BOO

The population of TSAS is in high fashion and high spirits today. Happy Halloween EVERYONE! The photo teacher dressed up as a tribal warrior, the computer teacher is a sea captain. Jill's wearing a cat suit and carrying a Batman doll. Lots of people don't have on what you'd call "costumes" but are dressed in a Halloween style. One girl is wearing a long red ball gown under a long black coat with huge black feathered wings. Several people used the oppurtunity to wear funny hats, me for one. I'm wearing a big blue fedora. But we all look very cool and fashionable. And there's candy everywhere, falling from the sky.

There's also a rumor circulating that there's a law here in Tulsa against trick or treating if you're over the age of 12, and if you do you'll get fined $75. I don't know about this. I haven't seen it in the paper or the news or any other media outlet I can find. So I'm not on the believing side of this issue.

I made a sculpture today of a fat naked man, only from the waist up, sitting on a big block, wearing an army helmet and holding a big psycadelic hippy flower. It's titled, "I Lost My Legs In San Francisco". See the irony? Hippies, San Francisco, army, Nam veterans losing their legs? Get it?

Megan is beside me and singing about terrorism, but she's singing "Terry-ism. Terry terry terry ism." Earlier, Sarah and I made up a song about dog tags. Sarah has a mandolin and I was singing along, going, "I am a dog tag, I go around your neck. I am a dog tag, I identify you when you're dead." Then Mrs Kelly yelled at us.

Tonight is gonna be a good time, I think. Jill, Jamie, Jen, Kayla, Ash and Karen all trick or treating around my neighborhood, then off to the Killah House Of Fear (the Skillern's house, where they apparently have some kind of haunting?) and then to ::shudder:: the Ring. I can't believe I agreed to go to that movie. Who will volunteer to be my security blanket?

Oh glory be! I had the longest entry ever typed up, then I accidentally hit a link and lost it. I'm sorry. It was so nice and update-y. I wasted all that time. Sadness.

Quick Overview of lost entry
-Mrs Kelly is evil and cruel and insulting to her students and will soon get her due, for I got her in trouble by reporting how she treats kids.
-The paper will soon be out and I'm proud.
-The debate team is having a garage sale on Nov 16th
-John Gray has the coolest room ever.
-My house smells like varnish.

Pivotal

Has this weblog taught anyone anything? Has it done any good for anyone? Has anyone come to a greater understanding of God or art or life because of what I've written here? Have I helped people? Have I made a difference in anyone's life or at least mind? Have I made anyone think?

I dont want some glib answer like, "We love Weblog Shmeblog and we love you!" because that's not what I'm asking. I want to know if this is thing just exists to entertain my readers and puff up my own ego, or if I've actually brought about change. If I've actually taught.

Discovery

How long has internet radio existed? Oh my goodness, I am so excited to have found this! Yahoo has an internet radio place called Launch and it has an indie pop radio station! Now I was half expecting it to play stuff like Saves The Day or Jimmy Eat World, but the first song was "Say Goodbye" by Papa Fritos or something like that, and it was a really neat little pop song with a chick singer, and now it's "Impossible Girl" by Lloyd Cole and I've never heard of either of them and I like both of these songs! Wow! This is what radio was meant to be. Good music that you've never heard before. This may indeed change my life.

Just The Facts

I have nothing profound to say tonight, my resources are tapped by a political essay and a news feature. Watch the Satellite on Nov. 22 for my piece on the Teen Improv group, and always check the inside pages for my reviews. Hopefully Recover will be in this week.

I am indeed sick, for those of you I warned about it. My throat is hurting, my nose is clogged and I feel like I've been run over by a ten ton burrito. Why do I always get sick?? Aurg! Someone come take care of me and give me hugs and cuddles. And a miracle pill that will make me not get sick every two months.

I have a busy week ahead. And anyone who was planning on doing something with me on Halloween, I'm sorry but I have to cancel. My grandfather has been wanting to take me to dinner, and he looked about to cry when I said I was going to be busy until after this session's finals (on Nov. 9, same day as Serenade Night) so I told him we could go to dinner on Thursday. So I'm really sorry, and I hope everyone has lots of fun and candy. I'll call people if I finish early, and maybe I can hook up with someone or someones.

It's only 8 and I feel like going to bed. Did everyone set their clocks back for Daylight Savings Time? Now that I've finished my tasks for the day, I'm going to do pointless things, like taking internet quizzes and reading Harry Potter fan fiction. If I tried to read something of merit, I doubt I'd remember any of it.

Oh, and for those in the know, the wombats are running.

How Many People Have Referenced My Hair To A Seasonal Gourd?

And how many people who saw me yesterday think I'd bleached it again?
And how many times today was I asked where I'm going to college?
And how many dirty kleenex are on my desk?

The answer to these and many other questions is, "Far too many."

Sarah came home today, awakening me with a heartily yelled, "YOUR SISTER IS HOOOOOME!" as she opened my bedroom door with a flourish. We went and got pumpkins together (word to the wise: Though the church pumpkin yards seem like a good cause, just buy one there. If you're making multiple pumpkin purchases, go to Walmart. Missionaries just demand too much money.) and the guy at the pumpkin yard thought we were artists. He and Sarah talked for a long time about Chicago, which he'd lived in or been to or something, while I fondled the sunny seasonal gourds.

We went to our cousin's house for pumpkin carving and chili. My family is a bit dull, but I love them. My cousin's husband's family came too, and his sister is a really cool lesbian political activist and artist so she was nice to talk to. It was good food and if not riveting conversation, it was at least a familial and community atmosphere. My pumpkin was really really cool, and original. Everyone else was using those fancy patterns that you can buy in a book, but I had a design I'd made up in art last week. Instead of cutting off the top, I cut off the bottom and used the cutline as the mouth for it. It was very much within my "style" of design. You'll see what I mean when I post the picture of it.

I need to post pictures of all my sculpture. My found art piece that I sold in the art show, titled "Blue Collar Third Estate", my coiled vase and wire and clay flower entitled "La Fleur Tragique", my natural materials sculpture that I gave to Craig named, "Closer To The Sun", and my latest and personally greatest sculptural portrait of Ferdie, titled, "I'm Cold". I'll post pictures of all of them, once I can get ahold of my school's digital camera and permission to use the server. The computer teacher likes me, I'm sure I can do that this week.

I had fun tonight at the crazy overcrowded hardcore shindig. AAC really rocked it all over the place. I think there's something about having a full crowd of people who're genuinely into you that will spur a band to greater heights. Even if Kevin had broken all his strings and Craig had gotten off or Chris had forgotten the words, they still would have been awesome just because people cared about them. I've never been to a bad show where the crowd was good.

I wore all black but no one caught my irony. Tsk tsk. Hardcore scene, shmardcore shmene. Throwing toast into their little boiling pit of taking themselves too seriously was fun, as was dancing like a chicken and clapping towards the ground. And John was there! Something I wasn't expecting but was very glad to see. I wonder if the show is over yet.

The Company Of Strangers

Tonight at Barnes and Noble I had the most encouraging experience. A couple of youngish teenage girls asked us if we'd read "Ishmael". They said some girl had told them to read it, and that it was what she'd believed. And they asked us if we were Christians. At first, they seemed really ignorant and proud to be so. One of them said, "I may not read it because I don't want it to change my beliefs."

That drew me in. I could not allow some girl who'd already asked my opinion to go on hiding from things that may or may not alter or effect her current belief system. So I started to talking to these girls and we got on the topic of evolution, and Joe got drawn in and these girls were truly willing to listen. They may have been ignorant, but they weren't clinging to their ignorance. They wanted to know the things we were saying, they weren't just looking for biblical nets to catch us in. They asked questions, they were very open. They said they were kind of inbetween churches, and tried to make it clear that "they weren't gonna stop being Christians", which makes me think they have been going through some personal revolutions when it comes to religion. I like to think that maybe Joe and I were a bit of help to them, maybe opened up some doors. But most of all, I'm just extremely encouraged to see kids coming out of the youth group setting and showing some religious and intellectual curiosity. There is not near enough of either of those things in kids my age.

When I was driving Jen home tonight, we saw a carful of cute guys at a stoplight beside us. We exchanged a few glances with them, and they rolled down thier windows and tolld us to meet them at the movies. Woo! We're full fledged hotties now! But we could not join them, for Jen had a curfew. At least thats the story I'm sticking with. (The truth is I didn't want to because boys are scary. Just because they were cute doesn't mean they're smart or cool. And if they weren't smart or cool, I would have offended them, so it's probably better that we didn't meet them.)

I got to eat popsicles in Debate today. Yeah!

Good band names
-We Rain A Lot
-Eagerly Awaiting Wednesday
-The Reason For Roanoke
-Backlit By Brake Lights
-Comma5Bracket (nu metal or math rock)
-My Sometime Clean Self
-Operation Cake And Lasagna (ska band)

Attention: The food pyramid has been updated. Please revise your eating habits accordingly.

From Atomic Age Dog.

The Fools Shall Inherit The Earth

Latest installment in my chronicle of personal stupidity: I left my car running all night long.

Yes, to add to the infamous locking my keys in my car with it running, and driving into a ditch, and all the other myriad of stupid things I do, I have now left my keys in the ignition for 16 hours. My dad wakes me up this morning to tell me that when he took the trash out this morning, he noticed my lights were on. I guess I was distracted by my new Sculpey clay I'd just bought and the Inspection 12 I had playing when I came home yesterday and I just forgot. Well, he goes over and sees the evidence of my depthless idiocy and turns it off for me. But by now my gas is completely gone, my tank is dry as a desert. My battery is apparently fine, but I have no fuel at all. Smooth, Jamie.

So Dad coasts it down the street to a Phillips station and fills my tank for me. So in my stupidity I got a free tank of gas out of the deal, not to mention a funny story! So the moral of today's story? Stupidity pays.

Honestly, I Ask You, What Is The Point?

I just physically ran away from a talk about college. We got in about five minutes of discussion before I couldn't stand it and ran away. Slowly but surely we're getting all those issues resovled.

I saw a commercial for "The Ring" today. I am so afraid of that movie. I haven't even seen it, but I'm terrified. I'm scared by the commercials. I am afraid simply of it's existence. Not a million Vespas could bribe me to see that movie, a team of flying bunnies couldn't drag me into that theater. (In actuality, if you wanted to give me a Vespa to see that movie, I'd do it. Heck, if you wanted to give me twenty bucks to see that movie, I'd go. If I was allowed to latch onto someone in fear and avoid being made fun of, I'd even do it for someone buying me dinner. But I will not do it willingly, and I'll be scared out of my mind no matter what.)

I broke our blender today. First thing my dad did, having been out of town all week and then having to go into work this evening, when he walked in the door a few minutes ago was attempt to fix it. He's so funny.

I'm sorry I have so little to say. I cannot get my mind off it's philosophical heights nor can I pull my energy out of it's practical trench. I only have eyes for the purposeful right now, and I'm too tired to start typing a philosophical train of thought. And if I did, what would it's worth be? I save it up for myself or for those who'll appreciate it.

When I turned on the heater and heard the fans in the ceiling reverse, I looked out the window and expected to see the rain falling upwards.

Playing Beauty Parlor

Imagine someone with naturally platinum blonde hair. Now imagine that they, being a contrarian and unsatisfied with their God given lovely color, decide to die their hair red. Then imagine that the dying goes wrong and what comes out is this splotchy, pinkish color. But this person, in addition to being dissatisifiable, is also lazy, so they don't bother trying to fix the color and allow their blonde roots to grow out to nearly an inch. Got that picture? Ok, add a few places here and there where the roots are dark brown, and you have what my hair looked like an hour ago.

Yeah, it was pretty bad. Ash and I tried to make ourselves beautiful today, and somethings didn't quite work out. I won't go through all the gory details, but Ash eventually got fairly close to what she was aiming for. I, on the other hand, after a last ditch effort with some of Ash's leftover Clairol stuff, have managed to get the majority of my hair to a pale orange color. "It's for Halloween," my dad says. Hmm, yeah.

OH WeLL! At least it's lighter, and hey it's original. I'm totally cool with it. It's a fun story and a fun color. Now I know what pink and orange would look like on me, in case I ever get the urge to dye my hair those colors. I'll try to bleach it again in a few days, but for now I think I'll let my hair rest a bit. Two bleachings in one night is tough on the old follicles. Phollicles? Follicles.

I really wish I could tell myself something once and I'd just accept it. I always plague myself with things. I'm constantly telling myself not to think about things, not to dwell on this or that. It's so frustrating. And I wish I could figure out something and just integrate it into my thought process. In short, I guess I wish I had more mental will power. Only three times in my life have I ever accepted something on first go. And those three things are probably the things I"ve figured out most completely in my life so far. So perhaps that's an indicator of why I can't make myself accept things. One of those things was the existence of God, for example. Once I figured that out, and I'd rationalized it and understood it completely, I never had to question it again. Once I got it, I got it. I must find a way to spread that certainty to lesser realizations.

I shall have to remember to think out all my realizations so fully that I cannot deny them within my own mind.

OkGo is really good, for like the first three songs. And parts of a couple other songs are fairly good too, but for the most part the CD is filler. It's a lot of slow pop rock songs that you could hear on any radio rocker album. Ho hum. The lyrics are clever, if not thoughful. Good rhyme schemes. One line though, caught my ear. "But compassion is just another way of looking down your nose." I like that, I must remember to go read the rest of that song. I kinda wish I'd gotten The Doves or Aimee Mann, but at least I'll get a good review out of it. And the good songs, they're very good songs. So, yeah, it's about a 60/40 like to dislike ratio on this purchase.

Does no one have any questions about yesterday's entry? I'm dissappointed in you. I certainly hope you're storing them up because the ideas and questions sparked by it are too extensive and deep to be addressed through the internet and AIM. (Abandon the Introspective Mind)

Social Entropy

I. The Deluge

YOU ARE HERE. You are isolated and alone. The wheels of your mind begin to turn and you start to look around and see the world around you. As you see these things, ideas begin to form in your mind. You send one out into the world. Off it goes, zoom! An idea off to make it’s fortune in the wide world.

Soon you get a reply. Another idea! Something new, something not conceived in your mind! What wonders, what marvels you feel! You hurry to understand this new thing, this new bit of information. You take it in, you digest it. You fully grasp this new concept and make it a part of your introspective mind. You think and consider and from your own mind and this new idea, you create a new idea, amalgamating them both. You send it out.

Like a rabbit, it multiplies! You get three new ideas in return this time. You take in these new ideas, consuming and then digesting them as well. It is more information that you’ve had before, and you are slightly overwhelmed, but you try to understand as well as you can. You do grasp it. You do digest it. Perhaps you miss bits here and there, but at least you know the idea, if you may not understand it fully. You create more from your new resources. Once again, you send them out for the benefit of the rest of the wide world.

This is good. This is productivity. This is creation and education. Here you stand in the midst of the meaning of life.

Soon, more ideas begin to pour in. It’s a flood of new ideas and new information. You are overjoyed. What a feast! You consume it all, taking it all into your mind as fast as you can. Swallow, swallow, swallow. So much information, you cannot possibly digest it all. But you still consume it, because in such a deluge how can you escape it. You cannot digest it, so you simply regurgitate it back into the world. The deluge has arrived.

II. The Net

YOU ARE HERE. Someone else is here. Both are isolated and alone. You seek out a connection. You are connected. You share information through your connection, share ideas and experiences. You share obligations and responsibilities, so connected. Within this tie, there is growth. There is learning. This is good.

More connections are sought. More connections are made to isolated individuals. Between all, information and ideas are shared, continually, flooding from one to the other. Everyone is learning. Growth is occurring. The information flows through every link, filling every mind. More information is sought, more connections are made. The net is growing.

The information begins to cycle. Sent back again through all the links, regurgitated by one mind to another. There is nothing new. So new connections are sought, more individuals are added. The net grows.

But then, we begin to run out. There are no new connections, there is nowhere to connect to. Everything has become so shared, so connected, there is nothing new to be seen. The information will be recycled in this closed circuit. We built our net, and now we are caught in it.

III. The Detachment

We must unplug. We must stop. We must take ourselves out of this net. Isolation is the only place where we can find anything new. Isolation is the only place for introspection. We must detach from all of our communities and connections. We must disengage our minds from the deluge.

We spend all our time watching, reading, seeing, hearing. Constantly. Every moment making on/off, binary judgments. Yes, no, like, dislike. There is no time for anything more. Move on to the next. Drivel drive drivel. Down the hatch, swallow it all, then spit it out and swallow some more.

It is time to stop. It is the difference between being the source of water and being the stream. Information cycles through us like water through so many pipes. We see, we report. We do not consider. We move on to the next entertainment.

It is time to detach. Stop. We have seen, consumed. The next step must come. Share. Consume. Digest. Think. Create. Not regurgitate. Take the time to detach. Connect, then disconnect. Connect, share, disconnect, digest. Be a source. Not another part of the pipeline.

Don't forget to put the pieces together.

By Popular Demand #27

I got a new CD today. OK Go. I deliberated for a long time whether or not to spend the money, but I’ve decided that what’s the point of having money if I don’t plan on spending it? I’m gonna buy a new set of headphones next, because I just broke my third pair this month. I keep finding them around school, it’s strange. But I’m going to invest in some really nice ones with the cushioned ear thingy.

Productivity is abounding. Paper’s nearly done, next issue is begun. Started new units in Computers and AFP. Got lots of research done in debate, new project in art. Mental change is on the horizon.

Stay Tuned

A Retraction

I often do and say stupid things because I forget that other people aren't inside my head. I leave out important details of things or seem totally random because I don't realize that not everyone knows my train of thought.

And in my Faults entry, I forgot the most important detail. For me, this is a given, but if I don't say it I will sound even more arrogant than I am. Within everything I said about embracing flaws and loving imperfections, there is God.

When I said I enjoy being flawed, it's because I enjoy giving over control to God. Without my imperfections, God would not come in. If I didn't acknowledge my faults, I would not have God with me. And I love my flaws for that reason, because they bring God to me, and he's who makes life interesting. Without him, I would not make any headway. I would be continually fighting it, continually failing. It's when I embrace God's control over all of my characteristics that any kind of transformation comes. And that is the joy, and that is the reason for living. And that is why I do not mind my imperfections. As Pedro says . . .

It's uphill both ways. Tomorrow I swear I wont act this way. I know it seems like thats what I always say. But it does not matter to me, although it seems like it should. It's because I know I'm understood when I hear him say, "Rest in me, little David, and dry all your tears. You can lay down your armor and have no fear. 'Cause I'm always here when you're tired of running. I'm all the strength that you need."

And If I Had No Arms To Fold Into . . .

If Death Cab For Cutie conjurs images of front porches and cigarette smoke, of sunrises and the outdoors, Denison Witmer brings to mind bedrooms and sofas, sunsets watched from a bay window. Denison Witmer is the color brown. His music makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry, but a good kind of cry. A get it all out kind of cry.

Tonight's show, it was truly wonderful. Just him up there, his guitar and his voice, in his plain clothes that made him seem so refined, that was just how it should have been. The way he akwardly switched guitars and told stories to the crowd, the fact that the room was so warm and the people so close together, the way the floor lamp was behind him, casting a halo like glow around him, it was so fitting. I think if I'd seen him someplace like the Loft, some place big and dark where he'd be elevated on a stage, it wouldn't have been half as moving. A guy and a guitar show should always have a tie between the artist and the crowd, otherwise the artist would get lonely. The crowd is the other members of the band.

I remember the first time I saw a show with just a guy and a guitar. It was Ronnie (?) Martin of Starflyer 59, and I was so touched by it. How courageous, to go up there, so naked, and share such intimate things. And it felt intimate, to be hearing him play those chords and sing those words. It felt like he was singing just to me. As if we were sitting in a bedroom somewhere and he'd just nervously asked, "Can I play you a song?" It's such a connection, these simple shows.

And on top of that, Denison's music is just so very morose. As Al, Ash and I drove home tonight, we listened to it and let fall the tears we felt but couldn't show during his set. Three heartsick girls with the appropriate soundtrack.

I'm going to go curl up on my sofa under a warm plaid blanket and try not to cry. Or to cry. Either way is good.

Flaws, Faults and Foibles

I've been so selfishly productive today.

I've got lots of stuff done, just not what I need to do. I didn't work on my article at all, but I did get a start on my debate case. I didn't finish doing my laundry, but I did reorganize my desk. I didn't study for AFP, but I did make a neat computer thingy for that Byron poem "She Walks In Beauty". I didn't write anything new, but I did make a neat mural on my wall. I didn't even think about my MC gig, but I did sing a lot.

I'm really excited about my mural. I took lots of pictures of it. It's just a silly little thing. I wrote a little four line poem on the wall a few days ago, and today I started doodling little guys around it and now it looks really neat.

---

I really hate it when people use the status quo as an excuse for their shortcomings. I have a friend at school who really hates school. She just wants to get her GED and get out of school, she desperately hates responsibility and expectations and requirements. She wants to just rove and follow her own rules and not ever have to worry about the consequences of her actions.

Our councelor and principal are worried for her. They've tried to talk to her about it. She, complaining to me about their meddling, has said, "So I hate high school, whats the big deal? I'd say a lot of kids do."

Yes, well, that doesn't mean it's a good thing or that is ok. Why do people constanty justify their faults by, "I think most people would feel the same way." If so, the most people are also flawed. Just because everyone has problems doesn't mean we should stop trying to rise above our own. Even if you aren't conciously saying, "I'll stop trying because no one else seems to be trying," subconciously you are probably not going to try too hard to overcome a fault if you justify it's existence like that.

And then there's the other extreme, "Everyone is so perfect except me! I'm the only one this flawed!" And that is of course just as bad. Then you're bombing on your self esteem and you'll just dig yourself a pit of self loathing.

I've always thought of my flaws as a part of who I am. If I didn't have all my faults, perhaps I wouldn't have my good qualities as well. They affect one another. If I didn't have such a short attention span, I probably wouldn't have developed the ability to do several things at once, so I treasure the short attention span. But I don't allow it to take over. Like, I know I'm impatient, and I'll never completely overcome that. But I can keep it inside of me without letting it control my actions. It's not a fight against the flaw, it's embracing it and molding it to something good and making it lose it's edge.

I think this is, at heart, why I'm so arrogant. Because I love even my flaws.

Also, I love not only the particular flaws, but being flawed. I am so happy to be imperfect. Without the internal metamorphasis, what would I do with myself? Self improvement is an amazing gift we've been given. We get this neverending task of making ourselves better, but without that what would we be? We get the joy of knowing we have actually made headway, of hearing "well done" from our creator when we do something right. I love this conflict. It is what makes life interesting, makes it worth living. To quote one of my favorite amatuer philosophers, "Life involves conflict. Internal or external, major or minor, it's all the same." We can't escape it, so why not embrace it? Love your flaws, love your imperfection. If you don't love that, what else can you love? As Pedro says, "most everything turns to shit. Rejoice."

Additional Item To Jamie's Wish List

-To be sent flowers

Things That Jamie Doesn't Like

-String cheese that won't come off in strings
-Too much foam on lattes
-Feeling left out
-Not getting her normal parking space at school
-Having to fold the laundry
-Always being "the one that calls"
-The Ramones
-A messy kitchen
-Getting sick all the time
-The price of gas
-When plans fall through

Things Jamie Does Like

-The food court at the mall
-Wearing size four jeans
-New clothes
-Her friends
-Not being the driver
-When people laugh at her jokes
-Her fish
-Cold weather
-Her mom
-Singing
-Hugs

Jamie's Wish List

-A job
-a Vespa
-Shopping spree at The Gap and/or Groovy Threads
-Repaired USB ports
-a pogo stick
-A debate case
-Brakes that work
-a Muppets coloring book
-Jones Soda
-a trash can beside her desk
-someone to hug her when she's sad

Currently Listening To: Music That Reminds Me Of You

No update last night because I was on the edge of death, thanks to two scruffy little balls of evil known as Lance and Adonis. I'm sorry, they're cute puppies, but I'm so allergic to dogs.

I helped Karen move a bit yesterday, and her dogs were all up in my nose so I don't think I was much of a help. I'm gonna go drop some boxes by there in a bit. Both Karen and Ash gave me awesome rad presents, just cuz they love me! I got somethin in mind for them . . . a good something.

Well, I'm on fall break. I have so much to do. I need to get started on my debate case, and I think I have a good quote from Ray Bradbury to build it off of. I hope I can kind of develop my own style in debating. I really don't care about winning . . . . I mean, of course I do, but that's secondary. I'm most proud of having original material and doing things that no one else did in the speech tournaments last year. That's what our team is known for, doing things our way.

I also have to write my story for the paper, as well as I've got plain old ordinary homework. Pre class work for my AP courses, a paper to write for AFP, plenty of stuff to read. Also, I'm obligated to have me some big amounts of fun with my friends. And DENISON WITMER! So yeah, good times.

Nec amor nec tussis celetur

You May Already Be A Rock Star!

I think I may organize a show. I've talked about doing this for about a thousand years, but I may do it for real this time. It'd be a free show though, for Buy Nothing Day. And if that worked, I could do a non-non-profit show.

School today was chaos. This morning was the PSAT and first hour lasted till eleven. I don't have a first hour, so when I showed up at 9:15 I could have just gone home if I'd wanted to. But instead I went to the computer lab and worked on some projects and talked to Ashley. Then after that, all the classes were shortened to 45 minutes (they're normally 70 minutes) and so it was pretty pointless to try to do anything important in any class. I played cards in AFP, and then spent the rest of the day in and around the art room, because we were getting ready for the art show. That was another reason it was chaos. Any student coming by her room, Mrs. Kelley recruited to help. When word of THAT got out, it was "Oh, I can't come to class, Mr./Ms/Mrs. _____. I'm helping Mrs. Kelley!" So pretty much everyone was skipping class all day. Fun stuff.

After school I had to go interview some kids at Heller for a story on the teen improv group there. They were very articulate and funny, so I actually enjoyed the assignment. I was dreading it, so I was pleasantly suprised.

I seldom ask for prayer, mostly because I think there's more to a prayer than just a list of wants and if you dont know the situation, how can you actually care etc. But I'm gonna ask that everyone who prays, please pray for a friend of mine. They're having some health concerns, and so I'm worried and yeah.

I shouldn't be allowed to have control of the thermostat for my room. I come home and my room is all warm and toasty and then I sit down on my sofa with a good book and I'm asleep in like two chapters.

My Childhood Heroes Are Turning In Their Graves

Sometimes America makes me want to cry. How can we have become what we are? We started out so well.

America, what a lovely idea! The first nation with true representation of all it's people, with a balance of power that could keep a tyrant from emerging. The Bill of Rights, guaranteeing us the basic human rights that we are born with. We can defend ourselves, we can tell our government what we think, we can have a fair trial. What wonderful ideas to build a nation on!

The American Revolution was the first idealistic crusade to suceed. Some dissenting rebels decided they could no longer tolerate the oppression of their king, and decided to change it. Our country is built on such wonderful ideals!

But would the revolution have ever come if it weren't for the taxation? If King George had only thrown the newspaper men in jail, if he'd only suspended fair trial of thieves and common criminals, would anyone have cared? The men who led the revolution, Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton, Franklin, they knew that the oppresion was unfair on principle. But if the purse strings of the common people hadn't been tugged on, would they have been willing to fight? Was our country simply based on people wanting to keep their money? Not high ideals of inalienable rights and freedom of speech, but simply greed?

It's not hard to believe it, if you study the kinds of things America does abroad. It's atrocious, the way we treat other countries, how we act in peace summits and diplomatic meetings.Did you know that America does not support the Universal Bill of Human Rights? That we find the idea that every country has the right to develop, "dangerous"? America won't sign a treaty banning the development of weapons of mass destruction. We support corrupt governments simply because of our economic interests.

And they're allowed to too! Because all of that falls under the executive branch. The military and diplomatic resources are all under one branch's reach. The President appoints diplomats, attends international summits. Congress can only make laws here in America, Judicial branch can only put Americans on trial for America crimes. They have no say over what goes on in other countries. The executive has 90 days to do whatever they may want in another country before the legislative can tell them to stop. And even then, thats only when dealing with extended military opperations.

This is not what America was meant to be. The men I studied and looked up to for so long, they did not have this international bully in mind when they conceived of the United States. I am so ashamed, so saddened. How can we be so cruel?

Keep Your Rear View Mirror Tilted Towards The Sky

I just took a drive out into this gorgeous night. As I was heading out the door, I knew I could not listen to Twothirtyeight, or Recover, or Mewithoutyou, or Daft Punk, all of which I have been listening to lately. Unwed Sailor sat upon a shelf beside my keys, and I knew that this was the music for my trip.

And I drove. It was so cold, and so sharp. The moon was brighter than any neon sign or lighted billboard. The air was more crisp than any dill potato chip, and more refreshing than any draught of water. The music was beautiful, fitting. I sighed deeply as I pulled onto the street. How much beauty can one take?

I completed the quick errand that was my excuse for getting out of the house. I drove to my favorite spot and looked up at the sky and out across the world and I was so happy and content. All my recent confusion and depression was gone. The wind blew through my sweatshirt and the freeze was as welcome as the embrace of a long absent friend.

I drove home, and could barely stay in my lane for looking at the moon. Artemis. The moon gains it's beauty and splendor only because it reflects the glory and light of the unseen sun. I am overcome.

"I declare this world so beautiful I can hardly believe it exists." -R.W.E.

Don't Forget To Check For Wombats

My mom went to the grocery store, getting a bunch of cereal and jellies and Diet Pepsi, all of which we already had. Of the things I asked for (fresh fruit and vegetables, juice, deli meat, vegetarian cup-o-soup) all she remembered were some microwavable cambells soup things. So I'll be sipping tomato soup all week for lunch. But I just discovered a box of PUDDING IN A TUBE! Just like Gogurt, but CHOCOLATE PUDDING! This is a very good thing. All the goodness of pudding with none of the hassle. But these are Hershey's brand, so no Cosby either. Just think of the possibilities of these things. Frozen? Oh man, pudding pops in a tube, like those icee pops! Wow, I'm excited. These'll stay in the house for oh about a day.

Today was, and I suppose still is, freezing! I was so happy I nearly called all my friends who aren't up at 8:30 to tell them to run outside and feel how chilly it was! By the time they get up at 12, it wasn't even a fraction of the frostiness it was when I left the house this morning. I think we're finally fully entrenched into autumn. We may take a few steps up the thermometer, but it's pretty much all downhill from here. April, I hope you never come.

Last night were the Spotniks. Woo. I still have the stack of flyers I was supposed to hand out sitting here beside me. "It's the sexy, slammin', sizzlin', soaked PARTY of the year!" they read. The Tulsa World has disgusted and disappointed me once again. The nominations were pathetic enough. I was very glad to see bands like Aqueduct (Best Local Album), Ira (Best none of the above), and Antenna Lodge (Best Hardcore Act) on the ballot, as well as The Chucks and Agony Scene in the Christian category. But Aqueduct wasn't even nominated in a real category like all the other nominees for best local album, Antenna Lodge didn't belong on the Hardcore ballot, while the Agony Scene and the Chucks did. (There's no chance of a Punk or Metal ballot, so hardcore would be the closest they could get.) And Enlow wasn't mentioned anywhere, a band that's been around for years and in the forefront of the hardcore scene, there before there even was a hardcore scene. And of course, At All Costs deserved the best overall band award and wasn't even nominated.

But none of those bands, Aqueduct, Ira, Agony Scene, the Muddy Chucks, or even Antenna Lodge, won a single award. That infuriates me. Aqueduct is an amazing act, one guy writing and performing all of that music on the album, and beautiful and innovative music at that. And the evil and genre riding Tony Romanello Band took that title from them. Best none of the above was Rewake, who are a horrid band whose songs all sound like an Austrailian aboriginees tribal meeting, though they claim they are "a mix of reggae, ska and punk". And Pillar, good old christan nu-metal pillar, took best Christian music, of course. They're a signed act, they've been in the Spot before. And ANTENNA LODGE didn't win anything?! How can that be? They are THE most amazing local band I have ever seen, and one of the most amazing bands period. I was floored by their show, they are so, to borrow Chris's term, technical and yet so beautiful and just rock. My stomach turns when I think of the fact that they didn't win.

Who decides these awards? Did they even see Ira or Aqueduct play? I'm sure they never saw a Chucks or Agony Scene show. I can't bring myself to believe they never saw Antenna Lodge, they've been fairly popular for a while. And as for all the bands that didn't even get nominated, I'm sure they don't even know they exist. Actually, I know this for a fact, because my editor said, "If you're a non-garage band in Tulsa, then you got nominated." Suuuuuure.

On a nicer note, two of the guys in the band at my Dad's church, one of them being my cousin on my mom's side, are in Freakshow, a band which won best R&B act. During their acceptance speech, they thanked God and their newfound faith. That's nice, especially so because Dave (my cuz) and Brian, (who is blind and plays the piano like nobody's business) are really cool guys.

Another poem. I have to force them a bit before they'll flow, these days. Even then, they're not perfect. Like toothpaste thats been sitting too long without the cap on. Once I can get it flowing, it comes out slowly but surely but I can still never get that perfect dollop with the curly tail.

I stand on this ledge
And shout into the wind;
Shaking my fist and knowing my voice will carry across the water,
And across the ages.
"Why must you keep secrets from me?"

And somewhere beyond time,
A wise man hears my squeaking cry and sighs.
"My child,
You see so much and yet know so little.
Won't you relax?
Trust in me."

A Movie That Makes Jamie Cry.

What is Amelie?

Cute > Funny > Smart

Tonight was mad fun. After show dance party is a new institution at The Tree. Someday I'd like to play charades with Chris and John. The way they communicate during a concert when speaking is quite impaired, well it's a sight to behold. My boys are about the funniest and coolest things in existence, topped only in cuteness by good old Ash.

I'm worn out and hungry. I wrote a poem. Currently untitled, I think.

You fell off your pedestal,
And landed right beside me.
I never knew
You could mean so much to me.

You are so human tonight.
You're not who I thought you were.
But that's ok,
Because no one understands something as distant as the clouds,
Or the moon.

Now we'll sing together,
And never need use any words.
I'll use too many,
Of course.
But you'll know what I mean anyway.
Because you always look me in the eye.

So, hey, thanks for that.

I'm no John Gray, but it's whats inside me.

Nature Vs. Nurture: Part 17

Does everyone realize that my two absolute favorite bands, Twothirtyeight and Pedro The Lion, are coming to Tulsa within the same week? Yes. Twothrityeight on Nov. 12, Pedro on the 17th. The musical rapture is at hand. If Five Iron and Death Cab were here, I think I'd probably just drop dead.

I was looking at this Top Fifty Indie Cliches thing that I found through Fine Print Mag and then I was teasing Mr. B, saying he met most of them. And he said, "If I do, it's by accident."

And then last night, I was talking to Kayla, and she asked me if I'd read The Perks Of Being A Wallflower. And Karen's read it too. I had read parts of it, but I'd never got around to finishing it, because it became so trendy to have read it. But then I started thinking, it's not really trendy. Karen read it, enjoyed it. Kayla read it, enjoyed it. I read parts of it, enjoyed it. Then we came together as friends and discovered we had all read it. It was a trend, but by accident.

I think most worthwhile things that end up being called "trendy" are really just accidents. Like blogs. Jen had one, Karen had one, I had one, but we didn't know eachother had one. We'd each discovered them individually. Or music. Kids come together and say, "You like them too? No way!" and then a culture will form out of that common ground. That's how "scenes" and subcultures begin. Of course the people within the circles will all like the same thing, will have things that will look like cliches to the outsiders. If they didn't, they wouldn't be friends.

On a deeper level, this idea gives weight to the idea of having inborn likes and dislikes, personalities and ideas, already built into us. If we have one thing in common with someone, such as liking the same book or clothes or band, and that leads to more common factors in us, doesn't that classify us as the same "type" of person? Doesn't that prove that there are "types" of people, that we aren't all just randomly experiencing things that build who we are. And the people who come together in these societies and cultures don't have similar backgrounds and upbringings. It's something else that makes us similar. There is an underlying organization. Once again, Nature comes out on top.

---

Lots of things are confusing me these days. I need some time to think.

Sometimes I'm Pretty

BRB

Isn't it interesting how some music can bring to mind certain people so clearly? And for no apparent reason. The Kings Of Convenience remind me of my friend Megan, and I dont really know why. But they do. But other songs, you know why. It may be a silly reason, or an indirect reason, but when you hear the song or the band, its almost like that person is there with you. You can hear their voice, like they're singing the song. You can even smell them. It's a nice feeling. Usually.

My hair is in a pony tail and I look like a big doofus. But it is out of my face so I'm cool with it. But this aint a wear-outside-the-house kind of hairdo. I look like Pebbles from the Flintstones.

I attempted to accomplish many things and only one of my dreams was realized. And that was to get a copy of "You Should Be Living" to Karen. That mission was accomplished. The other missions, putting my new pictures on the internet, finishing my sculpture, and writing interview questions for my interview tomorrow, were utter failures. The pictures, I'm just too technologically inept. My sculpture, I forgot my tools at school. The interview questions, I forgot. Gah. Oh and I called Al and got the update on Boston, that was on my list and I accomplished that.

But instead of being productive, I went to Barnes and Noble to see Ash and Karen and Kayla. Ash was just depthlessly cute, I so have a crush on her. And then I'm gonna beat her up for stealing my color, my fabric, and my shoes. (Brown, corderoy, and the EuShoes) And then I'm gonna thank her for fixing my pictures, which I believe she's doing right now. Then I gave Karen her CD, which she deserved to have on the day of and I should have bought her a copy and brought it to her. And I got to talk to Kayla, who is just about the funniest person ever, besides Ashley. Actually, I think they're about even.

I am not really in the mood for postin' but I did because I know I'd feel bad if I didn't. Tomorrow I am going to see this teen Improv group I was once sort of a part of, and then I'm writing a story on them for El Satellite-o. And no one calls me J-dawg.

Oh and I must say, I am even more in love with Chris Staples with every listen to "You Should Be Living". His voice, oh my goodness. He's so jazzy and southern and just so full of character and cool. On lines like "There's light outside, there's life outside. And I'm stuck inside this classroom" and "The sun will crawl across the floor and climb right up, and climb right up the wall" and oh basically everything he sings, I get chills.

The bathroom is a creepy place for pictures of your friends.

Plebians

The masses have chipped away at my patience today. Normally I can refrain from cringing when someone calls something I admire and find beautiful, "wierd" or "dumb". Most days, when people have never heard of the things I love I can hold my tongue without effort. But my restraint is wearing thin.

I think it has something to do with the wonderful brilliance of the new 238, and the fact that so few people seemed to care. And then, there was a small scuffle at lunch and the peace of intelligence that resides in Paul's room was disturbed by a low and base action. And then, Nathan had his copy of "Johnny The Homicidal Maniac" with him. Most days I could have just enjoyed the art and the politics and the philosophy of it, appreciating it with my latent and instinctive fury held at bay, but all I could do was empathize with Johnny's desire to destroy stupid ignorant people. Mrs. Williams got on my nerves with her conservatism, my writers got on my nerves with their irresponsibility. Thank God l spent all of art with my headphones on and my mind deeply involved in my sculpture. I was too absorbed for anything to get to me.

I wouldn't call this a bad day, just a reminder to myself that I am still the person I've always been beneath my patience and maturity. (ha) I will always have a wish to see the masses shoved off to some isolated island ala Brave New World. I will always be infuriated by ignorance and insensitivity. I've learned to laugh it off, I've learned to ignore it, I've learned to pity it. But the short fuse is still there, the fire is still there, smoldering beneath a thick coccoon of educated and mature thinking. I have a deeper understanding, and I love humanity as a whole, but the mass man is still my mortal enemy.

And I don't love to hate him, as Bradbury's Cellar Septet and Hot Topic kids do. I don't enjoy this feeling of isolation and lone wolfish emotions. I hate hating the ignorant. I wish everyone could understand. I want the world as my brother, not as my enemy. I want the world to appreciate "Forty Hour Increments" and the lastest exploding dog drawing. Why do they have to keep pushing my buttons?

The rain has helped my mood along, and I mean that in all ways. It has made it worse as well as alleviated it. I felt like it was raining just for me. God, this weather is gorgeous. Can we keep it forever?

I go now to listen to beauty and read beauty. Aw, crap. I just realized I left "Me Talk Pretty One Day" with Paul. ::sigh::

Someone Must Have Planned This

This day could not have begun more perfectly. I woke up and hit the snooze like four times, getting me the maximum amount of sleep. When I actually rose and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I realized that the day was chillier than the one before and cloudy to boot. The only thing that could make it more picturesque would be rain, which the weatherman promises will be forthcoming. I had a wonderful political discussion with my mother as we ate our morning bagels, and she agreed to buy me the new Twothirtyeight as payment for my work on Sunday night.

Then, off to Family Christian Stores (yes, I'm sorry. I know.) to buy the aim of my desire, "You Should Be Living", clad in my Twothirtyeight shirt, girl pants, sweater jacket, and EuShoes. I was expecting FCS to be closed, planning to wait in Barnes and Noble until they opened at ten, skipping my first class for the sake of this long coveted album. But they were not! And I stepped out of my newly repaired car into the crisp morning air to run into the store, startling the gentle salesgirl with my exuberant request for "You Should Be Living". I literally skipped out of the store, ripping the plastic off as I went. Oh quiet and perfect joy. The same kind of joy I had when school finally began. So much excitement, so much anticipation, and when it came it was simply too much for me and I collapsed into my happiness.

I quickly skipped over to Barnes and Noble to get a grande rasberry latte, having skipped my normal two cups of coffee at breakfast, and then drove to school at about 35 mph in an attempt to prolong my initial listening experience. I got through five songs.

So far, though all songs are breathtaking and amazing, one song in particular has made my bones stiffen and my blood freeze in my veins. "I Pretend To Choke" is that good.

Best song title I've ever heard besides "When They Really Get To Know You They Will Run": "The Bathroom Is A Creepy Place For Pictures Of Your Friends"

You Should Be Showering

Ok, here's my no-longer-distracted-by-the-desire-for-dessert-and-the-allure-of-my-new-book entry. I've had some hot chocolate and read a few chapters, I'll be fine.

SO! Ash's Dancetimepartyfest CD was a hit at school today. Sadly, though, some people took it seriously, or at least more seriously than they were meant to. Not that Deltron 3030 or Fatboy Slim are to be thought of as Ludicrious (pun intended) but the rest was never meant to be thought of as "a really great song". At lunch, we all had fun getting our groove on, all being everyone but Paul and Nathan who simply stood watching in wonder, or in Nathan's case, laughing in a cold medicine induced state of euphoria. All included Ms. Sobkoviak aka Sarah, the new Spainish teacher who is currently we girls's absolute favorite person. She gets mega Jprops because she already knew all the words to all the songs, including Deltron 3030.

But in art, too many people were singing along without laughing, and too many of the same found my dancing far too funny, for me to ever want to play any kind of music for them again. Also, when the room fell unluckily silent momentarily, allowing a certain line of a DMX song to be clearly heard throughout the room, Mrs. Kelly turned it off and would have confiscated the CD if I hadn't run off with it.

The first issue of the TSAS Beak is dangerously close to being nearly ready to be almost close to finished. In other words, I have in final drafts of all the articles but two. And they're all good! Well, all but one. This one review really sucks, but at least it's readable. Let the blame fall on the writer, the rest of the paper is gonna kick tooshy. Seriously. I am so proud of all of them and how hard they've worked. It's not easy to learn an entirely new style of writing, especially as an upperclassman who has a lot of other stuff on their plate, and from a kid your own age. At times I've felt slightly akward trying to coach them . . . who am I kidding? I love teaching them. I do though feel wierd giving Mrs. Williams the reports, because I know their grades are based on what I say, and I have to be honest. If someone hasn't been working, I have to tell her. But, like I said, most of them have been trying really hard and I really appreciate that. And I've told them that.

Today I did have to get a little mean, and say "Friday or bust, people! Get me a FINAL draft before Friday, or I'll get someone else to write it." But I think it was the right amount of hard ass at the right time, because it got me four final drafts within the hour.

I went to the library and got "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris and "Yestermorrow", Ray Bradbury. I think I'm gonna perform something from "Me Talk Pretty One Day" for my HI this year. (Humorous Interpretation) I'm rather peeved that our first tournament falls on the same weekend as Serenade Night, my MC debut. I wish I could figure out a way to do both, but it looks like most of us are a part of Serenade Night anyway, so I doubt we'll go to the tournament at all. Oh well, last year we didn't start actually competing until January, and we still blew the 1A division away. Being one tournament late won't hurt.

Megan and I are going to do an HD (Humorous Duet) and we're trying to find copies of scripts from the old Batman show. The campy one. But we've yet to locate one. Can you help us? We're also working on cases for LD Debate, and Megan is off to a running start while I'm still floundering in the kiddie pool. Soon I too will be a champion debater like Megan.

Mr. B, ehem, I mean Paul, pointed out today that while we brag about how great Joe and Nathan are as debaters, they've never actually won a round. Hmm. They went all the way to state by default. We just declare them the "real" winners because they confused and imtimidate their opponents with their overly complicated and obscurely based cases, to the point that the judge feels sorry for them. Thats what winning is all about, making the other side cry. (No joke, our team has done that, SEVERAL times. We're the bullies of the 1A debate circuit.)

I smell terrible.

Today Paris, Tomorrow The World!

Theres another reason to hate Mardel now. They won't be carrying the new Twothirtyeight album when it comes out tomorrow, and they don't even know if and when they will have it. The will have Superchic[k] and LaRue though, if you're looking for that. I was so suprised that they won't be carrying the new Mindless Self Indulgence album. (If anyone in that store heard an MSI song, I bet they'd have heart failure.)

Speaking of heart failure, thats what Mr. B, rather PAUL, is going to have pretty soon. I caught him sitting at his desk today, just eating big glops of frosting. Disgusting. And so unhealthy. I have lost all respect for the man. Which is why I am calling him Paul. You just can't give someone a formal title after you've seen them spooning icing like a four year old who just discovered thier birthday cake.

I went to Satellite tonight. I do not like anyone on that staff, I do not think. Leo, Jen, Lara and thats about it. I dont' really know most of the others, but judging from their comments during the meeting, I dont want to. I'll give them a chance though, if the occasion arises. I got two assignments, volentarily. A movie review and a feature on the teen improv troupe. That'll be good. And I just turned in my review of Ceci N'est Pas Recover, and it's dang good, if I say so myself. Watch for it in coming weeks.

I'm lethargically typing this. I want a brownie. I'm done.

But tomorrow never came . . .

I'm Not The Type To Beg For Comments . . .

But I think I just saw a tumbleweed roll across the guestbook.

O dea certe!

A good song is like the dill potato chips I love so much. Recover "Push Push" is just this overwhelming ROCK that compels me to throw myself around my room and/or bang on my steering wheel as I listen to it, attempting to get the music inside of me as much as possible. In the same way I shovel chips in my mouth, trying to get as much of that amazing taste on my tongue as possible. I am overwhelmed, addicted to it. It's the same kind of emotion that makes me want to hug intangible things, but this isnt a comfortable joy, this is an excitable and ecstatic joy that makes me jump around like a monkey.

At school, everything is simple. I go to class, I get an A. It feels that simple to me, because it comes so easily, when you love the subject. Doing the assignment isn't a chore, because I want to do it. So it feels like all I do is be myself and the grades come naturally. It's the same way with people. I don't have to try to be funny or nice or helpful because those things just come naturally. I say something funny, people laugh. Someone needs help, I do it. I dont even think about it. And it flows both ways. Other people are funny naturally, other people help me without stopping to think. It's just simple. I am myself, and things go right.

It doesn't always work that way outside of the TSAS school building. Other places, I feel like a spectator, like someone who came to watch, not to play. Or like a referee or a commentator, on the sidelines, planning or fixing, but my place is not on the field. When I try to take part in that, I feel stupid and akward, like a man in a suit in the middle of a baseball field. At my school, I am a part of things. In the world, I stand outside looking in. How indicative.

We Exalt Your Holy Stinkin' Name

So far, since I've been working for my mom on Sunday mornings during the worship services, I've been able to take and even enjoy the worship music. Mostly because I make it a point not to learn the words, and because I only take it in three song doses. But tonight, I got smacked with a big bowl of praise and worship. My spiritual mind is numb.

I had to run the screens that tell the crowd the words, so I actually had to read along with their singing. Oh my, if I hear one more "Lord we praise you" or "Holy holy God" I'm gonna run for some Eminem. (And that's no joke, I love his new song.) I won't get into my anti-praise and worship diatribe once again, but I must draw attention to one particular line. It was in the song so interestingly titled, "You Are Near" that I heard the words, "We are changed from glory to glory."

That doesn't even make sense. If the singer of the song is transformed into the aptical and inanimate "glory", what were they before? Oh, glory. Ok. Or perhaps they mean, between each glory they were changed. But then, is "glory" an event? Can one get tickets to it? Can one stage a glory?

Alright, I go now to listen to Recover about a thousand more times and perhaps even finish up my review of it, postponing the writing of my essay for debate once more until another day.

High Class Hides Behind Low Brow

I just spent several hours trying to make one five song CD. But it was quite worth it. Chris is right, Recover is amazing.

Anyone remember that movie, "Bubble Boy" from a few years ago? Kid grows up in a bubble, runs after girl he loves? Sounds really dumb. But it was on, this weekend being the free Starz movie weekend, and I was watching it as I struggled with our CD burner. It's actually really rather funny, as well as making some biting satirical religious commentary. And the kid from Donnie Darko is the Bubble Boy, and he's pretty cute. But the whole thing could be one big satirical cartoon for American religion and tolerance/intolerance. I like it.

I'm helping my mom out of a bind tonight at her church, running some screens for this concerty worship service thing. I'm giving up review writing time for this. She owes me. Like bring me lunch owes me. Tank of gas owes me. Maybe even new CD player owes me. (Sarah is making me give hers back, and I am officially completely out of money from my last job. Someone hire me!)

Yeah, if you could, just ignore the entry before this one. I really screwed that up. Just ignore it. And I can't delete it because, yeah. I'm dumb. Ignore it.

High Class Hides Behind Low Brow

I just spent several hours trying to make one five song CD. But it was quite worth it. Chris is right, Recover is amazing.

Anyone remember that movie, "Bubble Boy" from a few years ago? Kid grows up in a bubble, runs after girl he loves? Sounds really dumb. But it was on, this weekend being the free Starz movie weekend, and I was watching it as I struggled with our CD burner. It's actually really rather funny, as well as making some biting satirical religious commentary. And the kid from

Its A Nice Place To Visit . . .

Oh, the fair. What an institution. It's amazing that such an amazingly arcane and primal kind of thing has lasted so long in our highly cultivated and sophisticated society.

It's been so long since I've been, 7 years. Before that I'd only been once, when I was eight. But when I was eleven, it was the coolest, trendiest thing in the world to go to the fair. Everyone who was anyone went to the fair. And the crowd you went with, that was important too. It was fairly early in the year, and if you could wrangle going with a popular kid, you were truly set for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of middle school. So I, being eager to be accepted, called up Jaquiline (thats Jack-quill-lyn, not Jack-lyn) and Jennifer and invited them to go to the fair with me. "Uh, I think I have homework." "Um, my church is doing this thing tonight." So I went with my parents. So not cool at 11. Who do I see, eating caramel apples and giggling as they wait in line for the Ferris Wheel that costs four dollars? None but Jacquiline and Jennifer. I was crushed, and the standard for my middle school social life was set.

But tonight, I went with some of the best friends I've ever had. And it was pretty much fun times yo. The amusement does not end. Everywhere you turn, there's something to goof around on or about. Ladies who bark at you for sitting in their massage chairs. "Are you gonna buy it? No? Then go away!" Or comedians who are supposed to be hypnotists and wear inflatable suits. Or corn so greasy you could lube your car with the residue left on your hand. Or a small mountain of goats. Or what was perhaps the creepiest and funniest thing I have EVER seen; The Milking Parlor. The Milking Parlor? Yes, the Milking Parlor.

The Milking Parlor is a place where there are several milking machines behind glass, arranged in front of a set of bleachers. When we visited, there were currently no cows, but instead a handwritten sign telling us when the "Milking Times" were. Yes, folks, haven't you ever just felt the need to kick back, hang out and watch some cows be milked? Well now, in the Milking Parlor, you have a place to go.

After we went to the Parlor, we walked through the barn and looked at all the cows. Cows really are quite cute, you know. Especially, as Chris put it, the fuzzy ones. Ash petted one, aww. On our way out some nu metal kids stopped us, in all their baggy, black, pierced, speed induced glory and said, "Dude man, hey all of you. Hey dude, are all you guys like, a special mission from like the seventies man? Like, did you guys come here from the seventies? Cuz you look like you're from the seventies man." We told him, of course we were, yes. "So like, what are you doing here? Can you tell me man, or is it like, you'll have to kill me in some terrible unmentionable way if you tell me?" Yeah, the second one.

I suppose I can understand his confusion. Ash, karen and I were all wearing some very cute (So cute a lady earlier had commented on how cute we were) newsie style hats and our outfits matched them, and my wonderful sweater jacket was rather vintage. All the guys had the shaggy long hair, and John and Chris were both wearing tight shirts. Kevin had on a vintage striped sweater. I was so excited to be mistaken for something so cool, even if the observer was very obviously quite messed up.

On the way out, Chris and I picked up some "great" tracts off the street. A while ago, we found one called "Bad Bob" thats just abysmally hilarious, and tonight they were passing out ones that seemed to be the same . . . brand? artist? organization? I dont know, but they were rather similar. One is called "The Gun Slinger" and the first page says, "I can feel EVIL in this town!" Also found were "Its the Law!" "The Empty Tomb" and "The Sacrifice", featuring a bloody knife on the front. Nice. If I ever figure out a way to put these things on the internet, I will.

Currently eating: an SLB cherry bagel with peanut butter. I have to share this because A) it looks rather pretty, the brownish-tan on the pink bagel and B) it's very good.

Backbeats and the Holy Arts

I say it all the time, but it only becomes truer with every repitition. I love my friends.

First of all, today Craig, Karen, Ash, and Chris came to my school for lunch! This is so not allowed, by the way, as I found out today. But they were already coming so OH well. I was very excited, bringing my worlds together. As I said as they were seated in Mr. B's "parlour", "If only you guys went here, everything would be perfect!" ("Except the middle east," interjected Austin) I am so appreciative of them coming and so satisfied with the success of Operation Cake And Lasanga.

And tonight, Ash, Jen and I had a DAAANCE party! Ash was a DJ in another life, I swear. She, being just about the coolest person ever, made us a par-tay cruisin mix CD with Fatboy Slim, Nelly, DMX, Ludacris, and of course Prince, among others. Did we ever bump to that! We started at Barnes and Noble and saw Joe and Jeff and Matt, who are all VERY cool, then ate us some french fries at Village Inn with our new friend, AJ the manager. (Same guy who gave us the 79 cent salads last week. He remembered us!) Then we headed out to TARGET which was the craziest rukus ever. The Killas and Kizzo (is that his name? Kyle?)(haha, The Killas and Kizzo, sounds like . . . something.) joined us and then we laughed a lot. Those boys are just about the funniest people I know, next to Ash and Jen. We have some goooooood pictures to remember tonight. Hmm, and the staff of the produce department of Target will have a hearty laugh as they close up shop tonight. Then the boys went off to watch TELEVISION as we went of to play at the park, oh oh and buy French Limonade, Orangeade and what was basically sugar water. And it was alllll goooooooood!

Man, the fair crowd seemed to be getting a big kick out of me as I drove home from Jen's house. You can't NOT dance to that music. Just because I was alone and white doesn't mean I can't still do whatever it is you call what I was doing. People were actually rolling down their windows and pointing at me. So I was dancing, singing, and laughing hysterically at myself while trying to drive. You got a problem with that? Woo!

---

Today in art, I hear Mrs. Kelly saying to another kid, "Have you seen Ganeesha?" I turn around. "You know of her, Jamie? The Indian elephant goddess?"
"Yes."
"Isn't she just so cool? She has such an interesting design."
"Wow, Mrs. Kelly. I'm sure the Hindus would really appreciate the respect you're showing their deity. I bet they want their goddess reduced to a design element. I mean, really, thats so cool to treat the center of their religion as a cool statue."

That was so rude! I was so upset and offended at that. Just like once when my ex-boyfriend wanted to buy a Catholic prayer candle for his room, just because it looked cool. It's religion, someone's lifeblood, the center of their existence, and you want to treat it as a piece of decoration? How disrespectful can you be? If someone hung a crucifix in their room simply as decoration but didn't believe in Jesus's sacrifice, I'd be deeply offended. Or when people wear crosses as jewelry but give no thought to the ressurection. And it's worse if you don't even mean to, because that just shows that you didn't even give a thought to the sacredness of that artifact. I'd sooner you urinate on the Bible than adorn yourself with symbols of my religion without understanding it.

My friend tried to say that the aestetic quality of it is part of any piece of religious art. But the aesthetic quality is simply a means to an end. God, or Allah, or Buddah or whoever or whatever, that is what is at the core of that piece, which is a higher meaning than any other cause or theme we could ever hope to represent in our mortal arts. If we show respect and attempt to understand the purpose of art with worldly meaning, the respect and attempts for understanding for holy art should be in spades.

I Feel A Bit Like A Pirate Today

I was gonna find a cool picture to go with today's post, because I've been having fun with google's image search. But I didn't have the energy or the attention span for it.

Today Mr. B brought a bunch of his old CDs up to school for me, if I wanted them. Man, these are fun. He had a few I had, like Ghoti Hook "Sumo Suprise" and one I had and lost, The W's "Fourth From The Last". Then good old standards I never actually had, like MxPx "Pokinatcha". But he also gave me some of his old ska CDs, which is just so funny to people like Chris and I who had so many cheesy ska comps and lame upstart ska band's poorly produced CDs. The Isrealites? Remember them? Yeah, I've got that now. It sucks hugely. Right up there with Tasty Snax and Godrocket. Mighty Mighty Bosstones, which isn't cheesy but still on the bandwagon. I now own that as well. And Not For The Crowd, who were on EVERY ska comp ever released. And it's not too bad, as 3rd wave ska goes. Also got World Against World, for those of you interested in the hardcore. Every Day Life too. And finally, an ask me why Mr. B had this, but King Shon and Tha S.S.M.O.B. "Papa Didn't Raize No Punkz". Featuring songs like "Bumpz Fo Yo Trunk", "2 Da 1 Dat Pulled Da Trigga", and "Da Gangsta Ya Mutha Luvz". Nothing like mid-nineties Christian rap. Mr. B is a strange man.

Hmm, not a whole lot to say tonight. I got mad at Mrs Kelley again, nothing new. Ash and Karen and I ran around a bit this evening and I took them by my school, and Karen may go there!!!! Woo! I did some free writing today because I'm so jealous of some people's talent and I wanted to see if I still had any inkling of the poet in me. I think I did alright. Ho hum, but I never was and never will be a true poet. Blah, a scholar for life, that is my lot. And I am satisfied, beyond satisfied. But I shall always wish I was more aesthetically minded. There are bugs in my room. I updated that zaingah thing people are always talking about.

I go now to skank to Not For The Crowd and relive my "childhood".

Calvin and Hobbes

Calvin: Dad, whats a control freak?
Dad: It's what lazy, slipshod, careless, cut corners workers call anyone who cares enough to do something right.
Calvin: Am I in the presence of their king? Should I kneel?
Dad: If anything in this world works, it's because one of us took charge.

hehe, I love that one.

If I Had A Nickel For Every Empty Potato Chip Bag In My Room Maybe I'd Have Enough To Buy Another Bag

Praise God in heaven, my staff is finally starting to get the hang of writing!

I finally got an article from probably my most talented and most irresponsible writer today. And wow, it's good stuff. Not like Nobel Prize for Literature type stuff, but its at least as good or better than most of the writing on the Satellite. And I got a review yesterday that just needs to be slightly less defiant (It's full of inside jokes and the kid who wrote it doesn't wanna take them out) and get a new intro and it's perfect. And my opinion editor is finally breaking through her writer's block and getting on the ball with her column. It's very encouraging.

I accidentally stumbled across the debate topic for our division that we didn't think was released yet today while looking for transcripts of last year's finals. It's "Resolved: When in conflict, academic freedom in U. S. high schools ought to be valued above community standards." We either have to argue for or against that resolution, for the affirmative or the negative, or AFF and NEG as the lingo goes. Thats just the topic for Nov./Dec. It'll change after that. Me, Megan and John W., the only three who do this type of debate, were very excited to have our topic at last.

I keep catching myself wanting to transfer all these funny things that happened at school to print, and then I realize that probably no one outside of TSAS will think they're funny.

We are having a Middle East Peace Conference in AFP. I'm representing Jordan. Man, being middle of the road is not as much fun as being say, Iran. They get to say cool things like "we will destroy you and all of your satanic policies" and "the wailing walls of the Jews will fall." or Iraq, who just hates everyone and everything. Their policy is pretty much, "We like you if you'll submit to our will and give us all your profits from trade. Otherwise, you're on your own." Jordan's is just all, "Equality, fair and just states for all, no invasion, hug everyone!" My country is a wuss. Me and Egypt, we're basically just extensions of the western world. Gah, it's so boring.

Actually, I'm having fun coming up with fun plans to appease the extremists. Saudi Arabia won't recognize Israel as a country as long as they're on Palestinian land, so I proposed (with the inspiration of my friend Alex) that we make them a waterborne nation. Like in "Waterworld". They live on boats and rafts and are a floating civilization. The Medeterrainian is right there, it could work. I went around proposing this plan to all the countries and asking if they were "on board'. Haha, get it?

In podiatric news, my current socks have a hole in them. That leaves me two pairs. Well, I also have a pair that are pink and have little bows on them, and my favorite socks that I only save for special occasions because I've worn them so much that they're threadbare on the bottom and about to fall apart. But I'm running low on pants as well, thanks to Craig's gum, so I'll probably do some laundry soon. Then I'll have plenty of nice clean socks.

Currently listening to: Hey Mercedes-Every Night Fire Works, Hot Water Music-Fuel For The Hate Game, Starflyer 59-Everyone Makes Mistakes, Get Up Kids-On A Wire

Currently feeling: hungry, clean and neck-sore

Not Nerds, But Teacher's Pets Will Rule The World

I hate the term "teacher's pet". It's such a derogatory phrase. It's made up and used by people who are jealous of the repoire that some students can have with their teachers. (I'm reminding myself of this one Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin goes up to his dad and askes "Dad, whats a control freak?"
Dad: It's what lazy, slipshod workers call anyone who cares enough to get a job done right!
Calvin: Am I in the presence of their King? Should I kneel?
Man, I have that memorized. Wow, I love Calvin and Hobbes.) And of course there are some kids who are simply suck ups and trying to get better grades and just being lap dogs, wanting to make the other kids look bad. And those kids, those are the ones that give me and other kids like me a bad name.

I love being able to get to know my teachers. They're amazing people, the people who choose to devote thier lives to us mindless high school worms. They spend everyday trying to pound some sense into our little heads and they love it, at least the good ones.

I've come to see that the most effective education comes from a give and take learning environment. When kids listen to and learn from their teachers, but the teachers listen to and learn from the kids. The kids have some control over their world, and the teachers can learn and remember what it's like to be a students and become more sensitive and in touch with the teenage world.

Plus, at least at my school, the teachers are just awesome people. My teacher Jan, she used to teach in a swiss boarding school and her deepest desire is to be an international spy. Ellen was a part of a religious commune which she later "escaped" from and her husband writes music for a living. Kathy used to work for a major corporation and quit a high paying job just to come teach here. At my old school, I had a math teacher who helped to build the space station and knew how to build robots. Mr. B, of course, was once a rock star. They have so much to teach that has nothing to do with their curriculum. Why can't more adults be like teachers? Why can't they be willing to listen to kids and help them without seeming parental and lecturing?

And why don't more kids give respect to those people who deserve it? It frustrates me when I see stupid new kids come into our school and just assume they can treat Jan or Ellen or Mrs. Lee like trash just because they're an authority figure. They soon learn, these are not adults to be pushed around and they deserve to be treated with great great respect. And I'm sure its not just at TSAS that there are adults worth listening to. I've always tried to be excited about whatever teacher I have, wanting to know them and know what they can teach me. Sometimes, more often at Memorial, they would dissapoint me. They would not treat the students with respect, would not impart any worthwhile knowledge. They would simply impose their ideas on us, never listening, never cooperating. Those teachers, they do not deserve my respect. They are not even teachers, they're scholastic babysitters.

I'm going to take this oppurtunity to thank every good teacher I've ever had, in chronological order. Starting with: Mrs. Leader, Mrs. Boyd, Mr Tomlin, Mrs. Brown, Mrs Spahn, Mrs Baber, Mrs. Buker, Mrs. Benefield, Mrs. Cooper, Mr. Logsdon, Mrs. Pallares, Mr. Lundy, Mrs Lee, Mrs. Marrara, Mrs. Lenz, Mrs. Smith (at Memorial), Ms. Cardwell (now Mrs. Matheson), Ms. Motto, Mr. Johnson, Ellen Stackable, Mr. Walton, Mr. Dennis, Mr. Butler, Jan O'Connor, Kathy Brett and Suzanne Lee once again for starting TSAS. The end.

Ender Will Save Us All

As some of you may know and none of you care about, I am wearing socks today. This is a good thing, for I have not worn them for several weeks. I do not own a large amount of socks, most of them having become ripped or worn through or lost in various ways. So my supply of socks runs out long before my supply of other clothes does. Luckily, socks are something that are easily gone without. But this morning I found a stash of seemingly clean ones under my bed. Score! A pair of green ones, a pair of blue and purple striped ones, and a pair of my dad's old dress socks. Mega score. I'm so glad to be able to slide across our wood floors once again. Not to mention not having smelly feet.

Today some kids were talking about Third Day playin at the fair. "You goin', Jamie?" they asked.
"Ummm, no," I responded.
"Why not? Don't you like Third Day?" they questioned.
"Well, not really," I understated.
"But, they're Christian," they argued.
"Uh, yes but . . . uh . . . I just . . I uh . . I don't like his voice. Sounds too much like Creed," I triumphantly said, coming up with an answer that would not offend them.
"Gah, Jamie. Don't you like anything?"
I chuckled an evil and knowing chuckle inwardly.
"Yes, I do. I like Pedro the Lion, Jets To Brazil, Five Iron Frenzy, Hot Water Music, The Get Up Kids, Thrice, Starflyer 59, Saves The Day, Denison Witmer, Further Seems Forever, Dashboard Confessional, Mates Of State, Hey Mercedes . . ."
"Jeez, sorry I asked."

I found that amusing. Well, if I don't like Christian rock, and I don't like mainstream rock, what can I like, after all? I mean, that's all there is, isn't it?

I stayed afterschool today for over an hour, talking to Mr. B. Man, that was the most refreshing conversation I have ever had. I have never known anyone as wise, kind, intelligent, helpful, intuitive and open minded as Paul Butler. Older people are set in their ways and have trouble even talking to younger people about things. Kids my age don't understand or care about most of the things I do. And if they do, they're just in the same place I am, they can't help me. But Mr. B, he has more wisdom than I, as well as the ability to see me from the outside and observe my actions and my words and see what I need. He is to me, my Ender. Not whyender, but my Ender.

I am out of the habit of writing, I cannot articulate my thoughts very well. This is rather pathetic. I must remember to write something decent and worth reading every night.

There was a show tonight, Ace Shoot Me, as Kevin calls them. AAC opened, and they played wonderfully. There was a minimum of injury and a maximum of rockin'. The second band was crap, aka After Eight formerly known as 24/7. But the other touring band, the one that came with Ace Troubleshooter, was Mewithoutyou. Mewithoutyou was a-stinkin-mazing. They have been called hardcore by some folk, so I wasn't expecting anything spectacular. I thought I could maybe dig them, but not much more than any other post melodic hardcore band I've heard. They were not just another whatever band. They were rock, hard and grating and vulgar and passionated and amazing. If they were a color they would be brown and gray. If they were an object they'd be the piece of rusted and run over metal I used in my last sculpture. The music was not typical hardcore junk that I can't even begin to describe because its all too far out of my league, musically as well as the fact that my writing skills are just not up to the challenge these days. But the vocalist, he blew me away. He was able to convey all the emotion and passion that a thousand trite and cliche hardcore bands are attempting to show. He sang, screamed, spoke, gyrated and flailed all over the stage with the kind of energy and excitement I haven't seen since I saw Chrissie Verhagen with Element 101. Same level of passion, different styles. But this guy, just amazing.

His lyrics were poetic and seemed to have depth. I saw him reading a book before the show, so I imagine he's less than a total moron. Karen bought the CD, which I'll be borrowing soon. I hope I can keep the image of their show in my mind. I'd heard some of their songs before, but that passion and fervor of music doesn't quite transfer to a silvery piece of plastic very well. I've heard nothing but good things about their live show, tonight I agree most heartily.