So I got my wisdom taken out on Tuesday. (Oh, awesome things, how could you abandon me so cruelly?)
Since then I have mourned my de-evolution to baby foods, felt like vomiting from the metallic taste of blood, swollen disgustingly, been amazed at my lack of bruising, slept less than usual, read an awful lot, lamented at my three favorite people being just down the street, made a video interview, and reorganized my bookshelf.
I'm productive.
Also, because it's inherently pretentious to brag, I've recently accrued various awesome things: my pacman moleskin, a super fancy leather-bound notebook, Waiting for Godot, and three John Green books. (I've also shared a nerdfighter gang sign moment with the lovely Sarah.)
I'm apparently slipping back into young adult novels--Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns recently joining my bookshelf and having reread Dreamland, That Summer, and Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen.
I've also, unfortunately, had to read Ethan Frome for school. (Seriously, I read a lot of pretentious and scholarly literature, but that book is horrible. Close in the ranks to Twilight, I dare say.)
I'm an awesome person post-surgery. I acknowledge no pain and quickly recover to be a smart ass. Others should aspire to be me, really.< /Higher-than-thou >
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 22, 2011
In a Continuation of Awesome Things. . .
I enjoy awesome things. It's would be horrible not to, would it not?
Regrettably, my speech was less than awesome. I fear I was too tame. Where was my caustic language? Oh, if only it hadn't been 1/5 of my grade. How well I could have instigated. Alas, I was less than anger instilling. Well, expressive anger. As it was a persuasive speech, I decided it would be a bit foolish to attempt to persuade my extremely Christian audience to take up Atheism. Thus, I had to tone it down a touch. Instead, I explained the make-up of an atheist and why they should not be immediately cursed to hell upon introduction.
I did, fantastically if I do say so, manage to anger the large of majority of my class. Unfortunately, they were not angry enough to scream out that I'm doomed to hell or that god was going to start raining lightning upon my immediate vicinity. The two or three other atheists in the class certainly enjoyed it, though.
In a more awesome tune, however, I have decided that it can be fun/entertaining when I'm something other than silent in school. Beyond my closest friends this is a rarity. In fact, someone on my bus the other day only just realized my existence and is convinced that I am recently moved here. Rest assured, I have not been meddling with the memories of those around me--brilliant though it would be to be able to reprogram your minds and convince you that I've been the greatest friend you've ever had for many years now. I really have lived in the same town my entire life.
Alas, when others hear my friends and me communicate with each other they tend to seem surprised. And greatly entertained. Perhaps because we so rarely talk in front of others. Perhaps because we are exciting beings who carry on brilliant conversations. Due to the nature of the personality of the person who overheard us, it simply became even more amusing. I should try that more often.
Next in my tale of awesome things, I am nearly out of space in my current notebook. Sad, yes. Especially since I don't have any other attractive notebooks to use. (Yes, my notebooks must be attractive.) So how did this make the list of awesome things, you ask? A pacman moleskine should be arriving shortly from ThinkGeek for me.
And, most importantly, I am continuing my exciting adventures of weekend time. This time my great Asian friend, two companions lost to the soul-stealing realm of college and I found eachother yesterday at five-thirty in the afternoon for a day of niftiness. I most likely just made up that word.
Rumpleroar, The Doctor and The Master unfortunately left a large portion of their brains behind and found themselves quickly lost en route to laser quest. But, never fear, we were shortly united with Sopralto in the treacherous land of parking. Meanwhile, my brother killed a goose on his way home.
Rumpleroar and The Master had to confess their navice standings in the perilous world of laser questing, but soon discovered it to be enjoyable enough. After a tricky war with ridiculous children, the quartet began wandering like the suspicious teenagers in fairly dark clothing they are.
An hour spent in an art store, to the effect of Van Goph, beads, and the superiority of Billy Joel, they moved down to a Wegmans that did not contain international aisles and carried no attractive notebooks. Rumpleroar began to really feel the effects of donating blood on a empty stomach (and being too small for her height to be able to donate without probable health effects) and The Master's head began to pound unpleasantly (the sign of madness, you know). Thus, the questionable group sat suspiciously on a bench in the store for another hour.
Disappointment in officey stores and a car that handles winter weather questionably led to the separation of this group somewhere near eleven o'clock at night. They each recognize their awesomeness and superiority to others.
Regrettably, my speech was less than awesome. I fear I was too tame. Where was my caustic language? Oh, if only it hadn't been 1/5 of my grade. How well I could have instigated. Alas, I was less than anger instilling. Well, expressive anger. As it was a persuasive speech, I decided it would be a bit foolish to attempt to persuade my extremely Christian audience to take up Atheism. Thus, I had to tone it down a touch. Instead, I explained the make-up of an atheist and why they should not be immediately cursed to hell upon introduction.
I did, fantastically if I do say so, manage to anger the large of majority of my class. Unfortunately, they were not angry enough to scream out that I'm doomed to hell or that god was going to start raining lightning upon my immediate vicinity. The two or three other atheists in the class certainly enjoyed it, though.
In a more awesome tune, however, I have decided that it can be fun/entertaining when I'm something other than silent in school. Beyond my closest friends this is a rarity. In fact, someone on my bus the other day only just realized my existence and is convinced that I am recently moved here. Rest assured, I have not been meddling with the memories of those around me--brilliant though it would be to be able to reprogram your minds and convince you that I've been the greatest friend you've ever had for many years now. I really have lived in the same town my entire life.
Alas, when others hear my friends and me communicate with each other they tend to seem surprised. And greatly entertained. Perhaps because we so rarely talk in front of others. Perhaps because we are exciting beings who carry on brilliant conversations. Due to the nature of the personality of the person who overheard us, it simply became even more amusing. I should try that more often.
Next in my tale of awesome things, I am nearly out of space in my current notebook. Sad, yes. Especially since I don't have any other attractive notebooks to use. (Yes, my notebooks must be attractive.) So how did this make the list of awesome things, you ask? A pacman moleskine should be arriving shortly from ThinkGeek for me.
And, most importantly, I am continuing my exciting adventures of weekend time. This time my great Asian friend, two companions lost to the soul-stealing realm of college and I found eachother yesterday at five-thirty in the afternoon for a day of niftiness. I most likely just made up that word.
Rumpleroar, The Doctor and The Master unfortunately left a large portion of their brains behind and found themselves quickly lost en route to laser quest. But, never fear, we were shortly united with Sopralto in the treacherous land of parking. Meanwhile, my brother killed a goose on his way home.
Rumpleroar and The Master had to confess their navice standings in the perilous world of laser questing, but soon discovered it to be enjoyable enough. After a tricky war with ridiculous children, the quartet began wandering like the suspicious teenagers in fairly dark clothing they are.
An hour spent in an art store, to the effect of Van Goph, beads, and the superiority of Billy Joel, they moved down to a Wegmans that did not contain international aisles and carried no attractive notebooks. Rumpleroar began to really feel the effects of donating blood on a empty stomach (and being too small for her height to be able to donate without probable health effects) and The Master's head began to pound unpleasantly (the sign of madness, you know). Thus, the questionable group sat suspiciously on a bench in the store for another hour.
Disappointment in officey stores and a car that handles winter weather questionably led to the separation of this group somewhere near eleven o'clock at night. They each recognize their awesomeness and superiority to others.
Jan 17, 2011
Really, Really, Really
You're probably wondering the relevance of the comic. There really isn't much, I just happened to find it during a search for my final speech. (Huzzah, Public Speaking is nearly over!)
If you've paid much attention thus far, you're aware that nearly all of my speeches have centered on a deliberate attempt to anger my class mates. Most have been successful--although I will admit, at first I wondered how I could top bashing their colloquial destruction of the English language. Then I was granted the topic of relationships.
Perhaps I'm terrible, but I find it fantastically amusing to see them all so peeved. Especially when they insist on calling me nice.
Alas, in preparation for our final speech, which is meant to be persuasive, we had debates on various controversial topics. At one point our teacher asked "Do you believe in Heaven?" Roughly three people raised their hand with me to vote that, no, there is no heaven; when we die we rot and become food for maggots. Next to one of these people was a girl who began shrieking that she couldn't be in such close proximity to a sinner--god was going to strike her down.
Clearly I found this amusing. That is why my final speech is going to be on why atheists are not sinners damned to hell.
The friends I have in that class think I have a death wish. They do, however, support me: one is determined to give me a hundred, another intends to sit next to the shrieker.
I've spent the last five hours searching for facts to put in and creating the slide show, outline, and note cards for that. Productive morning, yes? And most of my friends won't even be awake yet.
On another note, I've actually written something! I will not, however, be posting it. It's a one-shot that most wouldn't understand, stemming from something two of my friends and I deemed in second grade. Plus, it was fantastic and amusing when I was writing it, but reading things over never fails to make them seem bland.
Happy day away from education,
M. D. Koch
Jan 8, 2011
My Day In Ratings
1. Seeing My Best Friend
This isn't really something I would typically rate, but after so long without seeing this person (and days she never showed up--cue bitter resentment) this was spectacular. That it was just a bit less than eight hours was an added bonus. Or additional brilliance. Whichever. And this is the tale of spending an adventurous day with her, in ratings.
And yes, she finally has that TARDIS.
Clearly this can only have 5/5 stars
2. The Redhead Handbook
My sister ordered this particularly book for me (in light of my being a Redhead and such).
It is my handbook. My soul mate of handbooks, if you will. The greatest of books that do not tell stories I have ever come across. Perusing it today was quite like someone else had simply written down my thoughts. That which I forever claim is here.
It is my handbook. I shall carry it with me. It is my Jack Kerouac. I shall quote it always.
This receives 5/5 stars.
3. IRN BRU
Today we were feeling adventurous. There was
one thing in particular that we felt we should really try (which I'll get to later). While in Wegmans, however, we decided to thoroughly peruse the European aisle. Partly because we needed to look for our custard there and partly because we wanted to see if we could find Jelly Babies. We didn't, but we did find this: a fizzy energy drink that Franz Ferdinand is very clearly fond of.
As Franz fans, we decided it would be best to try it. And it wasn't bad. Once you diluted it with ice and have had a few glasses, that is. Also, it is imperative that you do not inhale while drinking it. Or sitting particularly near to it. The smell just may kill you.
Either they have seriously questionable taste in drink, or we were foolish to think we would like something Scottish.
2/5 stars
4. Room Temperature Custard
We had a lot of custard on our hands. We saw the Doctor drink a bowl full of it. How bad could it be? Oh, how wrong we were.
0 stars
5. Cold Custard
This has a significant improvement. It tastes a bit sweeter. More bearable, I suppose?
1 star
6. Bread Dipped In Custard
Room temperature custard, I should say. This list really isn't in order of how we did things.
Well, we didn't want to jump in blindly. That would be foolish. We had to test out how custard tasted when diluted with some other taste. I had rolls. Clearly no more thinking needed to be involved. It wasn't bad. It wasn't exceptionally good, either, but I wasn't going to spit it out or vomit. (Something that, for me, says something indeed.)
3/5 stars
7. Fruit In Cold Custard
We had a lot of custard left. We didn't just want to waste it. I mean, we bought this. So we did some searching via the inter-webs and people seemed to enjoy custard with fruit. Of course, I didn't have any fresh fruit. I did, however, have some freezer-burnt frozen ones. (Don't judge me. Fresh fruit in winter is abnormal.)
So after de-freezing them. And then sticking them in a cold water bath because they were too hot. Then draining some water because we remembered the power of osmosis. And also storing the fruit/custard mixture in the fridge so that it was cool, we tried it.
The best analogy we could come up with was that it was faintly like yogurt with fruit. Only . . . not.
4/5 stars
8. Fish Custard
Yes, you've reached the reason we bought custard in the first place. We are, officially, proper Doctor Who fans. Alas, being that we live in America, we didn't have proper fish fingers. Just fish sticks, which are quite a bit thinner.
Nevertheless, we pushed onward. And we ate every one of our fish sticks with the custard. We weren't disgusted enough to just eat the fish plain. But it wasn't exceptional either. It was just . . . there. Sort of like a lot of the toppings people use, I suppose. Neither of us are particularly fond of plain fish sticks. Nor is the idea of using ketchup with them particularly appealing. She mentioned that some people use tartar with them, but that repulsed me.
Ultimately, we concluded that it's probably one of the better ways to eat fish fingers. We also decided that the taste is a bit wishy-washy: it's not particularly good, but it's not bad either. It's stuck in the middle.
3/5 stars
9. Making A Fez
What can I say, we were having a gloriously Doctor Who filled day. (As all days should be.) So we decided to make a fez. Fezzes are cool.
But it was ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is to make a paper fez? It took three of us. My sister and I used my friend's head to determine how big it should be. And after that it was a mess of tape and scissors. And lots and lots of trimming. And readjusting. And cutting. And trimming. But it was so worth it.
It looked a bit weird on my sister and me. Although, in our defense, her hair was wet. And it clashed with her sweater. And my hair. (A red fez on red hair is just overkill.) But on my fantastic, Asian friend it is spectacular.
All Asians should wear fezzes.
(My grey beanie is more comfortable, anyhow. And works exceedingly well with bright, curly hair.)
5/5 stars
This isn't really something I would typically rate, but after so long without seeing this person (and days she never showed up--cue bitter resentment) this was spectacular. That it was just a bit less than eight hours was an added bonus. Or additional brilliance. Whichever. And this is the tale of spending an adventurous day with her, in ratings.
And yes, she finally has that TARDIS.
Clearly this can only have 5/5 stars
2. The Redhead Handbook
My sister ordered this particularly book for me (in light of my being a Redhead and such).It is my handbook. My soul mate of handbooks, if you will. The greatest of books that do not tell stories I have ever come across. Perusing it today was quite like someone else had simply written down my thoughts. That which I forever claim is here.
It is my handbook. I shall carry it with me. It is my Jack Kerouac. I shall quote it always.
This receives 5/5 stars.
3. IRN BRU
Today we were feeling adventurous. There was
one thing in particular that we felt we should really try (which I'll get to later). While in Wegmans, however, we decided to thoroughly peruse the European aisle. Partly because we needed to look for our custard there and partly because we wanted to see if we could find Jelly Babies. We didn't, but we did find this: a fizzy energy drink that Franz Ferdinand is very clearly fond of.As Franz fans, we decided it would be best to try it. And it wasn't bad. Once you diluted it with ice and have had a few glasses, that is. Also, it is imperative that you do not inhale while drinking it. Or sitting particularly near to it. The smell just may kill you.
Either they have seriously questionable taste in drink, or we were foolish to think we would like something Scottish.
2/5 stars
4. Room Temperature Custard
We had a lot of custard on our hands. We saw the Doctor drink a bowl full of it. How bad could it be? Oh, how wrong we were.
0 stars
5. Cold Custard
This has a significant improvement. It tastes a bit sweeter. More bearable, I suppose?
1 star
6. Bread Dipped In Custard
Room temperature custard, I should say. This list really isn't in order of how we did things.
Well, we didn't want to jump in blindly. That would be foolish. We had to test out how custard tasted when diluted with some other taste. I had rolls. Clearly no more thinking needed to be involved. It wasn't bad. It wasn't exceptionally good, either, but I wasn't going to spit it out or vomit. (Something that, for me, says something indeed.)
3/5 stars
7. Fruit In Cold Custard
We had a lot of custard left. We didn't just want to waste it. I mean, we bought this. So we did some searching via the inter-webs and people seemed to enjoy custard with fruit. Of course, I didn't have any fresh fruit. I did, however, have some freezer-burnt frozen ones. (Don't judge me. Fresh fruit in winter is abnormal.)
So after de-freezing them. And then sticking them in a cold water bath because they were too hot. Then draining some water because we remembered the power of osmosis. And also storing the fruit/custard mixture in the fridge so that it was cool, we tried it.
The best analogy we could come up with was that it was faintly like yogurt with fruit. Only . . . not.
4/5 stars
8. Fish Custard
Yes, you've reached the reason we bought custard in the first place. We are, officially, proper Doctor Who fans. Alas, being that we live in America, we didn't have proper fish fingers. Just fish sticks, which are quite a bit thinner.
Nevertheless, we pushed onward. And we ate every one of our fish sticks with the custard. We weren't disgusted enough to just eat the fish plain. But it wasn't exceptional either. It was just . . . there. Sort of like a lot of the toppings people use, I suppose. Neither of us are particularly fond of plain fish sticks. Nor is the idea of using ketchup with them particularly appealing. She mentioned that some people use tartar with them, but that repulsed me.
Ultimately, we concluded that it's probably one of the better ways to eat fish fingers. We also decided that the taste is a bit wishy-washy: it's not particularly good, but it's not bad either. It's stuck in the middle.
3/5 stars
9. Making A Fez
What can I say, we were having a gloriously Doctor Who filled day. (As all days should be.) So we decided to make a fez. Fezzes are cool.
But it was ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is to make a paper fez? It took three of us. My sister and I used my friend's head to determine how big it should be. And after that it was a mess of tape and scissors. And lots and lots of trimming. And readjusting. And cutting. And trimming. But it was so worth it.
It looked a bit weird on my sister and me. Although, in our defense, her hair was wet. And it clashed with her sweater. And my hair. (A red fez on red hair is just overkill.) But on my fantastic, Asian friend it is spectacular.
All Asians should wear fezzes.
(My grey beanie is more comfortable, anyhow. And works exceedingly well with bright, curly hair.)
5/5 stars
Jan 4, 2011
On Your Request, I Compile A List
Today was a very contemplative day. Today was a day of lists and of realizations. Today was a day of seeking the truth that for so long evaded me. Today, if I can keep myself from forgetting it, will have been a good day.
Hatred and love will bend before me. Fear will flee from my obdurate countenance. Cowardliness will be swallowed in eyes chafed with thought.
From now on there will be no conjecture. Varying reports will not clash in my mind, fighting for precedence. One word will not contradict another. The proper source will speak and there will be only truth. Hated or tolerated, I will know what is thought of me.
Singing, swimming, swinging in solitude. Reading, writing, reorganizing past attempts at writing. Talking to myself--and responding.
These are the things that calm me. But they also aggravate me:
I get so angry when I can produce nothing, no matter how long I stare at my papers.
I fight the urge to throw my books until they damage the wall when I cannot focus. When my eyes blur the page, when I reread one sentence over and over, when it is too loud to funnel my mind.
I get annoyed sitting in a pool with someone. When someone will not actually swim, but stands in the way of my laps. Sitting in a pool unproductively.
I get angry with myself singing in front of others, even should it be an accident. I cannot reassure myself that it is not detestable; that what calms me is not an annoyance to others around me.
But there is still so many of them. Did I do that purposely? Incorporate so many things into my life specifically designed to calm me? And then did I decidedly allow myself to be easily frustrated or hurt from sheer lack of will, knowing I had the tools to clean myself up again?
Human nature, oh how you astound me, even within myself. But this is okay. After all, it doesn't really matter anymore. Only that I should plan different twists and turns. Triumph the things I need to do, the things I want to do, the things I should do:
I need discipline beyond just getting my homework done.
I need to finish the stories I set out to create.
I need to worry less.
I need to stop relying on people to keep their word.
I need to learn what others fail to teach me.
I want to be able to believe Sarah in the wonderful things she tells me. The compliments she's prone to giving.
I want to be able to care about another being.
I want to know that the things I do with my friends don't just slowly rot.
I like being told amazing things.
I like someone calling my presence comforting (little though it often is) when I often wonder how to give back the comfort given to me.
I like when others don't speak as though they k now what goes through my head.
I shouldn't shy from telling the entire, blunt truth to people.
I should seek out Sarah and spend time with her.
I should take the car when my mom offers it to me.
I should go to Barnes & Noble and read some of my books in the cafe.
I should write at a little table while I drink my drink that's being sold at various Starbucks around the world.
The many things that would benefit me, lists not yet complete. . .
Today I am worthy of my Guy Fawkes mask.
Hatred and love will bend before me. Fear will flee from my obdurate countenance. Cowardliness will be swallowed in eyes chafed with thought.
From now on there will be no conjecture. Varying reports will not clash in my mind, fighting for precedence. One word will not contradict another. The proper source will speak and there will be only truth. Hated or tolerated, I will know what is thought of me.
Singing, swimming, swinging in solitude. Reading, writing, reorganizing past attempts at writing. Talking to myself--and responding.
These are the things that calm me. But they also aggravate me:
I get so angry when I can produce nothing, no matter how long I stare at my papers.
I fight the urge to throw my books until they damage the wall when I cannot focus. When my eyes blur the page, when I reread one sentence over and over, when it is too loud to funnel my mind.
I get annoyed sitting in a pool with someone. When someone will not actually swim, but stands in the way of my laps. Sitting in a pool unproductively.
I get angry with myself singing in front of others, even should it be an accident. I cannot reassure myself that it is not detestable; that what calms me is not an annoyance to others around me.
But there is still so many of them. Did I do that purposely? Incorporate so many things into my life specifically designed to calm me? And then did I decidedly allow myself to be easily frustrated or hurt from sheer lack of will, knowing I had the tools to clean myself up again?
Human nature, oh how you astound me, even within myself. But this is okay. After all, it doesn't really matter anymore. Only that I should plan different twists and turns. Triumph the things I need to do, the things I want to do, the things I should do:
I need discipline beyond just getting my homework done.
I need to finish the stories I set out to create.
I need to worry less.
I need to stop relying on people to keep their word.
I need to learn what others fail to teach me.
I want to be able to believe Sarah in the wonderful things she tells me. The compliments she's prone to giving.
I want to be able to care about another being.
I want to know that the things I do with my friends don't just slowly rot.
I like being told amazing things.
I like someone calling my presence comforting (little though it often is) when I often wonder how to give back the comfort given to me.
I like when others don't speak as though they k now what goes through my head.
- Do I look like I'm plotting something? That is the general consensus. I always appear to be plotting, but have I ever done anything diabolical? Is it possible that the treachery I have committed wasn't intended?
I shouldn't shy from telling the entire, blunt truth to people.
I should seek out Sarah and spend time with her.
I should take the car when my mom offers it to me.
I should go to Barnes & Noble and read some of my books in the cafe.
I should write at a little table while I drink my drink that's being sold at various Starbucks around the world.
The many things that would benefit me, lists not yet complete. . .
Today I am worthy of my Guy Fawkes mask.
Jan 2, 2011
The Death of Steven Moffat
Fancy, right? Granted, it's the new TARDIS, which is revoltingly sleeker than the old model. A fresh pain job? What the fuck? When you come across an old Police Box that's in shambles, do you give it a new paint job? Idiots. You're supposed to hide it and casually admire its rundown allure.
And a sticker now, too? Moffat, you just can't get anything right, can you? Scumbag.
Of course, if my friend paid mind to any plans she made, she would be able to see the real model. Alas, so high maintenance. I hardly intend to take something to her. (Really, that's just far too much work.) I say in a week it's mine.
Dec 31, 2010
Life! The Universe! Everything!
It is weird to loathe solitude. I live in solitude, I breathe easy in it. Extroversion makes me shudder. But if there is anything I have learned over this break it's that there is a difference between self-imposed solitude and solitude you suffer because no one will see you.
I've never hoped for company before. Actually, I don't recall ever being able to recognize hope before now. But it is severely painful to disappoint hopes--and for some reason the instilling and destruction of hope is hopelessly beyond the control of the person suffering such ridiculous feelings.
Alas, I'm (rather unfortunately) human. And, other than sulking and sabotaging the world, humans always move on eventually. So, once I grow bored of sulking (which may take a while. I hold fantastic records.), I apparently have more life to look forward to! In preparation for such an event, I'm compiling a to-do list. Although I don't expect it to be completed before 2012, if that.
- Finish an imitation of Franz Ferdinand's Can't Stop Feeling video with some friends.
- Finish at least the first chapter of what is currently known as David Tennant's Face.
- Prove to myself (and my home furniture) that I actually do have friends.
- Find a job that will accept a teenager who still attends school and doesn't have a car.
- Write something that has an end. (As opposed to leaving it somewhere in the middle.)
- Become a vlogging Meliffany.
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