insanity is a relative term

Freedom Riders Two

2011-05-20T08:36:00.000-07:00

I finally have the chance to watch the Freedom Riders Documentary that premiered last week. My mom suggested I watch the Opera special that preceded it. It was a moving show. I cried in the first few minutes and I'm not sure I ever stopped. The was one particular moment. One Rider was explaining their behavior in jail. They would sing to cope. They were told they'd loose their mattress es and responded with a little tune of you can take our mattress. At this point, on the Oprah stage, he started singing it and with in a few repeats other riders joined in with him.

Freedom Riders

2011-05-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

I didn't know there was going to be a freedom riders exhibit the day I went to take a tour at WGBH. While my group tried to touch the awards on the wall without the receptionist noticing I sneaked off to the exhibit. There was a new type of audio tour they were implementing. Visitors could call a number and enter an extension to hear freedom riders recount personal experiences. I didn't have time there so I wrote down the number and a couple extensions to try later. When I called later that night I cried. On my personal cell phone, the one I use to call my mom, friends, the pizza place, I heard the voice of Hank Thomas. He told me a story from his journey as a freedom rider. It felt like he was actually on the other line. It was as if I had asked him about it as I ask my sister about her soccer games. It was quite a moving experience

scandal

2008-02-19T20:49:00.001-08:00

I really just needed to share this picture. It was on one of AOL's news centers. If you just glance at it...

oh, what are men to rocks and mounains?

2008-02-19T07:53:00.000-08:00

The woods were amazing monday. After every rain a mist would settle just below the brambles. It was spectacular. 60 degees in Febuary, wow. What a wonderful gift is a warm day in winter.

The Great Catsby

2008-02-18T07:31:00.001-08:00

While reading The Great Gatsby for school my friend, Abigail, decided her next pet will be named Gatsby. I think it's a wonderful name for a dog, it will be the name of my first dog. While discussing this we caught the attention of my English teacher who revealed to us that she, and several other english teachers, also feel Gatsby is the perfect name for a dog. I wonder what such a creature would look like? The instumental Airedale of the novel? Well "undoubtedly there was an Airedale concerned in it somewhere, though its feet were startlingly white," still "a dog that'll never bother you with catching cold." We could stick to the "Great" adjective and go with Great Dane. Maybe a poodle, mixed with something ordinary, lik a pug. Pugapoo?

Can I talk change with you?

2008-02-07T18:04:00.001-08:00

Album cover (yay, it finally uploaded!)

2008-01-23T12:08:00.000-08:00

Go to……
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php33 The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result as a comment in this post.
(Don’t forget to follow the Terms of Use at Flickr and provide a link back to the page at Flickr.)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/76226776@N00/2211191563/

S.O.S. v1.4: Of Secrets and Sliderules

2008-01-20T19:52:00.001-08:00

sorry...

Dear Marc,
Upon finding this, you must have found that it occupies the place of your now missing sliderule. I apologize for taking it, along with various other items among your belongings. I've neglected the favor of making you a list simply because I am not sure what i will need on my journey. I travel south to a place you may well know. Actually, it is thanks to you that I will now be enrolled in school as Marc Redstone the Second. I appreciate all you have taught me these few years. You have done me many services, but I need to ask you for one more. My father will be distressed at my disappearance. I must ask you to send word to him that I have eloped. That prospect will make him very happy as well as keep you and Mammy out of trouble. Tell him it was a rich handsome gentleman like he always wanted for his only daughter. You might even suggest it was by your friendship I came to know this gentleman of repute. This might finally sway father to sponsor you in your dream of moving west. I hope to see you again, but as for now know that you have sponsored my dreams; Marc's, rather my, studies begin in two weeks. Forever in your debt, and forever your friend. -Dot

"That's it!" said Marc when he finished? "You can't just ride off like usual and make me pick up the slack!"
Dot faltered at his uncharacteristic agressiveness.
"I at least deserve a better explanation, or one last conversation, you owe me that much Dot... there is so much I've been wanting to talk about with you.." said Marc, falling back into his usual submissiveness.

S.O.S. v1.3

2008-01-13T16:00:00.001-08:00

I'm terribly sorry, this is a historical soap opera ;). I have seen and held an actual sliderule. I must qualify as an archiologist now. Research has suggested that the ancient people, engineerious computerlous, might have worn them on their belt loops around their habitat of college campus.

Unfortunatly for Marc, though Dot had once dreamed of the place she found herself now, that dream had long since been replaced by those of real and substantial value. Being a quick girl, she decided she should give him back his sliderule-and that is what Marc found as he leaned forward. Dot regained her balance and finished her pillage while marc remained, once again, debilitated. "Are you going to let me have the sliderule?" she asked, or do I need to steal one?"Coming out of his stupour, Marc could only ask why she needed one to begin with. Gaining momentum, he sent a biraid of questions at her, not pausing for answers. Lacking the enthusiasm to counter his attack, she merely handed him the note she had written for him hours earlier.

S.O.S. v1.2

2008-01-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

I think I get it now! No soap, radio!

Holding the shovel high above his head, Marc crept towards the young man invading his room. He was flitting about, stuffing things into a bag. Flitting he thought, just like Dot. His walk too, just like Dot's. His arms slender, just like Dot's. His thoughts carried on in this little red ridding hood fashion for sometime and he suddenly found himself behind the intruder undetected. To his credit things eventually clicked: for at the moment he should have struck, he realized that it was in fact, Dot. However, to his detriment it took the terrified look in her eyes as she turned to see him poised for attack to bring comprehension to his face.
"yo, y , d, sh, ah..." he spluttered ending in a whimper. Realizing that her life was not actually in danger, Dot ignored him. Marc only commenced coherent communication when Dot picked up his sliderule. "Not that" he said rushing to reclaim his most cherished possession. As they tussled for the implement Marc's superior grip slackened for he found himself in the place he had been dreaming about for weeks, a few breaths aways from Dot's lips.

S.O.S.

2008-01-06T17:09:00.000-08:00

I can proudly say I don't watch soap operas (including battlestar galactica) and therefore have no idea what one actually sounds like. This is more like a story in installments. Rest assured it will probably never be completed.

She felt the face that had haunted her everywhere the light reflected: still flat, ordinary, masculine and dirty. This face that had held her back so long was now her ticket to a new life. With that inspiration her hands dropped to the knife and lifted the cold handle to her jaw. Bracing herself, she pictured the quick slash that would lead to a new identity. Over and over again her mind saw hair cascading to the floor in a glorious stream, heralding her arrival at independence. Counting to three she tried it for real. The knife slipped and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding her hand. Trying again, hot with embarrassment she started sawing away. As smooth as it looked, her hair still would not cut like butter. Thoughts of inadequacy crept in the space left by this blunder. Knowing she couldn't finish out this day if she didn't believe it was possible, she chased them away and focused on the task at hand. Sitting in Papoo's study formulating a plan, Dorothy had known this seemingly trivial step would be difficult. Sitting here hacking at her most prized possession with no guidance but the rippling reflection given by the stream she realized she hadn't known at all. Even through her tears she felt a growing sense of freedom. With every stroke she was moving. Moving towards freedom, moving from safety, moving towards apathy, moving from the superficial, moving towards the future, moving from the past.

10 random things (meme)

2007-12-21T15:33:00.000-08:00

10 random things about myself- that you might know

1) I think the most pleasnt sound is falling rain and the most pleasnt silence is falling snow.

2) I suck at runescape

3) I love imaginary numbers; 4i is my favorite. (and by love, i mean very bizarre and very very strong attatchement)

4) Never broken a bone- I drink my milk!

5) I love to wear the color red.

6) The colors yellow green and orange are perfect together(usually)

7) My nailpolish is currenly an interesting shade of turqouise. I was told it was such a nice color that it detracted from the derivitives on the board. I was also told that same day, that my moving hands resembled beetles, those gigantic blue-green ones from the summer.

8) On the subject of colors, I hate the phrase Roy-g-biv

9) On the subject of the rainbow, I am very sad we are moving past that chapter in physics

10) On the subject of physics, I am about to shoot myself. (not really)

I tag all who read this.

T.V. show

2007-12-14T17:09:00.000-08:00

AS a child I was only allowed to watch PBS. As a teenybopper I rebelled and watched every piece of worthless programing. As a teenageer I enjoy to watch PBS. There are so many wonderful characters and shows from that station, that the challenge of picking one seemed impossible. I think though, there really is no contest, nothing can beat MAGIC SCHOOL BUS. Every thing about that show is absolutly amazing. The chacters were my friends growing up. I am convinced this show completely molded my life. It can unviel the joys of science to someone who can't even say "photosynthesis" yet. Even the theme song rocks! yes- most definatly time to take a ride on the magic school bus.

Just a thought

2007-12-13T16:39:00.000-08:00

Frederick Douglass is a most beautiful man.

short and sweet... hopefully

2007-12-09T18:40:00.001-08:00

It's all coming off. Any thoughts? Suggestions? Above is what i'm leaning towards. Open to all suggestions-except blonde

Let *them eat cake

2007-12-02T12:33:00.000-08:00

All she said was "I want cake" with a little tilt of her head. Thus began our very interesting adventure in our coaches kitchen. don't ask. Just accept that me and a friend, we will call her Bat(again-don't ask) are at the home of our coach by ourselves at seven Sunday morning. With that we ransacked the kitchen in hopes of finding a cake mix. Her kitchn had everything you could imagine. At least ten types of pasta, fifteen types of hot chocolate, five types of frozen cookes, but no cake mix. In my desperation I accidentily offered the conjecture that "maybe she makes it from scratch". haha. bad idea. So ten minutes later, after we take the dog out, with cold noses and a recipie for chocolate cake we gather the ingredients. I kid you not, she had an entie drawer ful of hot cocolate mix, but no cocoa. While she takes the dog out again, it's been quite a long time since we started, i find a recipie for vanilla cake. Too bad even vanilla cake needs eggs. At this point we are not giving up, oh no. OH NO, not us. So Bat heads off to the local deli, which is not very far; PV is notorious for its "deli on every corner". The trip still took long enough for my bladder to get impatient. Let's just let it be said that puppies cannot be left alone for ANY length of time. So Bat returns victorious with a dozen eggs and tales of adventure. Specificaly how her car started fishtailing. The actually construction of this cake was a frienzed affair. One of us was usually playing chew toy for the teething puppy (We used enough soap to clean a kidnergarden class) while the other was searching for a piece of kitchenware one would never think you need to make a cake. -reminder: this house belongs to niether of us- I'd like to announce that for the first time ever I succesfully seperated eggs, this is a great achievment for me. At this point the cake is succesfully in the oven, the kitchen is clean, the dogis tired out. At this point Bat decides that the cake cannot go unfrosted. One of the recipies we printed out had instructions to make frosting by boiling sugar butter and milk. I know the dangers of boiling sugar of any kind, and I now powdered sugar is traditionaly used for frosting. Nevertheless I allow us to make it any way. When it is finished, I am perfectly ok with using it. Bat however, does not think syrup is a decent thing to cover a cake with. This time we kennel the dog and we both go to the deli. No fishtailing this time, the roads are much cleaner, we return with the confectionary sugar without incident. As we walk up the drive way our coach and her new husband return. I personally, had not wanted to be there on their return. Bat, who does not accept the words alkwardness, embarassment, intrusion, or shame, insists we finish the cake. Did I mention she was my ride home? So we remain at the house long enough to make the frosting, which of course is green, and taste the cake.
The cake was superb, moist but crispy on the outside, best thing i've ever made (it was the eggs, i'm positive). The frosting was a little to sweet, but hey: at least it was viscous and pretty.
Best cake i've ever had.

*them being two teenage girls with an empty house and a full** kitchen
**full should not implty adequate***
***i've always wanted a footnote on the footnotes

Failure- what doesn't kill you only makes you stonger

2007-11-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

It was fifth grade. It was a spelling test. I failed miserably.
As our teacher posted our grades on the wall, everyone who had a class in the room just had to tell me my grade. It happened to be a 42 in case anyone was wondering. It was almost entirely on words like beautiful or plentiful and I had a double L at the end of everyword. Got all the hard bonus words right, but didn't pass the test. This had been, up until I confronted the letters A and P, my worst and only test failure. I am proud to announce that since the advent of second quarter I have failed three tests, in three seperate classes. Now of course that had just a tad of flase bravado, but I honestly am glad to have failed. It is sort of freeing. No more pressure to preform well, no more record or reputaion to up hold. Just learning anfd knowedge pure and simple. Well, never simple, not physics. Not to mention I acctually started hardcore studying for the first time in my life(slight exageration). I only wish this pivitol point in my education had come before junior year...

(btw hell is not spelled h-e-double hockey sticks, but a-p-double physics)

From thread to blog

2007-11-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

In my enchantingly enlightening and engaging english class, my teacher (who has already taught me the abnormal and addicting joy of alliteration) established a forum for my class. This disscusion is about "Young Goodman Brown", by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and "Where are You Going? Where Have You Been?" by Joyce Carol Oates. The latter is a short story of a girl who gets herself into the troubles a pretty girl with out much sense can quite easily find. (yes, we happen to be learning about red ridding hood as well). The lack of resolution and action from the silly girl incensed many of my staunchly feminist friends. This caused them to et into a frenzy and lose sight of what else can be seen in Oate's story.
I have a feeling no one in my class will actualy read what I wrote and I feel as if I acctually started thinking for the first time yet this year, so I have posted it here.

"I do not feel like this is a matter of equality rights, or even gender dynamics. It very interesting that that Cap gave us two parallel stories one about a young man and the other about a young woman. I fondly remember an old idol of mine that kept the cutest bookshop you could ever hope to frequent. I once asked her if she had any American girl books, she replied "I do not carry books like that, for only girls, but I do have a similar collection." She then proceeded to show me the dear American books that would accompany my life for the next few years. Through her words and that series (and thinking about it right now too, not gonna lie) I learned that literature is best when not used to entertain like cheap television appealing to males or females. The best and most memorable works one will read are such because they are based on the deeper themes of life applicable to both genders. Either subtly or overtly using these themes the author makes an argument, enforces an ideal or establishes a point of view, that is foreign to the reader, thus making it novel(ironic, eh?) and memorable."

I've joined the bloging ones

2007-11-15T16:18:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my birthday. 17 years old. That means there have been 365 days I have been unwanted. I feel as if there's some unspoken standard (probably created by me) that a single mormon girl of 17 is a failure.
Other than that silly sentiment, I am announcing the formation of my blog. Taa Daa!
It was actually by accident, but once i stared looking around I became very interested. As school has me grinding at the mill I have nothing to speak of at the moment or a brain to synthesize it, unless people would be interessted in hearing about early american literature or government. (Absolutly no physics! unless its a movement to stop the killing of monkeys)