Archive for the ‘school’ Category

That’s what I’ve had to deal with lately.

I went to the ladies’ restroom at school and took a peek into the two stalls that were empty at the time. One of them looked pretty disgusting (let it suffice to say that someone forgot to flush) so I was going to use the other one, which happened to be the huge stall that is supposed to be handicapped accessible. I closed the door and locked it. You know that slit between the stall door and the rest of the stall? You know how people can see into it, and the person in the stall can see out? Well, all of a sudden the face of some girl I don’t know appeared in the opening. She didn’t go away, either, and she started trying to open the door.

“Hey! I’m in here, you know!” I said, in case her eyesight was bad, or she thought I was just a ghost or something.

She said something I didn’t manage to catch and kept trying to break into my stall. I thought maybe she needed something from me, so I went over and opened the door.



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No swords at school, though

Today we had our annual Code Red drill where we practice what to do if a gunman/some other dangerous person comes onto our school campus. Generally in past years it has involved jamming erasers into door handles, building barricades out of desks, and sitting in a corner of the dark classroom, whispering amongst ourselves even though we’re supposed to stay silent.

I am normally bored to tears by this drills, but this year was amusing because the drill happened during my weight training class.

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I woke up really early this morning and tried to get back to sleep, but for some reason I never managed to get comfortable enough to sleep again. When I came out in the morning, my parents told me that there had been a shooting and that school had been canceled. News about a shooting where 2 people died and 6 were wounded has been on TV all morning. Being the skeptical person that I am, I did believe that the shooting had happened, but I wasn’t convinced that school was really canceled. Even though my parents showed me several phone messages and an email that said students should be kept home today, I wasn’t really sure because I heard something on TV about the schools in Cupertino still being open. I thought maybe there were people conspiring with the criminal who thought, “Hey, let’s have the kids stay in their houses today so we can go around the neighborhood and shoot everybody”, but of course my parents dismissed that as my usual paranoia. However, the kids at the elementary and middle schools are apparently being asked to go to school (they just said that again on TV) so I’m not sure why my school district thinks we should stay home… So now here I am at home, simultaneously afraid, bored, and somewhat excited.

I feel like a really selfish person because I didn’t really think long about the fact that people are dead (probably because I’ve never actually known someone who died, so I guess I don’t know how it feels to lose a loved one)…I mostly only thought about “What am I going to do all day? I should be going to class!” and “Are they going to make us go to school for one more day this school year to make up for the day we lost?” But now I’m also really worried because my parents left for work…The shooter hasn’t been caught, so what if he happens to be going the same way as my parents and…? I don’t want to think about this anymore.

I have one complaint right now, and that’s the fact that neither my school district’s website nor my school’s website says anything about school being closed today. They haven’t even updated the lists of teachers since last year, so the teachers and classes that they’re teaching this year are not accurate on the website. Can’t they at least put a message on the home page telling us to stay home because it’s not safe? How hard is that to do?! (But I guess since they called us and sent emails, they think that’s a better way than using the school website…)

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Did I ever talk about the time I picked golf as my sport for PE? No? Well, I guess I’ll tell you about it now.

Golf had never been particularly interesting to me as a sport – if it had been, I certainly would’ve pestered my parents to let me have golf lessons at one of the local courses. (There is, in fact, a golf course within easy walking distance of my house.) My dad, on the other hand, was itching to play golf after watching it for so many years and would occasionally ask me to please consider taking golf classes so that he could accompany me and learn to play. (I always thought it was ridiculous; go learn yourself! Are you embarrassed that you’re so old and are a total newbie? Why can’t you leave me out of it?)

It just seemed like the most boring thing ever. Some guy wearing a cap and polo shirt (though sometimes there are some pretty scary looking outfits, like a bright orange shirt and pants… *shudder* ) stands there shuffling his feet and pretending to swing. It probably takes longer for them to get ready for the shot than to actually do it. I always thought it was pretty simple and didn’t understand why they needed to take so long. Maybe they wanted to make extra sure that they swung perfectly and ended up in this position. The sport is so slow, in fact, that oftentimes the cameramen will film ducks, blimps, or frogs instead of golf players. Of course, I like to see the animals, but this is not Animal Planet or the Discovery Channel…

Still, I figured it was more appealing than the other options for sports that time. There was street hockey, but I intended to save that for last, and I certainly wasn’t going to swim (too much hassle) or join any sport that involved throwing things (believe me, I am terrible at football, and frisbee is the stuff of nightmares). So off to golf I went.

I ended up with my usual PE teacher for golf, and he began the first class by naming some golfers and asking how many of us had heard of them. Of course everyone knew Tigers, and a handful of people were familiar with Michelle Wie, but I was pretty much the only one who recognized the name of a rather old golfer. (Hey! Not my fault I’ve been looking at my dad’s Fantasy PGA Tour picks for nearly half my childhood.) I realize later I probably shouldn’t have raised my hand because I bet the teacher expected me to be some golf pro. He would soon find out the opposite.

I must say now that I greatly underestimated what it takes to hit a golf ball, not only in the right direction but also with the right amount of power…I’d say, though, the hardest part was actually figuring out how to hit the ball. Us students were taught to hold the club a certain way and do some wimpy half-swings to get used to hitting the balls. I missed the ball a lot or ended up taking out chunks of grass in the process. Eventually I kind of got the hang of it, but even then it was rather up-and-down at times. Some days I was practically a pro and had been asked if I’d played golf before; other times I was messing up even on easy holes. And of course, when we were playing golf in teams, there was much shock and dismay when I missed the putt that they were all counting on me to do. So it is indeed a tricky game – even your choice of golf club can make a big difference in your golf skills, as I learned the hard way. In some ways it’s a mind game too; when my concentration was off, my golf suffered as well. At the end of the golf unit I was still not much good at golf, but at least now I understood why people came out in hordes to watch funnily-dressed men swing sticks. It is indeed a sport to be admired.

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Yes, you’ve guessed right, this post has to do with yearbooks. Or rather, my lack of one.

Before this year I had always purchased the yearbook each year. I have the whole collection from my life as a student from kindergarten up through middle school. But this time, for once, I didn’t buy one.

The only way to buy a yearbook at my school, or at least the easiest way, is to buy a certain membership card. This card grants you access to the dances at this school, and it comes with a yearbook as well. However, at the beginning of the year, since I decided I had no interest in attending dances, I didn’t buy the card. I’d been hoping there’d be some way for me to just waltz up and purchase a yearbook, but I’d heard rumors that if you wanted a yearbook now, you would have to buy the card to get one. The card isn’t exactly cheap, either, and I eventually made up my mind not to buy it.

I am a bit regretful now, as the yearbook looks quite nice (and heavy too! Lots of pages, certainly more than my middle and elementary school yearbooks). Though I did get creeped out at one point…I was flipping through someone else’s yearbook and saw the page for the boy’s swim team. They were all naked except for their Speedos. Not really what I want to look at.

I do wish, too, that I had brought along something for my friends and teachers to sign. One of my friends makes her own tiny books just for signatures. It’s quite cute, and even has a few of her drawings on some of the pages (she’s really good at drawing…too bad her scanner is broken D: ). She offered to make one for me next year, so I’m looking forward to that.

The yearbook that I’m really impressed by the most, though, is the one that another friend of mine has. She brought her old yearbook from when she lived in Korea. It’s very fancy – there are very nice photos, such as of the school and of the places the students went on field trips. Even the students have their own individual photos, not like the ones we have in yearbooks around here. The students get to pose, and the photo shows not just their head but also their torso, so you can actually see what clothes they’re wearing. They also have a nice background full of green bokeh. Looks like the students actually got to have their yearbook pictures taken outdoors. Not like the photos that have been taken of me each year: me sitting stiffly and tilting my head, pasting on a fake smile, with a lame bluish-greyish backdrop behind me.

I mean, really. Take a look at the yearbooks from the schools I’ve been to. We just get a headshot, and the photo is small. All the students pictures are lined up side by side in neat rows. Our names are in a column at the side of the pictures, so it takes a moment to match up each name and face. As for my friend’s yearbook from her school in Korea, the pictures are bigger, and the name of each person is just beneath his/her picture. It’s easier to get a feel for each person’s individuality. I wish the yearbooks of the schools around where I live weren’t so…impersonal. It makes me feel like I’m just one of many clones. Only identifiable by the 7-digit ID number assigned to me by the school.

Well, to end, I have some videos to share (though they’re totally unrelated to yearbooks). This is a Matryoshka/Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica crossover. For some reason I found it highly amusing.

Here, I just like the mustaches. XD

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The past few days, I’ve been having a lot of dreams at night; the day before yesterday, I woke up three times and each time I knew I’d been dreaming right before. Yesterday’s dream, however, is the only one that I can remember clearly.

I know that in the dream I was at a school, though I can’t tell whether it was middle or high school. The class was going to watch a movie (for some reason I thought it was going to be a basketball movie). My 9th grade science teacher was there, and in the main menu for the movie, she started picking various traits. She could choose from varying levels of certain traits for a male character, like how nice he is or how good-looking he is. Depending on what combo of traits you put in, you get to see a different movie.

The movie that we got was one about a boy who would sneak into a private school’s library because he loved to read. One day he was in the library, and so was a class of students who actually attend the private school. Then apparently some accident had happened because the teacher was ushering all the kids out. There was a door out of the library even though the library was on the top floor of the building (which was evidently several stories tall). For some reason or other I felt like I was there too, running out of the building with them. To get down to the ground, I climbed down one of those tall, spirally playground structures. It was like this, except it was blue and a lot bigger. (Actually, I think there’s a park near my old elementary school that has one more like what I’m talking about. Maybe if I stop being a homebody I’ll go out and take a picture of it.)

I knew I was back at my actual school (my school in the dream, not my real one) because I saw my dad coming over to take me home. I told him I had to go get my backpack because I’d forgotten it in my classroom. On the way there I met my friend SnK/Shiroihime (I am not sure which I should refer to her by) and she said to me, “Sorry, I broke your marker.” I told her it was okay and dashed off to my classroom, which was on the second floor of the school. In there was my previous Literature/Writing teacher. She was putting out food, as if she was setting up for a party, and she also had some perfume in the room. As I went to get my backpack, I suddenly remembered that I had brought some money to buy perfume, and then I woke up. I’m still wondering right now why I wanted to buy perfume. It makes me sneeze. o_o;;

Like all dreams, it didn’t really make sense and it probably won’t ever make sense. I thought it was interesting, though, how I wasn’t sure what was real in the dream. (Yeah, I know, technically it was all fiction, but nevertheless.) In the dream, I couldn’t really tell whether what was happening in the movie was real or what was happening at “my school” was real. It sort of reminds me of the movie Inception and how you can’t really tell what’s reality sometimes…I’d like to really have a dream within a dream sometime.

Ah, that reminds me, in my Writing for Publication class, our end-of-the-year project was to make a photo slideshow. We are the narrators, and we talk about something we believe in; we put the recording of our voice together with the photos. I remember one girl talked about how when she was young she spent time picking which pajamas to wear at night because she believed that what she dreamed about depended on which pajamas she wore. And since she had a twin sister, she thought that if they wore the same pajamas they would dream about each other or show up in each other’s dreams. It’d be really cool if you could actually control dreams like that.

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I spend a lot of time on the Internet for two reasons in particular: To look at artwork, and to avoid thinking about important matters (namely, my homework). But, of course, it's only a temporary measure, and soon enough deadlines are bound to come calling. Many evenings I end up scrambling to do my homework, cursing myself for spending so much time on the Internet. (Seriously, though, it's so hard to keep track of time on the Internet. It really feels like no time has passed at all.)

And surprise, surprise! I was wandering around Flickr the other day when I Read more »

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