godream: (Default)
Okay, so an informal poll has concluded that nobody actually gets what terms such as "date" mean. And both girls and guys are always complaining about how completely bewildering the opposite sex is. So here's the solution.

Elementary, my dear Watson! )
godream: (Default)
Donuts and navel gazing -- admitted I've no skill at it, not towards my own or others'. But later like a good night: "pride and guilt," I laugh, there's nothing to it. That's where I come from; there's not much else.

Is this only news to me?
godream: (Default)
I put in my last few hours at the library yesterday; my last day working at L-S was last week. Obviously I'm not a high schooler anymore, but I can't think of myself as a college student yet either, in spite of my and my parents' hard-earned cash already heading towards Cambridge. Kind of funny how much of my self-image is wrapped up in just a couple sentences.

Can you see this going somewhere depressing? Yeah, me too. So I'll opt for cynical instead: this is eerily familiar from earlier this summer. Stupid asset tags. :P
godream: (Default)
I spent most of yesterday utterly convinced at some deep level that it was Friday, so I'm not quite sure what I'm doing at school today.

It's been possibly the most low-key Valentine's Day I've seen in high school, which may have something to do with it not actually being Valentine's Day, but rather the last school day before it. No candy grams, no roses, no ridiculous quantities of red and pink walking around the school. That sounds vaguely bitter, but it's not. Just an observation. Anyways, it's making it difficult to summon up the quantities of angst necessary for my annual v-day poem. *sigh* My life is full of trials, I tell you.

So today during creative writing class the teacher sent us out on a ten-minute hall wander in search of inspiration & story starters. I strolled down the hallway (what has that boy done to get kicked out of class?) and past the annex (whose apology is written on the Fountain sign and why?). Then I stood and stared out at a courtyard, where a subtle plaque declares the space "a quiet and enduring tribute to life", in memory of a young woman who would be fifty now, were she still alive. It also says the place was "designed by L-S students". And of all the people I passed and all the notes on signs and lockers and scraps of paper discarded on the flat carpet, I thought I'd most like to write about that. )

And of course I could ramble for ages, I could write that story right now, but I have to go try to fix my Towers of Hanoi program. Recursive algorithms are wicked cool but a pain in the neck to implement.
godream: (Default)
I was gonna grace all of you with the latest from my creative writing class, but, um, I gave my teacher my only copy of "Divorce: a fairy tale" with the fourth paragraph fixed so it doesn't suck. And I didn't save it anywhere, 'cause I'm smart like that. So you'll just have to wait. I know you're all crying inside. Don't get your hopes up -- I think the title's cooler than the rest of it. Except for this mildly cheesy apple pie metaphor that I am absurdly proud of 'cause it does that epic simile thing where you say Thing A is like Thing B when Thing B does X Y and Z so that it is like Thing A ... It made sense when my Latin teacher explained it that way, anyways.

Anyways -- I have the feeling that class is going to do better than any of my nanowrimo attempts to just force me to take pen to page, or more often fingers to keyboard, and write already. Which is great; I need to do that, and much as it pains me to admit it, I seem to need the goad of being graded to admit it. I blame senioritis. It's nice to have such an all-purpose excuse as that, it really is.

Speaking of grades and things I don't want to admit but nevertheless feel compulsed to discuss in this public environment: I find myself looking forwards to in college being a freshman again. I know, "what?! freshmen suck!" But think about it: if you get lost, if you don't know routines, if you fail to do something, it's okay, you're a freshman, you're expected to screw up once in a while. You're not expected to take charge and lead and know exactly what's going on. You can be passive and incompetent and it's fine because that's all anyone expects, really -- and then if you're not, it's unusual, remarkable, extraordinary! ... Actually, that's probably just high school, but it's a nice idea, isn't it? Freedom is low expectations. I really hope college people never ever see this. But if you're an admissions officer you should consider this merely philosophical discourse. Really.

Also, if you got a higher score than me on that penguin baseball thing, you should know that I hate you. Especially if it took you less than half an hour to do it. :P
godream: (lamp)
Or rather question of yesterday, except I was too tired to type it last night.

Say I walk up to you and say, "You know, it's been a rough day and I'm actually not all that sure if I really did wake up today. Would you do me a favor and prove I'm not dreaming?" After you get off the phone with the nice men in the white coats, while you're trying to persuade me to stay here till they come get me, how would you prove it?

And, um, for those of you who may have had your hopes up, I didn't intend this to be absurdly philosophical. I'm taking it as read that I didn't dream yesterday and the day before, that I am not a butterfly dreaming I am a (wo)man, and I'm not looking for "I think therefore I am", as neat a thought as that is. Nope, far more boring that that.

My thoughts went something like this. )

In other news, I can't believe they cut Scooter Girl from American Idol. *sobs* Most addictive show ever -- I've seen all of two episodes and I'm pretty sure I can't stop. I think it's because of the huge mind trip they've got all of the US on, where we stare at the screen and think "I could do that WAY better", and then we keep watching the show because of that lure of "It could be me" or even "It should be me". We keep watching it because it's such an accessible fantasy, because it's so easy for us to imagine ourselves in that role. ... Er, and everywhere I say "we" I probably mean "me."

And on that note... )
...Ha ha, 'note'. I need sleep now. Good night!
godream: (Default)
I love metaphors. Somehow, nine times out of ten, when I explain something it turns out to be "see, it's like this, because:". Linked lists are like treasure hunts, iterators are a kid following the clues. And when I talk I use my hands a lot -- I was explaining this afternoon to a teacher how come she had to save images to the web server, and somehow I couldn't without extravagant gestures. "You have to save here" -- points toward server room -- "as opposed to there" -- waving in general direction of math hall and pi server -- "because then all these people can see it" -- gesture encompassing the room, and the world at large -- "as opposed to just the math department." Hands together, small. ... That was actually the version with only the relevant gesticulation, there was about twice that much IRL.

And the thing is: look at me, I'm deep! or at least loquacious. )

So -- essay question: do I think like a poet or a programmer? (Or just another geek with too much time on her hands. Points will be deducted for choosing this answer.)

I just realized when I say metaphor half the time I mean simile. Feel free to interchange the two in your mind to try to make this ramble make sense. Or not.

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godream

August 2010

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