Thursday, October 13, 2011

The Sky's the Limit

I love the sky. It does so many wonderful things and has more color changes than anything on the earth.

I would love to photograph the sky, keep memories forever. I would get lost in all the sky, so many spots to capture, so many colors swirling about. I would never get a good shot in the short amount of time during a certain color phase. Also, these photographs lose some of the magic that the real thing has.

The sunrise is best viewed from the ocean, as is the sunset. The light hits the water and spreads all around. This is just in perspective of the sky and its colors. If the sun hits the horizon on a rocky crag, the little nooks and crannies go dark, sparking the imagination. You can see the light moving across an open field in the morning, and retreating in the evening.

That time right after sunrise looks the same no matter where you are. A deep breath brings crisp air to my lungs. There is a grand feeling of power; you think of all the things you can accomplish in the day. But as the cool air drifts around and chills you, you think of all the things that can go wrong.

In winter, that dread sets in easily, unless the sky is spotless, or with a few puffs of cloud. The sky’s the limit, as they say, so if the sky seems bright and unending, the cold will not bother you. But gathering clouds and gathering ice bring a profound grief for great ambitions.

In the spring, a dewy morning could be spent going for a run, or sitting inside, waiting. There are many things to wait for in the spring. Spring brings, most of all, renewed life to flora and fauna. Waiting for rain, to frolic in or to ruin your parade, is also a springtime wait. Waiting for old friends to return, like the birds in the sky. Waiting for classes to end so you can go play outside. Waiting for school to end and summer to begin. Waiting for love to find you.

The early summer mornings bring the most hope. With no school to worry about, an early morning may come as a surprise, but it is a wonderful one. A morning run is best when you see the sun rise and wake everyone else up while you go for an adventure. So many things seem possible when you’re up before everyone else. An anxious feeling may be felt in these early hours, a much better worry than those in previous seasons. Excitement comes from sun or storm in the summer.

The fall brings the crispest of air, the sharpest of wind, and the bluest of sky. An early fresh whiff can set you off to a new day and a new school year.  Some may feel despair at the thought of a return to all the cold, but it is something to be relished as you know that the good feelings will return.

If I could reach the sky, it would
Smell Like Freedom

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Robot Unicorn Attack

I played Robot Unicorn Attack today.

Last year, I would play it when I wanted a break from thinking. I think I’m okay at it, but I couldn’t catch up to Greg and Amogh once they developed the skills. I also think it’s fine that I’m just okay at it. I just zone out and zoom on by.

I said I play it when I don’t want to think. Naturally, this time I started thinking while playing. And to my dismay, it didn’t affect my playing, even though it had been six months since the last time I played.

It’s not like I needed to block out my thoughts, it’s just that another junior memory is disappearing. There was some magic last year that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe I always wanted to be a junior, to make believe as a junior, and have peace and harmony. There wasn’t the pressure of being top dog, and there was a carefree attitude of one more year.

But I love being a senior, too. It’s great to be looked up to, and I know I’ll be able to improve myself even more. I've finally fulfilled one of my high school goals.

Mr. E passed out the drum major audition packets today.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

BLOG POST

aeioavnoirnaeIfajewaaoijealkjvaewkjFasfaewfhaekjflhaksejhfalkhfEaflkjaeflkjmcvbraiyuearoipvavawjlaewEaefaevimaweiamawevoimawegiaowmwoievmaweaerykjajvLfawlkjaweflajwc;lkvakwjtalwkjeflwejkfaLsadfkljawfea;ecmaevewamoamcaoeiutppoAaeofamafaeyiyeouprowigwvmwaioaeramZaeriaowmowimcwaeoituawovmrhksejosxidgmvsemoYsfalwemacwaoiwpmaregameryaeoimavwoiwmFfaaeaewaewrawgrreahoiamcewoimraphoiamvawelkamwvaOaeamaevwaweiomyoimasvRaeaweiwoetuworigmvdfklhjlaeriemvaevmDasflkjawelgkmacewimewogimwaeroiwOawfeiwmvawowemvwapeowmIaweoiawmaerpawpmomweNawevoiamweapwvmaoweGasevwaeomwvweaopwaEawmvaweiomaweoiawjwoeijXawefiopwmvawoPawefoimveavewaoiewmovawEsadlkjfaelkjalskmveamlaveRewwoifmacawleawjvawawfawmewmaIfaiawmeoawmaweoimaweMaevmaowieamvawEeaeawioewrurewoipurepoiuqwNasdcmaweoimwawimvawTwaefiawoejawevaAaefawejawesabaawheawhhwaLasefawlefjaawhhjhraParhaerabreayirntyopshbOasfaerrutjebaioSsagwarhraehwegqepepewfapewfapTfweafweamvwaoimaewSrsadvarnearneaBasflajvamvawoaameaewaeaweawfeawfUwaefawvmawoawegawelfawgpeaypewovpvewoTaeaewvewwrhrioptyhdbdmerMcmeosblbesepesposebeslsebAavemaopkaaleleaslfeasYameavveamveaeslrsrtpppwspoqmBsaevasvmaeryiuepovpvealEtopy8pyjehtbearbarnmsdbdatjrynsIwgvewmweaopalsepolasvTasdfawewaewwepbawpbwplSfesesplbwoanrpelawaslkjclmvwewoGavsplrwgplaewopaeaekjlscvmaeruealvnawmaweOawmwariopahvsdkjvawkjghsdkvljhaweelkfOvmewoawwepawevmawevawpDaspvaeawevaweeaweFy8pjtrsnetbebnsfgymetegzvbbsanmtsyjrshsrvreagOaerbearergawrbaemobearomeromerombreRarsaeweioameaoaeomeMeavaewvawpjalsvjakrlghawlkhvawEvampoaewomaoemveamves. IasegeaffeafeapfepfepfepfespepfespasekjhalsNasmeoasemoasevomasevoEaeaulhvkjasnvaewmvseaweivmaEaevamovoasmevaeovmaweiovsiaeDavsemoasepvmasepovmasepovmasepomvTamamamasdmflhawoipavmevwaOaefaeflakejfasl;kjfaselkjfalkjFamefaoemaepasemfapsefomasefOasmeaseofaieqjhelkhqkrjhweltkejrRqweiotureptoivmxvxmweggMfasmweiomveoimsvCasfeawjfalkwefjakjlkjaweblkjaewfrhaelkjhfaewlkjOewriouewpoivaevaeHaefasefaseklhjjsvhjlasebhaEaseawearmhmawrhmrawhRasgeaaewoivmvaegiauwegEegawhyeouboewbuoesosbeNsemvaseopamsaseTsfajweaiobaeaefaweawfawawefawfaIefawekerrerbewrberbwDaweheatjetnerwrmreabrdvryoppoiytEdgwabwbarnerauaerneargsegAerwbrewbwamweaeaealeslwqeriowpvmweoqiwmwegSfawelkjabqwetiouewpobwmesevsmTasaeryytiryjdbfdnmykypyujewqevwebwebHdrsrthernermreanrannaereubemtrAtjtyoyptorthdfnsgarnebsbnstnraeTwgragrawehkrtopkyddnnhwbsbsbabesbsLweagawebweabwbeewbbafaevaAasgasrhaernbsbesbaSasrrahrjrahbeermessemsoevmsevTegaebaerawrgviewLarhettuotundfbwsergmsovsepOseasegvbjsaelkajawfoisueNasrrearearwapovepbemaiaemsGaegaerhierpawvawmefasoevmsEesharrewggiawopipweopfuwpiofemaeevoimRargrawpgawpewfleawfweamaewoTesgvaspomaerooiefuweaoiqHqweuoiqetueroiyteAxdczxnvxzcnvzxcnvNweartiwopuweovwemvAsdfasfweafaewffeaaefPsdfkjlhkjhkljhlkjhAaseafseffaiuonlhRasdraeawroimaviseomAtbgbtynyhnuimumimmntbrveGqwrmnbrvRasgeryhrtuehewpewwelbvesoAasegawoiioevaergaioemPqwreroigupsdvmaweralseslHsafeasbaenraewbnam.
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IAN

Monday, October 10, 2011

Diablog

7:12 AM

“Ian, I don’t want to be here right now.” It wasn’t a complaint; it was a statement of fact.
“But you say that all the time! You don’t want to be anywhere.”
“It’s Monday, and I’m tired, and waking up sucks…”
“If we weren’t here on Monday, then we’d be here on Tuesday, complaining—"
“Oh, don’t start using your dumb logic on me!” She smiled and laughed. It was quiet as we dodged someone walking the opposite way.
“I was up late last night, and I still haven’t got some of my homework done.”
“I know; I underestimated my homework and I was up till 1.”
“Ugh! I just hate math! He doesn’t explain anything, and… I…”
“Yeah you’ve told me how much you hate math. If I wasn’t just dozing off during class and winging it every night on the homework, I would gladly help.”
“I know. Thanks, Ian.”

The sound drifted off until there was a sudden uproar.

“IAAAANNNH!”
“Ian! Ian!”
“Do you know when the T-shirts are coming in?”
“Hi Ian!”
I put my cases in my locker and walked to class.

***

12:51 PM

“Hey, how was your day?” She twisted her arms and fingers with a pained expression on her face.
“That’s what my day was like. We have a quiz in math tomorrow, and I still have NO IDEA what we’re doing!”
“You know, I really don’t either… Sorry.”
“What’s the problem?”
 Cringe.
“She’s having a bad day.”
“My day was like this:” She contorted her hands and face again. She laughed.
“Aww, I’m sorry. Do you need a hug?”
His voice dripped with false concern.
She sidestepped and put her one arm on his back. He closed both around her. I turned to check the board. I looked back and he was gone.
“What are we doing today, Ian? Are we going outside?” She ducked around me. “YES! We’re going outside!” She threw her arms around my shoulders and I patted her on the back.
“You know, if it wasn’t so nice out, you’d be complaining about how we have to go outside.”
“Don’t remind me!”

***

4:45 PM

Alex and I stood out in the drizzle while he played Taps on his trumpet.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

SuperCowCow

Today is middle school story day~       

In the summer before eighth grade, my brother and I had the crazy idea to make videos using music we found on Newgrounds. We got our neighbor in on the project. We pumped out videos every two weeks.



It wasn’t about artistic genius or having a point. We were having fun going through the process. It was the greatest waste of time we ever had. I don’t really mind that we never got found, because I don’t know if we could have kept up with the same style.



Eventually we discovered that we could record with sound, so our videos took a new direction. They were even more fun for a while, because we added a new output for funny. But—with great power comes with great responsibility, or so they say. I think because now we had to have dialogue go perfectly, we started arguing more. Our best videos was where we just told Mark to say whatever and let him go with it.



Fabulous Beasties has so much potential. We were going to go places with it. It might have even been a musical at one point. Mark was full of random quips that we thought it would never end. But as time went on, things grew stale, and with school and lack of interest, we stopped making videos.



I haven’t stopped wanting to make videos. In ninth grade Communications I made two videos for class with my friends. One was a news show based on short stories we had read in class, and that one was successfully filmed and edited and appreciated. The second attempt was a modernization of Romeo and Juliet, but since our Juliet got grounded, the best we could do was make two trailers—which turned out decently.



I realized film is what I want to do for two reasons. One is because of the fun I had doing these YouTube videos, and the other is because every time I tried to write a story for a book, it always sounded better as a movie.

Hopefully I can get like 30 more views on SuperCowCow’s videos from this—before you all get bored and run away. YEY COME WATCH PLEASE

Film, Fun, Freedom
Ian

El Cheapo

El Cheapo was the best thing that happened to me in middle school. If you don’t know what El Cheapo is, it’s a company that provides the most exorbitant products at the most exorbitant prices. El Cheapo does all of its own advertising, and it has many different branches that provide for every needless need.

Examples of their products include the El Cheapo Ec Cube, El Cheapo Beat Stix, and the El Cheapo Doors OS.

We made our own ads. We thought of the most useless products, like a solar powered electric blanket, and spent homeroom drawing and writing our ad on a piece of lined paper. Sometimes we even made them during real class. This was how I met Ishmam and Jeff. Most of my time in 8th grade was spent doing El Cheapo related shenanigans.

We showed the ads to our other friends, and they got a kick out of it. At first that was enough, but we wanted more lulz. We started hanging them up outside on lockers. We hung them on our own lockers, and we asked permission from other kids to put them on their lockers. It was great at first.

Then all of a sudden they were getting torn down. Without mercy, and with scraps still on lockers, the ads disappeared soon after we hung them up. It wasn’t the teachers or the janitors that were tearing them down. It was other kids. Other kids who thought we were posting the ads randomly and vandalizing other kids’ lockers. We were most definitely not. We asked everyone if we could use their locker beforehand. These misinformed vigilantes were obstinate. They listened to no one—and they never got the jokes.

That didn’t stop us, though. We became—if the word had existed back then—cheppier. There were even more bizarre creations, and they went under the El Chep branch of El Cheapo. Soon we left El Cheapo behind, because El Chep grew bigger. So big, that a new word had spawned out of our mischief: “chep.”

Chep can be a noun or an adjective.
Something can be “pure chep,” or “full of chep.”
Something can be “cheppy,” “the cheppiest,” or “cheppier.”
Chep means something is poorly created, but with humor in mind.
On a rough comparison, “cheppy” and “shoddy” are similar, but something “cheppy” is also hilariously stupid.

We didn’t realize at the time that we were manufacturing vernacular, and I think that’s important to how “chep” stuck around.
Frindle is an act of rebellion, and an act of replacement.
We at El Cheapo filled a hole in the vocabulary of the people. We created a new word that others started using without our direct encouragement. It was a need we did not realize we needed filled, but there it was, full of chep.

The last time I was involved with making El Cheapo products was in 9th grade, but El Cheapo lives on in all of us.

Friendship, Chep, Freedom
Ian

Hello Again

Awkward.



I hate that word.
People always use it when there are better words to use!

In this context it would actually fit: I’m resuming blogging after almost three months of inactivity.
It’s difficult to find things to say, because, as is happening right now, you want to talk about how you’ve been gone for so long.
And of course, I’ve wanted to start again, but at some point there’s a line between being able to casually slip back in and having to make an apology post.


It’s hard to say “hello” again.
I’m starting to think it’s bad that I connect with a lot of sad songs.
It’s also bad that I wish life was more like movies sometimes. I think that’s from watching too many movies and writing too much.
I think that could actually turn into some schizophrenic false life situation.
And then I think that would be a cool plot for a movie.

I want to blog about the things that are happening and make social commentary, but then I realize I’m still falling into them.
As a hypothetical example, if I blogged about senioritis but then began to have symptoms myself, I would be frowned upon.
So uh, even though things are happening, I’ll probably restrain myself from blogging about them. That’s why I haven’t blogged in a long time.

In other news, once Wind starts I’m going to start lobbying for a band arrangement of the Super Mario Galaxy theme.

I think even just writing this mish-mash pish-posh-post has inspired me to write more.
Yay!
Freedom
Ian