Trying to post a comment on Molly McCoy's blog

I am a little bit of a nerd.

This summer we had to read a book called "The Road", by Cormac McCarthy. It was excellent, but that's not the point. Mrs. Weems decided to start up an online discussion group over the summer on the group, which got me excited for some reason. As soon as I got done reading the book I logged onto Yahoo! Groups and joined the group, ready to get to discussing. To my dismay, I had to wait for Mrs. Weems to verify me. So I waited and checked the site the next day. That lady promised she'd check every day in the summer, you see. BUT NO. In a ridiculous turn of events, I still wasn't verified. Pah. So I checked the next day and I was verified. Phew. She was probably just away on a day hike or something.

Anyways, I hastily posted my "first impression" of the novel (which ended up being about as long as this blog post). Then I realized I was supposed to put my name at the top of my post, so I deleted my post and tried again. After forgetting my name once more, I finally remembered it and got my post to post. But then it didn't come up! It took like thirty seconds for my post to come up. In that thirty seconds I was gearing up to type my thoughts all over again.

After my post was finally up (after an hour or so of work) I checked the messages to see what others of my classmates had posted. So far there had been a lot: right around zero is just an eyeballed estimate. I figured "dang, that makes me look good being first and everything." I checked the members and there were only three: zachals, candace.weems, and stephensnyderpooh, who had not yet posted. The rest of the summer I sporadically checked the page to see what was going on, and it never amounted to much.

ANYWAYS, all of this is to show you what a nerd I am, and to draw a parallel to something else I follow ravenously*: our journalism class' blogs. The weekend was the first time of the year we were assigned to write a blog, so I checked the site all weekend to see what my fellow staff members were posting (I posted mine like right after I got out of school on Friday). Unfortunately, all of theirs came up either after I went to bed Sunday night or Monday morning so I didn't see them until a few minutes ago. Let me just say: good stuff, friends. Victoria posted something about some garbage-sounding tv show, Adriana talked about being a senior, Morgan tried to woo the ladies, Colby recounted her incredibly exciting summer. Molly's was my favorite, though. She went into a stream-of-consciousness about eating barbeque and folding clothes and blogging and being crazy. One line stuck out to me, though. She said (while talking about looking for a restaurant) "I was in the mood for pizza, my sister, burgers, my mom, Chinese, and my dad, barbeque." I was like, whoa! You want to eat your sister and burgers and all that!? (See what I did there?) So I cleverly posted a comment.

Now, the moment this blog's been leading towards: my comment didn't show up. Pah. Ridiculous. What's the problem? I looked closely and noticed I needed to type in the colorful letters. It was like "tra vine" or something. So I typed 'em in. BUT NO, it didn't work. It was like "The characters do not match, try again". So I did, but then I got the same message again. On my third try I went very slowly and tried to match the letters exactly, but no such luck. After several more tries, I gave up.

Sometimes being a nerd just isn't worth it.

*Yes, I use this word literally.

Highlights from my upcoming Weights paper

This semester I am finally fulfilling my weightlifting requirement for graduating. Now, me not really being the weightlifting type, I was intrigued by our first assignment, which was to write a five page paper on various muscles in the body and how to specifically work them out. After some deliberation, I decided to discuss the biceps, triceps, trapezius, pectoralis major, and quadriceps. For interest's sake, I am now going to examine each of these five muscles on myself and write down my observations. First, the biceps and triceps.

For those of you not trained in the art of physical improvement, the bicep is the inner part of the upper arm, while the tricep is the outer part. Experts have warnings about working out the bicep more than the tricep to avoid achieving the "bat-wing" effect. Frankly, "bat-wings" sound kinda cool so I'm probably going to subtly not do my tricep workouts. (Biceps are best when large, in case you recently immigrated here and aren't yet established into our culture.) To work out your biceps, curl large weights with one arm at a time, and then do chin ups. For those unfamiliar with the term "chin up", or those incapable of performing them, you're probably better off sticking to the triceps or becoming an academic or something.

Next, we move on to the trapezius, which is between your neck and shoulder. If you want a big one, it's okay, and I'm cool with that, but I don't really want a muscular area between my neck and shoulder, so I'm gonna let you research this one on your own.

Lastly, we've got the quadriceps, which are your legs. Sprints, jogs, whatever, just keep these babies movin'! Since I walk to class and such, I figure I've got these down. I also saw something about "squats" or some craziness, but, frankly, that sounds unhealthy to me.

And there you've got it: my five step plan to a finely toned body. I will be discussing my results and reminiscing on the good times in the near future.

The teacher of my life

Today at the academic assembly, there were a lot of awards given, but one stood above the rest. The award for "teacher of the year" went to Coach Rennie Atkinson, who handles all the A.P. European History classes. Last year, I had the wonderful privilege of taking his class, and it turned out to be the class with the single most effect on my academic career.

When Coach A. gave his short speech, he was brought to tears as he called it "the greatest award of my career." I have never clapped so fervently in my life. A standing ovation and the classic "clap.........clap.......clap.....clap...clap..clap.clapclap" were totally deserved, and I wish there was even more the student body could do to honor him. I'm sure he makes a great football coach, but first and foremost, he is an outstanding teacher. When you are in Coach A's class it's hard to care about any of your others. He is a hilarious man, and he motivates his students to work hard - getting a good score on one of his essays was incredibly satisfying. You wanted to do well because Coach A wanted you to, and if you didn't you knew you were letting him down. Letting Coach A down was something I would not let myself do.

How great the man is can only be understood by taking his class. It was my first AP class, and, thus far, my best. (That is in no way a slight to my other great teachers like Dr. Carreker and Mrs. Taylor!) I don't really have much of a personal relationship with the guy, but I think everyone should know how much of a blessing his class is to FPD. And maybe, just maybe, he'll be shown this blog and know how much his life has affected my life. The award he recieved today only showed the huge amount of people who appreciate him. Coach A, you are a huge part of what makes FPD.

My only regret is I only made a 4 on the exam, not a 5.

Dumb

Recently, a fifth grade teacher here at FPD had a baby, so she was out of school for a while. My mom was the person they called to be her long-term substitute. To make a long story short, my mom isn't to up on her grammar rules so she contracted me to help her grade fifth-graders' essays.

What really struck me was the extreme range of writing ability the kids showcased. One kid would have written a pretty good, humorous paper with minimal spelling and structure errors. But then the next kid's paper would be hideously hideous! Improper usage of ques?tion marks run on sentences repeated words words badd speling this sentence is excellent compared to some of the stuff the worst fifth graders put out. I can't understand how teachers can even grade students on the same scale. You can't just fail kids who don't have a basic writing ability, can you? They're fifth graders. If they're failing now is there even hope for the future? I realize that once you get to high school classes diverge and the smart kids take honors and AP stuff, but before that the teachers must have an extremely difficult time keeping the lower kids motivated and not feeling lower. To every elementary school teacher I had, I see now how hard it must have been to put up with know-it-alls and smart-alecks like me.

J. C. Pow

The thing about taking journalism is you have to deal with Mr. Powell. This guy has his pros and cons. First off, he's a big gossiper. He'll always talk about people in the class who aren't there. I can only imagine the mean stuff he's said about me. He's a very casual teacher who jokes with students and texts them on weekends. He always posts amusing in-depth Facebook statuses. I think he uses Facebook to replace how he used to write witty columns in newspapers.

What really makes Mr. Powell's class worth taking, though, is how he really does care about his students, but even more so how he really cares about newspapers and writing. He makes sure the finished product is as good as it can be, and he encourages us when we aren't so sure about the quality of our work. He isn't afraid to cut stories that aren't up to par, like that time I wrote a dull piece on indoor soccer. He's honest, so a compliment from him means a lot. Journalism has become the class I look forward to: it's a laid-back environment, but you do have to do work. But the work is always rewarded. The satisfaction of seeing your writing read by others is rarely topped in this life, and I'd like to thank Mr. Cal for helping me see that.

How to ask that girl to prom

A week or so ago I was just walking back to class from an assembly about our upcoming high school prom. I happened to be walking beside my girlfriend, so I was like "Hey, how 'bout you come to prom with me?"

Now, being the traditional girl that she was, she refused my flippant asking and said I'd have to do a lot better than that. Gosh darn. What am I supposed to do? Luckily, all my friends are going through the same issue. You've just got to be creative to get the girl these days!

At lunch, me and the boys had a round table discussion about methods of "popping the Q", or so to speak. Suggestions ranged from sweet, like baking a cookie with "prom?" spelled out in icing, to outlandish, like arranging a bunch of dead bodies to spell out "prom?" in her front lawn.
One guy detailed his affections on a pink slip and left it in his prospect's car.
In the end, after weighing my options, I went with the bodies one.
...Not dead bodies, though, in case you were getting worried.
I got one friend to bend himself into a "P" shape, the next an "R", then an "O", then an "M". Others jumped in, forming exclamation marks and question marks. I believe the product was something along the lines of: "PrOM!???!"
I called her over and presented my handiwork. To my delight, she said yes.

You make me grouchy.

I have a problem. Actually, somebody else has a problem. Every morning, my dad brings me to school in his shiny car and drops me off up in the soccer parking lot. Then, I start the long trek down to the highschool building. About halfway there, I run into a crosswalk. On some days I am able to walk right across but on most days I run into my problem. Some parents think a good place to drop off their kids is at this crosswalk. Like, right on top of the crosswalk. Like, right in my way. Now I have to walk around their car and onto the grass, the muddy, wet grass, because somebody thought it was a good idea to have a sprinkler system. I have to then trudge into school with my slippery when wet fake converses. Squeak, squeak, squeak... I feel like a mouse. Sometimes I want to get right up in the driver's face and say "HEY! Why not park NOT on the crosswalk?" But no, I'm a nice, polite kid and I do not want to offend. So I keep the anger inside, growl a little, stomp my feet, but don't audibly complain. I've considered other alternatives to walking around the car... maybe I could climb over the car or open the door and walk right through it - that would sure get my message across baby.

Here is what you, humble student of FPD, can do to help this situation. If you are a little middle school kid who gets dropped off by mom every day (or a big high school kid like me who gets dropped off by dad every day), tell your guardian to stop right before this crosswalk. If they refuse, beg them or bribe them. Do the right thing, make my life easier. For the love of all that is good in this world.