I'd be blue

I just happen to think that blue is a spectacular color. I mean, think about it, all of the fabulous things of the world are blue. The sky, the ocean, jeans, cotton candy; all blue. On two separate occasions I have had conversations about ICEEs. They tell me that they love them, but they will only eat the clear cherry ones so that their mouths don't turn funny colors. And I retort something to the effect of 'are you kidding? I only eat the blue ones because they turn my mouth funny colors!'

You know that song that's like, "I'm blue, da-ba-de-da-ba-die"? Well, now I'm not depressed or on blue overload yet, so I guess I can't fully relate to his ailment and I have a skewed view, but I think that if I were him, it would be good. Blue is a good, soothing color to be surrounded by. I mean, I would feel better if the song was "I'm green" because that's my favorite color, but I guess blue will work too.

So, in closing I would just urge you to look at all of the fun blue things around you, and I will leave you with this gem that I found on youtube:

Damn prejudice sucks

I was talking with the kids at work the other day and they asked me if I believed in God. I thought about their question for a little bit, and then I answered no. This wasn't that big of a deal, or so I thought, because really, what right do my underage-drinking, drug-doing, school-dropping-out-of coworkers have to judge me on, but boy was I wrong!
As soon as I said this, they all looked at me as if they were about to throw up, as if to say damn you suck. "You don't believe in God?" one of them asked me in disgust.
"Uh nope," I answered. "Do you?"
Of course they were all devout Christians, or so they claimed (although I'm not sure that you can still be 'devout' while still engaging in many of the seven deadly sins, but whatever).
I asked them what difference it made, and they all kind of shrugged their shoulders. However, I wasn't about to make this some sort of reverse crusade because 'oh I'm so oppressed' or anything. Because, in truth, if I had told them that I was Jewish they would have had the same puky reaction as well. Really, all it comes down to, is that even though I liked to assume that everyone in the world is as accepting as I am, or at least mildly tolerant, they're really not.
The day after, one of those 'devout Christians' asked me another perplexing question. "Would you date a black guy?" he inquired.
"Of course I would," I replied. "Would you date a black girl?"
Once again, he looked at me in disgust. "I would date Rihanna," he replied, "but she's the only one."
Now, it was me who almost vomited all over him. "What are you talking about?" I snapped. "Are you serious?" I posed this question with a heavy twinge of disgust in my mouth, and he stared ahead, stupidly.
I guess this came as a shock to me because it seems so backward that people can preach such tolerance and then turn around and be such a but hole. Now, I'm not going to try and get all preachy, but seriously, if you don't see what's wrong with racism then there's something wrong with you.
The next week, an African American family came into work. They were polite as could be, but some of my coworkers were still jerks to them. When my manager, who happens to be one of the bigots, instructed me to help them, the lady looked at me, perturbed. "Good, that man was so rude!" she exclaimed
I was embarrassed for everyone in the situation. I apologized profusely and proceeded in my most polite manner. When the family had gone, my manager came back to talk to me, as if what he had just done was forgivable in some way. As he stepped into my view, I turned my head at him and stuck up my middle finger, then walked away.

Phil the moth

There is a moth that shares my bedroom with me. His name is Phil. He doesn't bother me as much as a lot of the other bugs I have found in that room, so I let him stay.
I found a spider in the corner of my room once, I screamed and then scooped it up to take it outside. Sometimes flies get trapped in between my screen and my window pane too. They are the worst because they make that disgusting buzzing noise. A ladybug once crawled across my pillow, I threw away the pillow case with the insect in it.
There have been other moths too. I think I killed Phil's brother the other day with an old magazine, but it doesn't look like Phil minded. Maybe they were rivaling siblings or something, I wouldn't doubt that Phil was the quarterback super stud to his brother's nerdy audio-visual club president.

Phil has been in my room for a few weeks now, or at least I think it has been the same moth, even though he doesn't have many distinguishing features. I thought that moths were only supposed to live a day or two, so Phil must be the equivalent of 184 in human years.

I'm really surprised that he's still even alive, because he keeps flying into the light bulb in my lamp. It's kind of like how they are attracted to flames, and will fly at it even if it dies in the process. Except for I don't have any open flames in my room, so there isn't really a threat of him burning up in a flame. If he did, I would be really sad too.

So, I think that as long as Phil doesn't bring his friends with him to infest my room, we won't have a problem and he can remain my pet moth. But when that day does come, Phil and his buddies may find themselves victim to the wrath of a Time Magazine.

This is my blog

Guess what? This blog is sort of about nothing. I mean it started with me and my interest in politics, but my blatant lack of knowledge. However, now that the presidential election is over, I sort of have nothing left to write about. I suppose from there I have moved onto social problems.
There's really not much to say about that, but oh well. I suppose I have been talking about high school and the different cliques and strange groups of people that reside in it. And into all of this I think that I have woven some sort of lesson in manners.
Manners are really important. Everyone should know about them because if you don't have proper manners you will be seen as a hillbilly or country bumpkin or jerk. I grew up with my crazy parents trying to force proper manners down my throat and I really hated it when I was a little kid. However, now that I am older I see the importance of having good manners, so I guess I will try and cram them down the throats of my collective three readers as well.
So, with that said, happy reading and I hope you enjoy my blog!

The dirties

So the way I see it there are two types of people; dirties and cleanies. And the dirties, they scare me a ton. And the problem is that I bet if all the dirties in the school banded together they could overtake it. Like seriously, there are like a gillion of them compared to our scant numbers of normal kids.
First, however, it is probably pertinent that I define what a dirty is: those weird kids (though certainly not limited to this stereotype) that sit under the stairs or stand by the front doors. The ones that practically make babies in the hallways or are just plain gross. They always seem inherently tough to me and like they are involved in many things that they shouldn't be doing. The cleanies (yes I realize that this is not an actual word) on the other hand, are everyone else; not weird or gross.
This is why I don't make fun of the dirties to their faces, because there is no doubt in my mind that they could take me in a fight, I would die for sure. And furthermore, while it is pretty hard not to recognize who is a dirty and who is not, we probably shouldn't discriminate against them (while it is perfectly natural to be afraid of them).
I wonder if dirties are limited, though, simply to high school, or if I am going to have to cower in fear of them for my entire life. Do they exist in college, in the world of work? Because, if there's anything worse than a scary, weird teenager, it's a scary, weird adult. I don't know if I can handle a band of dirties taking over all of the free world, (because if the proportions of school to real life are correct, then it is going to be a frightening existence).
Surely, however, by the time that most kids reach adulthood, they have hammered out all of their strange and creepy behaviors and are able to be fully functional, not dirty, adults. I guess, though, it remains to be seen whether or not I will have to deal with these types of people in later life. I certainly hope not, because if I couldn't take them in a fight now, it is definite that I couldn't take them in a fight when I am old and frail (aka after age 30 or so).

Experiencing the magic of snow

If school brought the same joy to me that snow days do (though by the very nature of both, they can never be equivocal) then I think I would like it.
Snow days are the most delightful part of life, I do believe; I can think of nothing negative about them. Although it forces me to shovel and spend more than an ounce of time with my family, and they always mean that my driveway is too icy to leave, I truly love snow days. Maybe it's the lack of school or the fact that snow is my favorite form of precipitation, but I elate every time our lovely superintendent decides to make my day.
I was recently talking with some of my friends, and they mentioned how they did not enjoy snow. (Yet somehow they still enjoy snow days, pretty hypocritical if you ask me.) I was shocked and taken aback, for what kind of person can't find anything to enjoy about snow? Thus, for their benefit and the benefit of anyone else who has, up to this point, been wasted on snow's beauty, I complied a list of reasons why I love snow:

1. Snow blankets the world in a new color. Most of the time things are green or brown, but snow covers everything to make it a glistening, glittery white.

2. Snow forces us to slow down. We can't drive as fast (unless you really want a reason to hate snow) and so we are forced to enjoy nature, which is not a bad deal if you ask me.

3. Sledding. Need I say more? It's fun even when you're as old as me.

4. An unexpected day off filled with hot chocolate and no school!

5. Snow means Christmas, the best time of the year. Shopping and singing, and listening to delightful carols. Watching Frosty the Snowman and the Grinch (even though I have actually never seen that movie). Twinkle lights illuminating cities and evergreens in every department store are the icing on the cake. (Oh, but don't let me leave out the other great holidays that are during the winter too: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and sometimes Ede.)

6. Snow is inherently peaceful. It doesn't make noise but is still beautiful to watch.

And so, for those of you who haven't yet been exposed to the splendor of snow, let me invite you to sit around the fire,

turn up the tunes,

make a cup of hot cocoa,
and enjoy!

Why you don't cry at school

Trudging up the stairs to my locker at 6:55 this morning, I was confronted by a disturbing sight: a girl crying beneath my feet. Just sitting beneath the stairs at that unearthly hour, weeping her eyes out. Okay, now I might not be the most emotional of all people, but I think that this is a red flag in your life; when you have found something to upset you within minutes of entering school. I mean, who is ever even awake enough to form coherent thoughts let alone complex emotions before 7:00?
So needless to say, I was very troubled by this sight, not because I was inherently worried about her well being (though curious as I may have been) or because she was creepy under the stairs (as I find all kids that hang out beneath peoples' feet), but because of the simple fact that she was crying underneath the stairs at 6:55 in the morning (seriously, do you even understand how preposterous that seems?)! Mostly, I always think it's a little weird when I see people showing overwhelming emotion at school or just in public in general anyway. Seriously, I mean why can't people save that stuff for home (or better yet, just bottle it all up until you explode)?

It's just like in the case of PDAs, gross! PDAs are definitely not a-okay. They bother me a ton because although there is no chance that I want two dirties making out and getting their nasty all over my locker, on a regular basis what am I met with in the halls but dirt balls making babies. Yeah, that's probably something they could save for another place too.
I guess what I'm saying is that in the realm of manners and composure that people in civilized society are supposed to have, we're pretty crappy. Just think, what would Miss Manners think of us now? Like really, why can't we all just pretend to be happy and normal, at least for the hours that we choose to be in public? And maybe even then we can choose to button it up and just sit in a stoic fashion.
However, to the contrary, I do enjoy poking a great deal of fun at the kids that are over-emotional. So, I suppose if you are equipped to take harsh criticism from kids at school (as I assume that the girl that had already found something to upset her during her first few minutes at school is certainly not) go ahead and cry, scream, make out, elate, whatever; go ahead and be a weirdo.

If you deal at work...

I think I work with drug dealers, and by think I mean know.
Now I want to start this blog off with a disclaimer, so here it is: I don't know what a drug dealer looks like and I don't do drugs, and until very recently I didn't know that they were real (which sounds really dumb, but by real I mean that I didn't know that they were around in places besides inner-city crack dens). Illegal drugs are wrong and bad and I am above the influence because they are gross and because I don't want to screw up my life doing something shady. But anyway, this isn't going to be some sort of preaching session.
With that said, yeah I know druggies, which is the scariest thing of my life. I mean, I refuse to talk to them about drugs and when they ask me if I smoke I make some sort of sarcastic response (per the one that I give anyone who asks such an absurd question) and by doing this I give them some sort of normalcy in my mind.
So the problem comes in with the fact that I don't totally abhor them. I mean, they don't look like movie druggies and I don't really know the symptoms of a person on a drug binge, but from what I can tell they aren't under the influence when they come to work, so why should I dislike them? They're pretty neat people normally and the other regular (aka non drug dealer/user) people that I work with don't seem to mind these guys' obvious occupational and character flaws, so why should I? I mean, just because Nancy Regan's mantra obviously didn't rub off on them, should I condemn them and myself to a miserable work atmosphere?
At the same time though, they creep me out. They constantly seem dirty to me and I become hopelessly awkward whenever I think of their outside of work activities. Really though, in the back of my mind I think that I am just waiting to watch a monster drug raid upon the company, because that would probably make my life complete.
For now, although I want to hang on until March, which is when one of the guys promised to take me and this other girl to a rave (don't worry I wouldn't actually go to a rave at my young and impressionable age), it would probably serve me well to scrap that environment, shucks. Isn't that always how it works though; a few idiots ruin the credibility of everyone else, or in this case a whole company.

If school weren't so funny we would all drop out

School is boring, there I said it. I am sick of every facet of it; the homework, the lectures, the wasted hours spent staring off into space and above all the learning. And quite frankly, when this term rolled around, I seriously considered dropping a hefty portion of my classes and moving out of the AP program in many areas. (But of course I didn't have the guts and could see the many negative long-term implications that may come with it, so I refrained.)
But this is they way school has been since (I dare say) the day I entered high school; I stopped caring and school started sucking. So to pass the time, I have started observing people around Kennedy (and boy are there some funny ones!) and my sweet, innocent demeanor turned to one of a snide, sarcastic, jaded gal.
Essentially, this has made high school a much more interesting place and revealed one of my many talents, making fun of people. For example, as of late, my friend Nix and I have begun looking for people around the school that look like characters from Winnie the Pooh. We already have Pooh and Piglet, as well as our AP Chem sub from Friday cast as the mole.
Besides this, I like making fun of many other people in the school (under the pretense, of course, that the small fraction of people who know that I exist at Kennedy make fun of me as well). Through this observation of my surroundings, I think that I have become a more aware person. I have begun to surround myself with more diverse types of people, simply because they entertain me and I have honed my sarcastic wit.
But seriously, the people I am surrounded with on a daily basis make me pee my pants with laughter. You've got my third hour, which is full of the funniest characters I have ever met; my fifth hour, which is home to like 18 kids, two of which (and a teacher) that stare at me for 60 minutes, a group of druggies who share frightening stories, the kids that sit diagonal from me who spend the whole time discussing Dungeons and Dragons and none of us could tell you what has happened the whole year; and finally there is my sixth hour, where nobody knows what is going on but we do talk about the most random of subjects. And then, best of all, there are the random kids that you see in the hallway, they are inevitably the weirdest, just because you only ever catch snippets of their conversations. Really, the only reason that I will myself to get up in the morning anymore and actually go to school are the magical people I share Kennedy with.

Why women shouldn't be in the workforce

Last night my parents started talking to me about where I wanted to go to college, and I did not like the conversation one bit. I really don't know what I want to do or where I want to go when I grow up. But both of them went to four year schools and so of course they have their respective opinions. And although I know it is probably what is expected of me to go to college and have a career, I don't know if that's what I want. Furthermore, in thinking about it, I'm not even sure that I think that women should become professionals.
Sure we're all crazy feminists today that think that we have some sort of right and calling to be doctors and lawyers and do whatever men can do, but seriously, why? Women have rarely been the traditional bread-winner in families over the course of history, why on earth should we see it as our divine right at this point in time?
Shouldn't our place more be, and as June Cleaver-esque and '50s deranged as this may sound, in the home. Now I'm not saying that we all have to conform to these standards; certainly there have been many women in history that were geniuses and we would have been lost without, but I am not one of them.

If I had my choice between living a boring life stuck inside a cubicle or stuck at home baking, I would certainly choose the latter. Plus, we have this crazy view of life that's like, you are only smart and successful if you go to college and get a good job. Well, I think that there are plenty of other ways that women can prove that they are smart other than classical education.
And all this weird probably sounds strange coming from a girl, but I think that I am rightfully justified in my views. I don't think that women's mental capacities are any less than men's or that we are sub-par, because we aren't. But I do think that women are classically reared to be different than men; qualities that will make them more feeble and weak in the work force. I mean think about it, Miss Manners has engrained in me and many other ladies, ever since an early age, that manners and grace are what are important in life, none of which will come in particularly handy when negotiating a big deal in the board room.
And while we may see it as societal advancement to be able to say that oodles of women are employed in the workforce, who's standards are those? Why can't people think this issue through and redefine those standards. In other cultures, women successfully never leave the home and it's working pretty well for them (obviously with the exception of a few). So, with that having been said, maybe I won't go to college; maybe I will just become an mascara model.