(no subject)
May. 3rd, 2004 09:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
godreamWhat made me think that with last week over everything would be smooth sailing from here on out?
Must sort out Fountain maybes and get Mr. Ray to xerox packets that will be about a zillion pages long. Must apologize profusely to Ms. E for being about to miss yet another computer department maintenance afternoon. She's going to kill me. Maybe I can offer to come in some other time?
Must make a final decision about the blankety blank AP exams. MIT gives you nothing for the AP Comp Sci AB, so there's little point to me taking it besides the possibility of this "AP Scholar" business, or possibly "AP Scholar with Honor", and they're more or less empty words, no money or anything (sheesh I'm crass), maybe good for getting into college but actually I'm set in that regard, so... I'd figured that I'd take it anyways, since I'd burnt the $82 on it, but it turns out one can get almost all of it back, less $13 or so. On the other hand I have this paranoia that MIT will be deeply angry for some reason if I don't take the exam, and my computer teacher will totally kill me if I don't take it. Argh.
I just went to apcentral.collegeboard.com to look up information about this AP business, and found a link to the College Board store. For a moment I had visions of t-shirts with the SAT logo, maybe bumper stickers, buttons with 770/760 on them or whatever. Turns out they just sell books about how to pass said exams, but it was a bizarre thought that I felt the need to share. Isn't your day just that much better for it?
Must catch up on creative writing stuff. Which reminds me, I have poetry I can put here now that the Fountain folks have seen it and said ridiculously flattering and way too nice things about it. (And also one or two weirdly insightful things that made me think either I am either deeper or shallower than I think I am.) Anyways -- the first you've seen the rough draft of, the second is shiny new,
Falling for a boy who smiles
isn't like me.
I wanted picture-perfect
teen angst poster boys,
angry sad goth poets
expressionless. Because passion touches too deep --
and suddenly I try to explain
why the quirk of an eyebrow
is a valid reason for anything,
let alone going places for one glimpse’s possibility.
And falling for a boy who smiles
isn't like anywhere I've been
(the places where the streets run straight
and the trees grow parallel
and the tears glisten with chlorine)
and it's not some fantasy landscape
(cold castle walls and swords,
wheels within wheels, hiding,
rapunzel playing hard-to-get)
no, it's a heart's velocity, airborne, a doppler effect as sirens
scale octaves of sheer helpless panic, and the blur of acceleration
while freefall rushes whines screams in ears and eyes and throat until you
stop
and then -- standing right here,
smiling, laughing,
still.
Sestina
Run time in reverse, watch letters go to words
and we’re all wearing white before we’re dyed.
Nothing’s wrong anymore
but to you that feels like less
you can’t explain what it’s like
tell me have we gone sour?
The milk’s turned sour
and I can’t read the words
on the side of the carton, a missing child like
the one who’s not behind your eyes. I dyed
eggs for Easter, but it’s less
like a holiday than an excuse not to be alone anymore.
Music isn’t harmony anymore
to you. Flats slide and sour
and I can’t help but hold the notes less,
further, don’t bother to enunciate words--
the spirit’s died,
the way you like.
I think once I used to say “like”
with immense significance. I don’t anymore
associating it with painted nails, temporarily dyed
hair, braids and giggles and imitating sour
adults who never understood us. Words
without memories weigh less.
It doesn’t mean I love you less
if I do things because I know you won’t like
them. But louder than my chimerical actions, hard words
tell us there’s not any more
future here. Left unattended, it’s gone sour,
like the taste before you brush your teeth, angry bright white dyed.
I needed a change, went to get my hair dyed
and you looked at me like I was less
for it, as if nothing should fix a day gone sour.
I guess I never understood what you were like --
“please,” I say, “let’s not have any more
words.”
Your smile’s gone sour, faded and dyed.
And I really think words should mean less;
after all, it’s not like we talk anymore.
I'm pretty proud of the latter, as structured poetry isn't my strongest point. The first -- I was totally going to take it out of the submission envelope, except it'd already been emptied, and I'm surprised and ecstatic it went over well.
What else? Study for BC Calc exam(s), maybe ask around about limo groups for the prom though I finally did get around to asking That Guy about all this stuff and it sounded like he was already planning to look into it. *g* I knew there was a reason I liked him. Shoot, and I have an aquatic bio project to do -- it's not so much that it's difficult or time-consuming as that motivation is absolutely zero. Figure out whether I'm going to take the physics C e&m. Come up with good senior pranks -- seriously, I have admin passwords and a master key, and I'm going next year to MIT, home of hacks, I'd feel guilty if I *didn't* do something. Figure out details of Fountain poetry reading. Plot layout for Fountain. And there is no way at all there'll be enough time Wednesday to do everything that needs to get done -- I'm definitely seeing myself hanging out in the annex Friday afternoon... but I'm not a loser, I'm just dedicated. Really.
Must sort out Fountain maybes and get Mr. Ray to xerox packets that will be about a zillion pages long. Must apologize profusely to Ms. E for being about to miss yet another computer department maintenance afternoon. She's going to kill me. Maybe I can offer to come in some other time?
Must make a final decision about the blankety blank AP exams. MIT gives you nothing for the AP Comp Sci AB, so there's little point to me taking it besides the possibility of this "AP Scholar" business, or possibly "AP Scholar with Honor", and they're more or less empty words, no money or anything (sheesh I'm crass), maybe good for getting into college but actually I'm set in that regard, so... I'd figured that I'd take it anyways, since I'd burnt the $82 on it, but it turns out one can get almost all of it back, less $13 or so. On the other hand I have this paranoia that MIT will be deeply angry for some reason if I don't take the exam, and my computer teacher will totally kill me if I don't take it. Argh.
I just went to apcentral.collegeboard.com to look up information about this AP business, and found a link to the College Board store. For a moment I had visions of t-shirts with the SAT logo, maybe bumper stickers, buttons with 770/760 on them or whatever. Turns out they just sell books about how to pass said exams, but it was a bizarre thought that I felt the need to share. Isn't your day just that much better for it?
Must catch up on creative writing stuff. Which reminds me, I have poetry I can put here now that the Fountain folks have seen it and said ridiculously flattering and way too nice things about it. (And also one or two weirdly insightful things that made me think either I am either deeper or shallower than I think I am.) Anyways -- the first you've seen the rough draft of, the second is shiny new,
Falling for a boy who smiles
isn't like me.
I wanted picture-perfect
teen angst poster boys,
angry sad goth poets
expressionless. Because passion touches too deep --
and suddenly I try to explain
why the quirk of an eyebrow
is a valid reason for anything,
let alone going places for one glimpse’s possibility.
And falling for a boy who smiles
isn't like anywhere I've been
(the places where the streets run straight
and the trees grow parallel
and the tears glisten with chlorine)
and it's not some fantasy landscape
(cold castle walls and swords,
wheels within wheels, hiding,
rapunzel playing hard-to-get)
no, it's a heart's velocity, airborne, a doppler effect as sirens
scale octaves of sheer helpless panic, and the blur of acceleration
while freefall rushes whines screams in ears and eyes and throat until you
stop
and then -- standing right here,
smiling, laughing,
still.
Sestina
Run time in reverse, watch letters go to words
and we’re all wearing white before we’re dyed.
Nothing’s wrong anymore
but to you that feels like less
you can’t explain what it’s like
tell me have we gone sour?
The milk’s turned sour
and I can’t read the words
on the side of the carton, a missing child like
the one who’s not behind your eyes. I dyed
eggs for Easter, but it’s less
like a holiday than an excuse not to be alone anymore.
Music isn’t harmony anymore
to you. Flats slide and sour
and I can’t help but hold the notes less,
further, don’t bother to enunciate words--
the spirit’s died,
the way you like.
I think once I used to say “like”
with immense significance. I don’t anymore
associating it with painted nails, temporarily dyed
hair, braids and giggles and imitating sour
adults who never understood us. Words
without memories weigh less.
It doesn’t mean I love you less
if I do things because I know you won’t like
them. But louder than my chimerical actions, hard words
tell us there’s not any more
future here. Left unattended, it’s gone sour,
like the taste before you brush your teeth, angry bright white dyed.
I needed a change, went to get my hair dyed
and you looked at me like I was less
for it, as if nothing should fix a day gone sour.
I guess I never understood what you were like --
“please,” I say, “let’s not have any more
words.”
Your smile’s gone sour, faded and dyed.
And I really think words should mean less;
after all, it’s not like we talk anymore.
I'm pretty proud of the latter, as structured poetry isn't my strongest point. The first -- I was totally going to take it out of the submission envelope, except it'd already been emptied, and I'm surprised and ecstatic it went over well.
What else? Study for BC Calc exam(s), maybe ask around about limo groups for the prom though I finally did get around to asking That Guy about all this stuff and it sounded like he was already planning to look into it. *g* I knew there was a reason I liked him. Shoot, and I have an aquatic bio project to do -- it's not so much that it's difficult or time-consuming as that motivation is absolutely zero. Figure out whether I'm going to take the physics C e&m. Come up with good senior pranks -- seriously, I have admin passwords and a master key, and I'm going next year to MIT, home of hacks, I'd feel guilty if I *didn't* do something. Figure out details of Fountain poetry reading. Plot layout for Fountain. And there is no way at all there'll be enough time Wednesday to do everything that needs to get done -- I'm definitely seeing myself hanging out in the annex Friday afternoon... but I'm not a loser, I'm just dedicated. Really.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 08:45 pm (UTC)Sour? Anymore? Less? Dyed/died? Interesting choice of words. :/
I'll let you know if I think of any pranks... I recall owning a pre-april-fools issue of MacAddict with some exciting ones... Jeremy would probably be a good person to talk to too.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-04 04:00 am (UTC)I don't think I'm gonna take the AB, regardless of Ms. Waldron's wrath. I've missed a ton of class lately and I'm feeling guilty about it, and I think especially since I'm thinking of majoring in cs the exam's going to pale in comparison to the college stuff, even were I to do well on it, which is by no means guaranteed, and this sentence is really long and run-on.