Happy Independence Day!

I hear the fourth of July is a day to celebrate the United States' sovereignty. Well, that's all well and good. I'll hardly not support because, as fantastic as England is, there is no guarantee that had they not lost that battle I wouldn't be living in some kind of horror.


Alas, today I'm celebrating many other things. And all of them seem to be related to books.


First, there is the joy of a newly organized bookshelf. And, if I may say so, the most entertaining and spectacular of all the ways it has been organized. (I kid you not, it is beautiful. To prove my point--and to just take pictures of its awesomeness--I shall provide close-ups.)










First, there is a pedestal of alluring, leather-bound reference books for my silver coated Snapple bottle.
Oh, AP Chem. Oh, Tollens' test. How I love these things.

Second is my mad scientist blocks from ThinkGeek.
A robot, peasants with pitchforks, maniacal, a virus, and Potassium. Is that not beautiful?






Third is a snow globe. Although I'm hesitant to call it a snow globe when it has no fake snow and houses a bunny. . . Alas, who am I to judge?
I have a thing for snow globes.

Fourth is a Beijing Olympic Mascot that my best friend got me during her visit to China. It stands vigilant, as it rightfully deserves, on a pedestal of Yotsuba&!
Never question its power.








And, lastly, since I lack a fancy enough slinky, my squishy little green ball sits at the top of a flight of stairs. Book stairs.






Alas, while my sister and I were organizing this masterpiece, we realized that my bookmarks were not sitting on the second shelf, where they belong. This was bad, and it sent us into a frenzied search of the house, including going through every book we'd just carefully placed on the bookshelf if I had read it in the past month.

This may seem a bit out of proportion, but my bookmarks are actually more important to me than the combined worth of every book I own.

My best friend made them for me for two separate birthdays, and they are the only bookmarks that I've ever used since receiving the first one (which is on the right of the picture). I probably give them far too much importance, but they weren't something I requested. They were something my best friend wanted to make, and they illustrate two very important bits of my life.

Five days ago we managed to find the banana one fairly quickly, but the other remained illusive. I began to worry that I had stupidly left it in a library book that I had already returned, and I would be lying if I said that my sister and I didn't sulk for the rest of the day.

But, so sweet is Independence Day that is brings luck and, not even looking, I found the other bookmark.

The last book related thing that I am enjoying at the moment is a competition with my friend Taylor, who has read more classics than I have and mocks me for it. It has been decided that I should beat her, and she full-heartedly agrees. So I now spam her with every book I'm reading, though she seems to read just as quickly and retaliates.

Thus far I have finished:
God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian
God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
A Man Without a Country
The Martian Chronicles
Gulliver's Travels
Zero
The Croquet Player
Treasure Island
Yotsuba&! (Finally got the last four volumes)

. . . Yeah, I might be having a hard time focusing on classics.

Some weren't fantastic. Gulliver's Travels was a disappointment. But, all in all, I've given her positive reviews.

Care to join the competition?

Yttrium Einsteinium!

 

I know, it's a terrible picture.

In my defense, I only have a camera on my phone.

And I was being rushed.

And, come on, that's pretty far above my head with small symbols.

All the same, is that not the greatest clock you've ever seen?

(Fluorine Uranium Carbon Potassium, Yttrium Einsteinium!)

. . . All these pictures remind me of my promise to do writing exercises.

I know, I really ought to write more again.

I'll work on that. . .

A Problem, You Say?

 

       My sister and I may have a bit of a problem.

 I call it Mobius Strip addiction.

And that's not my only problem.







Lately I've gotten various Disney related music in my head. (Not that this is a bad thing. Much as I'll rant about how depthless certain classic Disney films are and how very treacherous when molding a young girl's expectations in life, I'm a sucker for Beauty & the Beast.)

Alas, and I fear my friends will have to judge me for this, I've been listening to Selena Gomez and the Jonas Brothers on a loop for the past week. I'm not calling them bad. Actually, the more I listen to them the more enamored I am with their music. It's just that, given the nature of my friends, I'm likely to be harassed for some time. . .

However, I am also the recipient of good news!
I got my housing assignment today for college next year.
I HAVE A SINGLE ROOM!
Take that, teacher's that scold my introversion!
YES! HUZZAH!

DFTBA,
M. D. Koch

Unconditional Love

Have you ever Google image searched the word family?

I feel as though the results are trying to send a certain message. The heart made in the penguin one is a bit obvious.

But I have to wonder, when is the last time your family looked like that? Do you have weekly family fun nights? Do you go out to the park and go home with snapshots of a happy family? Do you jump with excitement when walking down the street together? Or do your personalities clash? Do you disagree with each other's actions and grow irritable from too much togetherness?

When you add in extended family, do your pictures and keepsakes show smiling faces? Is everyone hugging each other?

When the holidays come around, do you want to go to the family gatherings? Do you miss everyone? Or would you rather only see some of them? Do you walk in the room and run up to hug everyone? Does everyone participate in the conversation? Is everyone immediately shrouded in a euphoric state?

I do not know what the typical family is or how these occasions play out, but I know that my family gatherings do not happen like that. We divide into factions. On my father's side there is the section for those who will end up drinking too much. There are common groups of four to five people who always talk to these same people at gatherings and rarely get up to see another person. There are the occasional outsiders that have either had a few too many children at a young age or done a few too many drugs; that no one really wants to acknowledge.

On my mother's side it is small enough that everyone sits at one table, but the factions are even more apparent. All the fathers get along well enough and often will go to watch some sport that's being aired on television. However, the rest of us are not so open. My immediate family remains closed off and separated: we are bitter because every year my mother's sisters and their families go on a vacation that they boast about to us but have never included us. As years passed, we grew more silent as I became an atheist and the majority of my family became either an atheist or agnostic. Our extended family likes to believe themselves Christians, even if they rarely go to church and have not been known to pray other than at a funeral.

But while I wonder about the way the word family is projected on society, I wonder about the way family works its way into our lives.

I've learned from experience that mentioning something about yourself that is more important than "Oh, I saw that, it was cool," or "I love you" family (or mine) doesn't want to hear it.
You're an atheist now? How ridiculous, now I demand you listen as I attack this foolish misjudgment of yours.
You mean you understand all of this? Ew, now you're going to use facts in the conversation? Go away, of course we don't want to understand any of this. This is gossip, rumors. Don't suck the fun away.
It goes on.

So I wonder: does your family know who you really are? I know, most of us live with our immediate family. If we all see each other everyday we're bound to know a good deal about that person. But what about extended family? Do you play a charade in their presence? Or do you really have that perfect family that is depicted in the media? (And if you do, how do you keep it up?)

My family is not designed for unconditional love. It's full of people who say they love me, but refuse to know anything about me. It's full of people who still fondle my hair, though anyone who pays attention to me knows how much I detest the action.

I also wonder something else, though: even in the worst of families, I think there must be someone that you whole-heartedly love: a cousin, an aunt, whomever. Someone whose presence makes you undeniably happy. For me, it's a cousin. But for big events and celebrations, such as my recent graduation, he's not invited. I'm not even the one who does the inviting. Not really.

For some reason, it is demanded that my mother's sisters and mother are invited to these events. My mother asserts it and my father goes along with it. And, though I'll fight it for months, I'm always forced to invite them personally and hide my venom.

Why? Does someone somewhere find it funny? Think it won't make my animosity grow?

Am I the only one who feels this way? Is Google right? Are most families really eternally happy together? At the end of the day, how do you feel about the family?

" - a ginger day"

Perhaps you can't read the bottom:

"Every day more and more ginger babies are born, causing distress to literally thousands of Mother's and Father's up and down the country. With your help we can put an end to the suffering that these children inflict upon Parents, friends, and even passers by. Dr. Karl Pullmeov is heading pionerring [sic] research into the elimination of the ginger gene. Give generously and help the world become a less ginger place."

These are the founders of kick a ginger day. Alas, I see their point: I cause my parents so much distress that my mother frequently asks me to reproduce. She wants a ginger grandkid. My habits of being mute in public surely terrifies passers by. (A person silently walking? With ginger hair? Dear God, what is she planning? Keep her from the children!) And I really shouldn't start with my friends. Although, can I really call them friends if my presence is secretly causing them agony?

Seriously? People make me sick.

Kick a ginger day was treacherous--the news began documenting it and students got in horrific trouble with administrators. It needed to be erased. Others sought to make amends. But hug a ginger day? Is this some sick attempt to prove gingers have souls? (Because if it is, I won't stand for it.)

It's not that I have anything against kind gingers--I've actually met some. On some occasions I might be considered one. But I do not like being hugged. It is an unwelcome invasion. And I do not like people telling me I have a soul when they do not even know me.

Perhaps it is rarer to be a ginger than to be a brunette. Perhaps a ginger is more easily spotted in a crowd. But a ginger is no more or less a person than a brunette. And as a ginger I do not like be singled out. I do not like strangers stopping me for any reason--particularly those linked to my hair.

So let me clear some things up for you.
I am fond of the color green, but I am not a leprechaun. I am more than five feet tall and I am not, in any way, Irish.
I may or I may not have a soul. That is for me to decide.
I am also left handed, but only I can call myself Beelzebub.
I am not a character from some guy's redhead fetish.
I am not, to my knowledge, a witch.
I am probably paler than you, and I avoid the sun like it is my death warden, but I am not a vampire.

Whatever it is that comes to mind when you think "ginger," do not speak it to me. And do not, come June 22, think you have any right to hug me.

To Infinity and Viscosity

There it is, take it, grasp it. There, right before you, that wish to which you've clung. Just a step away, all the things you've muttered under your breath, all the things of which you've been so bitterly jealous are just a hairsbreath away. Reach out, clutch it.

Oh, I can't wait until I graduate. All right, so what now? You're done. Yes, yes, I feel your ecstacy, I am you after all. But stop for a moment. Can't you take a glimpse back? Oh, hush. Yes, I'll miss some things, but what joy this is! Stop, would you? Calm yourself: it's really not that fantastic. Oh, shush. Yes, I like some of these people, but that's what the Internet is for.

I am far too happy about this. I'm still not sure at what point I will actually become sad and lament the loss of daily contact with certain people. But my week has been good, and I don't really have a reason to mourn it yet. I've been useful, I've helped some teachers  hand out caps and gowns. I've borrowed a math book from my (former) teacher--the first time I've ever actually read a math or science based book for fun, and I must say that I enjoyed it very much. I'm still a bit obsessed with toying with Mobius strips. . .

And now I've finally gotten a notification from Wegmans.

Now, a sane person probably wouldn't be ecstatic about the increased possibility of getting a job. A sane introvert would probably flee from the expected jump in social contact--even getting paid wouldn't be enough to calm that storm. But I am. After upwards of two years trying to get a job, finally hearing from someone is like someone mentioning that you're not entirely a worthless failure. (Plus, I really do need a source of income for the things that I've been hoping to get in the future.)

This week has been fairly close to infinite. Sure, there are rough patches and moments when everything seems to be going wrong, but it's been an over all good week. And tonight I'm going out to visit my sister, with whom I'll be going to the Corning Museum of Glass tomorrow. (Which reminds me, isn't glass funny? In eighth grade Earth Science we would test the hardness of a rock by attempting to scratch a plate of glass with it. Glass, we were told, was one of the hardest/strongest substances and thus became part of our scale. But if you drop a glass mug it shatters. And is it a solid or a liquid, really? Most would say solid. Most would ask me what the Percy Bysshe Shelley I'm going on about: why wouldn't glass be a solid? But it has no molecular structure, it's just a bunch of molecules in chaos, like ionized HCl in water. After a bunch of years, it will become evident that it has started to slide with gravity: a once uniform window will be thicker at the bottom than the top. So, what is it? A solid or an incredibly viscuous liquid? Hard, or fissiparous?)

Glass aside, infinite is a good word. So try it out for yourself: Cut out a strip of paper, give it a half-twist, and connect the ends. Try trailing along it with your finger. If you've done it correct, you now have a mobius strip, and it has no end. It has only one side and it is infinite.

Try it.

So I have a research paper due tomorrow. (Well, technically anytime from tomorrow to Friday. But, we'll go with tomorrow, because, really, who would write a research paper during the school week? First you have to actually go to school and then follow it with a comparatively lengthy paper? That's far too much schoolwork for one day.)

I've known about this paper for a month. Maybe more. I'm not sure.

"So you're just starting it now?"

"Don't be so crass, of course not. I started researching at noon."

. . . yeah.