It's quite a famous book, and I recall that my fifth grade teacher recommended it to me. But at the time I wasn't particularly interested in it, so I figured I might read it when I was older, if I ever ran out of books to read (in other words, there was almost no chance that I would read TKAM of my own accord).

I think I'd actually made the right choice by not reading the book then because I ended up reading it this year as part of the 9th grade literature curriculum. I really don't like to read books twice (there are so many good books out there, I'd much rather be reading those than reading something that I already know the ending to), and besides, if I'd read it back then, I probably wouldn't have been able to understand as much of it. (Not that TKAM is a difficult book to comprehend or anything. At least the author doesn't write with thy's and thou's and other such old language.) I really don't remember much of the books that I read when I was younger, though...I guess my brain thought other things were more important.

I actually thought the book was quite interesting, and enjoyed reading about a trial, as well as seeing a mysterious character make an appearance at last (can't reveal more than that if you haven't read the book). The movie was a disappointment in comparison. It seemed too rushed since it left out a lot of content and changed what it did put in, though I suppose moviegoers don't have as much patience, and it would be a pain to make a really long movie anyways. Well, of course, there is a general rule that books are better than their movie counterparts (which makes me fearful about the Twilight movies; I've heard some say it was good and others say it was "meh", so I don't know who to believe. But I don't really want to watch them anyways because the books were rather bland). I ought to read the Howl's Moving Castle book, but of course I keep putting it off. In fact, I really haven't been doing all that much reading these days. I really have to get back to the books.

In the case of TKAM, the mockingbird represents someone who was punished even when he/she hadn't done anything wrong. But after hearing a friend's description of a mockingbird that lived in her neighborhood (an actual bird, mind you, not a person), I'm not sure if a mockingbird is the best symbol of innocence. Although TKAM says that mockingbirds must not be shot because they sing beautiful songs, my friend (I shall refer to her as SNK) says that the mockingbird near her house is very annoying. It imitates the sounds it hears and makes a racket at nighttime, which disturbs her sleep. Eventually it either went away or got shot by a neighbor (I hope not, that's a pretty gruesome end to a bird, even if it was disturbing the peace). Another friend of mine says she'd like to have a mockingbird as a pet, though, since it is able to imitate sounds it hears (apparently it could even imitate the tunes from songs for the piano and violin. Not bad!). Wonder if they can be raised as pets. I used to want a squirrel as a pet, because I like their fluffy tails, but I suppose it would probably have rabies.

Labels: bird, book, death, disappointment, harper lee, howl's moving castle, imitation, mockingbird, movie, noise, novel, pet, repeating, rule, squirrel, story, to kill a mockingbird

Have you ever heard of that TV show called Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? I think I've watched it once or twice, not very much, but enough to get the gist of it. It's a game show, where a person tries to answer questions to win money. Sometimes the contestant asks for help from one of the fifth graders present. I used to be shocked by how little the contestants seemed to know. Like how they didn't know the epidermis was the outermost layer of skin.

But then again, I, having been quite a bit younger than those adults at the time, had learned the facts more recently, and since they were still fresh on my mind, I could recall them easily. Adults cannot remember all that much of what they learned when they were younger, except maybe the subject they teach if they are a teacher. My parents weren't even taught that much biology (there was more focus on physics and chemistry). And it's hard for me to talk to them about science because they learned the terms for things in Chinese, whereas I only know the English words. Well, anyways, there's no guarantee that they remember any history they learned. They still know how to do math, but they use it in their jobs (and in daily life - there is always that stress on "Math is important!") and I make them help me with hard homework problems, which are probably the main reasons for that.

I wonder if all these years of going to school are really worthwhile, then. If we don't remember much of it later on, what use is it to us? Knowledge is power, but if we lose that knowledge, has it not gone to waste? Or is it worth it to go school for other things, like the memories and friends we make? And yet at the same time it can be painful, when friends drift apart or fight and never make up, when friends move away, when you have difficulties in academics or in PE that you can't seem to overcome. When you have a teacher who seems to have a personal grudge against you. (Some of these have not happened to me. But I have drifted apart from friends. And many of my friends have moved away. I am lucky in being able to maintain contact with some of them. But I fear I might never see others ever again, except by some chance encounter. And what if I didn't recognize them? Because we had changed so much in our time apart?)

We still go to school anyways. (It is required by law, so I suppose it isn't much of a choice, but nevertheless...) We still take the good together with the bad. A few people do lose faith, lose hope, want to give up, try to end their lives so they can find an end to it all, have a chance at a fresh start. But as I heard in a school performance about puberty, "Suicide is a permanent solution to what may be only a temporary problem." And I suppose we all still have to keep struggling, keep living, reach out for the things we want, despite all those things that stand in the way, make you experience all the emotions you wished you would never feel again. I think it's something amazing, how there are still little things - and big things - that make it all worth it, that we can all bear our burdens for the sake of something precious.

I am getting awfully sidetracked. But then, that's not necessarily a bad thing. My history teacher was rambling about something that wasn't necessarily related to history, and then a student raised his hand to ask a question. The teacher said with a humph, "Great. You shouldn't interrupt me when I go off on a tangent. Now I feel like teaching again." At this point, we all groaned, since we preferred hearing interesting stories to getting an education. (I mean, hearing stories is a kind of education too, an education in life instead of just in academics.)

We didn't have much to do in science class at the end of the day, so a student said, "Hey, do you want to play Stump the Science Teacher"? The teacher asked how it was played. The student said that it was his goal to ask a question about any kind of science that the teacher would be unable to answer. He asked, "What is cement made up of?" The teacher said, "Well...What kind of cement are you talking about? Different grades of cement are used depending on the purpose. Do you mean our modern cement, or the kind that was made a long time ago in England?" and so on. I think it was more like the teacher stumped the student than the other way around.

Labels: are you smarter than a 5th grader, cement, change, daily, distraction, education, friends, game, life, loss, math, memory, pain, school, science, show, story, teacher, television, waste

Y'know, Andrew Jackson's name is very similar to the name of my favorite teacher...

Andrew Jackson was the 7th President of the United States.
A war hero, from the Battle of New Orleans and an invasion of Florida.
A husband and father, married to a woman named Rachel (very complicated situation regarding that, but never mind it for now).
The installer of the spoils system and Jacksonian democracy.
A person who tried to kill the National Bank.
(...If you're confused about this, look it up. Personally I recommend Wikipedia. XD)

And this is my retelling of his story. It is mostly made up, so do not take it seriously. It's just for fun, seeing as we haven't gotten to write fiction all year in school.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a boy. He was born to two people who were quite vocal about their opinions. Even at the age of five, he was already a mischievous, energetic boy who threw terrible tantrums when he didn't get his way. His family moved to a new town, which unfortunately did not welcome them. The town was a small one, set in its ways, fearing the changes that the outspoken, troublemaking family might bring, tried to drive them out. When the family stubbornly refused, a few particularly fearful townspeople encouraged others to help them burn down their house. Although the family managed to escape the fire alive, their home and farmland had been burned to the ground, the animals had disappeared, and they were all injured from the fire. Andrew's parents had been burned and were coughing heavily from the smoke that had entered their lungs, and they lived for a while, all of them in the wilderness, before they died.

Only Andrew was alive, and he was very weak and confused. This wasn't his first time facing death - truth be told, he actually spent time burning ants with a magnifying glass in his backyard (Oh! The horror!) - but he hadn't thought his parents would die on him. He didn't believe it at first. He poked them and tried to peel their eyes open and even screamed as loud as he could in their ears. But soon he was worn out and frustrated from his lack of success, and very hungry. He couldn't find anything to eat, besides mushrooms, which looked rather poisonous. Frustrated, he curled up in a ball on the ground, and fell into an uneasy sleep, accompanied only by his growling stomach.

While he was dozing, a few wolves came along, cautiously sniffing their way through the forest. Farmers often tried to shoot the wolves whenever they saw them, thinking the wolves would eat their livestock. The wolves smelled death, and followed it, but the meat did not look too appetizing. The two dead humans that the wolves discovered had all sorts of weird things on them, something that looked like a band with metal on it, and something on their feet that was hard and brown. The wolves smelled something living, too, and that was Andrew Jackson.

The wolves were faced with the decision of what to do with him.
1. Eat him (Not good...He didn't have much meat on him)
2. Leave him there (Not good either...He might scare away the other wildlife if he was left to his own devices)
3. Bring him with them (Not really that great either, but the wolves decided on that. They were curious to see what he would do.)

And so he was dragged along by the collar of his shirt to the wolves' den. The feeling of being pulled along on rocks and dirt woke him up, but he was still too tired to realize what was going on, and once he had been laid down on the ground, he went right back to sleeping.

He woke up later, feeling something poking him (it was a wolf prodding him with a paw), and sat up with a jolt. The wolves leaped backwards, startled. Andrew rubbed his eyes and studied his surroundings. He was lying in the shade of a tree, and there was a rocky outcropping nearby, under which the wolves lived, presumably. The wolves looked at him warily, wondering what the human boy would do now that he had been revived. Andrew realized his parents were nowhere to be seen, but then his stomach grumbled in protest, and he forgot about it.

Andrew noticed a dead deer, which had been killed by the wolves. He wasn't sure he'd be able to eat raw meat, so he tore at the deer until he had a hefty piece in his hand, and then left the area, looking for a fire or some other thing he could cook it with. One of the wolves almost chased after him, unhappy at the loss of food, but was stopped by his brethren. They decided that the human was probably leaving and would not be their problem anymore.

But that was not to be. Andrew Jackson soon trotted back, holding a stick on which the deer meat was skewered, and he was eating it with relish. He had poached some flint and managed to make a fire, and then roasted his meat campfire style. Jackson was already on the way to being a gourmet chef (but unfortunately, there was no TV at the time, and so he couldn't host his own cooking show).

Andrew's mind was much clearer now that food had quelled his hunger, and so he watched the wolves curiously. They, as well, stared back at him in interest. Andrew figured that if he seemed like one of them, he'd be able to interact with the wolves. He tried a howl, but it sounded terrible, because Andrew had never been a good singer. The wolves found this hilarious and began to bark in laughter.

Andrew began taking on the ways of the wolves, trying to become one of them. He would run with them, but he couldn't keep up, nor did he have the ability to hunt the way they did. He had to make do with traps he had devised, which could catch small prey. He slept with the wolves in their den now, and it was a cozy and pleasant time. Each day seemed fresh and new and exciting, and Andrew felt glad to be alive, for he enjoyed being in the outdoors, with so much freedom.

These days, however, were not to last. Years had passed, and by now Andrew was about ten years old. The wolves were relaxing after having eaten and Andrew was experimenting with his new idea for a food (he thought that perhaps he could create a sweet treat, a kind of fluffy white candy that could be cooked over a campfire, which he later called a "marshmallow") when they heard the sound of voices and feet stepping on brush. The wolves perked up, baring their teeth, and seeing their discomfort, Andrew put aside his primitive cooking utensils and hid himself as best he could.

The noise turned out to be from people, rugged men on horses with loaded guns and who chewed and spat and peered around with squinted eyes. The wolves were immediately alarmed. These men had probably come to exterminate them, as wolves were considered pests. The wolves had dealt with human guns in the past and knew just how deadly they could be. There was nothing to be done but to leave and run away until the men gave up chasing them.

Andrew couldn't keep up with the wolves, unfortunately, and the wolves were in too much of a rush to wait for him. Though he was a wiry and strong boy, he tripped over a tree root. Frustrated, he let out a yell and tried to break off the limb of a tree, but it only swung back and thwacked into his face. He could hear footsteps again; the hunters had heard him and realized that there was a person in the wilderness.

The wolf hunters came over to him, and one of them, a man with bushy eyebrows and a mustache that he could wiggle, said to him, "What's yourr name, son?"
Andrew could still understand English, but not very well. His brow furrowed in thought. But no matter how long he thought, he couldn't think of it. "Not know," he said to the man.
The man gave him a puzzled frown and conversed with his fellows before saying, "Well, where is your family, son?"
Andrew thought of saying the wolves were his family, but he figured the hunters would not take too well to it. In fact, they'd probably think he was lying and burst into hearty peals of laughter. Later they would probably talk about the funny boy they'd met when drinking in a pub.
"Not know. Maybe dead."
The men talked amongst themselves once more, and then the man got off his horse and lifted Andrew onto it. "We'll go to town, then. There's a family that might take ya." And off they went to the town just outside the woods, with Andrew looking back wistfully, having left behind the kitchen tools he'd just made.

Andrew Jackson had to get used to civilization again, and it was an uphill battle. He had never been formally schooled in his life and was illiterate. At first the other children made fun of him, but they soon learned that he had a short temper and settled all disputes with violence. Many a child had to stay home and recuperate from black eyes, broken noses, and all other sorts of scrapes and bruises. Andrew was sent to church over and over again to repent, but he would just slump over in a pew, stubborn and sullen as usual. The reverend took this to mean that Andrew was not willing to atone for his sins and apologize to God, and so Andrew Jackson earned the reputation of being "unchristian and unfit for civil life".

Jackson continued to be misunderstood by his peers, even as he grew to be an adult. He wasn't really such a mean person, but he had become bitter from all the things people had said and done to him, and so the boy he actually wanted to be, a quiet, happy boy living a peaceful life, had disappeared, covered by the self he showed to others, so frustrated and lonesome he had felt. One of the first people to sympathize with him was a woman named Rachel, who could understand that feeling of other people being so hard to deal with and how sometimes you just felt like running away from life.

Having lived away from people, Jackson needed a bit of help melting back into human culture, and Rachel suggested marriage. It was a human tradition to get married, after all. Jackson learned about Rachel's unhappy marriage and how her husband was saying he wanted to get a divorce, so they got married, since Rachel was the most reasonable choice for Andrew.

Jackson also learned that politics was the human thing to do. So he got into it, as well as war, though war was a dreadful thing. But he was still impulsive and made decisions like taking over Florida (wanted to try the orange juice, and he was forbidden by Spain to take any).

Then he was shocked by the death of Rachel. This was the first death he could really remember. At least his parents had died long, long ago, and he couldn't remember too much of it. But now, here was his best friend of more than thirty years dying on him. Andrew forgot about all that he'd been working on and let his inner anger take over. That boy who had been wild, partying and playing games when he was supposed to be studying to be a lawyer, came back, after he'd spent so much time crushing it down. And after he avenged Rachel, by kicking out everyone he thought was to blame for her death, he still felt empty inside. And he went on to get rid of the Native Americans and the National Bank.

But it was never enough. And it never would be.

(Ugh...This story didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. I got too confused because I would stop and starting writing it once in a while. Oh yeah, and I'll be gone from March 7th-12th, so don't expect to hear anything from me in the meantime)

Labels: andrew jackson, anger management, church, death, education, family, fiction, florida, horse, hunters, marshmallow, meat, politics, rachel, revenge, story, violent, war, wilderness, wolves

This is a valuable lesson that I learned today from my teacher. It ought to be the new Golden Rule. (Well, not really. I'm not all that fond of cars because I get carsick. But that's besides the point.)

More than ten years ago, a young man (my teacher) was going to a place called Jake's to meet up with his friends. He was sitting on the roof of his car when a Ferrari came into the parking lot. Back then, a Ferrari was quite expensive (and still is), $150,000 or something. My teacher and his friends stared at the car, drooling. It was red and sleek, and was shiny, like it was polished often (which is quite a feat, since it's harder for things to look shiny in the nighttime than in the daytime). They couldn't decide whether to go inside Jake's or not. They were hungry, but if they went inside, they wouldn't be able to see the Ferrari anymore. After a few minutes, an old lady stepped out of the car.

"Hello, boys," said the lady.
"........Uh, hello," said my teacher and his friends.
"My husband died recently. I'm getting ready to sell it," remarked the old lady (regarding the Ferrari).
"Oh, what, really?!" At this point, my teacher is rummaging in his pockets for money (though he wouldn't be able to afford the Ferrari anyways).

Later, the old lady gets back into the car. She accelerates a little.
"Awww..." go the boys/young men/whatever you call them. (Just like a kitten's purr, so says my teacher)
Accelerated again. "Ohhhh...."
Went in reverse. "Ooohhh..."
My teacher offers, "Will you be alright? I'll drive you home." (Doesn't matter to him that he'd have to walk home after all, he just wants to be in a Ferrari, something he probably never got to do before)
"Nah, I'll be fine." The old lady drove off...Out of my teacher's life forever.

My teacher then said to us, "Don't let widows wreck nice cars. And treat your car nicely."

Anyways, speaking of cars, I was given some advice about how to skimp on car insurance. You have to pay more for car insurance if you get into lots of accidents. I was told that you should get your license when you're sixteen, and then wait two years or something until you actually get a car. Then when you get car insurance it'll look like you're a safe driver because you didn't get into any accidents for two years. (Obviously, if the folks who work for insurance companies figure this out, they might get suspicious, but oh well. Thought I'd let you know.)

I've always complained about not having life insurance to my parents, but in reality, it's probably better that I don't have it. For one thing, I'm young, so the chances of my dying are lower than those for an older person. And also, some people can't use money that results of a death. (Though there are quite a few people who say, "Well, money is money!" and there are even those who kill people on purpose to get ahold of inheritance money) I wonder if my parents would be willing to spend money they received if I was insured and I died. Would it pain them too much to use money which my life had been the price for? And if you had a dog, for instance, and it died, and you got money as compensation, would you be too pained by the loss of your dog to touch the money? Or would you move on, and put the money to good use?

While I'm on the topic of cash, my school district often doesn't have enough money. One of my teachers complained, "They want us to teach differently, in the 21st century, but they don't give us the money to do it. In fact, they take away money." I know it can't really be helped, because California is a state in debt (as is the whole US of A), but it's annoying. Most of the people who make decisions are not students anymore themselves, so it doesn't really matter to them if they take away the money for schools, even if children are the future. (Yeah, I know, school is mostly based on memorization anyways, but still. It's worthwhile to go to school.) If only, if only, there was something that could be done about it. Money is what makes the world go round but it is also what stops it from going round. D:

Labels: california, car, death, debt, ferrari, future, inheritance, insurance, jake's, life, money, problem, school, story, united states of america, world

TODAY'S ICON BROUGHT TO YOU BY: mermaidsss.blog.cz

It's not quite the middle of November currently, but it isn't the middle of autumn anymore, and it's certainly not the middle of the summer. So I had to put November in, to make this title feasible.

On Tuesday night, I had a dream. I hadn't been remembering my dreams for a while, so it certainly did catch my attention. The dream's beginning, unfortunately, I seem to have forgotten. However, after a certain point, I do remember the dream... Earlier, I had seen a very nice dog, and I wanted to keep it, but my dad had said I couldn't. Then, I remember I was at my school, or at least a place that looked like my school. I noticed an automobile, a bit like an ice cream truck or something (though I have never actually seen an ice cream truck) coming. In the car were two people, and one of them appeared Asian. For some reason I thought it was one of my favorite musicians, Yuuki Aira, but it wasn't, much to my disappointment. The two women got out of the car and started running down the sidewalk in my school, pushing strollers. Then the one who I mistook for Yuuki Aira bent down to do something, tie her shoelace or whatever, and then I noticed the dog I had seen earlier. It was on the other side of the sidewalk (I was standing on the grass field at the time). The dog was near some bushes. (Which is weird, there are no bushes in that part of the school) So I went over and hugged the dog. My parents were not around to spoil it. But then the two women were getting away. For some reason I felt like I had to chase them. My dad popped out from some place or another (I know he was there but I never saw his face) and we both got onto bikes. I had to hold the dog too since I was taking it with me. We started peddling to follow the women. We went onto a highway. For some reason our bikes went 100 miles an hour. I recall being worried about getting in trouble for speeding. We went pretty far and I think for some reason I was in Palo Alto, pretty close to Stanford University. (Then I woke up.)

It was a very random dream. I don't really know if there was any meaning to it. But I do suspect my brain could be reminding me of my desire to have a dog. I have been asking to have one for years and years. My mother once said (jokingly perhaps?) that if I quit using the computer except for school research, then I could have a dog, assuming I would feed it and walk it and things like that. Back then I was very reluctant to actually go through with a deal like that, so I decided I would have to survive without a dog for a while longer. Now that the things that previously interested me are either nonexistent or I don't have time for them, I'm started to consider it again. I wonder if I would really be able to have a dog, though. What if it's just a ploy to get me off the computer?

My father just told me about someone else he knows who had a daughter who kept asking for a dog. The father finally said, "Look, if you raise a hamster for a year, and you clean its cage and take care of it, then we will let you have a dog." They got her a hamster...She cleaned the cage once, and never again. So her father said, "Then you can't have a dog, unless you prove yourself responsible enough." The girl said in response, "If it were a dog, then I would take care of it!" Some folks like their hamsters, but a hamster is nothing like a dog. (For one thing, hamsters, unfortunately, can only live a year or two, whereas dogs can live to the double digits depending on their size) Still, I know, a dog is a living being, and if you can't take of him/her, that's going to be a problem.

I've been thinking lately if I should write some other stories. I had started to write a story because I had some ideas of things I wanted to write about, but since those ideas would take place a lot later in the story (imagining that the story is a hundred pages or more! Very long. I intend to write a book someday), my interest kind of tapered off. Maybe I should write about myself. I can write about myself on my blog, but everyone has their secrets, and you know, you can't be exposing things on the Internet. You never know who's out there. It's like a commercial I saw once, "The Internet is like the ocean. Sometimes it can be safe and other times it can be very dangerous," or something like that.

Labels: a midsummer night's dream, bike, chase, computer, dog, dream, hamster, highway, internet, november, palo alto, responsibility, sacrifice, stanford, story, stroller, trial, truck, wish, yuuki aira

I think I became a scratching post for cats last weekend or something. Let me start with a bit of explanation.

Lately my dad and I have been going biking once a week, for the purpose of exercise and some good ol' fresh air. Can't do wrong with it. (Unless, of course, you live somewhere very polluted, like China; then maybe you're better off not breathing...) We paid a visit to Hoover Park in my town. I've been there before, but I usually took a different route to get there. You can get to the park by going to the very end of my street and getting to the railroad by finding a gap in the fence. Then, cross the railroad and go up and you'll get to the park. My mom doesn't want me to go in that way since a train could suddenly come, or whatever. Just like this problem about a guy named Bobo that I did last year in math class. (I don't know if this is a true entrance to the park or if someone unofficially made it) The main way to get the park, though, is to go to a different street, and to the very end, and there's the actual sign that says the park name and such.

When we were heading back from the park, I noticed a black and white cat wandering around and so I got off my back. I watched the cat for a while and decided to whip out my camera, which I had conveniently brought should I have a good photo opportunity on the bike ride. I tried to take pictures of the cat, but whenever I thought I had a good position, it (I wasn't sure whether it was male or female, I guess my knowledge of animal genders is rudimentary) kept turning and walking toward me. At first I thought it was going to attack me, perhaps (I know that's far-fetched, but cats don't like me too much. My dad's friend's cat tries to hide its face when she sees me, and another time there was a cat, the cat of my mom's friends, but it was a lazy sort that didn't like people) but then, when it was about to collide with my legs, it would swerve just a bit to the side, so instead it brushed against my pants. My dad said that the cat couldn't reach an itch and so was using me to fulfill that purpose. D: How offensive to be made into a scratching post!

Anyhow, today, one of my friends showed me her Chinese book. She doesn't study Mandarin at school, but she does go to Chinese school, I believe. I am glad that I'm not in Chinese school. Only very recently did my mom tell me one of the reasons why. One reason was apparently because of my dad - he says that he convinced my mom it was not a good idea, though I have no idea if that's true, considering it's my dad. The reason my mom told me had to do with behavior. She said that different cultures can have different views on things, and different ways of doing things. And, well, according to my mom, I was actually in Chinese school for a short time. Apparently there was a woman who needed to pick some other kids and me up to take us to Chinese school. My mom says that the woman was in a rush and she pulled me along too quickly, so I fell and hurt myself. And my mom decided to take me out of Chinese school. So, I guess a good thing resulted of a bad thing. :p

Back to the Chinese book before I forget what I'm supposed to be talking about. To practice for her test, my friend read me a story from her book. It was a strange story. The main character was a guy who had only one eye, no arms, and I think he was missing a leg too. And he had holes in his mouth because he had to write and draw with his mouth (putting a paintbrush in his mouth or something, seeing as he didn't have hands). Then there was another story which she started to read (but she was interrupted by the bell ending brunch) which was about a girl who had only half a brain, or something like that, and she had to get a surgery, and she liked to play sports... (Which I, surprisingly, could understand by hearing my friend read it - I mean, the part about the character liking to play sports) And apparently she got seizures or something. What kind of things do they teach you in Mandarin?! Sounds pretty vicious to me, but my friend says they just write strange stories to make it more interesting. -_-;;

Labels: bike, camera, cat, chinese, chinese school, culture, disability, entrance, injury, itchy, mandarin, missing limbs, movement, park, railroad, rush, scratching post, seizure, story, street

This is apparently a phrase from the famous story The Three Little Pigs. (I may not have gotten it down exactly right.) I had a similar experience to this recently.

On Tuesday, where I live, there was some surprisingly stormy weather. It rained and poured until nighttime. I hadn't brought my umbrella, nor had I brought my raincoat, and so my not-so-waterproof jacket was my only protection. The rain started to become a hassle because my shoes weren't so waterproof either, and so my socks became soaked. It's a good thing that a teacher had her classroom open and I went indoors to eat my lunch.

Come fifth period, multiple kids were drenched from having to go through the rain to get to the classroom. The math classroom is a "portable", I think, since it has a ramp and the ceiling is not so high and such. And whenever someone stomps you can feel the room shake a little bit because it's not as steady as the "actual classrooms". (But schools still insist on having these "portable classrooms" for some reason) We were being punished for talking too much - for some reason, my math class has a lot of people, and so it is even louder - and we were not allowed to speak to each other. It was eerily quiet in the classroom, except for one sound...The sound of the wind. The wind was beating very hard on the classroom and it sounded like we would be blown in, like the Three Little Pigs' houses, but nope, it didn't happen. In fact, the teacher never even looked up. I guess not much can faze him.

PE was canceled that day because it was far too rainy. We were all hustled into the gym, which was muddy too (it being the last period of the day, and many shoes having already been in and out). We watched some Comcast Sportsnet videos, which were showing the "science behind sports". Apparently a golf ball can go farther if it is warm than if it is cold. So, couldn't you become better at hitting long distance by simply incubating your golf ball and then hitting it? (Though why you would incubate golf balls, instead of incubating chicken eggs like you should, is beyond me)

Does good handwriting matter a lot in life? My math teacher always stresses that we need to work at having neat handwriting. He said that sloppy handwriting is NOT a "style" of handwriting, and that teachers grade less harshly when you have good handwriting. "And don't go running to your parents saying how unfair it is! That's life! That's HUMAN NATURE!" he'd say. "If you have messy handwriting, then I have the urge to pick it apart for mistakes. I might overlook a mistake or be more lenient if you have good handwriting." I am going to try and work on mine. I think it is legible, but someone said I didn't "write like a girl". That's so sexist. Not all people write the same. I even hold my pencil differently. D: I started holding my pencil that way when I was young and I don't think someone corrected me, so now I'm stuck that way since I feel awkward if I hold pens and pencils the way almost everyone does.

Nowadays I sometimes draw things with pencil, then scan it, and color it in with the most basic of GIMP brushes (in other words, plain old circle brushes which come with GIMP when you download it). It's always so messy, though. In fact, I think my drawings might look better in black and white... o_O;; I've heard of something called Copic markers and I've been curious to see what they are. Does anyone have them, by any chance?

Labels: art, classroom, colors, copic, drawing, fantasy golf, gimp, handwriting, human nature, incubate, life, markers, pencil, portable, rain, storm, story, three little pigs, weather, windy

(NOTE: DON'T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY. I HAVE CHANGED THE NAMES FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR PRIVACY)

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Australia, lived a man named Peter Pan, and a lady named...uh...Untitled. (Because I don't know her name) They lived in a grand house called Versailles. (Okay, so I haven't been there and I wouldn't know what it looks like. But bear with me.) It was glorious, with statues of angels, a maze made entirely out of rectangular green shrubs, many balconies, and even the occasional rubber chicken.

But Peter Pan had a dastardly, devilish, selfish, wicked, oh-so-horrible secret: He had more than one wife. In fact, in another faraway land called China (otherwise known as "Cathay") he had other wives. (Well, he's either divorced from them or was not "officially" married) And he had children that contained genes from the other wives. Untitled had no idea about this, so she skipping along, making daisy chains and singing American Idol karaoke.

And then a most dreadful event happened to Peter Pan and Untitled. Peter Pan did business for a living, and when he had profited he had made enough cash to purchase a house such as Versailles. Now, though, his business had failed and he had lost so much money he was forced to sell his precious Versailles. Untitled still stuck with Peter Pan despite the fact that they would now be moving to a more ordinary apartment.

I believe Peter Pan to be a weak-minded sort of person. Because of this misfortune, Peter Pan was sinking into depression, and he had thoughts of committing suicide. If he had done so, what would have happened to his wives and his children? Terribly unthoughtful of him to just think of himself and not his family. (Well, maybe he did think of his family but I don't know how to read minds, so...) And thus ends the tale of Peter Pan, Untitled, and the house called Versailles.

Actually, there is someone who lived in a neighborhood called Doublebay in Sydney, Australia, but I really shouldn't say any more than that for privacy's sake. I mean I've already probably destroyed people's relationships just by putting this up. So just consider my story of Peter Pan and Untitled as fiction, like it's meant to be. Hehehehe.

I was meaning to post this a lot earlier but recently my Internet is not reliable. It might last for, say, fifteen minutes before it gets ruined and then I have to unplug my router and wait a few minutes, then plug it back in and hopefully it'll work then. It's a real hassle so we might have to get a new router...We took out of one of our old routers so now it's working smoothly, and I was able to post this.

Labels: australia, bad news, business, children, china, depression, house, internet, money, peter pan, polygamy, problem, responsibility, rich, secret, story, suicide, untitled, versailles, wife

When people say that, they usually mean that there are a variety of ideas and cultures and races in the United States of America. But in this case I am taking the phrase more literally. Right now, it is extremely hot outside. Sitting in the car makes you feel as if you're a cookie baking in an oven. It's a relief that we've gotten our Saturday schedule over with. (A typical Saturday for me is waking up, being lazy for a while, then we go to two libraries, maybe go shopping or eat at a restaurant) Now I'm just at home sitting in a rolling chair, with the ceiling fan on. (Because apparently the air conditioning uses more energy...So it's better to use the fan if you're just in one room)

Recently while I was at the San Jose Library - Calabazas Branch, I discovered another section of books that I never before tried to exploit. It's called the Young Adult section and it has some mangas, along with a bunch of novels. This section seems pretty popular even with children, mostly because of the manga, though there are some people perusing the books that aren't just mostly made up of pictures. I never cease to be astounded by how many books are about some cheesy high school romance or something like that. The adult section is not much better - mostly murder mysteries, or books about people falling in love in an unlikely way. Blah, blah, blah.

So far I have not gotten very far on the story/book I am writing (I am not sure how long it will be when I am finished). It's possible I could change the names or add more characters or remove characters or change the plot. Mostly I am wondering what in the world I should name the book. (A hint is that this is not a fantasy or sci-fi book, it is more like a modern day sort of "real life" fiction. The main character is currently supposed to be around 13 or 14 but I could change it) If you have a good suggestion, I'd really like to hear it, since I don't want to call it something really lame. My previous writings have rather odd titles, like The Factor of the Opera, Diary of a Dolphin, and The Timeline of the Ancient Immovables. (I may have incorrectly recalled the last name)

My mom seems to have a strange way of dealing with problems. Since she is a rather assertive and self-assured person, she sees nothing wrong with complaining about something she finds inconvenient or pulling on someone's hair. I am seriously considering cutting my hair so she has less of it to pull on. Since I usually have my hair in a ponytail, if she's mad, she'll yank on it, which I don't think is very nice. Other times she does what you'd call "boxing ears". I am concerned that this violent approach may get out of hand and she'll land herself in trouble with the authorities. (I notice that she rarely hits me or her husband in public)

Labels: adult, books, heat, library, manga, melt, mom, name, pulling hair, romance, saturday, story, violent, weather, writing, young adult

Well, that would sure be useful. For one thing, it would extend my summer vacation (I think the summer vacation is 10 weeks, something like that) and it would give me more time to get things done. But probably having more hours in a day - but not needing more sleep - would be more helpful. Even if it's the summer I don't really feel laid-back. True, I am watching a lot more TV lately but the main purpose of that is to have sound in the house. It's way too quiet if you're here by yourself.

Just the other day I went to my piano teacher's apartment for a recording session. It was my bad luck that I woke up around 9 pm only on Thursday (usually I wake up around 8 pm. I guess I'm either too used to school or the sun wakes me up). My piano teacher's apartment is a pretty nice place. I like the way the apartments look, the top ones being painted a lighter color than the bottom ones (they're only two stories high) even if the wood siding usually bothers me. But in this case it looks just find. (Mostly I prefer stucco on the walls) There's a pretty good pool and one jacuzzi/spa, and there's flowers planted around the sign with the name of the apartments. Also, there's a lot of grass and big trees.

It may or may not surprise you that I want to live in an apartment someday. My parents thought I was crazy - I mean, a lot of people wish they could own a house but they don't have enough savings or the bank won't let them have a mortgage, and such. But I think it would be kind of cool. I mean, you have neighbors so close to you - I barely talk to mine except for that one time I got locked out of my house (let's not get into that, at least not right now). And if you have a nice apartment you'll have access to a pool and you can easily get help if you set your apartment on fire or something. I know this since one time my dad accidentally set his home on fire, back in Shanghai, his hometown, but a neighbor dumped a bucket of water on it and put it out.

I especially have my eye on property near the local library. There are townhouses and condos there, some are pink and the others are kind of yellowish creamish. I would like to have one of those, especially if it has a nice, glass door. I just love doors with glass in them. It's a convenient location, too. You have access to restaurants like Curry House (a Japanese restaurant with curry and spaghetti and weird things like tofu cheesecake), Amici's Pizzeria (nice pizza, and nice restaurant too), and Red Mango (a great frozen yogurt shop). Not only that, but the library is very near by, which is very useful for people who go to the library a lot.

I've recently had inspiration to write a story, and I had better write it down before I lose the idea and never remember it ever again. Should I type it up, by using something like Microsoft Word (or even this blog could be a place to write), or should I use a notebook? I have plenty of notebooks and it is easy to get more of them, so that won't be a problem. And it's a lot easier to carry around a notebook than having to lug around a laptop. But my hand always hurts if I write too much. I wonder which would be better.

Labels: apartment, condo, convenient, laptop, library, notebook, piano, record, restaurant, story, swimming pool, television, time, townhouse, vacation

...That can only be cured by gold! Okay, sorry, I'm not Cortes or one of those Spanish explorers who tried to get gold from American natives, but oh well. I thought this was suitable seeing as one of my friends said our history teacher wasn't at school because he had a disease of the heart. "Actually, he wanted to see his daughter's school play," she later said. And for a moment I was getting excited, what a bummer - er, what a relief. We don't want any teachers dying. (Like that time Mr. Blair was all sad and serious and said that when you teach for many years you see teachers dying. Luckily, usually it's just the old ones, but sometimes teachers die of sickness.)

Today we did some dissection in class. It was just flowers, though I was very thrilled to be handling what looked like a small knife. Mr. Brown warned us that if we played with the scalpels we would be sent to the Principal's office and later expelled since scalpels are dangerous enough to fall under the Zero Tolerance rule. So are scissors, according to our school planner's rules section, but I still bring them anyways. XD You have to come prepared...right?

More about the scalpels. Mine had some strange brownish things on it. I thought it was bread since Mr. Brown eats in class so maybe he was cutting bread with it. However, Mr. Brown said, "Don't mind the frog guts, these scalpels used to be used to dissect frogs and pigs." Yikes. They always say the frogs died of natural causes but it seems more likely they were killed for the sake of school. After all, last time I went to Hawaii we saw some dead frogs on the road, which had apparently been run over by cars. Ouch.

My backpack, as well, is a lethal object. Though it may seem like a regular rolling backpack it is actually a bodyguard of sorts in disguise. If someone ever tried to cut me in the lunch line, I think I could try to accidentally run over their foot with the wheels or hit them in the ribs with the handle. And oftentimes when I'm walking in the hallways, if people try to get past me they have to face my backpack. They end up being shoved against other people or tripping. This is my way of teaching the lesson of personal space. :o But I suppose if I ever had children they wouldn't like being smacked by a backpack just to "teach them manners".

This morning I woke up and couldn't breathe through my nose, so I got a tissue and tried to clear it up. Instead I got a nosebleed. -_-;; What a nice reason to get up early. It bled a whole a lot and for a while but I went back to bed with some paper stuck in my nose and finally it stopped. I don't get nosebleeds as much as I did when I was in elementary school, but still quite a lot, especially when the weather is dry. I guess that will never change. I just hope I won't get skin cancer or something due to my multitude of health problems.

I've been thinking of doing some updates to my blog, like changing the layout (it's been here a few months by now, I think) and also adding things to my posts. For instance, I might teach something that I find interesting every time, or I would start writing a story. (I've been wanting to write a book of sorts for a while, but I don't have the patience nor the inspiration. Whenever I get a good idea it's a nighttime or at school and I can't just write it down on my desk or my pillow.)

Labels: backpack, blog, danger, death, dissect, flowers, frog guts, health, layout, lesson, nosebleed, revenge, scalpel, sickness, story, teacher

So, I was checking my grades this afternoon, because I was afraid that I wouldn't have a 4.0 GPA this trimester. (Not that it really matters, since GPA is kind of like STAR testing scores and only for parents' bragging rights, but I still like to have good scores if possible.) Anyhow, it turns out I did have all A's, and even a 100% in language arts. People said that I probably had a 100% in language arts, though I never expected such a thing to be true. Well, that's a great relief to me, at least. A lot of people like to put pressure on me. x_x

Right now I'm watching the anime Gakuen Alice. It seems rather childish, but still entertaining nonetheless. One of the characters started talking about Special Ability, which is shorted to SA...And that reminded me of an anime called Special A I heard about it, which is also a school-centered anime...Hmm. Wonder if there's any hidden connection or not.

Like how we were reading a short story called The Lady or the Tiger? in language arts class. It's about a king who is kind of barbaric and kind of civilized, and he has an arena kind of like the Gladiator arena. Anyhow, he uses it a little differently...People who are accused of crimes interesting enough to interest the king are put in the arena. There are two doors that look exactly the same. One has a tiger behind it, the other has a lady of about the same social rank and age of the criminal, and the lady is supposedly very pretty. If you open the lion door, you'll be eaten, but if you open the lady's door, you have to marry her (no matter what).

There was a special case. The king's daughter had a boyfriend who was good-looking and stuff, but he was a lower social class, so the king did not approve of the match. He had the man put into the arena. The king's daughter had bribed someone so she would know which door held the tiger, and which door had the lady. Her boyfriend was counting on her to let him know the door to open. The girl can't decide whether she'd have him die a quick and bloody death, or have him married to the lady behind the door. (This is hard because the king's daughter is jealous of the lady behind the door. She suspected her boyfriend of exchanging sly looks with that lady in the past.) In the end of the story, the ending is not told, so it's up to the reader to think whether it's the lady or the tiger...Thus the name of the story.

Mr. Blair has the beginnings of a beard right now. Apparently it's his tradition not to shave during the Yosemite trip so he looks "grizzled" when he comes back. I thought it was scary since I'm freaked out by facial hair in general. D: And of course, since he came back from Yosemite, he had to tell some funny but inappropriate stories.

Labels: anime, facial hair, gakuen alice, grades, mystery, story, the lady or the tiger, yosemite

At my house, we kind of have a problem. There's no way to use the home phones. Both of them (One is yellow with a cord, the other is a cordless, oldish kind) don't allow me to call anyone. It's kind of scary. (Luckily, we still have our cell phones, and all the electricity and Internet is functioning properly) My parents say some people will be coming over on Saturday to see if they can fix the problem. If it's a problem with the wires outside it's free, but if we did something wrong with what's inside, the bill's on us.

I forgot to post the cooking schedule earlier and I couldn't find the time to post...Sorry folks. I was busy working on my factoring story. It is coming along okay since I type some during school, too. The problem is, I have no pictures in the whole story except for the cover (Must find some or draw some) and I haven't gotten past the climax yet. (We have to do all the parts of the "plot line" - exposition, rising action, turning point, climax, falling action, and resolution)

Anyhow, back to the cooking. On Wednesday we were talking about factory farming. It's like a small space is used to raise many, many animals. It's a terrible life since the animals will be separated from their families practically from birth and will be fed antibiotics. Bleck! (Cows have dead, mashed up cows in their food. It's disgusting, since cows are vegetarians. Oh, and pigs have their snouts bashed in before being killed since the pain will keep them from struggling.) So we were encouraged to choose small family farms or organic farms since they are at least better than factory farms. (Even if it's says "Cage-free" on the boxes of chicken eggs, that just means there is no cage. That's all)

Thursday was roll-up sandwiches. Each little kitchen received a big tortilla. Some of the tortillas had mold on them and Mrs. Fromm had to give us a new one. Then we mixed cream cheese and ranch dressing to make a kind of spread. It not only adds flavor but will help the sandwich stay in the rolled position later on. We dropped the toppings (ham and turkey, cheese, leaves, and tomatoes) and rolled the sandwich up tightly. Then we cut it up into pieces. It was really cute. So cute that someone in my history class saw it and wanted the recipe.

Friday, today, we did two-tone smoothies. Unfortunately, when Mrs. Fromm went shopping, she couldn't find any mangos. So she had to use mango juice. That's different since it changes the way the smoothie turns out, and mangos work better since you also make a strawberry smoothie which goes on top/bottom of the mango smoothie. (I would show you a picture of the finished product but I am having trouble finding one.) So our smoothies kind of got mixed together, but oh well. The taste, not the looks, is what matters, right? (Not always. But that's a different story.)

The weather has taken a turn for the worse. It was raining on and off all day. When school ended it was really starting to pour. Luckily my dad made it home from work early and managed to pick me up. I am getting sick of basketball in PE because not only are we learning a strange new style of chucking the ball, whenever I dribble, muddy water gets all over my hands.

At the top to the left is the "icon" of the day. Ho-hum. I hope whoever owns them doesn't mind.

Labels: animals, basketball, cooking, factory farm, homework, icon, phone, roll up sandwich, story, torture, two tone smoothie, weather

I'm having pain in the area near my digestive system. Not quite, but a little below it. (This is something females have a better time relating to if you know what I mean. So don't read this paragraph otherwise.) And I had a lot of blood today, so my mom and I freaked out and went to see a doctor. Turns out it was normal because I'm getting older and I shouldn't panic so much. (But still...I was bleeding a lot. Not because I was injured or anything. But it was much more than usual.)

Anyhow, though, I should talk about something better. When I went to school today I was still upset but I almost smiled since there was this guy with a dolphin rubber toy. It was really long and thin. He would carry it around while wearing his pajamas and making excellent dolphin noises. (It's hard to impress me but I thought his dolphin imitation was fairly accurate.) I actually saw many more people dressed up for the day than I'd expected. So for once I felt a little bad about not dressing up. (But due to my explosion today it was a good thing I didn't wear my pajamas because the blood would totally have shown even worse.) And I feel bad about not bringing a stuffed animal, too, because my friends attacked me with theirs. Some friends! But bringing a stuffed animal would've made me feel better, anyhow.

I had a total of two substitute teachers today. I had a sub for cooking class, which was a shame because that means we didn't have the chance to cook today. We had to do these weird worksheets where you label different cooking utensils. Then I did one of those puzzles...I think it was called a word search. You know, when you have a word bank and look for the words, then circle them. It was pretty easy at first but then I realized some of the words were backwards diagonal which is more confusing. D:

Anyhow, the other substitute was a guy I recognized, Mr. H I shall call him, who was subbing for language arts. My usual teacher, Mrs. Jackson, was out sick. Mr. H is a great teacher; I've had him in past years. He is retired, but gets bored, so he works as a substitute teacher. He tells great stories, like how a guy was shot in the foot when someone thought of a question to ask, but was holding a loaded gun...And how he was playing with his sister and accidentally shot her with a BB gun because they were pretending to do a circus trick. (For some reason several stories are related to guns. Don't ask me why.)

Labels: day, dolphin, female, gun, story, teacher, toy

Earlier, on the weekend, I was kind of upset at seeing the state of my lawn. Apparently since my dad's friend was housesitting but didn't flush the 'shrooms out, a lot has happened to the grass during our absence. Mushrooms are over the place. Some are fat white ones, most of which my dad had removed. Others are newer. For instance, the little blackish-brownish ones. They're cute, but they're taking the nutrients that the grass needs. D: We're not trying to grow a mushroom garden. I bet Mr. Brown (crazed science teacher) would be better at dealing with it.

Which reminds me, Mr. Brown really is crazy. Like today in the class. We were supposed to be studying cell reproduction under a microscope. But then since people saw his desktop background, which is some dead scorpions on a rock, he ended up telling his scorpion story. He showed us pictures, and told us about a trip to...South America, I think it was. (Mr. Brown says teachers get more free time during the summer than other working folks so he can go on longer vacations.) First he said something about capital cities often being lame and ugly, then he showed us photos of volcanos, lakes, and the bungalows which you can rent out. Apparently they have solar-powered hot water, "outdoor bathrooms", and environmentally friendly houses. So that's cool. (The outdoor bathrooms, by the way, is really you can take a shower outside by pulling something and a veil will fall around you so you can shower outdoors. I thought that was weird.) And he also said he was reading in the evening when he saw a spider.

Mr. Brown is by no means scared of spiders, but it had fangs on it, and it was pretty big. Fangs are dangerous since they might have venom or something. So he went and smacked it with something to kill it.

Then he was about to go back to reading when he saw a scorpion. He took a picture first (which was a bit blurry/shaky because it was a close-up, and when the camera zooms in you go "Whoa!" sometimes), then killed it. He saw more scorpions, which he killed and tossed outside. Finally he killed what was supposedly all of them (his fiancée didn't like the scorpions). The next morning he gathered up some of the dead ones and took a photo of that. So that's what inspired his desktop background.

- - - - - - - - _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

...That aside, I had a weird dream last night. Most of it I don't remember any longer. I do know my dad was there (a surprise, since my family usually isn't in my dreams). We were on this ship of sorts. There were several "waiting rooms" on each side of it. You were supposed to sit there while the ship sailed to wherever we were going. I think we were somewhere in California. Anyhow, the waiting room we were in was really crowded. Not much places to sit left. So I wanted to go to the one on the other side that had extra space. But the ship was shaking and it was too dangerous.

My dad went away for some reason or other. I got bored and went out of the waiting room since it was shaking less now. I went and explored the place. I know I went to the ship bathroom for some reason. (I don't remember much about that.) Then I went outside, carrying some of my stuffed animals. o_O I sat down at a place in front of these...platforms protruding from the ship. Apparently you could go onto this platforms. Maybe for a better view or if you wanted to dive off the boat.

I was sitting and relaxing in front of the platforms (there were benches along the sides of the boat) with some other passengers when the weather all of a sudden got stormy. (Despite this, the traffic lights on top of the platforms still showed a green light, which meant you were allowed to get onto the platforms) A huge whirlpool came out of nowhere and started forming, pretty close to the boat. Maybe it was a hurricane or typhoon or something. I got freaked out and made sure my stuffed animals didn't fall off the boat. The whirlpool seemed to stand up in a way, and roll to the left slowly like a wheel. Then the whirlpool broke apart and turned into regular water. The storm clouds disappeared and the California sunshine was back.

I woke up soon after and don't remember the rest of my dream except my dad, steaming mad, found me, and scolded me for wandering off. That was really the strangest dream so far. I don't understand what it means, but it could be discouraging me to go on a cruise ship in Europe...Despite how confusing dreams are, they actually have great meaning.

Labels: boat, critters, dream, family, fungus, leisure, mental, mushrooms, ocean, story, teacher, vermin, weather

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