers. When the Senators were done, the interesting part ended. For the rest of the short Senate session, the Senators voted on a resolution acknowledging and praising the Apple Blossom Princesses and Queen of Wenatchee. Because apparently the Apple Blossom Princesses and Queen of Wenatchee are very important. So they passed the thingymajigg, and the Apple Blossom Queen of Wenatchee stood up to give a speech which I'm sure would have been really good if she had bothered to memorize it and make it sound human. Standards are slipping, I'm telling you. Standards are slipping.

You want to know what happened next?! The Democrats and the Republicans called caucuses and disappeared for the rest of the shift. All the pages played I Spy in the Rotunda while we waited for noon, though it was rather difficult considering that most of the colors there are pink, grey, gold, and green.

"I spy something green..."
"It's the State Flag."
"Rats."

It didn't seem like the best use of tax money resources for the Senate to pay us for sitting around on the steps for an hour, but hey, I don't mind. Though they got so desperate to find other colors in their game of I Spy that I had my eyes inspected a few times to discover if they were brown. :P

The other memorable thing that happened today was in Page School again. I succeeded in driving the conversation of "How should the state government balance its budget?" into an argument about the relative merits of privatizing education.

See, another page brought up the idea of completing doing away with public schools as a way to cut deficit spending (ie, debt). The more liberal teacher said something about 'Education is the number one priority of the Charter of Washington. You couldn't get rid of schools without ignoring our Constitution!" <---- At this point, my hand shot up in the air.

"Excuse me, but doesn't the Constitution state the education of its citizens should be encouraged and heped, but not that the government itself must be the one teaching?"

"Oh, so *you're* in favor of privatized schooling?"

I decided that for the sake of the argument yes, yes I was.

"Yup, Yellow Pages effect. If the government schools were a business, they'd be out of business by now."

"But it's too expensive."

And the conversation went on. I brought up some non-standard arguments, which they proceeded to refute with the rote memorization arguments. Finally, the teacher got ticked off with me.

"You know, this has been an interesting discussion, but you are a minority, and in a democracy, the majority is the one that makes the decisions."

I wasn't going to let her have the last word, let me tell you.

"Oh, but in a truly just government, democracy or otherwise, the majority works to protect and honor the opinions and beliefs of the minority."

Yes, really enjoyed myself in page school today.

And now, I must off to bed!
B

Sing Sing Sing

In honor of last weekend's swing dance, I present you with Sing, Sing, Sing by Benny Goodman. It's a classic swing song, but there are no words. When turned up loud, with a good recording and great speakers, it's absolutely amazing. Very energetic, and it sums up swing dancing's spirit very well.

Also, because I am in Olympia paging this week, I shall not make my posts long.

Enjoy!

It don't mean a thing...

 Last Friday was a pretty amazing swing dance. It was themed as 1946, which was quite fun. It lasted five hours, and I had a grand old time getting ready at Lady Specs' house previous to the dance. As I just stated, I really enjoyed myself, though a few ... unusual circumstances made the evening more than memorable. So let's go in chronological order.

Upon arriving at the dance, I reacquainted myself with a young man I met through a music camp, who I shall call D. D recognized me more quickly than I him, and we had a pleasant conversation. The instruction session ended, and the dance began in earnest. I was asked to dance a few times, on one occasion by D. Who asked again 30 minutes later. And then, again. And yet again. I believe I danced with him more than anyone else at the event. And at the end of the night as we began tearing down the grange hall, D approached me and said: 'So, if I come to more of these dances, will I be able to see you again?" O.0 That was a bit cringe-worthy. I just hope I handled it well. >.>

Also, I was pleasantly surprised to see some of the guys from my club there. I was less pleasantly surprised to see them not dancing. Due to extreme high spirits that night, I pulled out my trusty guilt-trip skills, and voila! As a side note, I am very, very proud of Cassandra's younger brother who attended the dance. He asked several young ladies who had not danced much that night to dance with him. Ach, so proud! So I guilt-tripped three young men into dancing. They may hate me now, but in my defense, it built their character.

One of the more unusual memories from that evening was dancing with a hot dog. Alright, not actually dancing with a hot dog. More like, dancing with a guy who was eating a hot dog in one hand and attempted to dance with the other. Yeah, interesting times.

However, the highlight of the evening was dancing to Sing, Sing, Sing. It's a swing dance staple, but because at most dances I sit out, I've never danced to it. And it really is an amazing song, with all the drums in it. ... So I did ask the guy to dance with me, but he didn't mind! :blush: Most enjoyable.

Overall, it was a surprisingly enjoyable evening. There are many other details which would no doubt bore you, but that was the brief overview. Although I fear I may have made myself out a liar: I danced so often on Friday I can't remember how many times I danced. New personal record, methinks.

B, who must get ready for paging tomorrow

You know there was a tournament last weekend, right? Well, I observed something interesting at the tournament: Parents I had never met before came up and introduced themselves. Nothing out of the ordinary there, but they already knew my name. O.0

Hobbes and Escapists' mom, for instance. I was talking with Calvin's mom, and as the conversation ended, a nice looking woman with a few children clustered around her came up to me.

"Oh, [Problematic's real name]! I'm Mrs. Winslow! It's so nice to meet you at last." There was handshaking involved, but the entire time, I couldn't help wondering: How did she know my name, and what was tales of horror and shock had Escapist and Hobbes and M told her to put that weird intonation in her last words? I have an inkling as to the first question, but not for the second.

The next time this happened was later on Friday. Once again, a mother came up to me, introduced herself, and her tone implied prior knowledge of my exploits.

Goodness! What have I been doing to the poor kids at speech?
B (who is channeling Jedi Gerbils)

*sigh of relief*

If it seems as if I disappeared from the world for the past week, there's a very good reason for that. I had another tournament that ended Saturday. The week leading up to the tournament was filled with preparations, as usual, though the amount of preparation I had to do was out of the ordinary.

You see, this tournament, I iron-manned. I competed in Impromptu, Extemp, OO, Persuasive, Thematic, and LD debate. I broke in three of the six, which isn't a bad record after all. Let me explain. There are three types of rounds: Debate rounds, Pattern A rounds, and Pattern B rounds. I was in all three. Which meant that I had lots of running around to do.

That wouldn't have been half bad if it weren't for ::looks around for suitable adjective:: incredibly annoying, painful, and demanding social normative ideals concerning women's professional dress codes. Specifically, the ones about heels. I brought flat shoes to wear in between events, but since there wasn't much 'in between events' for me, my shin splints now have shin splints. Fortunately, my feet have finally readjusted to being flat, though it's always an odd transition: I've got major issues with my feet, and heels are not exactly conducive to pain-free living. :P

I spent Thursday and Friday madly running from one event to the other, but Saturday not so much, which made it an 'off day', except it wasn't. See, I broke in extemporaneous, the current events event. This is entirely amazing considering that out of seven possible minutes of speaking, I usually filled about five. Also, although I did extemp two years ago, I never competed with it at a qualifying tournament, so the tournament this weekend was only my second time doing it. It was completely surprising. Since Extemp takes roughly 40 minutes to do (30 minutes prep, seven minute speech) I was late to the other speech I broke in. In semis, I arrived at the room only to discover that two of the three judges had gone for lunch while waiting.

Well, I'm slowly recovering from the tournament, though I've got a post-tourny cold coming on. Oh, joy. I think I'll toddle off to class now.

Yawns,
B

Hard Hats Required Beyond This Point

I mentioned yesterday that I've been cleaning my room. However, the more proper word at this point would be excavating. I cleared the topsoil away, as usual, but this time, I braved the collected junk from last time I did major room renovations.

Last time I did something huge with my room was hmm, 6-7 years ago, roughly. Back then, my idea of 'good taste' in decorating involved cutting out pictures of twee baby animals with really bad (not groan bad, just not funny) puns and taping them to the walls. Of course, not overlapping all of my ballet posters. I had drawers full of junk, and any posters that weren't on the walls were shoved underneath my bed. However, since I decided to take out my desk and move the bed, I had to disturb this sediment sufficiently to get work done.

As a result, later on in the evening (or should I say early in the morning?) two large black trash bags bulging at the seams appeared outside my room. I finally got around to disposing of all that junk. To get an idea of why I call it junk, though, let me tell you of some of the items inside.

There was a tissue I colored with red markers to look like a bloody tissue - I've had that for years. There were boxes and boxes of plastic jewelry, and there were all sorts of odds and ends: miniature American Girl magazines, old, unused toothbrushes, and some crocheted dog sweaters, toy poodle sized.

And they're finally gone! It's amazing how great it is not to have the hoard of a 10-year-old packrat gathering dust in my room. Now, I've still got the huge collection of china dolls sitting atop my clothes closet, but I've gotten used to that: I no longer wake up at night thinking that one of them is moving and about to turn into a murderer on me. They can move around all they want now.

Oh, I nearly forgot. The other reason for celebration is that almost all the lights in my room work now! Puella "Fiat," inquit "lux!." Luxque erat.

Yes, I am unreasonably happy. But I'm not ashamed. If you've had to live with 'bloody' tissues for the past 6 years, you'd be glad to be rid of them too.

B, who must go dust off.

Music Tuesday?

I must apologize for the lateness of this post. Ideally speaking, music Monday ought to come on, you know, Monday. I shall explain why it did not.

Yesterday, Mom, Dad, and I drove to Olympia to meet the family who would host me during my week paging. We were gone five hours, and the rest of the day was spent preparing for Grey, Ophelia, and Gabby's visit tomorrow, and debate club.

Today, I'll introduce you to a rather happy little song: Rollerskate, by Matias Aguayo. When I first heard it, I literally got vertigo. Also, I love the acapella voices in the background. I can't find any lyrics, so just listen and enjoy!

St. Valentine's Day

Ahh, St. Valentine's Day, also known as Single's Awareness Day. The day we dedicate to the concept of love. Honestly, I've had a hard time relating to St. Valentine's day.

At this point,  I must offer a caveat for all my male readers: The following post is decidedly for ladies, and as such, you'll find precious little to relate to. ;) You have been warned.

You know, I've been thinking about what happens on St. Valentine's Day for a couple weeks now. Ideally, you'll open the door to find your love standing on the threshold with flowers, reservations for dinner, and a pair of tickets to a romantic comedy. Or something like that. St. Valentine's Day is, after all, the holiday for items. But think about it: the Saint's day is just one more stigma for girls to date, court, or prematurely give away their emotions. We've got enough pressure to be alluring, attractive stumbling blocks for our guy friends, without having an entire holiday dedicated to True Love.

I got an email from a girlfriend of mine today, detailing her plans for the evening with her recently acquired boyfriend. Now, don't get me wrong - I appreciated the good will implied in the salutation that I would "find love soon," but still, I'm sixteen. I don't need to worry about courtship or other vaguely matrimonial type topics. And frankly, every time I see girls my age prematurely giving their hearts away, I cry for them.

Last year, I went goth for St. Valentine's Day. This year, I did something more important. Yup, I prayed for the gentlemen in my acquaintance and friendship. I prayed that they would look to God for guidance in their relationships, and I prayed that God would help me be a sister for them, and not a stumbling block. And I challenge all of you to do it this week, with me. God calls us to treat our male friends as brothers in Christ. I don't know about you, but my birth brother gets my support all the time: why shouldn't my male friends not get it as well?

And for any guy readers who have made it this far, no comment is necessary.

B

Grab Bag 2

Wow. Life has been happening at such a velocity that I once again find myself in need of a grab bag of assorted topics. I rather hope it slows down after next week.

So, let's work this in reverse chronological order. Next week there is another tournament, in which I shall be competing in five speech events and debate. Scary, right? Well, it's even scarier because I haven't finished writing one of the speeches, and I need to memorize another.

Because of the tournament, I went judge recruiting yesterday at Coop A. I talked to about 20 adults, and got at least one confirmed recruit, if not more. I spent almost the entire lunch hour, plus half and hour after lunch selling the NCFCA. But I was quite exhausted afterwards.

I've also started getting expressions of love from various colleges. I got four pieces of physical fan mail yesterday, and all week, my inbox has been flooded with emails from various colleges (some of which I've never heard of) expressing interest in my mind. The funny thing about it, though, is that they're not addressed to me: these letters, emails, and pamphlets are all addressed to some Arab girl that has a name roughly like mine. As far as I can tell, the PSAT I took last year got my name wrong, or couldn't read my handwriting, or something, because everything I've gotten from them hasn't been addressed to me. So someone's created an alter-ego for me, and I haven't even got a say in it. Oh well, I might use this new ego in a story someday.

Well, last night, I went to St. John's Cathedral in Seattle for their "Great Music in Great Cathedrals" program. It was absolutely amazing. Before it started, though, I got to go up behind their giant pipe organ, and look at all the air supply equipment. The amazing thing about it was that most of the equipment (including the bellows) was made out of wood. You could hear the air moving through the system, too.  The entire time I was up there, the overture from Phantom was playing in my mind. It was most salubrious.

I also recruited judges at Coop B on Wednesday, but because my Rhetoric class got out late, I arrived ten minutes after people had started recruiting, leaving very few parents interested in hearing my spiel.

On Tuesday, I finished the translation of Ovid's account of Orpheus and Eurydice, a feat which I am very proud of. After all, Latin poetry is like Latin, only worse. I have less-than-fond memories of a particular sentence that spanned eight lines, and word order/matching entirely ignored. That sentence took me a good 30 minutes to piece together. >:|

Also on Tuesday, I once again kidnapped Lady Specs before speech club, leaving myself in charge of waiting for our speech coach to show up. I don't know what drives me to do it - it's not like club particularly likes me anyways. I'm too sarcastic, and not nearly enthusiastic enough. But what Lady Specs doesn't know won't kill her, right?

After spiritual classics on Monday, Mom drove me home, and once again, the man on the corner was trying to signal to passengers. This time, though, he appeared to be saying that eating them would make them handsome, strong, and acrobats. I believe he's taking his job a little too seriously.

Last Friday there was an extemp filing party. It was there that I learned that Mrs. Incredible will be paging at the WA State Senate the same week I am. Most exciting. As extemp is wont to do, we discussed current events, filed, and generally made fun of each other.

A week previous to this Tuesday, Calvin generously gave me a online profile which he, Hobbes, Escapist, and Johnny wrote on the way down to a tournament the weekend before. It certainly was amusing in a 'let's not go there again' sort of way, if that makes sense. And no, I won't be posting it online. I humiliate myself enough on this blog; I don't need someone else to do it for me. In exchange for the only copy of this profile, I agreed to write the biography of Calvin, which I am almost done with. It's rather turned into a police report or mental hospital report, but that suits him better, anyways. Another perk of mine is that it is less noticeably awkward, though I'm slightly worried about how Calvin will receive it: I don't exactly hesitate in my more kritiky remarks. :P

Now, for the past week, I've been struck by a mild cold, which seems to have graduated to medium this morning. I hope that if I get sick now, I'll be better by next Thursday. Ach, Murphy'll probably make certain I am sick through the awards ceremony, but who knows?

Finally, I've got a couple of prayer requests for any willing prayer buddies: Last week, my uncle told his daughter that he was dying, and since then, things have been pretty rough for the extended family. My mom is looking to fly back there soon, but she's had two false starts already. The second is that I'll finish and memorize my speeches in time for the tournament next week. I've got a huge load of school work currently, which raises doubts as to if I'll get them done.

Speaking of school work,
B

[expression of amusement]

My readers may have noticed that I have a geo-traffic map on my sidebar, where you can tell where in the world my blog has been accessed by. I was browsing it today, and much to my amusement, I found the tag "Beirut, Beyrouth hit It's Raining." It cracked me up.

Did I just label myself as a history nerd? I hope not.

B

Chew on this

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

~John Donne

Same Diff

So after speech last night, Dad and I took Escapist, Hobbes, and M home. In the car, Hobbes said something that got me thinking. We were talking about arguments. Apparently, I'm better to argue with than Lady Specs, and Hobbes postulated that this was because I was in debate. He said that the few arguments I'd had with him were far more reasonable than the ones he'd had with Lady Specs.

This rather confused me, for in my recollection, I had never argued with him. When I asked him to explain what arguments we'd had, Hobbes reminded me of two separate conversations: one about the incessant 'free will/determinism' debate that seems to suck the life blood out of all homeschool Christian conversations; the other, about vegetarianism and omnivores.

And this is where I started thinking. Hobbes, obviously, viewed those conversations as arguments. My memory, however, was of two discussions. So is there a difference? How can one participant have an argument, but the other have a discussion? And how come a 'friendly argument' is easier to have 'with a debater' than with someone else?

I'm not certain, but I think it all boils down to the mindset you approach the conversation with. From past observations, the people who have arguments are so passionate in their beliefs that any attack on the beliefs is seen as an attack on the person themselves. I know in both conversations with Hobbes, he vigorously defended his position. But so did I. So what made the conversation experience different for us?

Thinking about it, now, I think I've hit it. I go into a conversation disassociating my beliefs with myself. I've learned from debate that just because someone attacks my assertions doesn't mean they attack me. The implication, therefore, is that an argument arises when two people, so passionate that their identities depend on their beliefs disagree. A discussion would then be a conversation where the two people uphold their arguments without viewing them as part of their identities.

Hmm. Interesting. I shall have to think on this more.

Do you have any thoughts?
B

Victoriam Speramus

 Krypteria is a metal group from Germany. The amazing thing with this group is that it combines the goth element of Latin lyrics with symphonic metals' sweeping backdrops. Victoriam Speramus was the first song of their that I ran across. It is most beautiful.

Victoriam Speramus


When all the lights go down
And when the final curtain falls
When there is nothing left to say

Eternity eventually will linger
Through abandoned halls
And leave us dark in disarray

The time has come for us
To almost serve the new day
Go down on bended knees and pray:

Victoriam speramus
Cantate tibi itam!
Concordiam optamus
Iuvate liberatem!

Victoriam speramus
Negate sub versorem!
Concordiam optamus nunc

One man’s piece of might
Might me another man’s despair
In these so enigmatic times

When some pray for redemptions
I hope they redeem themselve through prayer
To reach this all, this is your life (?)

The time has come for us
To almost serve the new day
Go down on bended knees and pray:

Victoriam speramus
Cantate tibi itam!
Concordiam optamus
Iuvate liberatem!

Victoriam speramus
Negate sub versorem!
Concordiam optamus nunc

The time has come for us
To almost serve the new day
Go down on bended knees and pray:

Victoriam speramus
Cantate tibi itam!
Concordiam optamus
Iuvate liberatem!

Victoriam speramus
Negate sub versorem!
Concordiam optamus
Victoriam speramus
Negate sub versorem!
Concordiam optamus nunc

Venture

Last August, I joined a new Venture Crew as one of the required non-Boy Scout members. Since then, I've accepted the job of secretary for the crew. For those of you who don't know, Venture is affiliated with the Boy Scouts, except it is co-ed and covers older teens through age 21.

My crew is kind of funny. It's made mostly of Boy Scouts, with a couple girls who come on occasion. However, the girls view Thursday nights (the night we meet) as their night-off, so the past few meetings I've been the only girl present. Last meeting, I was asked if I was 'frightened by all the macho boys' by one of the advisers, and my first reaction was to snicker. Compared the the guys in speech club, the Boy Scouts are - not angels, but certainly a lot less awkward.

One of the advantages of being the unequipped newbie in the crew (relatively speaking, since I'm also a Girl Scout) is that there's opportunities for hand-me-downs. And this is the point of my post. The first meeting after Christmas, one of the crew came in with a spare uniform. Our crew decided on the official shirts, but aren't picky about the rest of the stuff. So anyways, one of the guys had bought a shirt that didn't fit for some reason, but as looking to pass it off to someone. And since I'm the new one, I went home with a men's medium green tent.

In all fairness, it isn't too bad. I mean, put a big belt around the waist, and it makes a cute dress. Without the belt, it's a sack. Here's a cartoon of what it looks like:

This, meanwhile, is how it should look:

Random post, right? Well, I'd stay and comment, but I've got some minutes to type.

B

Wood

"I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good.." - For Good, from Wicked

I happen to agree with the song. Actually, I've been thinking about this lately, and I think I've hit on a very proper analogy. The only problem is, I'll sound terribly sentimental explaining it. But I'll give it a shot, anyways.

So, our hearts are rather like blocks of plain wood. We start our earthly journeys with a completely unfinished block, and as we meet, greet, brush past - interact - with other travelers, we start handing these blocks off. A sort of 'guest artist' deal, if you will.

I get your block for a time, and you get mine. We both have the opportunity to carve a little on the wood in our hands. Maybe you'll add your initials to my block, maybe I'll shave off a little curl. Ideally, at the end of our lives, the people we know will have lovingly carved a statue out of the original block.

Unfortunately, this is not always the case. Sometimes, I gouge holes in your block, accidentally or on purpose, it doesn't matter. I've just defaced your wood, made it incomplete, hurt it deeply. The people with these gashes in their hearts get nervous. They don't want the wood defaced like that again, so they just avoid handing the wood over. They clutch it close, never trusting others with it again.

But then again, there are other people, with wood glue, and sandpaper. They fill the gouges, they smooth away the splinters and beaten edges left by destruction. And pretty soon, the injured block doesn't look so bad. The holes, the gashes; they're still there, but they're less important now. They're faults that let the real beauty of the growing statue shine through. They are there, but they don't dominate.

It sounds so pretentious, doesn't it? But still, it's interesting to meditate on. Certainly, after thinking about this for a few months, I've been more careful with how I use my tools.

B

Igor

For your reading pleasure, I present you a transcript of tonight's Happy Hour. You see, tonight I :ahem: returned to my roots.

Problematic: Hey, Mom! I've got arms!
Mom: [nonplussed]
Problematic: You know what you do with arms?
Mom: What?
Problematic: Hugs! Free Hugs!!! [tackles Mom]

Problematic: Hey, Dad! I've got arms!
Dad: Why is it that when I've got work to do, all the bugs come out of the woodwork?
Problematic: [hangs on Dad] Hey, I like cheese!
Dad: Yes, squirt, I know.
Problematic: [sings] I like cheese, I like cheese, I like cheese.
Dad: Who put a quarter in her?
Problematic:[turns to Mom, rasps] I like cheese.
Mom: Trees?
Problematic: [croaks] I like trees. Do you like trees? 'Cause I like them. A lot. Do you like trees?
Dad: [Getting out Peanut Butter] Good thing you live in the Pacific Northwest.
Problematic:[galumphes to Dad] I like trees. Do you? Trees are my friends. 

Dad: Hey,  come back!
Problematic: I like trees, I like trees a lot. Do you? You should.
Dad: [tries to smear Problematic's face with Peanut Butter]
Problematic: [Hanging on Dad] Igor likes peanut butter too. Igor likes trees... and peanut butter... a lot! Do you like peanut butter? O-ho-ho... Peanutty buttery peanut butter. Igor likes a lot!
Dad: [going to living room] Weirdo.
Problematic: [Galumphing and scurrying towards Dad] Do you know why Igor likes peanut butter? Because peanut butter is nutty!
Dad: Like Igor!
Problematic: [chortles]O-ho-ho-ho. Very smart, funny man. Igor is nutty... Yes, yes, we are! Igor is a nut, just like... PEANUT BUTTER!!! And trees. Igor likes trees, too. Do you know why we like trees? Because trees are nutty, too!
Mom: Don't you mean woody?
Problematic: [bug-eyed] Igor always says what Igor means to say!
Dad: Didn't you say you liked cheese, originally?
Problematic: Of course, Igor likes cheese. Cheese. Is. Nutty! Nutty, just like Igor! And Trees! And Peanuuuuuutttt Buuuuuttterrrrr!!! [jumps around]


Preposterous B

Till Kingdom Come

Have you heard of Coldplay? Probably. I started listening to them about a year ago, which is a rather amusing and pathetic story of itself. But the point is, I liked them. When it comes to quiet rock, they're the first band I turn to. The funny thing about Coldplay - an 'alternative rock' group, as iTunes calls it - is that it attracts Christians like flies. For some reason, we've classified them in the group of 'Secular-Bands-We-Wish-And-Can-Almost-Imagine-Were-Christian.' Other bands like that include Linkin Park, Five For Fighting, and (of course) U2. I've got friends who say things like "I like Coldplay because it's almost Christian!"

I'm not one of those people. The argument that "the lyrics of the song express hope/redemption/ [other Christian theme here] so the songwriter must be a Christian" falls flat to me. A secular artist can express a Christian truth while still being a secular artist. I don't listen to Coldplay because I can imagine its lyrics are Christian. I listen to this particular band because many of its lyrics express truth about the world, and they express it well.

That being said, I particularly enjoy Till Kingdom Come. The interpretations are varied. I shan't offer one. However, one thing I appreciate about this song is that the music doesn't overwhelm the song's message.

"Still my heart and hold my tongue
I feel my time
My time has come
Let me in
Unlock the door
I never felt this way before

And the wheel just keeps on turning
The drummer begins to drum
I don’t know which way I’m going
I don’t know which way I’ve come

Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you I’ve waited all these years

For you I’d wait 'til kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

In your tears and in your blood
In your fire and in your flood
I hear you laugh, I heard you sing
I wouldn’t change a single thing
And the wheels just keep on turning
The drummers begin to drum
I don’t know which way I’m going
I don’t know what I’ve become

For you I’d wait 'til kingdom come
Until my days, my days are done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me"

A Grab Bag of Assorted Things

Rightyo. I believe the title is self-explanatory, so let's get started.

It's kind of creepy when a complete stranger motions that he'd like to eat you. What happened was this: Thursday was driving me home from a class this afternoon, and we'd pulled up to a major intersection. There was a guy holding a sign for some sort of food chain standing on the corner. Because Thurs and I were the first car at the intersection, this guy's attention was immediately drawn to our car. In the intervening three minutes, he repeatedly gestured at me, rubbed his belly, and then made a thumbs-up. At least, I think that's what happened. I lost my glasses this morning before class, so that's the general impression I got from him. He finally realized that threatening to eat me wasn't going to make Thurs change lanes, so he started doing acrobatics. Thurs applauded when he managed to balance the sign on his chin, completely ignoring his little sister's discomfort.  On the plus side, I now have added incentive to find my glasses again.

You may remember that I blogged a few weeks ago about sending in my application for the Washington State Senate Page Program. Well, on Friday I received my letter of acceptance from the State Secretary. Hoohoo! If I don't post for the week of March 1st, you now have a reason. Yes, I am very excited about it.

[fluid and witty transition here]

I hate breakfast. It might be because my own dear brother is a picky eater. For years, the only food he'd eat for breakfast was Grape Nuts, slathered with sugar. He ate them dry. Now, if you have any experience with Grape Nuts, you'll agree with me when I compare eating them dry to eating gravel and glass splinters with nothing to wash them down. And because I'm not as picky, I ate what he ate. As a result, I have an eternal loathing for breakfast food. I tut at toast, I choke on cereal - hot and cold -, I exclaim at eggs, and cinnamon rolls, bear claws, and other sweet pastries cause utter revulsion for me. I love breaking my fast in the morning, but I am far more likely to eat a sandwich or leftovers rather than breakfast food.

However, there is one cereal I like. It's not terribly healthy, but it isn't horrible either. And at the rate I'm eating it, I'll have very healthy cholesterol levels. Yup. I love Honey-Nut Cheerios. And Mom got a huge box of them last week. I am in bliss. I believe I've had a bowl every morning since then, which is saying something, considering I hate routine and get bored by habit.  So yes, I can have breakfasty breakfast, now.

I do believe that is all.

Good day!
B