Ode to a Recycled Denim Pencil

I do not love thee; thou art far too blue.
Thy lead cometh forth not willingly, yea, thou art grudging of thy purpose.
Though thy trunk is slim and smooth, it availeth nothing but a good appearance.
Thine heart is vain and worthless!
Yea, if I could but break thee into pieces to show forth the treachery of thine heart;
Thus every prospective customer of thine shall be forewarned not to trifle with thy good looks.

~Raquel

Zipper

I always have a problems with starting a post. What do I write about that will even remotely interest someone? How do I begin writing about it? Why am I taking the time to do this anyways?
Those are questions for later. Much later. So while I'm thinking about how to answer them, I will comment on zippers. Zippers absolutely confound me; I just can't understand how they work! If I ever get a pet llama (which is highly unlikely), I will call it Zipper. I don't get llamas either.
When I was a child, my family didn't move around very much. In fact, I've lived in the same house for 13 years. But even if the house wasn't ever different, the inhabitants were always varied. Besides my parents, my brother and sister and I, there's been a veritable zoo of pets ranging from german shepherds to cockatiels to sugar gliders. As a result, I've learned to love animals and to speak their languages. I like dogs and everything, but they baffle me. Why on earth would you want to run back and forth for hours carrying a stick around? What makes them hate the mailman so much?
I've always kind of liked cats more. They're kind of disgusting, but they're still intriguing. Cockatiels, African Greys, and Cockatoos are hard for me to get. I guess it's just sort of a foreign idea to keep a bird inside. Why on earth would you do that?
If you like the bird that much, why don't you go live in the jungle with it? It would do you tons more good than keeping the poor bird in a cage with you. God gave birds wings for a reason.
Sugar gliders are another creature that I believe should be left outside. The only time they're ever awake is when you're asleep, and if they get out of their cage, they wreak havoc all over your house. They're hard to catch and easy to kill accidentally. They also cost $200 to $2000. Why would you pay for such an animal? That said, they are actually fun to play with, if you like having a winged mouse animal crawl over your body and go to sleep in your pocket.
Guinea pigs are my favorite small animals. They have more personality than a hamster, they're not as easy to lose, and they're prettier than gerbils. One of my best animal buddies was a guinea pig. She was the most amazing thing ever. I got her and her brother as a babies at summer camp when I was like 7. Her name was Stripe because of the white strip down her nose, and her brother was Ollie because he was pitch black with one white and pink leg. Don't ask me how you get Ollie out of that, my brother was the one who named him. Because you can't keep animal siblings in the same cage without them mating, we got Stripe and Ollie each a different mate and then sold the ensuing babies to the pet store. I loved Stripe and her husband a lot, even though I wasn't very nice to him. He was the weirdest guinea pig ever, with spiky grey hair, red eyes, and a Beethoven complex. His name was Furry.
So anyways, guinea pigs don't normally live very long, but Stripe lived about 7 or 8 years. I played with her when I was little, told her secrets when I got older, and took care of her when she got older. She would come running when she saw me, and would always purr when I tickled her. When her and Ollie were about 5, my parents got tired of guinea pigs, and sold them all to the pet store. I was devastated about losing Stripe, but I figured it was time to let her go. A few months passed, maybe even a year. One day, I was driving around town with one of my parents and I talked them into going to the pet store to look around. I never hoped to see any of our guinea pigs again, I just wanted to look at the animals and see if there were any ferrets or chinchillas or something interesting. We walked inside and toured around, looking at the fish, the cats, the birds, and the rodents. All the rodents were in glass tanks on shelves on the wall. On top there were hamsters, mice, gerbils, and rats, and then guinea pigs way down on the floor underneath the others. When I knelt down to look at the guinea pigs, I smiled. There were maybe 8 in the cage, and they were all running in terrified circles, trying to escape. I talked softly to them until they began to calm down, and then I noticed one that looked almost exactly like Stripe. She didn't seem as freaked out, she actually looked curious. By this time, I was curious too. I didn't think it was her because it had been so long, but I tentatively said her name out loud as hope began to rise in me. The second she heard me say her name, she broke away from the others and scrambled up against the glass, trying to jump out. I almost fell over. I jumped up and ran to where my dad was looking at fish toys and pulled him over to look. She recognized both of us from a distance, and squeaked impatiently until we were there, gawking speechlessly at her. I couldn't resist picking her up; as soon as she was in my hands, she wriggled out and climbed up to cuddle on my shoulder just like always. Both my dad and I were a little teary-eyed when we went to talk to the cashier. When we told him the whole story, he just let us take her home. Stripe lived with us for another 3 or 4 years until she got cancer and we had to put her down.
Most kids have dogs or horses as close buddies, but my first animal friend was a rodent.
After Stripe, my next friend was a black lab that was a rescue case from neglect. He was the sweetest dog ever, and a real Buddy. He loved to go tromping through the woods with me, and I always felt safe with him around. He was such a friendly dog that he picked up a stray beagle who followed him everywhere. We called the beagle Jet because he had been abused previously and was scared of everyone. Eventually Buddy calmed him down, and he got used to my family. Jet and Buddy stayed with us for a long time, until my parents got tired of them Buddy stealing neighbors' toys, and Jet getting beat up by a neighbor dog. They live with a church member now, and I still miss them.
Anyhows, these are a few of the pets my family has fostered: two german sheperds, a ditsy white female, and an older dark male with chronic car chasing syndrome, a talkative white cockatoo, a slightly senile cockatiel who whistled at everyone that walked past him and who loved to take showers with my mom, two fluffy cats with personality disorders, an orphaned baby robin, numerous turtles and frogs, a few different snakes, a couple beta fish who got flushed after? they died, some super smart and super dumb toy poodles, and a horse who wouldn't stay inside her fence. The horse was my first one, and her name was Spot. I always felt like Jane whenever Spot ran away -"Oh, oh, look, look!"
Besides running away, she bit me, and then a month later, kicked me in the exact same place. I don't know if you've ever been bit or kicked by a horse, but they don't give human-sized doses, they give it to you like you're a horse. My bruise was a sight to behold, complete with all shades of the rainbow. I cried when we sold Spot, but now I'm starting to see it was probably an expression of relief rather than sadness.
At any rate, it taught me that keeping a horse wasn't all sequins and glitter glue.

When I live on my own, I would love to have a monkey, or a serpent, or a camel or a manta ray or something, but maybe that will have to wait until heaven. For now I guess I'll have to settle with sugar gliders and toy poodles.

I had a painch this morning

since the roaring success of my last blog, I haven't had much time to write, but now I have time again! Once again, my brain has lost control of its normal functions conveniently during Bible class. Our last group is presenting today, and I'm sure I'll have a lot of things to say...so I started early this time. Class is just about to start, and Mr. Hinds is trying to find the right time to jump into our usual clamor and bring it to a halt. (actually, I should say "onto" instead of "into" in order to make a proper mental picture of a runaway horse)

Anyway, now class has started and Luke's group is clattering forward. Beth, Benji, Becky Luchak, Luke, Sharon, and Jenny have had a longer time to prepare, so we are greatly anticipating their talk. So are they, I expect. I can't say much about any observances of nervousness, except Luke just forced a yawn and shrugged his shoulders. They are presenting on Christian Lifestyle.

Bethany is pretty hillarious. She gets nervous and tends to ramble, but she does it in such a nonchalant and charming way that nobody really notices that she doesn't know what she's trying to say. I said that because she started the presentation by telling us about the topic, was interrupted by Benji exploding a styrofoam cup, which reminded her of a story that happened to her family a while back.
-I really must interrupt myself to comment that the lotion I just put on my hands smells amazing. (It's Nectarine Mint from Bath and Body Works)

Now I lost my train of thought. Anyways, I decided not to be quite so detailed in my observances of my classmates...it was bound to get me in trouble. Instead, I'll tell you about what I learned during Biology today. We were each assigned an organelle from an animal cell to make a presentation on. (what's with all these presentations, I'd like to know?) I asked Melissa to pick an organelle for me, and she gave me the rough endoplasmic reticulum. I could have abbreviated that to rough "ER" but I think that looks like "rougher", and it's so much more exciting to read the whole words. So I looked up the rough endoplasmic reticulum in my biology book and on wikipedia. It's totally the COOLEST THING EVER!!!!! Well, maybe besides Leonardo da Vinci's being left-handed.

Do you know why he was called "da Vinci"? Well, he was actually an illegitimate child, so they called him after the place where he was born- Vinci! Michelangelo was his rival, apparently, but I discern no competition. Leonardo was LEFT-HANDED for crying out loud! He specialized in mirror writing...which I don't. That's why I'm not on Wikipedia. Another reason is because he spoke Italian, and I don't . Italian is always more prestigious than English. Otherwise, we're very similar.

Anyways, I actually didn't have a painch this morning; I avoided one. A painch is the name I've coined for the pain you get in your index finger when you use it in the back of your tightly-laced shoe to help your foot go in. So I avoided it by unlacing my Converse and stretching the tongue out before putting my foot in.

I'm ending this blog now because I can't think of anything else to say. We're supposed to be editing sermons for our upcoming mission trip to Sabah, Malaysia, and I can't really NOT do that. L8TER!

During Class

Today is Wednesday. February 7. 2010. I'm writing this blog during Bible class.
After reading my last blog, I was inspired to write again. I'm sitting right in the middle of the classroom, so everyone behind me can see what I'm doing. My keyboard is slightly sticky because I'm also eating raisins; obviously forgetting to use my brain in the process. You're not supposed to eat when you're using your laptop. oh well. I need the iron, I suppose.

For Bible, our 30 person class been split into 5 groups that have had 5 different topics to study and make a presentation on. Melissa just pulled out Milton, the Moose. She's playing with his magnetic hoofs (or whatever moose feet are called) because she wasn't able to do that during her presentation two days ago.

The group presenting right now has the Sabbath for a topic. Michael is teaching Jonathan Farquhar about the Sabbath, presuming that Jonathan is a Sunday keeper. Farquhar has his glasses pushed very far down his nose, in the true old-school style. I wonder why people push their glasses down when they're trying to imitate an ancient person. Obviously it's because ancient people wear their glasses way down, but why do they? Does it help them see better? Oh well, it's just one of those quandaries, I guess.

Melody, who is sitting beside me, just drew a DNA-type helix doodle on her paper. We glanced at each other and gave the mutual nod of approval. This nod seems to be quite popular with highschoolers at Fountainview. Everyone likes to be approved, I suppose. Maybe it's a substitute for texting. FA students can't have phones to text with, so their means of unspoken communication are reserved to body language. How sad. But maybe that's how it was meant to be in the first place....

Jonathan Sharley is talking now. He's wearing a blue and green polo over a green t-shirt of a slightly different verdure and a distinguished brown suit jacket thing, which is quite typical and an understatement of his usual style. When he talks, the tip of his nose wiggles up and down. He makes me smile. Jonathan Farquhar, his blond hair reminiscent of Einstein, is watching him intently, glasses still at half-mast. He also makes me smile.

It seems irreverent that I'm not paying attention to the presentation. I know they're doing a really good job, but I'm not really listening to what they're actually saying. Leighton just looked up at me but we didn't give the mutual nod of approval. It's not because we don't approve of whatever eachother was doing, it's probably because- wow...Farquhar is really funny. oh, he pushed his glassed back up. -and now they're back down again. lol. I'm really glad he could come this year.

I'm going to comment on how when Michael says the word "and", he says a "t" on the end of it. "Andt." He's Malaysian/German/and some others..so maybe its a language hazard. Even though English is his first language.
Anyways.
The group just brought Mrs. Corrigan in to share about how it was when she was a Catholic. She's a Very Cool person. Her husband, Mr. Corrigan, is our Most Excellent Math teacher.
The group finished with a yodel/cheer from Jonathan Sharley. Most every sound that comes out of him hearkens to a yodel.

The new group has Ryo, Robby, Vern, Ortiz, Douglas, and Joey. Visually, it's amusing when they're standing together. Vern is the only girl, and she's Very Short. Ortiz and Robby, who she's standing between, are Very Tall. Ryo is stretching because he's nervous. David O's chin wiggles and his eyebrows oscillate when he's nervous or embarrassed. Douglas doesn't ever act nervous, but his face is kind of dark. Robby shifts his weight back and forth when he's standing and gestures with his hands a lot. Ryo has his arms crossed and he's alternating between looking at the ceiling or the floor. Joey smiles slightly when he's nervous. Probably a habit from singing in Craig's choir. He also uses his hands to talk.
Ryo is funny when he talks because with his "lazy" asian accent, he drops the "s" on the ends of words. Also, he makes almost every noun singular and says verbs in the wrong tense. Sharon tends to do that too, even though English is her first language. Tragically, since she's my room mate, she's influenced my speech too. Sometimes I speak with a lazy asian accent! (secretly, I think it sounds kind of cute..not that I try to imitate it purposely)

Ortiz is Mexican. And he has a very strong accent. His "v's" sound like "f's", and his "s's" are very much like "s's" and not "z's". He can't really talk without his hands...but I think that embarrasses him sometimes, so he tends to put one arm behind him as a way to keep it silent. His fingers tend to bend backwards when he's really making a point. He's good at speaking up front and not showing nervousness when he knows exactly what he's saying.

Vern's eyes are half-closed, which probably means she's extremely bored. Or maybe its because her eyes are starting to hurt from having to look all the way up at Robby. OR, maybe it's because the violet/lavender colour of Robby's shirt is blinding her. It's starting to blind me, at any rate.

Well, this glob has to end now so we can go to strings practice. L8ER!

I was born in a factory

When my parents got married, they wanted to have the most perfect children in all history. I am the firstborn, and my parents figured with all the new technology being invented, they had a good shot at perfection using computer editing and alterations to create me.
My mother started by making a list of all the characteristics of a perfect child, and then researching how the birth process would work. My dad pulled out his iPhone and went straight to google.com to see if there were any labs that were using technology to create babies. After much internet searching and many phone calls, he finally discovered a land mine.

Deep in the Andes mountains some undercover scientists had found a way to grow babies without incubation. They had such confidence in their newfangled technology that they even designed a Baby Factory connected to the lab, which was constructed by some Incas who were bribed with off-road wheelbarrows. The Incas apparantly had trouble using normal wheelbarrows, so the tougher ones were a great sensation.

My father and mother were poor in the days before I was born, so they had to get short term jobs in order to buy the tickets to fly to South America. Any sort of day job was out of the question, because my parents were too busy discussing what attributes a "perfect" baby would have. My mom ended up being a newspaper delivery girl, and my dad became one of those people who hold up the signs that say "Stop", or "Slow" for traffic during road constrution at night. Both jobs didn't pay much, but combined after a period of 9 months, finally produced enough money to purchase two round-trip tickets to South America. My parents were ecstatic.

When they landed on a tiny strip in the Andes mountains, my mother and father had no idea what they were in for. But being young and in love, they figured they could face anything together. The first problem was discovered when my mom let out a gasp.
" Oh dear! How are we going to get to the factory? There's no taxis up here!"
Fortunately, an Inca was just passing by with his new off-road wheelbarrow, and my parents were able to catch a ride. They both fit in the wheelbarrow because neither had eaten much for the last 9 months. When they reached the factory and tumbled out of the wheelbarrow, my mother discovered the next problem.
"Oh my! We forgot to make an appointment!"
The scientists' lab didn't have a waiting room, so my parents had to wait outside while arrangements were made. After a week and 33 hours, 157 magazines, and 42 packs of gum, they were allowed to enter the new factory.

The scientists gathered some information from both parents, then led them to a computer where they could enter in the baby characteristics they wanted. It was at this point that my mother remembered another problem.
"Oh no! We forgot the list!"
They had to make due with what they could remember and decide on the spot. Unfortunately, they had forgotten what my favorite colour should be. My dad entered, "Rainbow". That mistake still haunts me; I can never decide which colour is my favorite.

When my parents finished entering the information, they were told to return home and wait; I would be shipped to their address in 2 days. They flew home in great excitement, only to faint upon landing and be rushed to the hospital for malnutrition. When they were released, they couldn't wait to check their mail. My mother was afraid I might have died during shipping.
The package they found in their mailbox was 2 " square, which further increased my mother's anxiety. How could a baby fit in there?
Actually, the box was mostly full of bubble wrap. But, in the centre of the wrap nestled a tiny plastic bag. In the bag was a spec of what looked like lint, and some paper instructions.

~ JUST ADD WATER~

My dad grabbed a cup, placed the lint in it, and filled the cup with water. I fairly exploded out of the cup. My mother had to duck to avoid the dangerous shards of plastic from the cup. Finally, I slowed down and stopped growing at 8 pounds. By instinct, my parents dressed me and put me to bed.
Then they sat quietly for a very long time. My mom broke the silence first,
"She broke my only cup."
" Well," my dad brightened, "At least we can sue them!"

Unfortunately, the scientists, either from forgetfulness or great wisdom, had not included a receipt for the transaction. My parent's had no evidence against the scientists, which apparently had demolished the factory upon seeing me come out of the works. The judge, being a compassionate person, sent my parents home with a collection of books including How To Survive a Mid-Life Crises, Dealing With a Mental Breakdown, Raising Your First Child, and How To Keep a Proper Bank Account. My parents eventually recovered from their mental, emotional, and financial shock and went on to have 2 more kids- the normal way.

Splash! (I know, how cliché)

HA! The Kentucky Chick has entered the vast pool of bloggers! She didn't stick her toe in to test the water first, she didn't hold her nose when she jumped, she DIVED in!
So here I am, treading water. What now....?
Whaddaya do in a blog thingy?
HMMMMM....one thing is for sure-I will get back to this later!
No worries, I will teach myself to swim like an expert...uh...blogger.
L8TER~