There's this song that goes something like "I left my heart in San Francisco" (which I guess I can understand, because I think San Francisco is a nice city, despite apparently having a history of being notorious place). And I thought it was suitable considering what I was thinking about earlier.

The common belief is that being homesick will make a vacation miserable for a person. But I don't think that's necessarily the case. It's true, during the first one or two days of Yosemite, I was trying hard not to burst into desperate sobs, because I was unaccustomed to the rush of Yosemite, the horrible-smelling bathtubs, the thin walls of the tent (meaning that you could hear any loud noise being made elsewhere), and the lack of sympathy from much of the other people (judging from their excited attitudes, since I try to avoid pouring out my heart and soul to people I do not know well).

As is the unusual case here, after a few days, I realized that I would be going home soon, and with this thought in my mind, I acquired a much more positive attitude toward the Yosemite trip. Isn't it funny how wanting to go home can become your motivation? I kind of figured that if I had fun the time would pass faster and I could go home and sleep in my nice old bed and get to take a warm shower (the showers were so cold, it was warmer when you weren't showering than when you were showering...). And in this way I was able to enjoy the trip after all, despite being very paranoid for much of the time. I was very fearful during the hiking when we had to clamber up rocks (how precarious! One false move and you would fall all the way to the valley floor) and also when exploring caves (you could slip and break your bones or bang your head on the ceiling! Or you would at least end up with really dirty pants and gloves). But at the same time feeling the adrenaline rush was a good thing since it made me feel adventurous. For much of my life I had been craving something exciting. This is very contradictory considering that I'm a person that likes normality and regular comforting rhythms in their life.

Just the other night, I closed my eyes. I began to imagine that I was back in Yosemite again. I could imagine the covers on my bed turning into the top of the sleeping bag, and the quiet of the room turning into the annoying dripping and banging of the heater... For some reason this gave me a kind of comfort while also making me feel very nostalgic. I wonder if perhaps the reason why I keep waking up really early, like 7:00 am, when I don't need to get up until 7:45, is that my mind thinks, "Oh no! I am so late for the breakfast at Yosemite!" but that's not the case at all.

My parents said that maybe some other time, like in 2011, we could go to Yosemite again. I'd like to go back to Yosemite, but I feel like if I went back there, I wouldn't want to leave. I'd like my days to pass in a national park, the way some people spend a lot of time in Yellowstone, watching the wolves with their binoculars. I'd like to be somewhere where I can see the stars as clear as day and where the trees make the air delightfully fresh. And as dear as home is to me, that place is not here.

Labels: adrenaline, adventure, breakfast, danger, excitement, homesick, late, memories, morning, national park, nostalgia, shower, sleeping bag, song, sounds, surprise, trip, yellowstone, yosemite

Due to an astronomy lab we've been doing in my science class, I go outside at night to look at the moon and record the phase and location. In the beginning, the skies were clear, and it was easy to see the moon. But then clouds moved in and I couldn't see it for a while. When the sky cleared up again, I still couldn't find the moon. It was a strange experience. The stars were still there, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. I thought perhaps it was blocked by a building or a tree, but no matter where I walked I couldn't see it.

In the morning, though, I saw the moon. It's just so strange, seeing it up there in that vast expanse of blue sky, instead of in the mist of a black blanket dotted with stars, the way it is at nighttime. I was rather annoyed at the moon, because I am only supposed to record when I see it at a certain time (the teacher wants us to try to view the moon at the same time each night that we go out). It showed up in the morning but refused to come out at nighttime.

In class today, one of my fellow students told the teacher that she had gone out at night and was also unable to see the moon. My teacher then got the attention of the class to explain this phenomenon.

My teacher said, "I have told the moon to go away for a while. Us science teachers are very powerful, so I have made it disappear. Look carefully every night and eventually I might let it come back out again." Another one of my classmates remarked, "I looked in the morning and I saw the moon." My teacher's reply was, "Ah! You cheated! Well, the moon is naughty and it tries to come out before it's supposed to."

So there you have it. A highly scientific explanation for why the moon is not visible sometimes, even without any clouds covering it. (If you want to know the real reason, you had better look it up since I only have a theory about it and it would be unwise to take that as fact.)

I was just looking at a picture of an exploding alarm clock on a magazine cover (Discover magazine March 2010 issue, if you want to know) and I was reminded of what of my "experiences" at Yosemite. It was difficult to get to sleep on the first night. Some kids had not gone to bed and were making a racket outside, or were giggling in their cabins. The heater in our cabin kept making some sort of rattling and banging noises. I kept sweating from the heater since I wasn't used to having it that warm. And then there were the two alarm clocks I had brought. They kept on ticking...My clock at home ticks too, but I never really noticed it. At Yosemite it seemed they were quite loud. One of my cabinmates said she wasn't used to it since she has a digital clock, which doesn't tick. After the first night, though, we become more accustomed to the loud nights and were able to get to sleep more easily. (And anyways, we were tired out from the strenuous daily hikes, or something.)

I have been rather concerned about my ability to remember to do my homework recently, especially the French homework. I forgot to do my French homework and remembered it during the night once, so I got up earlier in the morning to do it. And then today I was supposed to bring sunglasses because we were discussing summer/seaside activities in French class, but I forgot to bring those as well. (Then again, I'm not exactly sure where the sunglasses are, I will have to find them. I don't like to wear sunglasses. Although I like the cool way that they look, they always seem to slip down my face or otherwise get in my way. And I don't like how everything seems so dark or is tinted a weird color.) I wonder if my memory is getting bad or if I'm getting too careless. Both options are rather unpleasant.

Labels: astronomy, careless, clock, digital, distraction, forgetful, french, homework, magazine, magic, moon, powers, science, sky, sleep, sounds, teacher, ticking, trip, yosemite

"French Laugh

A laugh that comes deep within and sounds like "ah hoh hoh hoh." Contrary to Santa's laugh, this is more to make fun of others with.
From the Simpsons
Lisa: Oh no, I'm at the wrong school! (at a french school)
Students: hahhaha
Teacher: En Francais!
Students: A hoh hoh hoh hoh! (French Laugh)"

This is what was on Urban Dictionary. People tend to think of a "Aw haw haw" or "Oh hoh hoh" kind of laugh when it comes to French people. (Whether they actually laugh like that, I am not sure, though nasal sounds are common in French, I think)

I thought of the French laugh because of what a student brought up during a meeting. Some of us French students have been meeting up once in a while at lunchtime to discuss ideas and organize the French Week we have planned for later in October. One of the students said we should all go up to people and laugh "Oh hoh hoh!" at them. The teacher shrugged and said, "Well, I guess this is what we do in eighth grade, we go up to sixth graders and laugh, and they'll think, 'Who is this person?' " It would be really funny if we did go up to people and laugh at them, though.

Oh yes, and I noticed something about the Urban Dictionary definition for a French laugh. The definition that I included in the post mentioned Santa Claus style laughing. I used to be renowned as Santa Claus in disguise. In fact, when I did my evil laughter during basketball practice earlier this year, someone said it sounded like an evil Santa Claus. And so I thought I'd mention what my DeviantArt signature is right now...

"There are three stages of man: he believes in Santa Claus; he does not believe in Santa Claus; he is Santa Claus.
- Bob Phillips"

However, my role has changed recently. I am no longer Santa Claus, but instead I am the Queen. Apparently, the Queen of Pwnage. D: In my language arts class, people take turns deciding which students do what roles (jobs could be taking out and putting away our journals, or keeping the table quiet, or getting the textbooks). Today my job was to be Queen and "pwn everyone". At lunchtime I stood up and announced that I was the Queen of Pwnage. The reaction was blank stares and the "..." kind of silence, before the people in my vicinity returned to eating and talking and doing homework and such. (Y'know, I never use the words "own" or "pwn" in that way, so pretty soon I might forget about this, and I'll go back to being regular old me, I suppose)

Labels: claus, deviantart, eighth grade, français, french, french week, identity, laugh, laughter, nasal, pwn, queen, queen of pwnage, random, role, santa, santa claus, simpsons, sounds, stages of man

Top ↑