I'm listening to Zane McNois/McDanielle on the radio.
I know this person.
And his music is good enough to be on the radio.
And Cam Boucher is recording something.
And Kenneth Fox has his thing on Band Camp.
And I've got a guitar.
And a trombone (kind of...)
And a harmonica.
And not enough talent to do anything with any of it.
I'm decent at the guitar, and I'm shit at the trombone, and I can play when the saints come marching in on the harmonica. I'm a musical genius aren't I?
I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical, I just comment on Mary Kate Lang's blog post saying she should be less negative, now as I listen to Zane's awesomeness take form I'm thinking "Why can't I be like that? Why can't I find the effort to apply myself?" these thoughts are always followed by thoughts of "If I'm not particularly good at anything how am I going to get into a good college?" I not even all that great at video games. That's my talent, playing videogames, and I'm not even to great at that. I get mopped on the scoreboards. I'm decent at the guitar, I can play it with fair decency, but I'm not GREAT. And I can't sing, so I can' just sit down and record stuff. I've written songs, with different parts, all guitar parts, but when I try to record it it just sounds bad...like...discouragingly bad. Then I put my guitar away, and crawl back to get my ass handed to me by some drugged up 13 year old with a potty mouth from Chicago with a voice higher than the sun. Their gamertag is probably something along the lines of Bx0x0xMxHx3xAxDxSxHx0xTx because they think it's cool. Oh, and apparently my mother gets around a lot, (that was sarcasm mom, I meant the people on xbox live insult my mom a lot).
I have nothing else going for me, I get decent grades. MY MOM SIGNED A PAPER SAYING I COULD TAKE LEVEL 4 ENGLISH. Ms Sears speech about how she read all of our stuff and we're "level 4 material".
Yep.
Doesn't apply to me.
At all.
Zane is currently screaming something at me.
It's rather intimidating.
At least my mom thinks I'm cool.
...
I hope.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Response Papers
They're really fun to write.
i just wrote one, and it's pretty awesome. I want her to read it, but in case she doesn't I posted it on my tumblr. Anonymity is for the weak.
woatb.tumblr.com
You should click that.
i just wrote one, and it's pretty awesome. I want her to read it, but in case she doesn't I posted it on my tumblr. Anonymity is for the weak.
woatb.tumblr.com
You should click that.
Monday, September 20, 2010
http://action.theeca.com/t/2858/tellafriend.jsp?tell_a_friend_KEY=2999
http://action.theeca.com/t/2858/tellafriend.jsp?tell_a_friend_KEY=2999
California has basically launched an attack on Video Games, which could lead to video games losing their first amendment right of freedom of speech as an art form. Click the link to sign a petition pleading the supreme court to rule in favor of the ECA (Electric Consumers Association I think, the guys who are defending our favorite past time) to let game keep the same rights held by books, music and movies. After all, video games are just interactive movies aren't they? More info can be found on the site.
California has basically launched an attack on Video Games, which could lead to video games losing their first amendment right of freedom of speech as an art form. Click the link to sign a petition pleading the supreme court to rule in favor of the ECA (Electric Consumers Association I think, the guys who are defending our favorite past time) to let game keep the same rights held by books, music and movies. After all, video games are just interactive movies aren't they? More info can be found on the site.
I am so fucking conceited
I don't know where it came from.
Where it started.
Or how it started.
But I'm pretty fucking conceited, if you didn't already notice.
So I've devoted the next 10-20 minutes to figuring out why this is so, using what Ms Nault would call "mental diarrhea," or whatever she calls it.
I have a pretty huge minority complex.
Maybe I cover it up with a shit ton of sarcasm and narcissism?
Maybe not.
I don't know.
But not I'm watching Chuck, and I really don't feel like looking too deeply into this.
Leave it to be said that I am really fucking conceited, and feel like using bad words.
(Thank to one Miss Mary Kate Lang for pointing out my spelling mistake)
Where it started.
Or how it started.
But I'm pretty fucking conceited, if you didn't already notice.
So I've devoted the next 10-20 minutes to figuring out why this is so, using what Ms Nault would call "mental diarrhea," or whatever she calls it.
I have a pretty huge minority complex.
Maybe I cover it up with a shit ton of sarcasm and narcissism?
Maybe not.
I don't know.
But not I'm watching Chuck, and I really don't feel like looking too deeply into this.
Leave it to be said that I am really fucking conceited, and feel like using bad words.
(Thank to one Miss Mary Kate Lang for pointing out my spelling mistake)
Monday, September 13, 2010
You know those people who shouldn't exist?
If you don't, you can find one at school tomorrow.
They generally wear skinny jeans around their knees.
Most often they they're hair is jelled into some sort of spikes or similar formation.
They may or may not be wearing a flannel shirt.
They are probably a minority.
If they are not they wish they were.
If they are, they're a painful stereotype, and their fellow minorities hate them.
Oh.
Guess what.
I hate them.
They're usually not even really mean. Just...annoying. And serve no purpose in life but to push how cool they think they think they are.
But you're not, and it's funny how you think you are.
I'd actually almost wish they were mean. At least at then you could tell a teacher or something, but technically they're just LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS. AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, BECAUSE THEY LOOK LIKE THEY HAVE FRIENDS WHO'LL HURT YOU.
But that's prejudice.
That's enough for tonight.
They generally wear skinny jeans around their knees.
Most often they they're hair is jelled into some sort of spikes or similar formation.
They may or may not be wearing a flannel shirt.
They are probably a minority.
If they are not they wish they were.
If they are, they're a painful stereotype, and their fellow minorities hate them.
Oh.
Guess what.
I hate them.
They're usually not even really mean. Just...annoying. And serve no purpose in life but to push how cool they think they think they are.
But you're not, and it's funny how you think you are.
I'd actually almost wish they were mean. At least at then you could tell a teacher or something, but technically they're just LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS. AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, BECAUSE THEY LOOK LIKE THEY HAVE FRIENDS WHO'LL HURT YOU.
But that's prejudice.
That's enough for tonight.
Opinions
Today was the third day in a row someone told me my opinion were wrong, excessive, or unamerican.
If it has answers it's not a survey, we call those tests, whether they're graded of not.
Just because I don't like something you like doesn't mean we need to raise our voices and use bad words.
Just because I think commemorating Nine Eleven isn't necessary anymore doesn't mean I'm not american, (read my tumblr for more info on that one, it explains it)
So what have we learned? Friendly debates are fun, going back and forth on usually unimportant things. That's fine.
Calling my opinions excessive, because I life different videogames than you, I'm pretty sure you're the excessive ones.
Believing that letting the family members of Nine Eleven casualties to live in peace, that's about as american as it gets-Privacy.
I'm done now.
If it has answers it's not a survey, we call those tests, whether they're graded of not.
Just because I don't like something you like doesn't mean we need to raise our voices and use bad words.
Just because I think commemorating Nine Eleven isn't necessary anymore doesn't mean I'm not american, (read my tumblr for more info on that one, it explains it)
So what have we learned? Friendly debates are fun, going back and forth on usually unimportant things. That's fine.
Calling my opinions excessive, because I life different videogames than you, I'm pretty sure you're the excessive ones.
Believing that letting the family members of Nine Eleven casualties to live in peace, that's about as american as it gets-Privacy.
I'm done now.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Like a Glass of Water
So I wrote this for English class and I kinda like it. It's pretty long (Three pages according to Microsoft Word Processor) so you can skip unless you're really interested.
Attempting to define the American Experience is like trying to separate a single drop of water from a glass. Technically it’s possible, but it would require much work and everyone’s answer, or drop, will be different from the next person. Basically, the American Experience is different for everyone who tries to define it. Some definitions may be different from others, but all seem to have sometime in common; happiness.
The Founding Fathers of America wrote in the Declaration of Independence that all men have the unalienable right to Life Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. As such, the American experience is each person’s personal Pursuit of Happiness.
This observation, however, only brings up another question on what defines the Pursuit of Happiness. This is similar to defining the American Experience in that it’s difficult to define, as each person is different. Happiness can come from money, friendship, love or anything else. Depending on that person’s beliefs, literally anything could count as their Pursuit of Happiness.
Imagine a hypothetical family, four generations of American Experiences each with their own goals and ambitions. There is a young man who struggled with poverty his entire childhood. His American Experience could be to simply live a more comfortable life. As such he works hard, does well in school and finally after a life of great successes and tragic falls lives that comfortable live he dreamt of as a boy. He moves to a calm suburb and lives raises a family. That is the American Experience.
Walker Two
Then his son, who grew up in the calm suburbs may want to achieve something more. He strives to continue the family’s record of success. He sets his eye on a target and goes for it. He looks to his father for advice and inspiration, then puts his plan into motion. He follows his father’s footsteps, does well in school, works hard, but this time he gets lucky. He makes a huge break and suddenly is very wealthy. He builds a large house, and has a family living in the wake of his riches. This is the American Experience
However this third generation, does not share the same aptitude for work as the her ancestors. She has lived in luxury her entire life, why should she go through the same work as her father and grandfather when her status wouldn’t change? As such, she skated through life on her father’s fortune and soon inherited the dynasty. She married into a family of similar status, thereby doubling her fortune. This too, is the American Experience.
The last example ends the bloodline. The fourth generation comes, and this time uses the fortune gathered by the last two generations to help people. This daughter decides to change the world, she devotes her life to both politics and to philanthropy. She travels the world donating money to charities, building houses, wells, and other necessities for life. Here in America, she slowly climbs the political ranks, starting as Mayor of a small town, moving onto Governor, Senator and eventually rising to be President of the United State of America. However, in all the strain of her hectic life style she never bore children, not from medical deficiencies, but of the busy life style. She never had the chance to continue the bloodline, and it dies with her. This, truly is the American Experience.
That isn’t to say, however, that these are the limits of the American Experience. These are simply arbitrary examples, four drops out of the entire glass. These are American Success Stories, but that is by no means the only kind Experience that occur. America is built by so called “failures” as well as success. Americans must feel failure to accomplish the success. Thomas Edison once said “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work,” (1847-1931). This can be applied to anything, especially the American Experience. If the Articles of Confederation hadn’t “failed” Americans would not have gained the American Constitution, and the country might not have grown to the power that it is today.
If the first generation hadn’t failed a test or two in school, how would he have learned and gotten it better the next time? If the second generation’s original ideas hadn’t failed, maybe he wouldn’t have grown to have the fortune he did. The fourth generation must have lost at least one of her many elections the first time. Everyone learns from their mistakes and they grow from them. This is the American Experience.
Attempting to define the American Experience is like trying to separate a single drop of water from a glass. Technically it’s possible, but it would require much work and everyone’s answer, or drop, will be different from the next person. Basically, the American Experience is different for everyone who tries to define it. Some definitions may be different from others, but all seem to have sometime in common; happiness.
The Founding Fathers of America wrote in the Declaration of Independence that all men have the unalienable right to Life Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. As such, the American experience is each person’s personal Pursuit of Happiness.
This observation, however, only brings up another question on what defines the Pursuit of Happiness. This is similar to defining the American Experience in that it’s difficult to define, as each person is different. Happiness can come from money, friendship, love or anything else. Depending on that person’s beliefs, literally anything could count as their Pursuit of Happiness.
Imagine a hypothetical family, four generations of American Experiences each with their own goals and ambitions. There is a young man who struggled with poverty his entire childhood. His American Experience could be to simply live a more comfortable life. As such he works hard, does well in school and finally after a life of great successes and tragic falls lives that comfortable live he dreamt of as a boy. He moves to a calm suburb and lives raises a family. That is the American Experience.
Walker Two
Then his son, who grew up in the calm suburbs may want to achieve something more. He strives to continue the family’s record of success. He sets his eye on a target and goes for it. He looks to his father for advice and inspiration, then puts his plan into motion. He follows his father’s footsteps, does well in school, works hard, but this time he gets lucky. He makes a huge break and suddenly is very wealthy. He builds a large house, and has a family living in the wake of his riches. This is the American Experience
However this third generation, does not share the same aptitude for work as the her ancestors. She has lived in luxury her entire life, why should she go through the same work as her father and grandfather when her status wouldn’t change? As such, she skated through life on her father’s fortune and soon inherited the dynasty. She married into a family of similar status, thereby doubling her fortune. This too, is the American Experience.
The last example ends the bloodline. The fourth generation comes, and this time uses the fortune gathered by the last two generations to help people. This daughter decides to change the world, she devotes her life to both politics and to philanthropy. She travels the world donating money to charities, building houses, wells, and other necessities for life. Here in America, she slowly climbs the political ranks, starting as Mayor of a small town, moving onto Governor, Senator and eventually rising to be President of the United State of America. However, in all the strain of her hectic life style she never bore children, not from medical deficiencies, but of the busy life style. She never had the chance to continue the bloodline, and it dies with her. This, truly is the American Experience.
That isn’t to say, however, that these are the limits of the American Experience. These are simply arbitrary examples, four drops out of the entire glass. These are American Success Stories, but that is by no means the only kind Experience that occur. America is built by so called “failures” as well as success. Americans must feel failure to accomplish the success. Thomas Edison once said “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work,” (1847-1931). This can be applied to anything, especially the American Experience. If the Articles of Confederation hadn’t “failed” Americans would not have gained the American Constitution, and the country might not have grown to the power that it is today.
If the first generation hadn’t failed a test or two in school, how would he have learned and gotten it better the next time? If the second generation’s original ideas hadn’t failed, maybe he wouldn’t have grown to have the fortune he did. The fourth generation must have lost at least one of her many elections the first time. Everyone learns from their mistakes and they grow from them. This is the American Experience.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Drama
People like to say they have drama.
Your ex-boyfriend's girlfriend being in your math class is not drama.
Your mom taking away your phone is not drama.
Your best friend calling you a bad name is not drama. Sure it sucks, but make up, or get new friends.
The fact that the girl or guy you like doesn't like you back isn't quite drama. Closer maybe, but it's nothing to break down over. I've lived it, and it sucks, but it's not that bad.
Not being able to take driver's ed because your mom has to buy a house because your landlord didn't pay the mortgage. That's drama.
Not being sure if you're getting that house because the prior owner didn't install the correct Radon vents. That's drama.
Not being sure if you're going to college, again due to various monetary problems.
That's drama.
Now, at this point, chances are you're pretty pissed at me. "Who is this guy? He thinks he can define drama!" Who said you had to follow my definition? It's mine, you can have your own, or you can borrow it if you want.
Or don't.
I don't care.
Your ex-boyfriend's girlfriend being in your math class is not drama.
Your mom taking away your phone is not drama.
Your best friend calling you a bad name is not drama. Sure it sucks, but make up, or get new friends.
The fact that the girl or guy you like doesn't like you back isn't quite drama. Closer maybe, but it's nothing to break down over. I've lived it, and it sucks, but it's not that bad.
Not being able to take driver's ed because your mom has to buy a house because your landlord didn't pay the mortgage. That's drama.
Not being sure if you're getting that house because the prior owner didn't install the correct Radon vents. That's drama.
Not being sure if you're going to college, again due to various monetary problems.
That's drama.
Now, at this point, chances are you're pretty pissed at me. "Who is this guy? He thinks he can define drama!" Who said you had to follow my definition? It's mine, you can have your own, or you can borrow it if you want.
Or don't.
I don't care.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
School [Part 2, even though Part One never said it was part one, this was kind of an after though, but I'm still calling it part Two]
In approximately 20 minutes I should be asleep. Then, roughly...oh god math...uh...ok...so it's nine...ten...eleven...twelve...one, two three four five six...Nine and a half hours I'll be awake and getting ready for school...then and hour later I'll be at school.
And I don't like school.
I wish school was more like...day care. You go and hang out with friends, and that's it. Then you come home. Or at the very least I wish there were no such things as bad teachers, all teacher would be Ms St. Onge clones and awesome. Or in some other way be awesome.
But I guess it's ok...I mean I might have decent classes, and teachers...but the only sophomore teacher I know are Ms Nault and Mr Russel who are pretty cool, but that's my sample size. I might have all of really sucky teachers and not have either of the above I mention.
15 minutes now.
I'm debating spending the last 15 minutes writing this. That would be a pretty great way to end the summer right? But I'm not so sure if I'll be able to write enough. It would be like in English last year when Ms Wadliegh would force us to write for the whole class, then I would pass in a page and a half of crap...
WHY AM I DOING LEVEL FOUR THIS YEAR?!
I never even read the Red Badge of Courage. I read an exert from it in 8th grade, hopefully that will suffice for now. I read some of Huck Finn but never finished. I'm so screwed. I did the AP World History stuff though, W00T! That's about it though. I'm starting to regret taking all these fancy classes.
10 minutes.
Maybe I can do this? In a perfect world writing in this blog may have helped my writing a bit...well...helped first person reflections or whatever they're called.
9 minutes.
I'm surprisingly tired for only having woken up 8 hours and 51 minutes ago. I might actually get some sleep tonight. Which is rare for the first day of school.
8 minutes.
This is getting harder, I'm glancing at the clock to see what time it is. I might be able to do this. Or I might give up like I do with everything else. I need to fix that. I need to give up on giving up.
7 minutes.
It's currently 8:53 PM, on September 1, 2010, and Garrett Walker is listening to Dreaming with a Broken Heart by John Mayer. He has one facebook notification. He checks it.
6 minutes.
Emma Cote also commented on Grant Hock's status.
5 minutes.
We're talking about how awful it is to plan things at or after school. I've got practice with my band tomorrow...we might actually get stuff done.
4 minutes.
My heart is beating really fast, I think I'm subconsciously forcing it to. I spelled subconsciously wrong, i did again. I'll fix that later. Or I'll forget. Probably the latter.
3 minutes.
I'm running out of stuff to write, but the good thing about this is that I can write about not knowing what to write about. It's genius. My song is over.
2 minutes.
Do You Remember by Jack Johnson comes on. The song is 2 minute sand 14 seconds long, I might not be able to finish listening to it. I remember that need to ask my sister if my planned out fit for tomorrow works.
8:59.
I check for spelling errors. I didn't forget to fix the spelling.
9:00.
Good night, Summer.
And I don't like school.
I wish school was more like...day care. You go and hang out with friends, and that's it. Then you come home. Or at the very least I wish there were no such things as bad teachers, all teacher would be Ms St. Onge clones and awesome. Or in some other way be awesome.
But I guess it's ok...I mean I might have decent classes, and teachers...but the only sophomore teacher I know are Ms Nault and Mr Russel who are pretty cool, but that's my sample size. I might have all of really sucky teachers and not have either of the above I mention.
15 minutes now.
I'm debating spending the last 15 minutes writing this. That would be a pretty great way to end the summer right? But I'm not so sure if I'll be able to write enough. It would be like in English last year when Ms Wadliegh would force us to write for the whole class, then I would pass in a page and a half of crap...
WHY AM I DOING LEVEL FOUR THIS YEAR?!
I never even read the Red Badge of Courage. I read an exert from it in 8th grade, hopefully that will suffice for now. I read some of Huck Finn but never finished. I'm so screwed. I did the AP World History stuff though, W00T! That's about it though. I'm starting to regret taking all these fancy classes.
10 minutes.
Maybe I can do this? In a perfect world writing in this blog may have helped my writing a bit...well...helped first person reflections or whatever they're called.
9 minutes.
I'm surprisingly tired for only having woken up 8 hours and 51 minutes ago. I might actually get some sleep tonight. Which is rare for the first day of school.
8 minutes.
This is getting harder, I'm glancing at the clock to see what time it is. I might be able to do this. Or I might give up like I do with everything else. I need to fix that. I need to give up on giving up.
7 minutes.
It's currently 8:53 PM, on September 1, 2010, and Garrett Walker is listening to Dreaming with a Broken Heart by John Mayer. He has one facebook notification. He checks it.
6 minutes.
Emma Cote also commented on Grant Hock's status.
5 minutes.
We're talking about how awful it is to plan things at or after school. I've got practice with my band tomorrow...we might actually get stuff done.
4 minutes.
My heart is beating really fast, I think I'm subconsciously forcing it to. I spelled subconsciously wrong, i did again. I'll fix that later. Or I'll forget. Probably the latter.
3 minutes.
I'm running out of stuff to write, but the good thing about this is that I can write about not knowing what to write about. It's genius. My song is over.
2 minutes.
Do You Remember by Jack Johnson comes on. The song is 2 minute sand 14 seconds long, I might not be able to finish listening to it. I remember that need to ask my sister if my planned out fit for tomorrow works.
8:59.
I check for spelling errors. I didn't forget to fix the spelling.
9:00.
Good night, Summer.
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