Angie's Journals From Greece
This week, went to Orientation and registered for classes, which include good o'l Archaeology 100. Because I'm going to Hong Kong tomorrow, leaving you all three weeks without me, to fill that gaping void in your soul, here are my journal entries for my trip to Greece in 10th grade. I know it's long, but you have 21 days to read it, so I don't feel sorry for you. Oh, also. These were written before I began blogging, and are written on paper, and so are unedited and contain traces of my 10th-grade self, such as usage of the word "Woo!" I wish I'd been more descriptive, but I didn't have a lot of writing time and that's what photos are for.
April 8
Sabena sucks. The airline food reminds me of Cloud's quote, "I've eaten better dog food." I've never eaten dog food, but I suspect it would taste better. I'm dry puking. Nick says the correct term is dry heaving. Technicalities.
Belgians are nice. What does Flemish sound like? Brussels airport looks so much like the US it's creepy. It's like we never left. Rain and everything. Some parts look like Tokyo Narita. Some guy passing mumbled "Crazy American students." Nick & Rob are complaining about tobacco smoke. I didn't notice it. I found "Peeing Boy" merchandise. Joy. I'll buy some when I get back. More English here than in DC! Some French.
About airline food: apparently, Sabena is the trans-Atlantic airline that spends the least on food. It shows.
April 9
In Athens airport. Rainy. Again. As if we never left, but this is definitely Greece. Half of the words are in Greek, but the illiteracy isn't as bad as I expected, like in Hong Kong where I can speak fluently but not read at all. I managed to read "Exodus," gate. The landing was nice, even w/ rain. The guidebook said it rarely rains in Athens, but that's too stupid to believe. At first the islands rolled out of the cloud bank, green and rocky, like Hong Kong only I usually land in Hong Kong at night. Then the plane banked and you could see the mainland stretching out over the horizon with green and beaches and mountains. If only it weren't raining! There was an interesting effect with droplets flying across the window. I've seen it in cars, but not on planes.
We flew over the Alps, and over Venice. It was sunny. The Alps were really pretty, since you could see layers of clouds beneath, like frost over clear ice. And you could see winding rivers and valleys, not just monotonous snowy peaks. W/ the Greek view, you could see waves on the water, and red roofed houses, and shrubs and turqoise swimming pools, and ships sailing. You can't see pollution or poverty yet, though there's a hint of it as we descend, with murky green in the water and crummy houses. Then again, if you live next to an airport your house probably will be crummy.
Our luggage isn't coming and security wouldn't let us go to the bathroom. What sort of place am I in? Not exactly post card. Ooh. I got me some shiny drachmas with some guy on them. Woo.
The Greek they speak here sounds odd. If it weren't for the Greeks speaking it, I wouldn't know it was Greek.
The airport is all blue and white in the receiving area, but significantly friendlier later. And smoke-filled. Naturally.
Athens. Nice place. I'm surprised I don't have culture shock yet, though it's so different, it seems perfectly normal. Plants are Hong Kongy, houses are European and vertical. I think a reason I don't have culture shock is because the streets are wide enough to drive through. Some of the poorer places have random piles of trash lying about. The grafitti artists are quite skilled. There's a lot more color in Athens than American cities.
Athens metro and Syntagma Square. The Metro is an archaeological place too. It's the cleanest Metro I've ever seen.
We saw the changing of the guard in Syntagma. Poms squad.
In Plaka, we got chased around by a large band of stray dogs which would get driven off by storeowners slapping things together and yelling in Greek. They started attacking motorcycles and taxis and things. (Present day Angie's note: The dogs were attacking, not the storeowners) I didn't get a great view of the Acropolis, but I did see the Tower of Winds. The walking tour is tomorrow.
April 10 (Current day Angie's note: I stopped dating my journal entries here, using only a squiggly line to seperate each day's entry. However, I will continue to note the date in the blog, for your convenience.)
Bus tour, actually. We went to the Acropolis. Sunny, finally. Absolutely gorgeous. I really hate these journals though; it feels like I'm taking inventory. The view from the Acropolis is amazing; you can see the city stretch out for miles. And finally went shopping at Plaka & saw Syntagma in the daytime. Athens is growing on me, and begins to look less like Hong Kong. Went, after a long bus ride, to Cape Siounion, with the Temple of Poseidon. Drove along the sea, and it was incredibly pretty. The view from the temple was awesome, with dramatic cliffs and the ocean all around, and wildflowers. At the hotel, our neighbors introduced themselves. They're a bunch of British boys who like throwing oranges out the windows and burning deoderant. I went to Plaka to go shopping at night, so I couldn't join in the orange throwing, but I heard that we got some good stains in the alley. Night shopping was fun, but I killed my feet. Amy & Debbs spent all night talking to Tom on the balcony; they said it was too crowded for me too. I did not sleep. The Italians across the hall are too loud.
April 11
Windy windy windy. It's the island cruise, though really, it's more of a glorified ferry service. It's very windy on the "sun deck", they ought to call it a wind deck. It feels like I'm flying, and seagulls swoop and race the ship. Took a cold hour to reach Aegina; I can't believe such a booming town only has 3000 people. I took the bus tour to the temple of Atreya. Aegina is very pretty, like a springtime suburban Athens with mountains and valleys. The view from the temple was nice too, in a different way; I think all the temple views are nice anyhow. And I saw the church, where I bought the famed pistachios.
Okay. So Aegina has 10,000 people and Hydra has 3000. It's a tiny town tucked in a cove. There are no cars. I took a donkey ride for 1000 drachmas and nearly got a leg cramp. The donkey driver would occassionally wave to random people knew, like a Greek equivalent of "Wassup, my homie G?" I suppose in such a small town, everyone knows each other. I also suppose his Greek isn't really Athenian Greek but whatever. We went into the upper residential areas, which were much quieter than the portside tourist shops. He didn't know a lot of English. Maybe like "1000 drachma," "Hydra good, yes?" "This donkey, not horse," "you like donkey?" and "No problem."
(sketches on next page, labeled 'Greek building foundation' and 'tree')
The shopping is great.
Poros. Spent 20 minutes there. Should've went to the clock tower, but didn't.
There was bozouki on the ship later. I got dragged into it. It was scary.
April 12
Village of Arkhova before Delphi. (written in Greek letters) Two hour ride to Delphi. It was mountainous, but the view into the valley was great. I'm getting apathetic of tourist sites, and have stopped taking pictures. Arkhova, ski resort. Very European. The lanscape is different here in Greece. It's greener, and the mountains are rockier. In the US the mountains have dark green trees, and fields of wheat and corn and wooden barns and silos, maybe a corall with horses and cow. Here, it's cypress trees, olive groves, silvery gray, and pens of goats and sheep. There don't seem to be suburbs, just towns of differing size and density. Ferry over Straight of Corinth. Patras is a suburb. It was raining cats & dogs so we couldn't go to the beach. The coastal road was pretty but inefficient. Mt. Parnassis was snow capped. Patras is so pretty in the morning after the storm when the sea shallows aren't brown.
I spent the rainy night watching Greek soap operas, news, and religious stuff. Plus jumping at people exploding firecrackers.
April 13
(Greek letters, with the caption of 'random Olympian street signs' and 'part of inscription at Olympia, too lazy to write it all down.' sketch, caption: 'roadside memorial photos inside, sometimes made to look like Byzantine churches.')
Friday
Olympia. Seems that bagel cookies are popular in the region. The mountainous area looks more like the US. There are pines and broadleaf trees now. There were many memorials to people killed on the road alongside, it was a bit disturbing. Olympia was yet another archaeological site. The trees and flowers were very pretty, but the other temples I've seen were more impressive. Yay, food. I had eggplant. I can feel myself getting fat.
Tolos: passing near Sparta with very awesome dramatic mountains. Almost like pictures of Switzerland. Nick says there was communist grafitti all around, KKE; I didn't see it. There's nothing green and pretty about it. Saw a lot of goats & sheep, and some chickens too. The houses aren't as square. They have red tile roofs.
Tolos is a normal Greek town. The hotel is nice. Some frescoes, and you can see everyone from the balconies. No shower curtains. Good Friday, at night people went around with lit candles, and you could hear services from afar. And tons of firecrackers going off.
I didn't go to the disco, I went to the beach. It was dark and gravelly and hurt my bare feet, so I got my sandals sandy. It was mostly dark over the water except a mountain randomly glowing green in it. The water was clear and cold, no tides as usually. I'm glad I had my stupid flashlight, which illuminated about as much as a lit Good Friday candle. No one had a flash camera, but I tried to take pictures anyway.
Went back up; Nick and Renwa called home from a payphone, and we all went in an internet cafe to use email. 450 drachma. Thinking of Vassilis. Passed "The Gorilla", the disco. It looked pretty dumb, with Europop, a bar, and ppl getting drunk off their asses. I'm glad I didn't go, but I'll have to ask people how it was. Nick finally bought a souvenier. Some metal relief thing, of the Parthenon whole, and colored. About time he buys something.
April 14
Saturday
Super Saturday, or whatever. Left beautiful Hotel Epidauria, the beach (which we can't go to) looks very pretty during the day. The whole "two days at the beach" thing was really misleading. Went on to the theater of Epidaurus, yet another happy archaeological site. Stood around on the top row of seats like a total idiot staring at scenery while some tourists below were singing "Lean On Me". Went back to Tolo to pick up forgotten passports. It was interesting to see Tolo in daylight. Then doubled over to Mycenae, lion gated Mycenae of Agammemnon.
Mycenae had the most beautiful view ever. It was not a temple, but a well preserved fortress on top of a hill. You could see for miles around, and at one corner the walls just dropped down into a valley. The rocks were slippery, and it was windy with wildflowers. Then we went to the beehive dome of Agammemnon, where I forgot my camera. It was like a giant stone igloo, and smelled like something had died in there. There was a smaller, darker room we weren't allowed to go in, with a danger sign. We could see it with a flash camera.
Corinth canal. We passed the Acrocorinth to see it. Acrocorinth is a lot higher than the Acropolis and is very impressive looking. The Corinth Canal is a lot deeper than you'd think it would be, at sea level, and goes for four miles. The vertical drop is a bit freaky.
Fireworks. Holy crap, they've been scaring me. Candle light service was more like walking through a bomb field. Little boys would set firecrackers off in the public park, throwing them in bushes and things. They'd glow like embers for several seconds and explode in a flash and a bang. There were sparklers, and sky-launched ones that made a high whistling sound. People would go around with candles that'd blow out in the breeze, and random people would ask us for lights. One woman asked Rob;
Are you tourists?
Yes
Are you Greek?
No.
Are you Greek Orthodox?
No.
What are you then?
Assorted Christians.
*Pause.*
God be with you.
At 12 every church bell in Athens started tolling and people were setting off firecrackers like Dooms day. I suspect Athens Fire Department has one hell of a time every Easter.
April 15
Easter Sunday
I still have red Easter egg dye on my hands. I hope this doesn't symbolized the blood of Christ, or else I'd be disturbed. It's washed off a bit, so now I'm rosy fingered. Everything is closed. Wed took the bus to Syntagma and went up some hill by tram. It was windy, and you could see the Acropolis from the top, and from the 100 drachma pay telescope. There was a church on top, like in defiance of the Parthenon lower down.
(Chinese characters meaning: Big Earth Flower Bloom
Made in Hunan China
Fireworks in 03
BE 62150
Caution
Spins on ground emits flame and sparks
use only under close adult supervision. For outdoor use only. Place on hard flat surface. Do not hold in hand. Light fuse & get away.)
Spent the afternoon walking around at Plaka. McDonalds was open and I had spring rolls. It must be horrible working there, having to speak all sorts of languages and deal with tourists who have no change. Plaka was almost all closed except some tourist shops and jewellry shops, so we went around the agora, and residential areas, tavernas roasting lamb, and lively open parts of Plaka. My last daytime view of Athens.
The alternative evening was just scary. Basically "all the tourists you can cram in one taverna." It really was a fire hazard. Really longass tables and stuff. Scott got pulled up to belly dance, Nick got pulled up to do the drinking dance, which is pretty much how it sounds.
JEFF GOT LOCKED IN THE BATHROOM.
Dammit. Okay. Now Jeff can stop bugging me about putting that in my journal. The knob came off and he started ramming the door until Jane came to save him. Mrs. Bryant got to kiss one of the Bozouki guys.
April 16
Monday
Drove through Athens, for the last time. Sims' alarm clock fell on the floor and we never got a wake up call, so we ended up waking up to Nick banging on the door at 3:10 in the morning. The power went out repeatedly, causing our lights to go out and the elevators to fail. Greek elevators have no doors, by the way. We had to drag our luggage down five flights of stairs. And now we've been waiting for an hour in line for the check in.
Okay. No one expects a two-week old airport to function smoothly the wee hours after Easter, but you'd think it'd be more efficient. As in, not jogging/running through an empty airport to the gate.
Friday, June 27, 2003
Monday, June 23, 2003
Wherein Angie Gardens
Stayed inside parked on a couch most of the weekend in order to read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (OoP), which I awaited with anticipation from midnight Saturday to the middle of the afternoon, when it arrived in the mail. Am about halfway through. Received the shock of realization that Cassie Claire is indeed the superior writer, stylistically, to JK Rowling, and also the shock that one minor but extremely specific thing speculated about in fanfiction (can't remember for the life of me which authors) actually came to pass. I suppose I should've seen it coming by rereading the last few chapters in Goblet of Fire, which I did belatedly. But at any rate, (good ol' JK Rowling) nothing beats Potter canon. Some of Harry's newfound teenage angst is overdone (I wish people would stop talking in capital letters) but on the whole the additional complexity to the plot is truly mind-blowing, in a good (really good) way. It's like dunking your head in cold water, when you first start reading. I think this may be my favorite HP book yet.
Potter reminds me of an IB student, complete with sleepless nights, too many afterschool activities, cramming for standardized tests, and useless classes with no practical application. Kudos.
Also, I went to help Doug do his Eagle project on Sunday. You know that garden at Twinbrook library? No? Well, there is one now. It's purty. Andrew Durfor, but not Rob (who just came home from vacation, the lazy bum, so we harangued him via cell phone), was there too, so we made a very nice dork Troika. We sporadically broke into song (dorky songs too, like Istanbul Constantinople, and Knights of the Round Table) as we heaved, shoveled and carted around topsoil and manure, and planted marigolds and azaleas and artistically big rocks, and sprayed each other with the water hose. When Doug makes Eagle, he'll be the Praetorian Guard of the Boy Scouts. You go, Doug! You're an elite killing machine!
Stayed inside parked on a couch most of the weekend in order to read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (OoP), which I awaited with anticipation from midnight Saturday to the middle of the afternoon, when it arrived in the mail. Am about halfway through. Received the shock of realization that Cassie Claire is indeed the superior writer, stylistically, to JK Rowling, and also the shock that one minor but extremely specific thing speculated about in fanfiction (can't remember for the life of me which authors) actually came to pass. I suppose I should've seen it coming by rereading the last few chapters in Goblet of Fire, which I did belatedly. But at any rate, (good ol' JK Rowling) nothing beats Potter canon. Some of Harry's newfound teenage angst is overdone (I wish people would stop talking in capital letters) but on the whole the additional complexity to the plot is truly mind-blowing, in a good (really good) way. It's like dunking your head in cold water, when you first start reading. I think this may be my favorite HP book yet.
Potter reminds me of an IB student, complete with sleepless nights, too many afterschool activities, cramming for standardized tests, and useless classes with no practical application. Kudos.
Also, I went to help Doug do his Eagle project on Sunday. You know that garden at Twinbrook library? No? Well, there is one now. It's purty. Andrew Durfor, but not Rob (who just came home from vacation, the lazy bum, so we harangued him via cell phone), was there too, so we made a very nice dork Troika. We sporadically broke into song (dorky songs too, like Istanbul Constantinople, and Knights of the Round Table) as we heaved, shoveled and carted around topsoil and manure, and planted marigolds and azaleas and artistically big rocks, and sprayed each other with the water hose. When Doug makes Eagle, he'll be the Praetorian Guard of the Boy Scouts. You go, Doug! You're an elite killing machine!
Wherein Angie Prods her Skewed Worldview and Muses on the Scheme of Things
On Friday, after fencing, went to Ruchita's party and watched Devdas. I didn't do much socializing between the movie and the swarm of Nick B's girlfriends around the strawberry wafers. Apparently, people at the party were loud so people couldn't hear the movie, but it has subtitles, for God's sake. I never thought noise was much of a problem unless people really really want to hear the Hindi. (But in any case, Ruchita got very angry at the socializing swarm around the food table, not that helped quiet things down anyway.)
Aishwarya-Rai is a very beautiful actress, but her role as a tragic romantic heroine was ruined for me on sporadic intervals when she would suddenly, for some unknown reason, remind me of Elaine from Seinfeld. *shrug*
I spent the rest of the evening being confused, because India's always the type of country that Other People live in. Normal People live in The American Empire which dominates the North American Continent and swallows all of poor Canada. They also live in the UK and Europe, which is like the American Empire except better dressed and with silly accents. Then there's China and naturally inferior China-like satellite states (who wish they were us, the poor dears). Then there's Japan, a version of Asia that's clean and hip. Everywhere else is a Heart of Darkness, though India is acknowledged every once in a while as that wild and quaint country to the west of China, where travelling monks go to retrieve Buddhist scriptures, and from where sternly bearded men emigrate to Hong Kong to become bank security guards.
Those exoticized paper puppets who do live in India usually dwell in some sort of vague and mythic jungle between turbans and curry and elephants, kind of like a happy National Geographic theme park.
So that in having the hero and heroine and family and love and weddings and jealousy (and all the things usually within the jurisdiction of Normal People) all exist within this mystic wonderland, Devdas might as well have been set on Mars.
On Friday, after fencing, went to Ruchita's party and watched Devdas. I didn't do much socializing between the movie and the swarm of Nick B's girlfriends around the strawberry wafers. Apparently, people at the party were loud so people couldn't hear the movie, but it has subtitles, for God's sake. I never thought noise was much of a problem unless people really really want to hear the Hindi. (But in any case, Ruchita got very angry at the socializing swarm around the food table, not that helped quiet things down anyway.)
Aishwarya-Rai is a very beautiful actress, but her role as a tragic romantic heroine was ruined for me on sporadic intervals when she would suddenly, for some unknown reason, remind me of Elaine from Seinfeld. *shrug*
I spent the rest of the evening being confused, because India's always the type of country that Other People live in. Normal People live in The American Empire which dominates the North American Continent and swallows all of poor Canada. They also live in the UK and Europe, which is like the American Empire except better dressed and with silly accents. Then there's China and naturally inferior China-like satellite states (who wish they were us, the poor dears). Then there's Japan, a version of Asia that's clean and hip. Everywhere else is a Heart of Darkness, though India is acknowledged every once in a while as that wild and quaint country to the west of China, where travelling monks go to retrieve Buddhist scriptures, and from where sternly bearded men emigrate to Hong Kong to become bank security guards.
Those exoticized paper puppets who do live in India usually dwell in some sort of vague and mythic jungle between turbans and curry and elephants, kind of like a happy National Geographic theme park.
So that in having the hero and heroine and family and love and weddings and jealousy (and all the things usually within the jurisdiction of Normal People) all exist within this mystic wonderland, Devdas might as well have been set on Mars.
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
I walked to Togo's today to get a sandwich, and then Aspen Hill library to hit the used book rack yet again. Fished out "The Integral Trees" by Larry Niven (the author of Ringworld), "Success to the Brave" by Alexander Kent which is nautical fiction of some sort, and "All Quiet on the Western Front." T and her mom drove by me on their way home so I went to their house today and saw four episodes of Chobits on T's computer. It's an anime series about an 18 year old boy in Tokyo and his robot girl- I kept getting flashbacks from Megatokyo while I was watching it. Obviously, Megatokyo is a parody of of Chobits (the manga by CLAMP, at least, if not the anime), but I didn't realize until now. Even the drawing styles are almost the same. Mehmet likes Chobits so I was making fun of the gayness of that with T, but the more I watched it, the less gay it seemed... it seemed skewed to straight men even, because after all, it is a show about beautiful, completely realistic female robots who perform your every whim. There isn't a cute boy in sight.
T built her own hard drive. I'm impressed. It's transparent on one side, with neon lights inside of it that flash to the rhythm of whatever MP3 she's playing. My mom, when she came to pick me up, was like, "Why don't you build your own hard drive??" I was like.. MOM. I'm not the one who's majoring in electrical engineering. But this is more than made up for by the fact that T's mom often tells her that she should read more books, like me. Nyah.
Something surreal... right before my mom picked me up, I was watching Chief Moose's resignation on tv as T's house. As my mom drove me away, we passed the Aspen Hill gas station where cabdriver Prem Kumar Walakar was shot, and where there was an anchorwoman, live, talking about Chief Moose's resignation, on tv.
All of this, the sandwich shop, the library, and the house are all very close to the gas station, so it seems strange to be watching something on the news that (kind of) is taking place right outside.
T built her own hard drive. I'm impressed. It's transparent on one side, with neon lights inside of it that flash to the rhythm of whatever MP3 she's playing. My mom, when she came to pick me up, was like, "Why don't you build your own hard drive??" I was like.. MOM. I'm not the one who's majoring in electrical engineering. But this is more than made up for by the fact that T's mom often tells her that she should read more books, like me. Nyah.
Something surreal... right before my mom picked me up, I was watching Chief Moose's resignation on tv as T's house. As my mom drove me away, we passed the Aspen Hill gas station where cabdriver Prem Kumar Walakar was shot, and where there was an anchorwoman, live, talking about Chief Moose's resignation, on tv.
All of this, the sandwich shop, the library, and the house are all very close to the gas station, so it seems strange to be watching something on the news that (kind of) is taking place right outside.
Dorky Dreams 'R Us
I had this dream last night that I was in RPG World. I was LARPing as Cherry, but since this a dream, I look exactly like her. Hero was trying to kill me (probably posessed by evil or something). So anyway, I'm running away from him, and I manage to hide in this huge crowd of townspeople in a giant market square. I hide in this group of valley girls who decide to help disguise me. I'd hoped for a change of clothes or a wig, but they're just a bunch of teenage girls on a shopping trip, so the best they have with them in their purses is a makeup kit and some hair dye. They put a lot of blush on me and dye my hair blue. I don't want to be a powerplayer, so I consult with my DM on the feasibility of me completely changing my hair color in so short a time span. Neither I nor the DM are hair-dying types IRL, and the only way I know how to dye hair is in a sink, which takes a long time. But I vaguely recall from RL a type of temporary hair dye that Shpachee used to streak her hair blue. Me and my DM aren't sure how it actually works IRL, but in this RP session my DM lets me comb it in and change my hair color immediately. (I looked on Google just now, and my subconscious was indeed correct. Temporary hair dye can indeed be combed into dry hair, without any preparation.) Being an anime universe, blue is a natural hair color, so that I actually blend into the crowd quite well. I'm nervous as Hero scans the crowd and weaves through it looking for me, but the crowd, because it's supportive of me, is uncooperative with him, by getting in his way, or discreetly blocking his view of me as I'm ushered inconspicuously away by the girls, trying to act as much like a normal NPC as possible and not draw attention to myself.
One of the girls takes me back to their treehouse tower where they can help me apply a more thorough disguise. We travel up a spiral staircase up many storeys until we reach a giant flet. As I reach the flet, I hear the sounds of combat from the bottom, because Hero has followed me there despite the slowdown by the crowd, and is fighting his way in. The townspeople are trying valiantly to keep him from ascending the staircase, but of course, he is a ridiculously powerful fighter. I look around the flet for a robe or something to disguise myself with, but I don't have time. Hero gets to the top of the staircase where I am, and he spots me, and I begin desperately fighting him with my knife versus his sword. As I'm fighting him, he says, "You fight kind of like Cherry!" which is when I realize that by some miracle of nature he has not recognized me with the makeup and different hair color after all, and he just thinks I'm a random NPC. (Hero in the webcomic is ridiculously bad at recognizing people in disguise anyhow, I realized after I woke up, trying to make sense of my dream.) So I trade some half-hearted blows with him, and then fall back, pretending to be a weak NPC who's afraid of him, and he turns away from me to search the rest of the flet for Cherry. I look out the flet and see a lot of tall trees at my level. I'm an elf, so I realize that I can escape Hero through the trees while he's searching the rest of the flet for me. There's a black-haired elven boy in the flet (who looks like Eric Shansby from middle school but who's name is actually Juan) who I tell to come with me to help defend me should Hero pursue me. We jump off the flet and run away along the tree branches with elven grace. The tree branches actually look like plastic Chucky Cheese playground tubes, but nonetheless, they're tree branches. The branches are littered with Splendor in the Grass posters and other promotional materials from our many school plays instead of leaves. I keep running and running, but Juan is slower than me and falls behind, so I stop and turn around, afraid that Hero has killed him. But I see Juan only a little ways behind and alive and well. I realize that we can stop running now, because I can't hear Hero following us, and realize we must've finally gotten away from him.
Then I wake up.
I had this dream last night that I was in RPG World. I was LARPing as Cherry, but since this a dream, I look exactly like her. Hero was trying to kill me (probably posessed by evil or something). So anyway, I'm running away from him, and I manage to hide in this huge crowd of townspeople in a giant market square. I hide in this group of valley girls who decide to help disguise me. I'd hoped for a change of clothes or a wig, but they're just a bunch of teenage girls on a shopping trip, so the best they have with them in their purses is a makeup kit and some hair dye. They put a lot of blush on me and dye my hair blue. I don't want to be a powerplayer, so I consult with my DM on the feasibility of me completely changing my hair color in so short a time span. Neither I nor the DM are hair-dying types IRL, and the only way I know how to dye hair is in a sink, which takes a long time. But I vaguely recall from RL a type of temporary hair dye that Shpachee used to streak her hair blue. Me and my DM aren't sure how it actually works IRL, but in this RP session my DM lets me comb it in and change my hair color immediately. (I looked on Google just now, and my subconscious was indeed correct. Temporary hair dye can indeed be combed into dry hair, without any preparation.) Being an anime universe, blue is a natural hair color, so that I actually blend into the crowd quite well. I'm nervous as Hero scans the crowd and weaves through it looking for me, but the crowd, because it's supportive of me, is uncooperative with him, by getting in his way, or discreetly blocking his view of me as I'm ushered inconspicuously away by the girls, trying to act as much like a normal NPC as possible and not draw attention to myself.
One of the girls takes me back to their treehouse tower where they can help me apply a more thorough disguise. We travel up a spiral staircase up many storeys until we reach a giant flet. As I reach the flet, I hear the sounds of combat from the bottom, because Hero has followed me there despite the slowdown by the crowd, and is fighting his way in. The townspeople are trying valiantly to keep him from ascending the staircase, but of course, he is a ridiculously powerful fighter. I look around the flet for a robe or something to disguise myself with, but I don't have time. Hero gets to the top of the staircase where I am, and he spots me, and I begin desperately fighting him with my knife versus his sword. As I'm fighting him, he says, "You fight kind of like Cherry!" which is when I realize that by some miracle of nature he has not recognized me with the makeup and different hair color after all, and he just thinks I'm a random NPC. (Hero in the webcomic is ridiculously bad at recognizing people in disguise anyhow, I realized after I woke up, trying to make sense of my dream.) So I trade some half-hearted blows with him, and then fall back, pretending to be a weak NPC who's afraid of him, and he turns away from me to search the rest of the flet for Cherry. I look out the flet and see a lot of tall trees at my level. I'm an elf, so I realize that I can escape Hero through the trees while he's searching the rest of the flet for me. There's a black-haired elven boy in the flet (who looks like Eric Shansby from middle school but who's name is actually Juan) who I tell to come with me to help defend me should Hero pursue me. We jump off the flet and run away along the tree branches with elven grace. The tree branches actually look like plastic Chucky Cheese playground tubes, but nonetheless, they're tree branches. The branches are littered with Splendor in the Grass posters and other promotional materials from our many school plays instead of leaves. I keep running and running, but Juan is slower than me and falls behind, so I stop and turn around, afraid that Hero has killed him. But I see Juan only a little ways behind and alive and well. I realize that we can stop running now, because I can't hear Hero following us, and realize we must've finally gotten away from him.
Then I wake up.
Went to Malex's spur of the moment party yesterday. Everyone got haircuts, it seems, or at least Malex and Puffy did. Puffy was actually looking quite hot. Malex made pizza with garlic crust, which was a novelty. Watched Lilo and Stitch, which was very good. I loved the character designs and watercolor backgrounds, which I never ceased pointing out. And also, watched some episodes of Fawlty Towers, which is a British comedy about this guy who runs a hotel. Blah blah Cockney jokes blah blah Irish jokes blah blah jokes about Hispanic immigrants... passe. We need a gay black man, a transvestite Asian, and a Native American who smokes pot. What was more interesting was seeing if we could fit everybody at the party one one couch.
Monday, June 16, 2003
Did I tell you about the sci-fi anime starring a scantily clad Alexander the Great? Well, it's here in the US, and the first episode was on at 1am tonight on Cartoon Network. I caught it by accident while switching channels during the commercial breaks for the Discovery Channel's "Walking With Cavemen" and found something far more interesting. Reign: The Conqueror. It's so trippy.
Sunday, June 15, 2003
I redid the Geek Test since it was updated after I took it. 33.13609% - Total Geek
Andrew Durfor got 41.8146% - Major Geek
Oh, I am in awe of his geek godhood.
We compared answers, which probably makes us even geekier.
Andrew Durfor got 41.8146% - Major Geek
Oh, I am in awe of his geek godhood.
We compared answers, which probably makes us even geekier.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Andrew Durfor reads my blog. (A lot of people seem to find my blog through looking up their own names on Google. A search for Andrew Durfor on Google brings up my blog, and another notable thing, Ask Red Mage on 8-Bit Theater) Hi, Andrew! Because of this, I need to mention him more.. fanservice, you understand. Anyhow, he's been talking to me more recently than the lot of you put together, and I'm lonely. I didn't talk to him that much in second semester after we got different period stat classes, but since we're both outgoing on AIM, unlike most other people, who are reticent, it works well. I think we'll keep in touch. He's an aquatics instructor at Boyscout Camp now, which he touts as the "gayest job ever."
Since he hasn't got a blog, I'll blog for him..
Andrew's Quote of the Day: So is "If vegtable oil is made of vegtables, is baby oil made of babies?"
Now for... Andrew's Blog for June 14! Based on cutting and pasting AIM stuff to make it look as multi-paragraph standard issue bloggish as possible, since you all hate reading unedited chat transcripts, I'm sure. Now... in his own words.. Andrew Durfor!
----
Beedril411: "i just got a cell phone today. i called my parents from camp and told them there were no pay phones (there usually are) and mail me addressed envelopes for them and 1/2 a dozen girls. So they went out and got me a cell phone. yep, now my friends can call me @ camp and I can call them. my friends have land line and I have a cell.
i should tell you my hypothermia story. well, cause i'm the snokeling instructor that also makes me the cheif diver (I'm most proficent in the skills and w/ the gear). So I get to dive down to the bottom of the lake and locate things to tie the floating dock to. Well on the surface it was like 40-50F but down 12ft it was like 30F. So I do these dives and end up getting reall cold. So I go sit on the floater and the wind picks up. I start to shiver and get real cold cause I'm wet. Well I go back in the water cause then I'm gonna be moving and out of the wind. So I dive repeated, breath dive breath dive etc. So come up and sit on the floater to catch my breath, i couldn't stop shivering! I lost capilary action ! (My fingers would stay white if I pressed on them instead of turning red again). I got in and got mild hypothermia and oxygen deprivation cause of all the dives. So the whole day I'm looking at things and think things like "ooh preatty colors" and "Hey boss I'm good for another dive" At the time that I fall to the sand beach and can't stop shaking. that was wend and thats my hypothermia story. I was hurting preaty bad that day. Thats male bravado for you
SFX 87: that's very sexy.
Beedril411: thank you, I think that would mean more if i hadn't frozen my testicals off but hey, a compliment is a compliment
SFX 87: It will probably aid you in the Gayest Job Ever. "Hey, did I tell you about the time I got hypothermia?"
Beedril411: yeah, thats going in the lesson plan for all the badges I teach
SFX 87: how'd you recover?
Beedril411: very slowly, I didn't have full blown hypo cause I was still producing body heat, I got dry and covered myself in my thick clothes that I had brought for that emergency. It was nothing bad enought to go to the hospital thank god. kind of anti-clamatic. If the ass. Directer hadn't ordered me in after I said that I could still dive, I'd probably have had a hospital visit. I'm just glad that the area is set up and I got to stop by for a night and talk to everyone. I'm gonna check my e-mail just as soon as i finish inputing everybodys phone # into my cell. I'm back @ my house in rockville. it was 6hrs of driving but steve was going back so I caught a ride w/ him
SFX 87: ah. When're you going back to camp?
Beedril411: 8 tommorow morning. I'd love to catch a movie or something but I only get 23hrs off a week. i get off sat 12:30 and have to be back sun 11:30 but I'm probably not gonna be back every weekend. this was only cause steve needed to get things. Acutally next week is Doug Maryotts Eagle project on Sunday. Call him up and you can work it. I'll be there. he's gardening 'cause he's feminine. i dont know the details, you'll have to ask him cause its his project. i just know its sun and @ the twinbrook liberary. I'm gonna be there so you know it'll be a party. oh, do what he says mostly manual labor like raking or digging or whatever we're doing
SFX 87: I can be an honorary boy scout. Dammit, I always wanted to join the boy scouts.
Beedril411: oh, being a boy scout is not required just talk to doug and he'll hook you up w/ info. he's in the RM phone book. what you been doing for the past week?
SFX 87: hmmm.. I went to Six Flags on Wednesday, while you were getting hypothermia
Beedril411: I'm not a big fan of roller coasters but still cool
SFX 87: I went on almost all roller coasters. and got very nauseous. Still kind of am, actually, but I'm not sure if that's a result of the coasters.
Beedril411: yeah every mon, wed, fri, i have polar bear swim and have to be up @ 6:15. I got to get up early!but its a small price to pay if I get the tan I'm working on. I also get to do pleanty of rowing to build my muscles. gonna be in shape for college. yeah, Uber nerds gonna have it all, brains and good looks. *cheers* anyway, my first paycheck I'm gonna buy a wetsuit. no more Durfsickle. i've heard its gonna be a cold an rainy summer, remeber that Heritage is 15F colder than what it is here
SFX 87: well, it's hot and rainy here. A bloody jungle.
Beedril411: yeah, in heritage its cold and clammy, a bloody . . . whatever is cold, clammy, and humid
SFX 87: Where is heritage? it's a bloody clam.
Beedril411: farmington PA. western PA
SFX 87: ah. Do you hang out with Amish people?
Beedril411: nope,
SFX 87: you know what? you should get a blog or a livejournal
Beedril411: I have a ink and paper jornal of camp. i'm not at a computer often enough to make it worth while
SFX 87: well get a blog when you get back
Beedril411: k i'll see, maybe in college
Since he hasn't got a blog, I'll blog for him..
Andrew's Quote of the Day: So is "If vegtable oil is made of vegtables, is baby oil made of babies?"
Now for... Andrew's Blog for June 14! Based on cutting and pasting AIM stuff to make it look as multi-paragraph standard issue bloggish as possible, since you all hate reading unedited chat transcripts, I'm sure. Now... in his own words.. Andrew Durfor!
----
Beedril411: "i just got a cell phone today. i called my parents from camp and told them there were no pay phones (there usually are) and mail me addressed envelopes for them and 1/2 a dozen girls. So they went out and got me a cell phone. yep, now my friends can call me @ camp and I can call them. my friends have land line and I have a cell.
i should tell you my hypothermia story. well, cause i'm the snokeling instructor that also makes me the cheif diver (I'm most proficent in the skills and w/ the gear). So I get to dive down to the bottom of the lake and locate things to tie the floating dock to. Well on the surface it was like 40-50F but down 12ft it was like 30F. So I do these dives and end up getting reall cold. So I go sit on the floater and the wind picks up. I start to shiver and get real cold cause I'm wet. Well I go back in the water cause then I'm gonna be moving and out of the wind. So I dive repeated, breath dive breath dive etc. So come up and sit on the floater to catch my breath, i couldn't stop shivering! I lost capilary action ! (My fingers would stay white if I pressed on them instead of turning red again). I got in and got mild hypothermia and oxygen deprivation cause of all the dives. So the whole day I'm looking at things and think things like "ooh preatty colors" and "Hey boss I'm good for another dive" At the time that I fall to the sand beach and can't stop shaking. that was wend and thats my hypothermia story. I was hurting preaty bad that day. Thats male bravado for you
SFX 87: that's very sexy.
Beedril411: thank you, I think that would mean more if i hadn't frozen my testicals off but hey, a compliment is a compliment
SFX 87: It will probably aid you in the Gayest Job Ever. "Hey, did I tell you about the time I got hypothermia?"
Beedril411: yeah, thats going in the lesson plan for all the badges I teach
SFX 87: how'd you recover?
Beedril411: very slowly, I didn't have full blown hypo cause I was still producing body heat, I got dry and covered myself in my thick clothes that I had brought for that emergency. It was nothing bad enought to go to the hospital thank god. kind of anti-clamatic. If the ass. Directer hadn't ordered me in after I said that I could still dive, I'd probably have had a hospital visit. I'm just glad that the area is set up and I got to stop by for a night and talk to everyone. I'm gonna check my e-mail just as soon as i finish inputing everybodys phone # into my cell. I'm back @ my house in rockville. it was 6hrs of driving but steve was going back so I caught a ride w/ him
SFX 87: ah. When're you going back to camp?
Beedril411: 8 tommorow morning. I'd love to catch a movie or something but I only get 23hrs off a week. i get off sat 12:30 and have to be back sun 11:30 but I'm probably not gonna be back every weekend. this was only cause steve needed to get things. Acutally next week is Doug Maryotts Eagle project on Sunday. Call him up and you can work it. I'll be there. he's gardening 'cause he's feminine. i dont know the details, you'll have to ask him cause its his project. i just know its sun and @ the twinbrook liberary. I'm gonna be there so you know it'll be a party. oh, do what he says mostly manual labor like raking or digging or whatever we're doing
SFX 87: I can be an honorary boy scout. Dammit, I always wanted to join the boy scouts.
Beedril411: oh, being a boy scout is not required just talk to doug and he'll hook you up w/ info. he's in the RM phone book. what you been doing for the past week?
SFX 87: hmmm.. I went to Six Flags on Wednesday, while you were getting hypothermia
Beedril411: I'm not a big fan of roller coasters but still cool
SFX 87: I went on almost all roller coasters. and got very nauseous. Still kind of am, actually, but I'm not sure if that's a result of the coasters.
Beedril411: yeah every mon, wed, fri, i have polar bear swim and have to be up @ 6:15. I got to get up early!but its a small price to pay if I get the tan I'm working on. I also get to do pleanty of rowing to build my muscles. gonna be in shape for college. yeah, Uber nerds gonna have it all, brains and good looks. *cheers* anyway, my first paycheck I'm gonna buy a wetsuit. no more Durfsickle. i've heard its gonna be a cold an rainy summer, remeber that Heritage is 15F colder than what it is here
SFX 87: well, it's hot and rainy here. A bloody jungle.
Beedril411: yeah, in heritage its cold and clammy, a bloody . . . whatever is cold, clammy, and humid
SFX 87: Where is heritage? it's a bloody clam.
Beedril411: farmington PA. western PA
SFX 87: ah. Do you hang out with Amish people?
Beedril411: nope,
SFX 87: you know what? you should get a blog or a livejournal
Beedril411: I have a ink and paper jornal of camp. i'm not at a computer often enough to make it worth while
SFX 87: well get a blog when you get back
Beedril411: k i'll see, maybe in college
Friday, June 13, 2003
Fencing. My horoscope in Seventeen [which I really shouldn't be reading (because 1: it's stupid and 2: I'm 18) except that I was at the dentist's on Tuesday and had nothing better to do] says I should take fencing. I feel so affirmed, and am delighted with this bit of astrological accuracy.
In fencing class today, have discovered that I can actually hit people, which is very strange because I'm so used to losing. I think they would be better fencers if they didn't run away like scared rabbits or at least not let themselves get backed into the wall even though I stand around waiting for them to advance- I mean, even if you totally suck at fencing a good way to win (or beat me at least) is to just run at people screaming.
Today: learned attack and parry riposte in seven. Learned combination 4-7.
Oh, right; last week was attack and parry riposte in eight.
Speaking of fencing: take the extremely accurate Geek Test in all its glory. I'm 29 point something percent geek, but I didn't lie on the questions to score better, unlike Mary, who sent the link to me and got 39%.
Also, a pinnacle of geekiness.. The Incredible Hulk's Pants.
In fencing class today, have discovered that I can actually hit people, which is very strange because I'm so used to losing. I think they would be better fencers if they didn't run away like scared rabbits or at least not let themselves get backed into the wall even though I stand around waiting for them to advance- I mean, even if you totally suck at fencing a good way to win (or beat me at least) is to just run at people screaming.
Today: learned attack and parry riposte in seven. Learned combination 4-7.
Oh, right; last week was attack and parry riposte in eight.
Speaking of fencing: take the extremely accurate Geek Test in all its glory. I'm 29 point something percent geek, but I didn't lie on the questions to score better, unlike Mary, who sent the link to me and got 39%.
Also, a pinnacle of geekiness.. The Incredible Hulk's Pants.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Wherein Angie Celebrates Her 18th Birthday
Okay, I lied about having a quiet birthday. I went to Six Flags yesterday with Cristy and her boyfriend Mehmet, who is a funny, smart, and extremely gracious person I'd met Tuesday night at dinner at T's. He has a rich mellifluous voice; plus he can cook. He reminds me of a very young and rather stout Arabic Liam Neeson.
I took the 48 to Wheaton Station, then Red Line to Fort Totten and Green Line to the UMCP station. There was a shuttle bus from there to UMCP. I've never been on Green Line before. It was something of an exotic experience- the interior of the Metro car was reholstered and everything. No longer orange! Also, a good deal of the Green Line is above ground so it feels like a real train, and you can see the lush water-sated countryside. Really, UMCP in is the middle of nowhere after all, but at least a relatively pretty middle of nowhere if there aren't any buildings around to ruin the landscape.
At UM's Stamp Student Union, which is totally gutted from renovation, I bumped into Ryan, a random Cantonese guy from Churchill I keep seeing (though technically he isn't from Churchill anymore since they graduated a while ago). I know him from SAT classes and I saw him at a UMBC dinner. I've never once encountered him intentionally. But anyways, since he was there, I caught up with him and we talked, and he found immensely unfunny things funny. Anyhow, he knows Michael B, and he's going to UM next year, in engineering.
Then he left and Cristy and Mehmet picked me up to take me to Six Flags.. but we went to eat first at a really good Mexican restaurant for lunch. It was empty, being situated in a college town in the summer, with slowly rotating ceiling fans in the heat of the dark, there not being enough regular summer customers there to even bother turning on the lights. One meal and a side dish and a mango daiquiri was enough for three people, and I got happy birthday ice cream. (I loved my part of the daiquiri even though Mehmet, who is 24, technically ordered it; there was still the subtle taste of alcohol in the mango tartness. Mixed drinks are my friend.) We were the only people there. I felt so special. Mehmet sang me the Bennigan's birthday song, because he used to work there.
At Six Flags, the ticket taker at the entrance noted to T and Mehmet that "You come here every week!" because they have season passes. We went on the Beast, a wooden roller coaster in all its rackety glory as a coaster warmup. It would be a long day for roller coasters. We went on the Superman twice, which is a beautiful coaster in red and blue, with large graceful loop-de-loops. Oh yes, and a 200 foot drop! It's a bit nervewracking when you're at the top of that latticed metal bell-curve, right before the drop, and you see your long shadow cast over the land. After that, we went on the Joker twice, though it wasn't as cool as the Superman. It was a standard metal coaster, with the notable thing being that in the beginning, instead of being dragged up to a peak, the coaster just floors it, thanks to electromagnetic acceleration. Even after riding it twice, it still startled me. Thankfully, since I was getting dizzy, we went on the Penguin, or the Blizzard or whatever, that new water ride they have. It's basically a glorified water slide where you ride this circular tube with five other people and it spins around as it goes down. Some penguin statues jet water on you. Kind of stupid, but a nice and tame intermission. Then we went on the Batwing, a coaster where you go laying belly down with the rail above you, so there's nothing between you and the grass, or the sky, as the case may be.
Afterwards, upon leaving the Gotham section of Six Flags, I filled out a raffle ticket to win a car or $25,000, my first official form filled out as a legal adult. I was so proud. We played in the wave pool until the lifeguards yelled at us to get out because we were wearing pants, though Mehmet pretended not to understand English and answered the lifeguards in Arabic, but he conceded eventually. I don't understand what the issue with pants is; you can't even sit beached on an inner tube by the side of the pool in pants. We went on a swing ride twice to dry off, where Mehmet kept grabbing the chains of our swings and got yelled at again, and I won a teddy bear with the Guess Your Age/Weight/Height thing, because everyone thinks Mehmet is lighter than he actually is. I went on the Two-Face twice (the ride that goes forwards/backwards), but not a third time because I got immensely nauseous afterwards because it was just an un-fun and painful ride. I sat on a bench outside the Iron Eagle as the sun set and the day cooled while Cristy and Mehmet went on the spinning teacups.
As soon as we left, it was pouring rain. Mehmet said I must be a saint because of the miracle of it not actually raining while I was at the park. The skies opened and the whole sky was lit up by periodic flashes of lightning alarmingly close and split open by resounding peals of thunder. We went to his apartment in Greenbelt because God knows no one can drive in that type of weather, and though my clothes had dried off since my time in the wave pool, in the interval between exiting his car and entering his apartment, I was thoroughly soaked all over again. There were a bunch of his friends in his apartment, which was kind of weird to me because my house is all quiet at night. They went out to smoke on the balcony, which has a certain appeal to it because the T-storm, though terrifying in a primal way, made the air very clean and rain-washed. Me and T changed out of our wet clothes into Mehmet's clothes and put our own into the drier so we looked like painters in overly large work clothes. T laughed at me, an 18 year old woman, struggling to belt my (Mehmet's, really) pants. Hmmmph. >__< Well it's not like I ever use belts. I would've figured it out eventually at any rate. T threw back some fruity beverage that was 70% alcohol and got promptly drunk I suppose. We watched some hardcore German porn on Mehmet's computer for amusement, though his monitor, which he salvaged from a junkyard, makes everything all green-filtered so it's not like anyone had realistic skin tones. (I doubt that guy's cock is really purple). T thought that dialogue should be banned from porn movies; IMHO, soundtracks are worse. Who has sex to music? I don't understand.
Then Mehmet decided that playing Deus Ex would be more interesting, so he did that. Me and Cristy went to microwave some corn, much to the annoyance of Mehmet's pothead brother. He's one of those people who sound stupid somehow just by talking, possibly from overusage of the word "dawg." T told me earlier that he treats Mehmet very badly, though T was reluctant to talk about the brother to me with him there in the house. Which I thought was understandable, after having thought about it a bit. Apparently his (the brother's) computer and the microwave can't be on at the same time, or one or the other will go off. It's bad circuiting of some sort, like an electronic version of musical chairs.
In the meantime, Mehmet introduced me to Jagermeister, a very tasty German liquor that tastes like licorice, and burns in your throat. It is godlike, and joins my list of things I will drink when I am legal, though I got more of it on Mehmet's borrowed shirt than actually into my mouth, like a dumb boozer. T joked about me getting my 18th and 21st birthday confused, but she should talk since she had more alcohol than me and is not 21 either. (I had two capfuls of Jager; it's not that much). So in the end, I did end up having my celebratory Porn and Cigarettes as promised, though alcohol in lieu of cigarettes because we unanimously agreed that tobacco is stupid.
Then we remembered that we had microwaved the corn, so we took it out of the microwave, buttered, peppered and ate it. T showed me photos, on her digital camera, of when she got her ears pierced, while she was drunk, by drunk people. It does not seem to me like a wise thing to do, but she didn't feel a thing.
You must understand that during all this time T and Mehmet were all over each other. Sober IB high schoolers are very restrained people, I've noticed in hindsight. So my 18th birthday was fun but weird in all its stupidity and liberation. Stupidity in that ... well watching porn and drinking is stupid and possibly immoral... and also I thought it was disturbing of Mehmet in that he's the type of person that is amused by swerving all over the road and racing mothers of young children in parking lots and ignoring lifeguards and grabbing other people's swings on the swing ride and stealing ketchup packets and yelling at random passing drivers in the middle of the night. Either it means that he's immature or that I'm stodgy. It seems disturbing that I should find someone who's 6 years older than me to be immature, because if someone 6 years younger than you finds you to be juvenile, you must really be juvenile. Or it could be that I, freshly out of teenagerdom, am so molded into obedience towards the authority of elders so much that I draconically object to harmless fun. Or I'm a hypocrite in that I'm an easily amused person, but am annoyed when other people are easily amused. It's kind of like when people laugh at things that aren't funny. It's annoying for no particular reason.
Liberation.. in that it really doesn't matter whether my mom doesn't "let me" go out. It doesn't matter whether she wouldn't like if I had a boyfriend. It doesn't matter if she wouldn't like it if I go swimming in my clothes, or watching porn, or wearing some boy's clothes or eating microwaved corn instead of a real dinner or coming home at 1 in the morning. I'll go to Six Flags because it's fun, I'll get a boyfriend when I want one, I'll swim in my clothes because they'll dry off afterwards, I'll watch porn because it's amusing, wear a boy's clothes because my real clothes are wet, eat microwaved corn for dinner because I'm hungry, and come home at 1 or the next morning or not at all. There's a big list of "Shouldn't"s that I've been conditioned to accept, but if you think about them they really don't matter, and it's slightly frightening.
(I probably should stay at home when the forecasts say it'll rain and not get a boyfriend until I'm older and bring a swimsuit for god's sake and an umbrella so I won't get wet in the forecasted rain which I should have known better than to have been caught in in the first place and stay away from the porn and eat a real dinner and come home at a reasonable hour. These little things that don't matter, but make up your life. What sort of habits will you develop through your adult life with no mother watching?)
Okay, I lied about having a quiet birthday. I went to Six Flags yesterday with Cristy and her boyfriend Mehmet, who is a funny, smart, and extremely gracious person I'd met Tuesday night at dinner at T's. He has a rich mellifluous voice; plus he can cook. He reminds me of a very young and rather stout Arabic Liam Neeson.
I took the 48 to Wheaton Station, then Red Line to Fort Totten and Green Line to the UMCP station. There was a shuttle bus from there to UMCP. I've never been on Green Line before. It was something of an exotic experience- the interior of the Metro car was reholstered and everything. No longer orange! Also, a good deal of the Green Line is above ground so it feels like a real train, and you can see the lush water-sated countryside. Really, UMCP in is the middle of nowhere after all, but at least a relatively pretty middle of nowhere if there aren't any buildings around to ruin the landscape.
At UM's Stamp Student Union, which is totally gutted from renovation, I bumped into Ryan, a random Cantonese guy from Churchill I keep seeing (though technically he isn't from Churchill anymore since they graduated a while ago). I know him from SAT classes and I saw him at a UMBC dinner. I've never once encountered him intentionally. But anyways, since he was there, I caught up with him and we talked, and he found immensely unfunny things funny. Anyhow, he knows Michael B, and he's going to UM next year, in engineering.
Then he left and Cristy and Mehmet picked me up to take me to Six Flags.. but we went to eat first at a really good Mexican restaurant for lunch. It was empty, being situated in a college town in the summer, with slowly rotating ceiling fans in the heat of the dark, there not being enough regular summer customers there to even bother turning on the lights. One meal and a side dish and a mango daiquiri was enough for three people, and I got happy birthday ice cream. (I loved my part of the daiquiri even though Mehmet, who is 24, technically ordered it; there was still the subtle taste of alcohol in the mango tartness. Mixed drinks are my friend.) We were the only people there. I felt so special. Mehmet sang me the Bennigan's birthday song, because he used to work there.
At Six Flags, the ticket taker at the entrance noted to T and Mehmet that "You come here every week!" because they have season passes. We went on the Beast, a wooden roller coaster in all its rackety glory as a coaster warmup. It would be a long day for roller coasters. We went on the Superman twice, which is a beautiful coaster in red and blue, with large graceful loop-de-loops. Oh yes, and a 200 foot drop! It's a bit nervewracking when you're at the top of that latticed metal bell-curve, right before the drop, and you see your long shadow cast over the land. After that, we went on the Joker twice, though it wasn't as cool as the Superman. It was a standard metal coaster, with the notable thing being that in the beginning, instead of being dragged up to a peak, the coaster just floors it, thanks to electromagnetic acceleration. Even after riding it twice, it still startled me. Thankfully, since I was getting dizzy, we went on the Penguin, or the Blizzard or whatever, that new water ride they have. It's basically a glorified water slide where you ride this circular tube with five other people and it spins around as it goes down. Some penguin statues jet water on you. Kind of stupid, but a nice and tame intermission. Then we went on the Batwing, a coaster where you go laying belly down with the rail above you, so there's nothing between you and the grass, or the sky, as the case may be.
Afterwards, upon leaving the Gotham section of Six Flags, I filled out a raffle ticket to win a car or $25,000, my first official form filled out as a legal adult. I was so proud. We played in the wave pool until the lifeguards yelled at us to get out because we were wearing pants, though Mehmet pretended not to understand English and answered the lifeguards in Arabic, but he conceded eventually. I don't understand what the issue with pants is; you can't even sit beached on an inner tube by the side of the pool in pants. We went on a swing ride twice to dry off, where Mehmet kept grabbing the chains of our swings and got yelled at again, and I won a teddy bear with the Guess Your Age/Weight/Height thing, because everyone thinks Mehmet is lighter than he actually is. I went on the Two-Face twice (the ride that goes forwards/backwards), but not a third time because I got immensely nauseous afterwards because it was just an un-fun and painful ride. I sat on a bench outside the Iron Eagle as the sun set and the day cooled while Cristy and Mehmet went on the spinning teacups.
As soon as we left, it was pouring rain. Mehmet said I must be a saint because of the miracle of it not actually raining while I was at the park. The skies opened and the whole sky was lit up by periodic flashes of lightning alarmingly close and split open by resounding peals of thunder. We went to his apartment in Greenbelt because God knows no one can drive in that type of weather, and though my clothes had dried off since my time in the wave pool, in the interval between exiting his car and entering his apartment, I was thoroughly soaked all over again. There were a bunch of his friends in his apartment, which was kind of weird to me because my house is all quiet at night. They went out to smoke on the balcony, which has a certain appeal to it because the T-storm, though terrifying in a primal way, made the air very clean and rain-washed. Me and T changed out of our wet clothes into Mehmet's clothes and put our own into the drier so we looked like painters in overly large work clothes. T laughed at me, an 18 year old woman, struggling to belt my (Mehmet's, really) pants. Hmmmph. >__< Well it's not like I ever use belts. I would've figured it out eventually at any rate. T threw back some fruity beverage that was 70% alcohol and got promptly drunk I suppose. We watched some hardcore German porn on Mehmet's computer for amusement, though his monitor, which he salvaged from a junkyard, makes everything all green-filtered so it's not like anyone had realistic skin tones. (I doubt that guy's cock is really purple). T thought that dialogue should be banned from porn movies; IMHO, soundtracks are worse. Who has sex to music? I don't understand.
Then Mehmet decided that playing Deus Ex would be more interesting, so he did that. Me and Cristy went to microwave some corn, much to the annoyance of Mehmet's pothead brother. He's one of those people who sound stupid somehow just by talking, possibly from overusage of the word "dawg." T told me earlier that he treats Mehmet very badly, though T was reluctant to talk about the brother to me with him there in the house. Which I thought was understandable, after having thought about it a bit. Apparently his (the brother's) computer and the microwave can't be on at the same time, or one or the other will go off. It's bad circuiting of some sort, like an electronic version of musical chairs.
In the meantime, Mehmet introduced me to Jagermeister, a very tasty German liquor that tastes like licorice, and burns in your throat. It is godlike, and joins my list of things I will drink when I am legal, though I got more of it on Mehmet's borrowed shirt than actually into my mouth, like a dumb boozer. T joked about me getting my 18th and 21st birthday confused, but she should talk since she had more alcohol than me and is not 21 either. (I had two capfuls of Jager; it's not that much). So in the end, I did end up having my celebratory Porn and Cigarettes as promised, though alcohol in lieu of cigarettes because we unanimously agreed that tobacco is stupid.
Then we remembered that we had microwaved the corn, so we took it out of the microwave, buttered, peppered and ate it. T showed me photos, on her digital camera, of when she got her ears pierced, while she was drunk, by drunk people. It does not seem to me like a wise thing to do, but she didn't feel a thing.
You must understand that during all this time T and Mehmet were all over each other. Sober IB high schoolers are very restrained people, I've noticed in hindsight. So my 18th birthday was fun but weird in all its stupidity and liberation. Stupidity in that ... well watching porn and drinking is stupid and possibly immoral... and also I thought it was disturbing of Mehmet in that he's the type of person that is amused by swerving all over the road and racing mothers of young children in parking lots and ignoring lifeguards and grabbing other people's swings on the swing ride and stealing ketchup packets and yelling at random passing drivers in the middle of the night. Either it means that he's immature or that I'm stodgy. It seems disturbing that I should find someone who's 6 years older than me to be immature, because if someone 6 years younger than you finds you to be juvenile, you must really be juvenile. Or it could be that I, freshly out of teenagerdom, am so molded into obedience towards the authority of elders so much that I draconically object to harmless fun. Or I'm a hypocrite in that I'm an easily amused person, but am annoyed when other people are easily amused. It's kind of like when people laugh at things that aren't funny. It's annoying for no particular reason.
Liberation.. in that it really doesn't matter whether my mom doesn't "let me" go out. It doesn't matter whether she wouldn't like if I had a boyfriend. It doesn't matter if she wouldn't like it if I go swimming in my clothes, or watching porn, or wearing some boy's clothes or eating microwaved corn instead of a real dinner or coming home at 1 in the morning. I'll go to Six Flags because it's fun, I'll get a boyfriend when I want one, I'll swim in my clothes because they'll dry off afterwards, I'll watch porn because it's amusing, wear a boy's clothes because my real clothes are wet, eat microwaved corn for dinner because I'm hungry, and come home at 1 or the next morning or not at all. There's a big list of "Shouldn't"s that I've been conditioned to accept, but if you think about them they really don't matter, and it's slightly frightening.
(I probably should stay at home when the forecasts say it'll rain and not get a boyfriend until I'm older and bring a swimsuit for god's sake and an umbrella so I won't get wet in the forecasted rain which I should have known better than to have been caught in in the first place and stay away from the porn and eat a real dinner and come home at a reasonable hour. These little things that don't matter, but make up your life. What sort of habits will you develop through your adult life with no mother watching?)
Monday, June 09, 2003
On a bright springsummer Monday in June, I graduated from high school at DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) Constitution Hall, with my silly cap with its braided multi-tassels and cardboard quandrangle. I saw all of you there, mostly in the first few rows for band or chorus, truly spot on in your scholarly professionalism, though probably not intentionally. It made me proud. Lisa gave a moving speech, though I suspect its profundity was lost on a lot of the audience which was looking for something humorous to hoot and holler for. We are different people than we were. I thought it strange how fast these last four years have passed, though now that the glow of the graduation ceremony has given way to a more introspective mood, I think that the time hasn't passed by at all quickly. I've just lived it day by day, and not noticed. I am rarely so self-aware of growing up day by day as I have been in this second semester, or what was the second semester. It's a bit like a mental and emotional version of marking your height on the wall. I suppose we will have to pass on our reigning titles as seniors sooner or later.
In the meantime, I threw my cap up into the air (it came straight down while Andrew D's boomeranged and hit a guy in the row behind him), and did lots of spontaneous hugging with people.
My parents, sisters, and brothers-in-law came, and thoughtfully got me a capped-and-gowned teddy bear and a dozen red roses that have bloomed beautifully since in a water-filled vase, so that you can see all their rich velvet and deep shadowed swirls. Have been enjoying the general joy of it without my glasses on so that the world looks like a big and blurry oil painting. I took a long walk with my mom in the cool of early summer evening, and held my finger up to the moon.
I was thinking that of all the people in the world, there are very few that can claim to be happy at this very moment, and I have the extraordinary privelege of being one of them.
I turn 18 on Wednesday the 11th, two days after graduation. I will look for porn and cigarettes symbolically but otherwise be quiet about it. Being a neither a teenage girl nor a high schooler any longer, I wonder very much who I am now.
In the meantime, I threw my cap up into the air (it came straight down while Andrew D's boomeranged and hit a guy in the row behind him), and did lots of spontaneous hugging with people.
My parents, sisters, and brothers-in-law came, and thoughtfully got me a capped-and-gowned teddy bear and a dozen red roses that have bloomed beautifully since in a water-filled vase, so that you can see all their rich velvet and deep shadowed swirls. Have been enjoying the general joy of it without my glasses on so that the world looks like a big and blurry oil painting. I took a long walk with my mom in the cool of early summer evening, and held my finger up to the moon.
I was thinking that of all the people in the world, there are very few that can claim to be happy at this very moment, and I have the extraordinary privelege of being one of them.
I turn 18 on Wednesday the 11th, two days after graduation. I will look for porn and cigarettes symbolically but otherwise be quiet about it. Being a neither a teenage girl nor a high schooler any longer, I wonder very much who I am now.
Friday, June 06, 2003
In Which Angie Bustles With Social Activity
That's why I haven't blogged in a week. I've been Doing Stuff, and this being quite uncharacteristic of me, actually talking to people.
Saturday, went to Ruchita's party. I saw a rainbow outside the car window on the way there; I suppose that boded well. We watched Bend It Like Beckham, again. Though personally while I thought it was funny but not worth watching twice, I was gratified that people who were watching it for the first time found exactly the same things I had thought funny to be funny..... See, I had thought I was the only one who thought Tony's way of coming out of the closet was funny... and Jess talking to the wall.. but all that's in my Beckham blog post from a while back. Great food. Brownies, blondies, dumplings, and pizza. Discovered that Andrew is straight and has been dating Erica Fardig for nine months, and then some. This did not surprise me, though I had just previously assumed that the Andrew-Erica thing had not worked out, or that it was just a platonic friendship that people kept joking about. Puffy made up for Andrew's straightness by licking his fingers seductively and making suggestive comments. Andrew noticed that he'd come a long way from the homeschooled little kid in 9th grade. Me and random people noted that he and Andrew would have made such a cute gay couple. Puffy angsted about not being able to get a girlfriend in college (though actually, he angsted not that girls wouldn't like him, but that he wouldn't be able to find one in the physics department to meet his high standards. ^__^).
He said his "finger held up to the moon" quote too.
When I was leaving, Ruchita's mom commented about not recognizing me... which was most likely because she has never met me. "Where are you from?" she said. "Drama? Chorus?" She was being nice but it rather highlighted to me that I don't know Ruchita at all well, though I do read her blog because I feel obliged to know better someone who I end up going to parties with, and on a less socially ritiualistic note, someone who my friends hang out with. I kind of feel bad freeloading from Ruchita's party, but being that we have mutual friends and she wasn't actually offended by my presence there... feh.
Monday was Silvia's birthday party, though I didn't know it was her birthday party so I didn't bring her any gifts... I ended up cooking, which amused me because I made one plate of eggrolls which were obviously burnt (though not enough that they didn't taste good) in relation to Silvia's nicely browned ones. Malex helped with the dumplings (same as those from Ruchita's party, except pan-fried!) in vast quantities in expectation of Nick B's appetite, but he didn't come, because he was waiting for an Important Call, he said. He got it... he now has a job. Jen showed up, with a monkey for Silvia (toy, not real), and Milla (sans Ed) and Lianna showed up. James was already there, putzing around because he didn't know how to cook. To be honest, I don't know how to cook either, but I, unlike James, am unfazed by scorching droplets of hot oil that pop up and burn your arm. It comes from living in a Chinese family.
We watched Shaolin Soccer, which I brought, and which people found funny, to my relief, since I feel somewhat uncomfortable showing ethnic movies to people not of that background. It's like making white people go to a Kwanzaa party... I worry that it makes me seem pretentious and self-important. (My mom later was like, "You showed them a movie... with subtitles?") But it was good humor in general and didn't rely on ethnic jokes and spoofed the Matrix, so it was good.
We watched the Pianist after Malex and Jen left and after Silvia's parents got home to fix the tv, which she had messed up. I thought it would be a bad party movie, but actually, was quite good. I don't mean to be evil, but it wasn't as much as a downer as I'd expected it to be- it was quite hopeful. And anyways, nothing fictional, even a dramaticization of real events, can be as depressing as reading unadulterated academic history in all its objective inhumanity. I am glad I am thoroughly done with that now. Since people more qualified have more profound things to say about The Pianist than I do, I shall say something totally trivial; I had been wondering why Wehrmacht officer Wilm Hosenfeld had been randomly in a ruined Warsaw apartment in such a serendipitous manner. Turns out, thanks to Google, that he was looking for toothpaste. I guess the Wehrmacht has no toothpaste. So now you know. His family has a website, which mostly has nothing to do with him, and parts of his diary are included in the real Pianist's, Wladislaw Szpilman's, memoirs.
Thursday- Graduation rehearsal and senior picnic. Rehearsal was dumb. I felt like a show horse, and not in a good way. Picnic was nice... the weather cleared up, miraculously. The weather was quite beautiful. I argued with Doug about whether reading and enjoying Mercedes Lackey makes him girly. I had a hard time articulating what Jen agreed was an "ineffable girliness" about the books, so just ended up sputtering vast generalizations. I am a very bad debater in person. The best I could do was that since Mercedes Lackey has the strength of her characters lie in empathy and emotional receptiveness, as opposed to aggression, decisiveness, control, and grace under pressure, her novels appeal more to people of a feminine nature, and therefore Doug is of a feminine nature. Bah. But he didn't agree with me. Because I'm a horrible person, I found that I respected Doug a lot less when I realized just how girly he was; I'm not sure why I'm like that but it's probably not pleasant. Not fitting within his gender role felt to me like something of a moral transgression. But that bit of nastiness aside, we had fun playing Manly Aggressive Tetherball, wherein we tried to kill each other with a projectile object attached to a rope. I went on the swings, and we waded in the creek, which was clear and cold (and not unpleasant once you got used to it), and got muddy, and poked a water snake with a stick. We went on top of a hill from which you could see everything, and I rolled down it. Smokey Glen Farm is the sort of place I like, like Clarksburg. It seems that such places are my center of gravity because I am happier when I am near places like that and unhappier the further I am away from my sunny piedmont. I am off balance when I am far away from grassy hills and sunny trees.
Massive yearbook signing too... I had a hard time finding non-generic things to say until I began actually thinking not of 'what should I say in this book?' but 'how do I feel about this person?' which is when the words began to flow of their own accord. So I wasn't so awkward after all. Malex, I should note here that your fake yearbook is a piece of art.
Because it was so nice out, when I got home I took a long walk not knowing where I was going and saw another watersnake in a glade in Rock Creek Park that glided gracefully through the water away from me with surprising speed, and stalked a deer through the woods for 20 minutes, as it tolerated my presence for so long.
That's why I haven't blogged in a week. I've been Doing Stuff, and this being quite uncharacteristic of me, actually talking to people.
Saturday, went to Ruchita's party. I saw a rainbow outside the car window on the way there; I suppose that boded well. We watched Bend It Like Beckham, again. Though personally while I thought it was funny but not worth watching twice, I was gratified that people who were watching it for the first time found exactly the same things I had thought funny to be funny..... See, I had thought I was the only one who thought Tony's way of coming out of the closet was funny... and Jess talking to the wall.. but all that's in my Beckham blog post from a while back. Great food. Brownies, blondies, dumplings, and pizza. Discovered that Andrew is straight and has been dating Erica Fardig for nine months, and then some. This did not surprise me, though I had just previously assumed that the Andrew-Erica thing had not worked out, or that it was just a platonic friendship that people kept joking about. Puffy made up for Andrew's straightness by licking his fingers seductively and making suggestive comments. Andrew noticed that he'd come a long way from the homeschooled little kid in 9th grade. Me and random people noted that he and Andrew would have made such a cute gay couple. Puffy angsted about not being able to get a girlfriend in college (though actually, he angsted not that girls wouldn't like him, but that he wouldn't be able to find one in the physics department to meet his high standards. ^__^).
He said his "finger held up to the moon" quote too.
When I was leaving, Ruchita's mom commented about not recognizing me... which was most likely because she has never met me. "Where are you from?" she said. "Drama? Chorus?" She was being nice but it rather highlighted to me that I don't know Ruchita at all well, though I do read her blog because I feel obliged to know better someone who I end up going to parties with, and on a less socially ritiualistic note, someone who my friends hang out with. I kind of feel bad freeloading from Ruchita's party, but being that we have mutual friends and she wasn't actually offended by my presence there... feh.
Monday was Silvia's birthday party, though I didn't know it was her birthday party so I didn't bring her any gifts... I ended up cooking, which amused me because I made one plate of eggrolls which were obviously burnt (though not enough that they didn't taste good) in relation to Silvia's nicely browned ones. Malex helped with the dumplings (same as those from Ruchita's party, except pan-fried!) in vast quantities in expectation of Nick B's appetite, but he didn't come, because he was waiting for an Important Call, he said. He got it... he now has a job. Jen showed up, with a monkey for Silvia (toy, not real), and Milla (sans Ed) and Lianna showed up. James was already there, putzing around because he didn't know how to cook. To be honest, I don't know how to cook either, but I, unlike James, am unfazed by scorching droplets of hot oil that pop up and burn your arm. It comes from living in a Chinese family.
We watched Shaolin Soccer, which I brought, and which people found funny, to my relief, since I feel somewhat uncomfortable showing ethnic movies to people not of that background. It's like making white people go to a Kwanzaa party... I worry that it makes me seem pretentious and self-important. (My mom later was like, "You showed them a movie... with subtitles?") But it was good humor in general and didn't rely on ethnic jokes and spoofed the Matrix, so it was good.
We watched the Pianist after Malex and Jen left and after Silvia's parents got home to fix the tv, which she had messed up. I thought it would be a bad party movie, but actually, was quite good. I don't mean to be evil, but it wasn't as much as a downer as I'd expected it to be- it was quite hopeful. And anyways, nothing fictional, even a dramaticization of real events, can be as depressing as reading unadulterated academic history in all its objective inhumanity. I am glad I am thoroughly done with that now. Since people more qualified have more profound things to say about The Pianist than I do, I shall say something totally trivial; I had been wondering why Wehrmacht officer Wilm Hosenfeld had been randomly in a ruined Warsaw apartment in such a serendipitous manner. Turns out, thanks to Google, that he was looking for toothpaste. I guess the Wehrmacht has no toothpaste. So now you know. His family has a website, which mostly has nothing to do with him, and parts of his diary are included in the real Pianist's, Wladislaw Szpilman's, memoirs.
Thursday- Graduation rehearsal and senior picnic. Rehearsal was dumb. I felt like a show horse, and not in a good way. Picnic was nice... the weather cleared up, miraculously. The weather was quite beautiful. I argued with Doug about whether reading and enjoying Mercedes Lackey makes him girly. I had a hard time articulating what Jen agreed was an "ineffable girliness" about the books, so just ended up sputtering vast generalizations. I am a very bad debater in person. The best I could do was that since Mercedes Lackey has the strength of her characters lie in empathy and emotional receptiveness, as opposed to aggression, decisiveness, control, and grace under pressure, her novels appeal more to people of a feminine nature, and therefore Doug is of a feminine nature. Bah. But he didn't agree with me. Because I'm a horrible person, I found that I respected Doug a lot less when I realized just how girly he was; I'm not sure why I'm like that but it's probably not pleasant. Not fitting within his gender role felt to me like something of a moral transgression. But that bit of nastiness aside, we had fun playing Manly Aggressive Tetherball, wherein we tried to kill each other with a projectile object attached to a rope. I went on the swings, and we waded in the creek, which was clear and cold (and not unpleasant once you got used to it), and got muddy, and poked a water snake with a stick. We went on top of a hill from which you could see everything, and I rolled down it. Smokey Glen Farm is the sort of place I like, like Clarksburg. It seems that such places are my center of gravity because I am happier when I am near places like that and unhappier the further I am away from my sunny piedmont. I am off balance when I am far away from grassy hills and sunny trees.
Massive yearbook signing too... I had a hard time finding non-generic things to say until I began actually thinking not of 'what should I say in this book?' but 'how do I feel about this person?' which is when the words began to flow of their own accord. So I wasn't so awkward after all. Malex, I should note here that your fake yearbook is a piece of art.
Because it was so nice out, when I got home I took a long walk not knowing where I was going and saw another watersnake in a glade in Rock Creek Park that glided gracefully through the water away from me with surprising speed, and stalked a deer through the woods for 20 minutes, as it tolerated my presence for so long.
Friday, May 30, 2003
Like football camp, but for nerds:
DC Fencers' Club
2003 Summer Fencing Camp
DC Fencers' Club
9330 Fraser Ave., Silver Spring, MD 20910
Phone: 301-562-1990
Fax: 301-309-006
1st SESSION: JULY 7-11, 2003
2nd SESSION: JULY 14-18, 2003 SOLD OUT!
From 10:00 am to 4:00 pm
Our camp is open to beginners, as well as experienced fencers. Must be at least 7 years of age.
Camp Activities Include:
Group lessons ................ Soccer
Footwork ...................... Games
Technique & Tactics ....... Fencing Videos
Competition ...................Training with nationally ranked fencers
I can see it now:
American Pie IV... "One day at fencing camp..."
DC Fencers' Club
2003 Summer Fencing Camp
DC Fencers' Club
9330 Fraser Ave., Silver Spring, MD 20910
Phone: 301-562-1990
Fax: 301-309-006
1st SESSION: JULY 7-11, 2003
2nd SESSION: JULY 14-18, 2003 SOLD OUT!
From 10:00 am to 4:00 pm
Our camp is open to beginners, as well as experienced fencers. Must be at least 7 years of age.
Camp Activities Include:
Group lessons ................ Soccer
Footwork ...................... Games
Technique & Tactics ....... Fencing Videos
Competition ...................Training with nationally ranked fencers
I can see it now:
American Pie IV... "One day at fencing camp..."
Sticky Note to Self For Fencing Improvement: Lunge Lower!
Hmm, how much does Nick (B) remember from DCFC? Because I don't remember jack squat. But I was a goof during 10th grade in DCFC so that's also why. I remember doing the "I am Inigo Montoya!" speech from the Princess Bride a lot. And I remember being afflicted with 'glovehand,' that funky smell that emanates from your hand after wearing a single quilted glove for an hour and getting sweaty in it. Fortunately, I am spared that now because we aren't provided with gloves, so I bout barehanded. It doesn't seem to matter- my knuckles don't get all banged up like with epee. Foil is more genteel. It doesn't give you pin-point purple bruises.
I was not, however, spared MaskStench tonight, which is a pretty self-explanatory drawback that comes with the fencing territory. "We'll all get SARS!" someone joked about their grottiness. Horrendous SARS masks, those. They're gaping sieves. Look! I am the human fly!
I did spend the session swatting at my sparring partner (whose name he told me but I've forgotten)'s knees like an ex-epeeist/ bad foilist, but I ascribe that more to my lack of point control than any epee habits I must deprogram. The body does not remember- it's not like bicycling. I got a respectable number of hits on him though.
I was more comfortable this week with disengage 4 and 6 and combination 4-6, which I've finally figured out. Our instructor, who is a dumpy and unassuming middle-aged woman (but actually an amazingly fast ex-Olympian) trained our reaction times by dropping a piece of lint and having us try to hit it as it fell. Yes, this is one of those things you're supposed to fail. I got thoroughly exhausted, and did not feel like lifting anything heavy with my right arm all evening.
Something strange: my sparring partner asked me what school I go to.
What school do I go to?
Should I say "did" or "will"?
It made me feel discombobulated, not to have any school to identify with, like having no country, or no religion. It felt like I had turned paper thin and slipped into a crack between two sidewalk squares.
Hmm, how much does Nick (B) remember from DCFC? Because I don't remember jack squat. But I was a goof during 10th grade in DCFC so that's also why. I remember doing the "I am Inigo Montoya!" speech from the Princess Bride a lot. And I remember being afflicted with 'glovehand,' that funky smell that emanates from your hand after wearing a single quilted glove for an hour and getting sweaty in it. Fortunately, I am spared that now because we aren't provided with gloves, so I bout barehanded. It doesn't seem to matter- my knuckles don't get all banged up like with epee. Foil is more genteel. It doesn't give you pin-point purple bruises.
I was not, however, spared MaskStench tonight, which is a pretty self-explanatory drawback that comes with the fencing territory. "We'll all get SARS!" someone joked about their grottiness. Horrendous SARS masks, those. They're gaping sieves. Look! I am the human fly!
I did spend the session swatting at my sparring partner (whose name he told me but I've forgotten)'s knees like an ex-epeeist/ bad foilist, but I ascribe that more to my lack of point control than any epee habits I must deprogram. The body does not remember- it's not like bicycling. I got a respectable number of hits on him though.
I was more comfortable this week with disengage 4 and 6 and combination 4-6, which I've finally figured out. Our instructor, who is a dumpy and unassuming middle-aged woman (but actually an amazingly fast ex-Olympian) trained our reaction times by dropping a piece of lint and having us try to hit it as it fell. Yes, this is one of those things you're supposed to fail. I got thoroughly exhausted, and did not feel like lifting anything heavy with my right arm all evening.
Something strange: my sparring partner asked me what school I go to.
What school do I go to?
Should I say "did" or "will"?
It made me feel discombobulated, not to have any school to identify with, like having no country, or no religion. It felt like I had turned paper thin and slipped into a crack between two sidewalk squares.
Done with high school! Done with school! Yes, all 12 years of it, and a chapter of my life is over.
I said goodbye to RM the building today (though I will be back eventually to pay obligations). I said goodbye to those old stones and old haunts and the courtyard that sheltered me in freshman year as I sat there on the first day of school at lunch, on the grass under the trees and sky with a bunch of people I did not know but would get to know much better in the next four years, but then it was all new to me. But today I said goodbye to Rachel in the hallway in that brief gap of time between first and second period, as if I'd see her tomorrow. Mary, I never even saw. I really don't know how to say goodbyes.
I thought it was strange also that the glue that had held us together is suddenly gone. That people who have no bearing on my life any longer still make their regular orbits in the universe of my consciousness, celestial beings unaware yet that the axis has fallen away. I thank you for having been with me for the last four years, or seven or seventeen as the case may be. I know that as of now we will go our own ways... Malex had protested that he would not leave me overnight, but I know that gradually and inevitably we'll all drift apart and move on. But for now, I still think of you as my friends, at least for a little while.
When I left the building into the real world, the whole world was infused with joy.
I said goodbye to RM the building today (though I will be back eventually to pay obligations). I said goodbye to those old stones and old haunts and the courtyard that sheltered me in freshman year as I sat there on the first day of school at lunch, on the grass under the trees and sky with a bunch of people I did not know but would get to know much better in the next four years, but then it was all new to me. But today I said goodbye to Rachel in the hallway in that brief gap of time between first and second period, as if I'd see her tomorrow. Mary, I never even saw. I really don't know how to say goodbyes.
I thought it was strange also that the glue that had held us together is suddenly gone. That people who have no bearing on my life any longer still make their regular orbits in the universe of my consciousness, celestial beings unaware yet that the axis has fallen away. I thank you for having been with me for the last four years, or seven or seventeen as the case may be. I know that as of now we will go our own ways... Malex had protested that he would not leave me overnight, but I know that gradually and inevitably we'll all drift apart and move on. But for now, I still think of you as my friends, at least for a little while.
When I left the building into the real world, the whole world was infused with joy.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
You know why "Deerskin" is boring now?
Because amnesia is a boring affliction. I swear, this is the whole book after page 60 up until now.. "She did not want to think of the future. She paid scarce attention to what she was doing in the present. She could not remember her past." Well great. What does that leave me with? A singularly uninteresting teenage girl bumbling around a rotten hut, or in a forest, or in the moutains with her dog. It really doesn't matter, does it?
Because amnesia is a boring affliction. I swear, this is the whole book after page 60 up until now.. "She did not want to think of the future. She paid scarce attention to what she was doing in the present. She could not remember her past." Well great. What does that leave me with? A singularly uninteresting teenage girl bumbling around a rotten hut, or in a forest, or in the moutains with her dog. It really doesn't matter, does it?
Monday, May 26, 2003
I think that it's not quite true that Xu has no redeeming qualities, and that anyone who says so is doing himself a grave disservice in allowing several aspects of a person to cloud his judgment. Xu is not the easiest person to get along with, but he has talent, and a burning need to correct past grievances. Anyone looking for "decency" in the form of conciliation will not find it there, which is what upsets people the most, especially girls who are taught from birth that a person's self worth can be found in her social graces. Sexism and homophobia and racial militance are political points of view that don't make it very pleasant to be around him. However, I do not find a sense of sexual equality, acceptance of alternative lifestyles or acceptance of other races to be fundamental moral values, meaning that you can be a sexist gay-hating militant segregationist and a kind and decent person whose viewpoints I will despise with all my guts and with all my power try to prevent from reaching a position of public office and keep away from my children. Nothing personal; it's strictly a matter of ideology. I hate Nazis and Nazis hate me; it's not like we know each other or ever will, and I bet there are a good deal of skins who I could respect as people if I ever got to know them but could never see eye to eye with, period, and I will still fight against all they stand for. Taking hatreds to a personal level simply make these things more psychologically palatable; it becomes much easier to hate Western racial oppression by hating the White Man, and it is much easier to hate the White Man by starting with that particular White Man over there, standing on a corner, minding his own business and eating a sandwich. But if you ever get to talk to people with odious viewpoints, by which I mean the gay-bashers, the evangelical Christians, the ultra-liberals, the Church of Satanists, the animal rights activists, the anti-Americans, you'd be surprised by the vast amount of people you don't hate on any personal level. I have never talked to a White Racist except for going on some webpages and reading some materials, but I suspect the experience would be very much the same.
But on the whole, society does need people like Xu who stay proud and angry, and who do not say anything that is not true, and if it is true will say it. The Asian community needs the voice, the fire and the anger. This is our country but we have never claimed it for our own, and so we sit around like houseguests uncomfortable with touching the furniture and of course are never heard and never recognized.
And since it is a quality in him I have noticed before now, but apparently other people have not, I should like to observe here that Xu is very defensive of Puffy, and anyone who hurts him or is perceived as hurting him will suffer Xu's wholehearted wrath with all objectivity and rationality suspended. Very few people are loyal to such a degree/fault and I admire and forgive him for it if it should ever become my place to forgive.
But on the whole, society does need people like Xu who stay proud and angry, and who do not say anything that is not true, and if it is true will say it. The Asian community needs the voice, the fire and the anger. This is our country but we have never claimed it for our own, and so we sit around like houseguests uncomfortable with touching the furniture and of course are never heard and never recognized.
And since it is a quality in him I have noticed before now, but apparently other people have not, I should like to observe here that Xu is very defensive of Puffy, and anyone who hurts him or is perceived as hurting him will suffer Xu's wholehearted wrath with all objectivity and rationality suspended. Very few people are loyal to such a degree/fault and I admire and forgive him for it if it should ever become my place to forgive.
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