Math Sub

We all love a substitute in school-especially in math. They're clueless, they let you do whatever you want, whenever you want. They always give you worksheets that have nothing to do with what your learning, and they're never checked by the teacher the next day. After you write your name on the paper, you've pretty much fulfilled your work for the day.

Today, we were all "working" on our worksheet when someone raised their hand and said, "Our teacher never taught us this." Our substitute peered at the paper, then turned to the white board. "I don't know if I can help you, I've never had to use this before."

Bam.

Worst thing to say in a high school. Ever.

"I'm definitely not doing this, then," Molly, the girl sitting next to me whispered. That's what everyone was thinking. Our teacher doesn't remember it? She's never had to use it? Fine then, we won't ever have to find the degree of a tangent line on a circle passing it's secant.

***

Picture of the Day:

I Really Don't Have Anything to Say

I really don't have anything to say. Haha, nothing happens in my life. I think I just made this post so I could have a picture of the day.

Picture of the Day:

Now

I think I've figured out that whole, "don't wish your life away" thing. Everyone wants to grow up. Everyone wants to turn 13 so they can say, "Only three years 'till I can drive!" When they're 16, all they think about is turning 18, then 21 so they can get all boozed up (well, legally). Sure, growing up is cool sometimes and more responsibility is nice. But I sort of wish I be in elementary school again. You know, when your hardest decisions were deciding which crayon to use while coloring? Then I wanted to be back in middle school (7th grade, to be exact). So I figure the pattern will continue and some day I'll want to be back in high school. I'll want to be sitting here right now, not having to worry about paying taxes or finding gas money or living by myself. I won't be able to ask mom to "pretty please make some homemade popcorn?" Someday I'll have to get off my lazy butt and make my own popcorn. Sometimes that sounds like fun, but other times it makes me want to freeze time and enjoy Now forever.

Picture of the Day:

that moment when you forgot you had homework on a sunday night...

Helloo

I'm back. I'm not sure if I'll be back again tomorrow, but for today, I'm blogging here again. I've given up on that whole "each blog post is a spectacular piece of writing" (sorry dad). Truth is, I don't know what this blog will be about yet. I've got...22 blogs, but I only update about 3 of them frequently. What can I say? It's so easy to make blogs, but commitment is never the easiest thing. 

I don't know if you'll find what I post here even remotely interesting. But someone once told me you blog for yourself, so that's what I'm going to start doing. I think I'm also going to start doing a picture/graphic of the day after each of my posts. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Picture of the day:

Memories

Perhaps the best way to forget about something is to obsess over it. Think about nothing else for a week. It sort of makes sense, in a twisted, counterproductive way. Sure, during the time you're thinking about it your life may suck. Drowning in thoughts and memories you so badly want to forget so they don't come back to you, at least for awhile, with no way to get out. Because once you start, there is no turning back. They keep pouring out of your head, extra-vivid, as if they've been waiting for the moment to be released to the front of your brain. After you obsess over it, you get tired, and the thoughts blur around the edges until they finally fade to the back of your brain again, dulled from over-use. Only then do you realize you could see them one more time, crystal clear, even if it kills you.

My Theory

Everyone in high school is always tired during the day. We have to wake up at 6, or earlier, every morning for school, and in the winter, its completely dark out. We home, and go to bed around 9, usually later, not super early, but not late.We're always tired though. Why? We can't fall asleep easily at night and then we're more tired during the day. Since we wake up in the dark, it's hard for our bodies to shut down at night, when there's the same amount of light as when we wake up. Congratulations, schools districts. You have trained us, but screwed everything up in the process.

My School

I hear stories of a couple people cursing on the bus and in the halls. People doing graffiti the bathrooms and purposely overflowing the sinks. The story teller always has a horrified expression as if this never happens in their school. I act sympathetic. The first time I saw all of that I was pretty surprised myself. People on my bus cuss more than a sailor, shooting words out of their mouths like their lives depended on it. All kinds of crap is scribbled on bathroom stalls in pencil and Sharpie. Apparently we have a hardcore rebel school, because I hear at least three of those stories every day in Penn High School, and someone saying, “Jon and Bill were in another fight again, Jon had to get stitches, and both of them have after-school suspension.” Is the equivalent to “I ate chicken for lunch.” There are occasionally rumors, but most of the stories are true. I’ve seen kids walking around with stitches or bruises from fights, girls and boys alike. You’re probably horrified. Maybe I’m making it sound pretty bad. Penn High isn’t a boxing ring or anything, we have our share of good deeds, and there are worse stories from other school districts.

“You wanna go?” Some big guy leaps up from his seat a few tables from me. “Bring it!” Another guy jumps off, both of them red-faced. “Bring it!” The second guy taunts again. It might happen often, but there’s nothing like a good face-off as lunch entertainment. Relax, it’s nothing serious. These two guys aren’t going to fight, apparently they’re going to have a rap battle. “I can’t believe Nick’s gonna go up against him,” Lily hisses in my ear. “He’s just gonna embarrass himself.” I nod, watching them silently. We actually have our own security team on school property. They’re actually supposed to be in the cafeteria right now. “Dude, give me a beat!” The first guy shouts, and half of the cafeteria starts banging on their tables in unison. Two security guards rush in, and leap in front of the two boys, pushing them into their seats. “Shoot.” I say. “That would’ve been awesome to see.”

Hockey

You might remember climbing to the ceiling on bristly ropes, cartwheeling across mats, and running miles every day. No safety precautions whatsoever, the teacher is just there to get paid. When gym was actually gym. The ropes were torn down and gymnastics was long forgotten by public school curriculums. It’s been replaced with bins of basketballs and soccer balls, shiny training-wheel bicycles for those who learned to ride a bike long ago, and electric heart rate monitors and stop watches.

If you have a substitute in gym, everyone in Pennsburg knows you have a long hour of basketball ahead of you. That can’t sound too bad, right? Well, after you’ve been playing basketball since first grade, it gets a little old. No one even plays games anymore; we just wander around, aimlessly shooting baskets every now and then. Even the guys hate it, which is really saying something. Each year, you learn the same “techniques” over and over, a couple weeks of floor hockey, a soccer unit, and a few days of Frisbee. Every now and then, they throw in some new unit like bad mitten or bicycling. “This is how you hold the hockey stick-“ I sigh, my elbows wresting on my knees. I tune out Mr. Reichard, leaning toward Kat. “If I hear how to hold a hockey stick again next year, I’m quitting gym.” Kat rolls her eyes. “If you could quit gym, half of the school would’ve done it already.” Mr. Reichard holds out a “safety squishy ball” for us violent high schoolers, demonstrating how to properly hit it with the hockey stick. “…Do not bring the hockey stick above your waist.”

We separate into teams and grab our hockey sticks, scuttling out to the middle of the gym, all of us right-out disobeying the rules of hockey. In Middle School, everyone would go along with the rules, but now that we’re in high school, we’ve gotten tired of hearing the same rules every year, so we figure we might as well just go against everything teachers have told us since first grade. Probably not the smartest thing to do, no wonder they keep telling us the rules over and over, but we make it fun. People kick the ball with their feet when Mr. Reichard isn’t looking, and some brave souls even bend down to grab the ball and throw it across the room. When we hit the ball, we use a golf swing, and we all high stick. On purpose. What can I say? We’re rebels.

American Culture

I can only imagine what other countries think about us. I mean, we might be all super power-y and the "land of opportunity", but we've got some serious kinks in our system.

The following conversation has been greatly censored.

"He's just so amazing." Lily gushes. I glance at Parker and Sam, already guessing their response. "Ok..." Sam replies, shoveling goldfish in his mouth. "Why are you showing us his picture?" Parker asks Lily. "Lily," I lean over to her. "What reaction are you expecting from guys when you show them a picture of another guy?" A blank look washes over her face. "Right..." I shrug. "Why do you like him, anyway?" I point to the picture on her phone. She just stares at me. "He's adorable." Right, in that 'I'm cool cause I wear my pants at my knees' sort of way. "Lily he can't walk normally because if he does his pants will fall down. He acts like he was born with saddle burn." She shrugs, shoving her phone back in her backpack. "Isn't that the guy who wears the weird pants?" Parker suddenly asks Lily. I give her a look. "My point has been proven."

Trip

You know how field trips are educational right? Of course you don't know, what field trip have you gone on that has been solely for education purposes? The students and teachers all know it's an excuse to not have to sit in those dark little gray classrooms and learn. It's a win-win situation for everyone.

I yawn, rolling over in my bed, kicking at my sheets. 1:37 AM The blue light from my alarm clock makes my eyes hurt. I sigh and flop over again, closing my eyes. "We expect all of you to be on your best behavior." The teacher paces back and forth in front of us, his eyes scanning the crowd. "This trip has been scheduled for you education. Remember you are representing your school." We march onto the bus, filling all of the seats immediately. "Seat belts on, please." The bus driver announces on the intercom. "Seat belts?" I whisper to the person sitting next to me. "I didn't know there were seat belts on a school bus." The kid shakes his head, and looks away. I realize I've never seen him in school before. I peer over my seat, glimpsing two girls sitting in silence. I don't recognize them either.


The bus begins to shake. Not like driving on a rocky road shaking, but literally rocking back and forth. We shoot forward, flying down the street, the school suddenly a black speck behind us. I stare out my window, my body frozen, watching cars speed by us at an abnormally fast pace. Or maybe we were the ones moving fast. The humming from the tires on pavement disappears, and the bus is airborne. "What the...?" Our giant, yellow bus is soaring through the air. "Where are we going?" I call, my body suddenly released from paralysis. The bus driver turns around in her seat, about to answer, when an ear splitting noise shoots through my head. Everyone on the bus looks confused, trying to find the source of the sound.


BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP. My eyelids flutter open, and I swing my hand down on my alarm clock, wishing I could throw it out the window.

What Mario Has Taught Me

The only way to survive is if you eat mushrooms. Simple as that. Whether they're red, white and green, blue, or red and yellow, they will help you. I'm sure of it. Another important thing to remember is that if you ever have someone try to attack you, jump on their heads and they will die. It works every time. Unless they're really big, then you have to jump on them three times. It'l work. Trust me. Another cool trick I learned is that when you want to open something, hit it with your head. Something good is bound to come from it. And remember, if you die, you still have two more lives.

Leave

There are seven continents and 196 countries in the world. In those countries, there is an estimated 300,000 cities. All of this civilization we've somehow built covers 195,000,000 square miles. In a country of about 300,000,000 people, only a third of us Americans have passports. Meaning most of us won't see other parts of the world.

Someday I like to think I'll travel around the world. I'll hitchhike to Wawa by myself if I'm lucky. That's a bit of an exaggeration. I know people whose parents were born here in Pennsburg, as were their parents. That's three generations in one town. They even went to college around here, if at all. I know they're "happy", but thinking about that makes me want to pull my hair out. I'm blowing this taco town the moment I can. Sure, it's a great place, I'll come back to visit, but there's a whole world to see. And it's right under our noses.

Flying

It's Friday. Geez, it feels like the last Friday was, like, seven days ago. What the heck is up with that. Please excuse my lame attempt at a joke. At least I don't have to go to school today, this is one of those two-or-three-times-a-year-trips to Virginia, and we're flying there. Why are we flying? Why the heck are we flying to Virginia? All will be figured out soon, I suppose.

My mom, dad, and I weren't supposed to go to Virginia. In fact, Dad came home yesterday and announced, "We're flying to a beach in Virginia this weekend!" He said we're flying because he found a good deal, and flying would cost less than gas mileage. That must be one seriously sweet deal. I always thought Virginia sounded like Vagina. It was south of Pennsylvania, so it all made good sense to me when I was little. Great, we're flying to Vagina. At least it's the beach, even though it's January. 

It turns out he brought us all down to Virginia to celebrate Mom's birthday. I didn't see the point in going, it was just the three of us, but Mom deserves to have a good time. Even though we were stuck at the airport for all day on Friday and part of Sunday. It's the thought that counts, right?

For Sale

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer,

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

-W.B. Yeats, "The Second Coming"

You're probably wondering why I picked these four lines to start out today's story. Seems pretty meaningful, doesn't it? You're probably thinking that what I'm going to tell you is something deep and serious. Well, I don't know exactly what I'm going to write yet, so it seems it's a mystery to everyone.

The only reason I know I didn't make Emily up is because there are pictures of us together since elementary school. Today, you would never be able to tell we used to be best friends. The talking is gone, the polite waves in the hall a distant memory. That's all we are to each other, a memory. You'd think half a decade of memories couldn't just be thrown in a box and put out to rot, but I've seen it in action. And let me tell you, anything rotten looks ugly. 

Thunder

Hello from Canada. Maddie and I drove up here yesterday, the day before midterms. It's freezing, but at least there's snow here. Kidding. I'm still in Pennsburg. In school. Canada just seems so much more interesting than Penn High school. I still could go to Canada, Maddie's a year older than me, she has her license, we could pack our bags and hit the road before anyone could say "they don't have gas money". Which is the only reason we haven't left.

"My hair is a wreck!" Lily turns toward me, her face scrunched up. "Do you ever have those days where your hair looks perfect in the morning, but when you get to school its horrible?" Not really. It is what it is. "Sometimes." I take another bite of my peanut butter sandwich, wishing Maddie had the same lunch period as me. Lily glares at her reflection in her phone, as if her frown will scare her hair back into it's proper place. Not that it doesn't look exactly the same as it always does. But if I tell her that, she'll take it the wrong way. "You eat your peanut butter sandwich funny." I turn my head to the right, glancing at Parker. "Is there a certain way to eat a peanut butter sandwich?" I ask. I take another bite. "No no no! You're doing it all. Wrong." I roll my eyes. "You don't even like peanut butter. I'm the best peanut butter sandwich eater you will ever know."

I shiver, looking out the row of windows that surround half of the cafeteria. It's raining harder now. I can hear the pitter patter over the roar of three hundred teenagers talking at once. Conversations begin to die down around me as a low rumble surges over the school. "We never have thunder storms in January." Lily hisses in my ear. I give a faint nod, my eyes still glued to the window, now almost impossible to see through because of the rain. A few flashes of light brighten up the parking lot right before another boom shakes the school. The lights flicker in the room, causing a few girls to shriek. You really haven't had the power go out before? Do you have to scream? I'm jarred from my thoughts as the light disappears completely, leaving the whole cafeteria silent, every student frozen in place, the sound of the rain drumming through our ears. A set of light bulbs begin buzzing over my head, and part of the room is filled with blinding light which soon disappears, leaving a trail of sparks behind, which fly onto my, immediately setting fire to a Parker's paper bag. I leap up, pulling him and Lily out of their seats as the flames engulfed the paper, leaving behind a few black smoldering crumbs.

Beeswax

School doesn't work the way it does on TV. You don't have enormous gaps between classes, and all of the teachers are not either amazingly cool or belonging in a mental hospital.Sure, a school might be full of the dumbest sports players ever, the nerdiest nerds that will someday rule the world, and that blonde cheerleader who will be a mom at 16, but it's the people in the middle of those groups that you really have to look out for. There's groups in school, don't try to deny it. Somewhere where you think you fit in. Maybe you've jumped ship on a few groups, maybe you've stuck with the same one since Middle School. Whatever your story is, I'm sure you call all relate to this one: the person who wants to know where you're at and when, why you're there, and who you're with. Admit it, you know someone like that.
"Hey, Sam, I saw you in the guidance office today." I turn around, finding Pamela standing about five inches from me. I nod, still in my early-hour fog. I keep walking, not looking to see if she's following me or not. "Why were you there?" She's walking next to me, her huge brown eyes staring at me expectantly. Well, both of my parents died from drinking. Or, My friend is going to commit suicide. Maybe, Because people who pretend to be my friends ask me seriously intruding questions and I'm falling into depression. I shrug. Maybe we should stick to the truth here. "Just stuff." I turn a corner, headed to biology. Pamela is still glued to my side like a Labrador begging for a biscuit. "What kind of stuff?" I resist the urge to yell, "Stay out of my friggin' beeswax! Get a life already!" But, that isn't socially acceptable, so I settled on, "Nothing important." I can see my classroom. Freedom is only a few yards away. "I won't tell anyone." She insists, still walking hurriedly next to me. Right, you'll only tell anyone who will listen and announce it on facebook. Not too many people, just five-hundred students, give or take. I stop suddenly in front of my class. "I wasn't doing anything in guidance, OK? I had to ask a question about gym for next year. That's it." Pamela squints her eyes at me, half-depressed and half-hoping I'm lying. Before she can say anything, I've disappeared into my classroom.

Family

"I wish I could stay here forever." Ben laughs and walks over to sit next to me, crossing his legs. "Whenever I come here, I always feel like everything's going to start over, you know? But then I always go home to the same crap. I just want nothing to happen." I hug my knees, burying my toes in the grass. "You don't have to think about it, your'e not home." He shakes his head. "But it's still happening." I survey the lake, half-covered in lily-pads, glowing orange from the setting sun. We sit in silence for a moment, both of us enjoying the peace of sitting together by the lake. I glance sideways at Ben. I haven't seen him in close to three years, and already he's grown a few inches, and I can't make fun of him anymore for being shorter than me. "Promise you'll text me tomorrow?" He asks me. I nod, enjoying the sound of our voices intertwining with the chirping summer crickets.

Gone

I hear the familiar car brakes screech to a stop on the asphalt. "You have to turn on the TV". The door slams shut behind me, and I know who it is before I turn around. "Maddie, you do know this is my house right?" She ignores me, flopping down on the couch by my side, ripping the TV remote from my hands. "I'm watching something!" I yelp, unsuccessfully trying to wrestle her for it. "Shut up, this is serious." Maddie's been my best friend since fourth grade after we bonded over our interest in Scooby Doo. Hey, that show was the same for us as Twilight is for girls that like sparkly vampires. She pushes her long brown-blonde hair behind her ear absentmindedly as she flips to the local news. “Mads, the news is so freakin’ depressing…” She holds up her hand, silencing me, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Kennedy Colostini, fifteen, from Penn High School, had an unexpected accident yesterday in Pennsburg, Pennsylvania.” The nasally sounding reporter is replaced by a blurry picture of a school photo of the girl. She passed away from a blood pressure problem, and could not get to the hospital quickly enough.” My jaw drops, my brain on pause. What? Wait…what? Is the only coherent thought that runs through my mind. My body goes numb, and time seems to slow down around me. “Oh my God.” My hand grabs ahold of the first thing it can find, which just so happens to be Maddie’s shoe. “She goes to our school. She’s my age.” Maddie turns her head toward me. “Did you know her?” She whispers. I shake my head. “I think I saw her a few of times at the beginning of the year. Mads oh my God she just…died. She’s gone.” Maddie nods. “She was in my bio class.” My phone buzzes beside me, shaking me back to the normal, fast-paced world. A world that’s already moved on and forgotten that a fifteen year old girl in Pennsylvania just died. WEAR BLUE TOMORROW IN HONOR OF KENNEDY. FORWARD THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Kennedy would never go to prom. She wouldn’t ever fall in love and get married. She would never get to grow up and live, like she should’ve.