A few hours left in the year

...and I'm still waiting for something really good to happen so that in years to come, I can be all,

"2007? Of course I remember! That was the year _____"

and thus be able to conclude that it was a cool year with lots of memorable stuff.

Except the blank is still blank. I mean, sure I could fill it up with bad stuff (I started at a new school where I was socially disadapted and didn't actually make new friends so I frantically clung to the ones I already had, my laptop died, I got addicted to anime and thus have wasted countless hours, I failed three classes [trimester, not the whole year... yet], my dog punched me, I tripped, and a bunch of other stuff that didn't get written about because they're too complicated, too personal, I never got around to it, I forgot them or were simply too boring). But bad stuff is not what I'd like to remember a whole year by. You can't always have what you want, though, so I guess that's that. 2007 sucked.

But seriously, I can't think of anything outstandingly good that's happened.

Oh, well.

I never got around to my resolutions. And I quote:

Try to pay attention in certain classes (Key word: try. Hee hee hee).
Well, I suppose I did try, regardless of the fact that I didn't actually do it. Okay, then. Check!

Get more money... somehow.
Oh, I did! I spent it all at anime conventions, though. Check!

Sleep more.
That would be hard to not do. I probably slept less than I did last year, but I did, technically, "sleep more". Check!

Buy a monkey and name it Morrison.
Failed miserably. Not check.

Water my plants before they start to shrivel up.
I actually did try to take care of my plants, so I took one, watered it, and set it outside so that it could get some real sunlight, because in my room -where it normally resides- it doesn't get much light.
The thing is, I forgot it was out, and it rained.... and, well, it's a desert plant. That didn't go well. That was a few months ago, maybe in September or so. Anyway, it's almost recovered. Ummm... Half-check, because I tried.

Hm. 3.5 out of 5. That's not actually that bad! Okay, the final verdict on this year is:

It sucked, I wasn't particularily happy a lot of the time (in fact, I spent a good portion of time feeling really miserable) although I guess it had its moments, like all those times in secundaria when my ex-classmates threw garbage at each other, or when my sister and I freaked a few people out by dancing energetically in a public place... twice. The worst bit, all in all, was preparation course for Prepa. Sitting in an ugly little room, listening to the Chemistry teacher make strange and unclear analogies, the Math teacher explain simple stuff and make it seem hard, the Civics/History teacher hold long and pointless conversations with my classmates, the Physics teacher explain the only suff I already understood (I still don't know how he did it. I'm a total klutz in Physics, and yet he found my tiny enlightened patch of knowledge, and didn't expand it at all), the Geography teacher explain elementary-level stuff, and sitting on a bench by myself for 20 minutes at recess because all the other students were busy fiddling with their cell phones. The whole time, every time. I swear, I felt like putting them in a little pile and then jumping on them (the phones) because their owners spent every spare second -literally- playing with them, comparing them, talking about them...

Oh, and about my Math teacher from that course... sometimes, her son would act as a substitute teacher and make really basic mistakes while explaining stuff. I remember once he looked at the board after doing something wrong and said, "Wait, that's not the right answer... Uh, can anyone find the mistake?" Due to my superior brainpower (mwahahaha) I'd known it was there all along, but decided not to say anything and see how long it took him to figure it out. He never did, and neither did my classmates.

I got sidetracked there.... Anyway, what I was saying was, 2007 overall wasn't that bad... I guess. I now await 2008 and any surprises it might have in store for me, like passing Physics with a perfect 10 or maaybe winning the lottery.

Livin' la vida (not) loca

Three weeks of holidays. Seems reasonable,doesn't it?

After dreary months of slaving away, getting up every single miserable day reeeeeal early because I have to get to school by seven (and on Thursdays, it's 6:50, because there's Physics and our teacher rules by her own watch; you'd be foolish to knock on the door to see if she lets you in after class has started. If you're lucky, she'll ignore you. Where was I? Oh, yes, have to be at school by seven) because of course I couldn't get a nice, reasonable timetable, with one or two days where I get in at nine, or an easy-going Monday at the very least. Oh no, I get an early start, with all the boring/creepy classes first and then hard classes, at the very end of the day I (sometimes) get the classes I enjoy, i.e., French, except by then I'm too tired and bored to make much of an effort.

So, three weeks of holidays sounds like a nice prospect, thinks I.

I went to the movies, went out with my friends, went to an anime convention, watched a lot of aninme, read some books, did the whole Christmas thing, watched a lot of Corner Gas, and then -finally-, today I was so bored I actually did some homework. :gasp:

Well, another Dec. 25th has gone by...

...and all I got was a duct tape wallet and a doll stuffed with plastic bags (both from my loving sister, Isabel. If you're reading this, thanks! That teddy (or... doll... um, that thing) is just adorable).

And an iPod.

Teehee.

BREAKING NEWS

Two days before Christmas: shopping malls are stuffed, roads are stuffed, toy shops are stuffed with lazy parents, parking lots are stuffed, turkeys are stuffed- in short, the population appears to have spontaneously duplicated and then proceeded to crawl out of their hidey-holes and plug up the city, compulsively buying, buying, buying!
They are expected to go back to where they came from tomorrow, and then spontaneously combust on the 25th. Look forward to fireworks.

Special report brought to you by: OMGwedidn'tgetmysisterapresent.inc, the company for all your last-minute Christmas needs.

Nothing specific

Yesterday I was in Physics class, when, suddenly, I felt a sneeze coming on.
Now, the ideal thing to do in this situation is to sneeze, which is why I did what I did (which was to sneeze). However... well, it was just one of those little moments in life (am I too young to say that?)

It went sort of like this:

Me: ... Achoo!!
*begin to remove hand from face*
Me: Uh-oh.
*look around shiftily, then slowly start to reach for my knapsack with my free hand*
Friend who was sitting next to me: Here.
*tosses me a Kleenex which she appears to have produced out of nowhere*

See? My friend and I are really in sync! Now tell me you don't envy me.


I really need a shower... and I mean, I really need a shower. I'm still wearing yesterday's T-shirt ("Proud Canadian! la fête du -CANADA- day"). And I think maybe I'm beginning to smell, ah, unclean.

Perhaps I should not be telling you this? Ahh, whatever. It's not like I've seen anyone today (and my family? Bah, they counteth not), let alone left my house. Seriously, I haven't even wandered out onto the porch to pat the doggie.


Holidays are starting, yay! Yesterday I had only one measly class (remember? Physics) and just hung around until some woman shooed us away while we loitered around being lazy: "Please leave, we're closing the school".
And then today, no school. Tomorrow, nobody's going to bother giving classes, and on Friday- the last official day- we're supposedly only going to have Geography, which is laughable, because the Geography guy (I can't call him "teacher", because that would imply that he teaches us stuff) is hands-down the laziest person I know, including myself.

So tomorrow I'm just going to school -as in, the building- to hang out with mes amis (aren't I sophisticated), and then possibly buy some shoes. I am not a freaky shoe addict, but I need a new pair because my four shoes -yes, two pairs- are no longer up to scratch.

The first pair are my black Converse, which I wore pretty much every day for about a year and a half, and are, thus, more brown than black (except the white rubber bit, which is gray), plus I scribbled on them and they're developing holes. The scribbles I like; the right shoe has a thick, black Sharpie arrow pointing ahead, and underneath it says "Adelante!" (literally it means ahead, but it's interpreted as keep going), but since the shoe is falling apart, it can't be spared even when it's so cute <3

The other pair is my presentable pair, worn to places where you're supposed to dress up, whenever I'm feeling sissy, or on days when the black/brown ones look too miserable and worn to face the day. I've been wearing them more and more lately. They're the Converse that are clean-ish with funky little designs that make me think of a blue rain forest.

And they're both high-tops.


Hey! My neighbors are finally playing some decent music: Nirvana, and now The Beatles. Thank goodness.

Now, about that shower...

I've been at school for nine hours... Aaaahh!!!

Meh, I'm blogging this from school, because... I'm at school...?

I'm supposed to be doing my computation homework, but I've been in the computer lab for three hours, my brain turning to mush over programming. And it's not even real programming, it's a program for people to learn programming (no, it's not ironic. It's stupid).
You have to make a little blue arrow called Karel do stuff, including -but not limited to- spinning around a square, getting out of a labyrinth, and various other life skills which are likely to get you out of a pinch ("OMG! The ship's on fire and all the crew are dead! Who can make Karel go clockwise round a figure that is any size and any shape, leaving a beeper [a little dot] at every corner??? Karel begins, facing any direction, at the bottom-left corner of the figure!! Hurry!!").

So anyway, I'm taking a break, because I deserve it. Really! I'm the only one of my friends (I don't care/know about the rest of the people here) who's been able to finish a program that actually works for any figure. That's right, congratulate me.

Aah... I'm bored... and I'm not supposed to be using the computer for personal stuff, but I'm sure an exception can be made for my mental health, because if I go at this any longer I may go insane. Surely it's okay?

I'm still bored, though.

Thank the Friday God it's Friday.
My least favourite day is Wednesday, because I get in at seven and out at two, plus I don't have any free periods (actually, I do have one, but it doesn't count because I usually spend it doing homework for other stuff) and I have really boring classes, one of which is Orientación Educativa (I don't know what that class is called in English). All we do is sit around and, as my friend just paraphrased nicely, "Uh... nothing. Oh, wait, read the textbook". Said book talks (writes? reads?) about adolescence, and drugs, and how to know what we want to study, a bit of history of the UNAM, and other tidbits that we already know.

And after these boring (boringboringboring) classes, I have to lug my tired body all the way upstairs (stairs!) to go to sculpture, which was actually a really bad choice of class for me to make, because I've discovered that I really suck at sculpting. For example, last week I made a butterfly out of plasticine, and my own mother thought it was a pelvis.

La Física o el blog? hmmm...

Bien, ahora escribo en español porque me da flojera hacer la tarea de Física ( ya casi la acabo, pero mi motivación para terminarla se agotó, así que tomaré un breve descanso) y de todos modos, tenía intenciones desde hace tiempo por escribir en este bello idioma que los españoles vinieron a imponerles a los indios hace años junto con tantas otras cosas, como los teléfonos celulares y la revolucionaria idea de ponerle azúcar al chocolate para que además de antioxidantes, aportara calorías y carbohidratos.

Y ahora les hablaré de mi maestra de Física. :D

Antes que nada, déjenme decirles que esta maestra de hecho no me cae mal, es sólo que tiene un carácter muy (¡muy!) fuerte y por eso es un excelente tema de conversación.
Ah, ¿cómo comienza uno a describir a tan complicada persona como ella? Claro, se comienza por el nombre. Rosalina. Después se siguen por los apodos; el más cortés y respetuoso viene siendo "la vieja loca", como ella misma nos lo ha dicho incontables veces (o sea, tres).
Uno de los hábitos de Rosalina es, después de entregarnos nuestras tareas recién calificadas, repetir las "porquerías" y "estupideces" que los pobres alumnos escribieron (no pongo las comillas en "porquerías" y "estupideces" porque no lo sean -lo son-, sino porque son citas textuales). Nos pone en evidencia.
Por ejemplo, más o menos cada dos semanas nos deja un artículo de alguna revista de divulgación científica, y nosotros tenemos que leerlo, subrayar lo más importante, redactar una síntesis, escribir las tres ideas centrales, y concluir con nuestra opinión.
Lo más difícil de todo esto son las ideas centrales. Si tienes suerte, le atinas a dos. Regularmente, los mortales (léase: los no-matados) sólo le atinan a una. Tener todas mal también puede pasar, pero esto con menos frecuencia, y generalmente indica o que la desvelada te afectó o que de plano estás bien yo-no-escribo-groserías-aquí-pero-empieza-con-pe.

Ahora que eso queda explicado, pondré algunos ejemplos recientes (las citas son aproximadas, pero no exageradas)

"...Y la señorita [ah, porque eso sí, todos somos señoritas y señores] *inserte apellido aquí* no le atinó a ninguna de las ideas, pero me puso en la opinión personal que el texto es maravilloso, que está muy interesante, que esto y que lo otro, y que a la primera leída sacó todas las ideas principales. Yo le anoté ahí, 'Ah, ¿y por qué no las pusiste?' "

"El señor *apellido* me entregó una página y media de síntesis, cuando yo sólo les pedí quince a veinte renglones!!! ¡Yo no sé qué habrá inventado, pero ni si quiera el artículo es tan largo! Yo pedí una síntesis, no la porquería y media que me puso..."

...vaya, pude haber acabado mi tarea hace dos horas si no fuera por mi inmensa falta de autocontrol (por no mecionar el hecho de que la tarea que tengo que hacer es increíblemente aburrida. Increíblemente, ¿entienden? Significa que no lo creerían; no creerían lo increíblemente aburrida que es la tarea que tengo que hacer, y por lo tanto tampoco yo lo puedo creer, porque ustedes son todo el mundo, y yo formo parte del mundo, así que yo soy ustedes y por lo tanto yo no soy yo).

Necesito dormir. Dormir, y una clase de lógica ...Y quizá un café y una dona. Claro, un masaje no me vendría nada mal, ¿saben? Nada mal. Y uno siempre puede usar un poco más de dinero...

First of all, a quick apology to myself and whoever else might read this blog (i.e., my imaginary friend, Bright Pink Gecko Lizard Whose Name Is Fabio) for not writing for ages -except for that stupid post about Momo-kun: The Freak Cat- but I really haven't had much to write about.
Well, I have, but not anything I'd like to share with you people. Heh.

Let's see...
According to everybody except the calendar ("everybody" being commercials on TV and mall decorations of creepy Santa-shaped robots that do creepy Santa-shaped robot things), Christmas is just around the corner- only a few dozen days left! This means I should go and buy Christmas presents for other people and possibly-well-actually-probably myself before the rest of the mindless sheep that inhabit this (ugly) city figure that, hey! That ad on TV- my bestest buddy- says that if I buy a lot of stuff, maybe it will turn out that Santa didn't really drown in that melting iceberg after all. And of course, if TV says something, it must be true and thus obeyed swiftly and with joy. Where was I? Oh, yeah, before the flocks of sheep flood the shopping malls.

Huh. I started this about four hours ago, got bored, and watched Naruto instead. Might as well post it, anyway.

Other things I did in those four hours:
- Made instant soup
- ate instant soup
- ate an english muffin
- gave a friend a piece of my homework (not literally)
- scratched my back

Okay, I'm going to watch more Naruto.

Momo-kun

Ooh, I haven't blogged in a month! And it isn't because I watch anime all day, no sir! It's because... I'm lazy... and I watch anime almost all day. Ha.

Today I was walking in a country club I sometimes go to, and I ran into a cat. It's a white cat with a black spot on its head, between its ears.
The first time I met that cat was about two or three weeks ago. I was also walking that time, and heard somebody going "mew! mee-eeeew!". I went over to where the sound was coming from to conduct further investigation, and saw the cat. I know I've said before that I don't like cats, and that cats don't like me, but that cat was being all friendly with a woman that was trying to shoo it away from her son ("Don't touch it! It'll pounce on you!") and then followed some women that went by, coincidentally also with a little boy ("Don't touch it, it's dirty!"). However, the whole time it was glancing back at me and looking freaked out. When it was just the cat and me, it started to walk away really fast, looking scared. I didn't have anything better to do so I followed it, and after a while it figured maybe I wasn't going to kill it and make myself a cat-hat. So it sidled up very carefully and made me scratch its ears. I spent about half an hour with the cat, and then went home.
And then today I saw it again; it must have remembered me, because it looked at me and went "meow!" all happy-like, and went over to where I was. Then it stood on its hind legs and made me scratch its ears again.

I still hate cats, just not all of them now. The white cat is called Momo-kun.

Quote

Decided to put something new up here. Undecided as to what.

-Stolen from www.dumdeedum.com (don't ask how I found this website. All I'll tell you is I'm prone to googling whatever's going through my mind, just to see if anyone else thought of it, too, and wrote it down)

Guess what day it is, guessguessguess

Yes, 'tis my birthday. Me is 15.

My mom was cleaning out some drawers or something and found a notebook she had when I was a wee little baby.

"May 15- since 1 week ago, often goes from sitting to front. Stays on hands and knees a few seconds. Wriggles forward half a metre with great effort, then gets frustrated. [...] Babbles "La la la la la"."

Hear that? "Babbles"! Aren't I cool.

Of cats and doodles

Hello!!!!!

You're supposed to say "Hello" back to me.

Out loud.

Now.


Excellent. =)

Last week I was going to write and tell of my tales of adventure and bravery, chivalry and love, passion and rescue, tyranny and niceness, birthdays and cats, and nobody's reading this anymore, but I think I got distracted... oh, yeah, I watched anime instead. Short attention span, you see.

Anyway, I'll tell you about the cat.

So there I was. Walking along the street on my way back from the papelería ("papelería" literally means "paper shop". They're these little stores that sell notebooks and pens and markers and photocopies and plastic notebook cover-thingies and big sheets of paper that are about a meter long and son on. Anyway, I went to one of the many (many many many) papelerías that surround the Prepa, and on my way back to school this cat that was sitting on the sidewalk looked up and hissed at me.
I have a little history with cats, but in a nutshell, I hate them and they hate me.
So this cat thing looks up and hisses at me and... well, the next bit is a tad strange... but,I mean, there was nobody watching (except my friend named Fabio, The Sparkly Pink Gecko Lizard, who was invisible at the moment so he doesn't really count) so I kind of stopped and hissed back, imitating the sound it had just made perfectly.
Well, Catty looked all shocked and insulted and went, "Meow! Hissssss", and then he went over to me and started rubbing his body against my legs. And he wasn't even touching me with his head, so he wasn't marking me with his scent or sniffing me with his ears or whatever it is that they do.
And he just stayed there for ages, rubbing and rubbing, and I figured that hey, maybe he didn't hate me. So I reached down to scratch his wee head, but I had only moved my arm a fraction downwards...
..and his head snapped up, and his face contorted as if to say "Oh my GOD, those legs were YOURS?!" and then he promptly darted away to a corner and stared at me sullenly.

I hate cats.

And to finish off this quick little incoherent posty-thing, I leave you with some doodles I doodled in Math class, together with the guy who sits next to me. I don't know his name, but he's nice. And he likes Math.



I shall explain the doodles. First you've got some binary stuff that's boring because it's easy (I mean, binary. Pfft. Although now I hope I didn't answer it wrong, or I'll look stupid). Then there's some spiral things, and a cat with a blob head (by the guy. I'll just call him Guy, 'kay?) and over to the right there's a little Domo-kun that Guy added ears to, and under that an evil worm, and next to the worm a snail. And to the left, at the bottom, are some pigs.
Oh, and the stuff in green at the top are some quotes from my History teacher:
"Pretend that the [Berlin] wall is over there, on Plolongación División del Norte (a street) next to the Burger King..."

I love my school. Just not my teachers.

I have three cruel teachers at school.

Case 1. The Physics teacher. I've most often heard her described as "la viejita loca" (the crazy little old lady). Example: Last week, a lot of new kids transfered to the morning classes from the afternoon classes, and many were unfortunate enough to have their very first class be at seven in the morning with the Physics teacher. Now, she is very particular, among other things, about students entering the classroom after the class has started. Most teachers have a ten minute "tolerance" time: you can get there 10 minutes late, and it's ok. The Physics teacher, however, has a tolerance time of about half a second.
So, we've all settled down, taken out our notebooks, and the teacher has started to talk. Suddenly, there's a nervous little knock at the door. Everyone sort of freezes, but the teacher carries on, unfazed. The door opens a little way, and a girl pokes her head in and asks, "May I come in?". The teacher doesn't pay any attention. The girl decides it's safe to proceed, and walks in.

Wrong choice.

The teacher then spins around and launches into a very loud lecture, called "I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD COME IN, DID I???" which ended with a very menacing "Come in, just this once, but be warned..." accentuated by a final "AND WIPE YOUR FEET!"

Case 2. The Computer Science teacher. On our very first class, we were crowded outside the classroom, like excited little hamsters, when a grumpy head poked out the door and said "Form two lines in alphabetical order. Is that too hard a thing to ask?" and was promptly stuck back in. It went downhill from there.

Case 3. The Drawing Class teacher. I spent like six effing hours on my project so that it'd be all nice and pretty and presentable. So I handed it in, and the teacher was all, "Where did you get this info?". "Mostly from an old notebook that my..." "Old notebook? That's no good. Do it again, and this time do your research in a proper book."

Grr.

No title.

Today my holidays come to an end, if you count the weekend as part of the school year.

So I'm getting as much out of it as possible, which can only mean one thing: I'm sitting here in my pajamas eating frozen blueberries and watching anime. Well, obviously I'm not reading and watching at the same time,but I was watching until very recently. I got up nice and early(ish) full of purpose to go out and, later on, do a bit of blogging, but I suddenly found myself at the computer at three o'clock and figured, oh well.

On to the news, I finished my registration and "welcome week" at the Prepa (High School, but from now on, it's called Prepa. Got it? Good.) and now I am officially a student of the UNAM, yay! This means that now I have my student ID that lets me do all sorts of cool things, like get into the school through the door and not by jumping a fence. Not that I've ever done that. Also, now I get discounts on lots of stuff, like museums and the movies. I mean, I always had a right to those discounts, but my student card thingy from secundaria was massive, so it was a real pain to carry around.

And I lost it.

Anyway, an interesting thing I discovered about the student IDs is that they taste absolutely disgusting, and the taste lingers in your mouth and is really, really hard to get out. Which is actually why I'm eating blueberries.

Moving on, yesterday I bought a really pretty wall scroll for my (white, ugly, plain, boring)wall. It's got the four houses of Hogwarts (from Harry Potter. Duh.) on it. And it's pretty. And I love it. And it was really expensive, so it'd better last quite a few years. Or somebody might get hurt.

Eww, the blueberries didn't work too well. So I gues I'll.... have some more!

See ya.

Give me a B!

Doodee doodee doooooo....

I'm bored. b o r e d e r o b

B...reakfast today was cereal
O...n my bed I sleep at night, or whenever I feel like it
R... is a pirate's favourite letter (get it? "arr"?
E...very day I eat more Nutella than I should (great stuff, great stuff)
D...ownstairs my sister yells and slams the fridge door

This blog is going downhill. You hear me? Downhill.

I was bored yesterday, too, so I watched the second hand tick its way around a clock for five minutes, just because I could.
Oh, no, wait. Yesterday I played board games and watched a movie with my cousins.
Then it must have been another day.

And another time, I satayed in bed until, like, two o'clock.

It's pathetic, I need school to pepper up my existence and make it worthwhile ( "make my existence worthwhile"? God! I sound like an emo teen! Or just a teen)

Hyper-ness

I got the results for my entrance exam today. You know how much I got? No? Want me to tell you? Yes? ...no? You don't care? Oh.

Well, anyway, and merely and simply for the record, I got 118 out of 128.
And for reference, the average was 64.


AHAHAHAHAHA!!!


Sorry.

On another note, two guys tied in first place, both of them with 127. They're both going to UNAM schools (but not to mine, so that's ok :D )

Well. That's it. I'm not a secondary student anymore.
I graduated yesterday.

---
Side note:
Ughhh, I feel all woozy because I ate too much for luch; I had about half a box of crackers with cream cheese, and veggie mix, and fish with more veggies, and a coffee, and a nectarine. And three popsicles. I can feel my skin stretching to form a little belly to accommodate the food :S
---

Right. I graduated. Uh.. there's not much to tell, actually. I can't seriously say I'm going to miss my school all that much; actually, the last few weeks I was getting pretty sick of it.

I see London, I see France...

I just had to write this real quick...

M. E. Serralde, read this and die of envy:

My sister went on a trip to Europe on behalf of her school, along with some of her classmates. She called today; she went to Paris and they saw Emma Watson!

Apparently they were just walking around on the street and they were a few meters apart; Emma looked at their group and smiled.

And then one of the guys in her group went up next to her as she looked at a painting and said, "Ah! C'est Picasso, eh?". She looked at him all, "Ummmm...."

Firedog

I was just looking out the window a few minutes ago, and saw my dog sleeping by the door. I couldn't resist and took a picture of her; she looks like the Firefox logo. Sort of. In my mind.

I wrote my entrance exam

My mother was bugging me to blog about my exam, so I might as well.

I mean, inspiration struck.

On Sunday I went off and wrote my entrance exam! Yay!
Actually, it was WAY easier than I thought it would be. Everybody in my class was studying like mad, and on the last few days they were quizzing each other on stuff I didn't know anything about ("Which is the most important producer of tomatoes?" "National or international?" ...huh?) and running around muttering the different phases of mitosis and meiosis to themselves.
I mean, yeah, I studied, but not about tomatoes. Just general stuff.
And you know? It worked out pretty well.
The day of the exam, I went to the place where I was to write it with my mom and my sister. My mom was all nervous, "Are you sure you have your pencils? And your eraser? Okay, okay." "Hey, do you have Kleenex?" "Are you feeling fine?" "So, which one is meiosis?" "What islands belong to the U.S.???" "Nervous? Eheeee!!!!". I overdid it (a bit :D, sorry, mom)
So I went, and lined up, and went to the classroom, and registered, and sat down and waited (and waited and waited and waited) for 3 o'clock to poke around the corner.
Finally, it came, and we all got our little exam booklets and answer sheets (There are ten versions, 'A' through 'J'; I got 'H') and started solving. at first I was sooo nervous, I was trembling like mad (and I found out, I have a nervous tick! It's on my left leg! Hurrah!) and couldn't really hold the pencil still. But then I started to read the exam and relaxed a lot, especially since I got Math first. I was all, "Hey! this is easy!" and by question number nine, I remember clearly, I had the urge of standing up and yelling, "Hey! I'm writing my exam! This is fun!" so I did.
Just kidding.
I swallowed the urge and stayed put.
By question 15, I realized that I'd had a little voice in my head going "Extra 21st chromosome, Down Syndrome! Extra 21st chromosome, Down Syndrome!" over and over, until I told it to shut up. And whaddaya know, question 49 was:

Down Syndrome is produced by:

A) Yaddayaddayadda
B) Your dog
C) You wanna watch a wierd anime? FLCL
D) The presence of all or part of an extra 21st chromosome
E) Chayotes make me puke

Or something like that. Anyway, I was all, "Hey! Cool!"

Anyway, I finished the exam all happy, and asked one of my friends, who happened to write it in the same room,
"How'd it go?"
"Uh... so-so. You?"
Great!!! "It was fine, I guess. I got stumped in that question about the prehispanic leader whose name means 'one who speaks loud'. I went with tlatoani, you?"

Paperball

It's the last few days of school, so very few people are showing up; only twenty or so people in my class were still coming to school this week, but today hardly anyone came (grand total of 7 people, in my class) because tomorrow is the entrance exam (it takes place on two days: Saturday an Sunday) and everybody stayed home to study, or so they say. I went to school, though, because otherwise I would've gotten bored, plus it's easier to get distracted from studying when I'm at home.
Anyway, since pretty much nobody went to school today, everyone was hugging each other yesterday and going, "Good luck! Eeeeeek! Good luck!" when the last bell rang.

On another note, yesterday we let off a bit of steam playing [the poor man's version of] Paintball during Math "class", because
a) We were all bored, and
b) The Math classroom is ideal for making a playing ground, because it has little tables and loose chairs instetad of chairs with bits of wood nailed onto them (along the lines of this, except ours are uglier, and way more deformed)

So, we took tables and chairs and overturned them, and spread them around the room, but then the stupid people who don't know how to play Paintball took them and built two huge forts on opposite sides of the room.

Then we threw garbage at each other.

And then the guidance counselor came in.

Luckily, he didn't have the power to do anything because school is pretty much over, and we're in third year and thus leaving and never coming back (ahaha!), and our grades are already inked and awaiting. So he just went away.
But of course, as soon as we spotted the counselor, teamwork was put into action, and the classroom was spotless within 15 seconds; actually, we left it neater than it had been before.
After a while the Math teacher came in and was all,
"Uh, I was talking to the principal, and then someone scurried up to me and was like, 'Your group was screaming and making a mess, you should have seen them, they were throwing the desks at each other and stuff...' ". He paused and looked around, "But everything looks fine to me"
Ñehe.

17 days to go

Yikes, I haven't written for a while.
But that's because I'm all busy, and I'm not even bluffing this time, which really sucks.
You see, I'm in my last year of secondary school (I believe that's Junior High School in the US? Actually, it doesn't matter) -only a few weeks left- and I have to write the entrance exam to get into the high scool of my choice in less than 20 days. In 17 days, actually. Two weeks and a half. A mere 400 hours. 128 questions and three hours.
Since I suck badly at History and Physics, and am only average at Geography and Biology, I go to courses to get some help with that (ironically, the History teacher from the course isn't really good at teaching. He just gives us badly printed photocopies of quizzes and gives us the answers. Also, the quizzes aren't about stuff that's going to be in the exam- I checked the exam guide.)

The high school I want -need!- to go belongs to the UNAM, the best university in Latin America, Spain and Portugal. Also, Carlos Slim, currently the second-richest guy in the world, went there.

I wish I were rich.

*thump*

Sometimes, when we're in class, and everything is quiet, quiet, quiet, you can hear people from other groups doing stuff. People running by, people laughing, people play-fighting (like puppies), people singing loudly and out of tune (those are my favourites). Today was a slightly different type of noise, though.
We were in Spanish class (doing sonnets again) when we heard some extremely loud yelling and what sounded like thumping, followed by the prefect squeaking at the top of her lungs,

"Where are you going? Come back here! No! Come back!"

coming from one of the third years' classrooms. We didn't make much of it though, and just chuckled to ourselves.
Later it turned out that a class united and rebelled against the Civics teacher. It all started out when the teacher picked a fight with a student, who unexpectedly answered back. Solidarity ensued.

Animals

Some animal facts about me, which you perhaps didn't know. Maybe you did. It doesn't matter.

1. I hate cats. I hate adult cats (they think they own the world), I hate kittens (they think they're so cute), I hate cats that run away from you, I hate cats that come up to you and climb your pants, digging their little claws into your leg, rejoicing in your pain. In the whole, entire planet, there is one cat I like. That is one of my friend's cat, and it's called Bicho ("Bug")
2. I've owned three pets. Sure, there have been household pets, but three of them have been oficially mine. Johnny, Jenny and Ginny. All turtles, all dead. My sister used to bully them, and would force-feed Jenny when I wasn't around to defend her (although Jenny later turned out to be a he, according to the vet).
3. There was a time when I really, really wanted a pet rock. That was just over three years ago. I was in grade six. I still don't know why I wanted one; I guess I just thought they looked cute in their little nests.
4. Sometimes, I gat the urge to squish small animals, such as hamsters or puppies. Luckily, it's only once in a while (but of course I never do- ew).
5. When a bird flies overhead, I always want to run away. You know. Just in case.
6. Large slugs, snails and spiders all gross me out. Slugs and snails are all gross and gooey, which I wouldn't mind if I didn't get the sudden feeling of what it would feel like to have them slobbering their way up my legs and arms. Snails aare only okay when they're tiny (and I mean around a centimeter in length. Smaller than that is icky, too). Spiders are also okay when they're small, and I don't mind them at all. But if I see a fat one, it irks me to see all those fat, stubby legs moving around... ugh.
7. Octopi scare me. If someone told me that I had to choose between being eaten by a lion or being eaten by an octopus, I would choose the lion (at least lions are furry).
8. I used to have a raccoon craze. I absolutely loved raccoons. I ended up with over a dozen stuffed (toy) raccoons, one of which got left behind in Japan, lived there for several months, and then traveled all around the world to make it back to Mexico.

What I would like, though, would be to hear that octopi have developed a taste for cats (although I definitely would not like to see it happen. Seeing an octopus eat is the last thing I need).

Chewing gum and dancing (don't choke!)

More pictures of my classmates, because some people were bugging me to do so, not realizing that whatever purpouse it is that this blog serves, it is not for stuffing with photos of my school with descriptions along the lines of "This is a photo of that time when such-and-such happened, it was really funny, heehee, you should have seen it, because it was really funny, hee, it was funny, really!"
Perhaps that was too mean.

Anyway, here are a select few.

**Note to my parents: Skip this next bit**

This is the wall of gum. It is, as the name might suggest, a portion of wall which we have been covering with gum. Really, all the work that's gone in there! When we first found the wall, it was ugly, drab and covered in graffiti (and bad graffiti, at that). But thanks to the amount of time, money and effort we have put into it, it is now a colourful piece of youthful expression, and it brightens our day to be able to collaborate to make the school a more beautiful and modern place.

Next we have a picture of the gum wall and one of its co - founders, Josue, who over time has realy become the father of the project: he's the one who collects money and buys boxes of gum with it, distributes the gum, helps with its placing on the wall, and actively participates in discussions concerning its future. How to make it last for years to come? How to mark it to indicate it was a product of our generation? He is very happy, as we all are, to be a part of this piece of art, our brainchild.
Wait, did I just say we covered that wall in chewing gum? I meant... uh... the afternoon kids did it. Those young hooligans! Always up to all sorts of tomfoolery, them! Someone ought to teach them a lesson.

**Note to my parents: Okay, you may now resume reading**

May 10th is Mother's Day in Mexico. So to celebrate that, the school has a little festival sort of thing where all the third year students dance traditional stuff. I, however, don't have to because I'm in choir, and our teacher said he needed the dance time for choir practice.
So far there hasn't been any choir practice.
So that leaves me some time to laze around and take videos and photos of my darling classmates. :)

Click to enlarge:

You ate what, again?

Today was Erendira's, one of my best friends, birthday -she turned 15- so to celebrate we brought some cake (well, Nancy brought the cake. The rest of us brough plates and milk and the like) to school.
When somebody brings tasty stuff specifically for sharing with others to school, it is not uncommon for people who are not really your friends but just casual acquaintances to drop by for some food. This is not good, because you might count the whole class as casual acquaintances. We're 48.
To avoid this, we waited until recess, and then went to a secluded area where people seldom hang around, and it worked well, seeing as only one o two people tracked us down. That was at the doctor's office.
We were in the middle of singing Happy Birthday when the doctor popped out. Then he went away, and a few moments later reappeared with a stack of paper napkins and a knife to cut the cake (which we had forgotten).

"Aaah!" we exclaim gratefully.
"You can use my office, too."
"Would that be okay?"
"Sure! ...just don't let the school counselor see, ok?"
"Thanks!"

We all pile into his office, and cut the cake (it was really yummy, by the way). By the end of recess we were finished, so we hastily cleaned up and left a piece of cake and a little carton of milk on the doctor's desk as a thank-you. No fork, though, because we forgot to bring any.

The whole office thing sort of redeemed the school doctor in my eyes.

Redeemed, you say?
Well, yes. I'm not really the right person to say if he's good or bad at the job, but there is one habit of his which is... well, I'll give you some examples.

Once, my cousin hurt her finger (I think it got caught in a little accident involving a door) and it was quite bad. When she went with the doctor, he peered at her through his glasses and asked,
"What did you have for breakfast?"

Another time, my cousin was in Math class. The teacher asked her to "go to the doctor's office and get me some eye drops". When she returned, it was not with eye drops, but with a message:
"Uh... he says, 'What did you have for breakfast?'"

One of my friends was ill (she had the flu or something) and I accompanied her to the doctor, because of the school's rule that if you're feeling woozy, you can't go alone, in case you fall over dead on the way and there's nobody there to sream and faint (or run for help, it depends). The doctor determined that she should go home, so while the call was being made, he turned to me.
"So," he says conversationally, a smile on his face, "what did you have for breakfast?"

It isn't really endearing.

NEWSFLASH

The city (Mexico City, if you're too lazy to read my brief profile- but "the city" has a certain ring to it) has reportedly been besieged by fuzzy animals who seek revenge on the human race for all its cruelties. The Apocalypse approaches: be prepared.

No, really. A lemur climbed onto a bus and bit the driver's daughter.

UPDATE: False alarm. It was just a kinkajou (Paris Hilton had one once, and it bit her. But maybe that's just coincidence- if I were the kinkajou, I most certainly wouldn't pass the chance to draw blood from her with my little fangs, especially if she had named me "Baby Luv". Although, then again, she might decide I'd look better as a handbag).

We are fighting students

Oy.
I present to you a video of my class de-stressing.
The video was edited by a friend of mine, Nancy. Nancy is nice.
I recorded it, which is why the image sucks. Next time I'll weasel the good camera away from my sister.
EDIT: Mauricio pointed out that I forgot to say that this whole thing is really thanks to him. You see, sections of our class have been divided into barrios (neighbourhoods). Each barrio has a sign with their name on it (for example, I am in the "Barrio Sta. Chuéder"). Then we try to rip eachother's signs down. This is what is taking place in the video.

The song is GO!!! by Flow.

Welcome to the guided tour of my school...

...please keep head, arms, legs and all other limbs you might have safely inside, and do not stick them out the window, because a kid tried that once and got stuck. Yes, he did. He's called Julio. And then the vice principal came out of her office, but luckily she didn't look up.

I've been meaning for ages to take some photos of my school and post them, so as to reveal to the world the cruel fate that we, as students, must endure every day.
No, I'm not kidding (Hehehe).

Anyway, here are a few. Click for full size.

Let's kick off with this one. It was taken from the hall, which I guess isn't really a hall. It's a sort of a balcony - corridor thing. Anyway, this is the schoolyard a few minutes after recess, which is when we get a few moments to laze around, while the teachers prepare for their next class, which should have started already (although I'm sure they're actually lazing around, too). The people you see strolling around are theoretically not supposed to be there. They're just sneaky little minxes looking for prey.

Next! Ok, see, if you're facing the blackboard in the classroom, the previous photo is on the right side. On the left side, our view consists of this. On the top, the railing is from the first years' classrooms. Underneath that is the pricipal's office, teacher's lounge, etc. On the ground, you can see lots of little black dots. That's gum, left by our predecessors. This photo was taken from the window in our classroom that has no glass, which is good on hot days, but on chilly days it sucks.

Okay. Here we can see one of the many guys who refuses to look at the camera (Emmanuel). He was playing that game where you put your hand on a flat surface and stab at the spaces between your fingers. The hand belongs to another guy (Mikey, although everybody misspells it as Mickey). I don't know why they do it, but luckily they haven't stabbed themselves. Yet. On the board behind them is some stuff from Math class, which some people still haven't gotten yet. Just a few minutes after this, someone who shall not be named (coughGodoycough) couldn't figure out how to square 1/5 b. Also, in this photo you can see a clear, though rather lacking, example of the decoration on our chairs. We work hard to make the school a better and more beautiful place. Although everybody here is very humble, and I'm sure nobody would voluntarily take credit for these works of art.

Last photo for now: people fleeing at the end of the day. I could tell you that the photo is blurry because I have no photographic skills, but it's really on purpouse. Yes. Because... it transmits the message better. And... er, everybody was running. Exactly.

Test thingy

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

Pretty accurate, methinks.
Test from Blogthings.

The world is happy after all

Today I went to the orthodontist, so naturally I was not in good spirits. You see, one is never really very happy when--- oh, stuff it.

I GOT MY BRACES OFF!!! I'M EFFING FREE NOW, YAY!!!!!

There. You must understand that I needed to get that out of my system.

I feel so happy right now, I could... um, do something that shows I'm happy. Oh, I could kiss you. Yes, that would do (unless you're Michael Jackson. That would definitely not do. P.S., Mike, if you're reading this, please do not touch your nose anymore. Nobody wants to see that. No, really. Nobody.)
So there I was, at the orthodontist, and she was poking around in my mouth as usual, when she suddenly whipped out some menacing pliers (pliers, you say? Yes, I also thought there must be something less primitive she could use. Oh, well) and, chomp! Half of my top braces were gone. Then she stops and tells me to wait a moment, walks over to her desk, and puts on some music.
Let me seize this chance to mention that my orthodontist has a very peculiar -albeit good- taste for music. Last time I visited, it was tribal music. This time it was popular music from the 1940s.
Then comes the bad news. Two years of retainers.

Nuts.

But still, until Friday, I don't have to think about that. Teehee.

I live in a fishtank.

The Internet connection was feeling lazy and broke down for half of the computers in my house, including my laptop, so I'm crashing at my parents' room to write this. Which I don't particularily like because I can't reach into my desk drawer and produce a chocolate; primarily because this desk has no drawers. Otherwise I would have transported my chocolate box here to make myself feel more at home.
There are other differences between my room and my parents':

1. My desk surface is small and cluttered, whereas my parents' desk surface is nice and big, with only a few pens and pencils in a cup, some discrete little speakers, some books, a mouse (I don't have a mouse!) and some souveniers from Cuba and Japan. Oh, and a photo of... I'm not sure, actually. It's either me or one of my sisters when they were a baby. And an ancient, unopened bottle of water that's been here for about two years. But even with all that (and two keyboards - don't ask) there's still plenty of leftover space.

2. My parents have their own little washroom, which means they can go straight from bed to the shower in the morning. I don't.
3. My parents also have a walk-in closet. Um, mine's smaller. Although to be fair, they have to store two people's clothes... no, wait! I have to store my clothes plus most of the old clothes that ever belonged to my sisters in the last 3-5 years or so, plus a bunch of old costumes and bathrobes and raincoats and the like! Not fair!

4. My parents have nice big reading lamps in their room. I have a little one with three howling wolves on it, which I bought two years ago, and is more of a decoration piece, as it doesn't give much light.

5. Um.... my parents have a really pretty wooden waste basket. Mine is gray plastic. Yes.

Er... you know, I think I like my room better. Sure, it's not as big, but I have a bunkbed. Hahaha, beat that!

Poetry and its consequences - A Rant Pt. 2

Okay. So, to recap, I'm too lazy to recap. Go and read the previous entry, you sloth.
We were all really mad because the Spanish teacher found time for 3F, and gave them choreography and all, but ignored us. "Why???" we asked. Why?

---A note to my parents: The rest of the post basically describes our immature response to the Spanish teacher's treachery, so read it with this in mind: I know it wasn't the thing to do. And our ages vary between 14 and 15, so we got away with it. Sort of. ---

When we got back to our classroom, we were sooooooo angry. For a few minutes we debated amongst ourselves what to do, and then people took their poems, which we all had nicely photocopied and stapled, and ripped them up, scattering the pieces all over the wooden platform that the teachers' desk is on. They took the desk and turned it upside-down, and tossed the teachers' chair on top. "Thanks for your help" was scrawled on the board. Two guys pasted a crumpled page of the poem - the third page, to be exact, the page where disaster struck- on the door, and after another guuy highlighted the paragraph we forgot. Somebody emptied the trash can as well.
We were venting our anger so well, and then the prefect came in and interrupted us.
"Who did this?"
"Everybody!!!"
"Okay. I want one person from each row to clean this up."
Nobody moved.
Enter Math teacher.
"!!!"
Our Math teacher is sensible and actually understands us, so he was all,
"Look, I know how you feel. Yadda yadda, I've got to give you your grades for the bimester, so why don't you all help clean this up? Then you can talk to your Spanish teacher."
He said some other stuff, too (the "yadda yadda" bit), but I forgot what it was. Anyway, it was something that calmed us down, because we all went and tidied up, like obedient little sheep.
Then it was recess, so we went off.
Then we returned to our classroom and messed it up again, preparing it for the Spanish teacher, before going to the Computer room for English.
Once English class was finished, we went back to our classroom, and after a few minutes the Sp. teacher got there, and after a pause entered, picking her way through the sea of ripped-up poetry, before moving more papers aside on the desk, which we left standing this time, and depositing her books on it.
Then she turned around to face us and said,
"I want an explanation, now. Who did this?"
"Everyone."
"Ah!", she said, evidently not believing us, "so, the bad conduct report will be for everyone!"
Duh, what did you think, we think, but instead say "Yes."
"...Oh. ... Well, I don't know what you were trying to tell me with this" she gestures dismissively at the scraps of paper lying at her feet, "but it was very immature of you. I completely disapprove of it. Completely."

She then went through four stages:

1. This was immature of you. Grow up. (no, really. She actually said that. Which is not to say she was wrong, but hey)

2. It was all your fault. (not true! She was the one who didn't want to rehearse, not us)

3. Listen to me talk about how the other groups (namely, 3F and 3C) managed to learn their whole poem, with choreography, and how you should have badgered me, or the Music teacher, to help you; if you had, we would have helped you. (3F and 3C learned their poems because theirs were half as long as the one you picked out for us. And don't pretend you would have helped us, we know better. As for the Music teacher, he already said he wouldn't help us anyomore, and you know that because we told you)

4. Tell me what your arguments are, so I can shoot them down. (Edward Eager once said, "If you're going to argue [...] you want people to line up all their objections at a time; then you can knock them all down at once." Not only did the teacher have us do this, she also interrupted us halfway through each argument, which I find cowardly. Sorry, but it's true)

One guy stood up and said sorry, we were immature, we should have memorized the poem. True.
Then the teacher proceeded to act as if it were all settled and taught us class as if nothing had happened. And she twice interrupted to tell us that she had "No regrets" and did not "feel in the least bit guilty". What a nerve.
After she left, nobody I talked to was quite convinced by her arguments.

This concludes the series.

Poetry and its consequences - A Rant Pt. 1

Yesterday was the contest... no, I need more backstory. Much more.
Every year, there is a contest in the country's capital (which is where I live) for reciting poetry as a group. Each year, one of the groups of third years (there's six) from our school participate, and to pick out the one which will compete there is a contest between the six classes. That was yesterday.
Our Spanish and Music teachers were supposed to help us with our poem, but they barely did. In about a few weeks, we were supposed to memorize about five minutes of yammering and accompanying movements, under the instruction of said teachers. After about three rehearsals with the Music teacher, he said he was going to stop helping us due to the fact that we were not cooperating as we should. This was okay, because it wasn't his job to help us and never comitted himself to do so. It was the Spanish teacher's job.
We rehearsed with her, but for reasons unknown she had us practice the first two pages of our poem over and over and over again, changing bits and pieces, but few times going past this limit she set herself, and only to assign bits of the poem to the bits of the class who would recite them.
Then, after some three or so classes spent on our poem, she abandonded the poem, instead opting for actual Spanish class, under the valid argument that on our admission exam, nobody was going to ask us to recite this poem. We told her that we were not rehearsing in Music class, either, but she said, basically, "Meh".
And so it was left until Thursday, the day of the eve of the contest. Then the Spanish teacher was all, "Oh, let's practice". So, we were ushered down to the gym, where, once again, we didn't go past the first two pages, except for that time when she realized that she hadn't assigned the very last bits and pieces of the poem to different people, so she did.
Then, class 3F (in our school, every group of a grade is called by a letter, form A to F: thus there are groups 1A, 2A, 3A, 1B, 2B and so on.) trooped into the gym to rehearse with the Spanish teacher after a little while, and we were ushered back out of the gym, left to practice by ourselves. We did, for a bit, and then went home because it was the end of the schoolday.
The next morning, we are all sort of nervous, because we know it's the day of the contest, and nobody -nobody- has memorized the poem, except, of couse, for the first two pages. Go figure.
So we organize ourselves. Groom ourselves, all the girls pull their hair back in a ponytail, and we rehearse for about an hour, in which time we accomplished quite a bit, correcting errors and the like. Then its time for the contest. Ohgodpleasehelpus.
We go down and see Surprise, surprise! 3F is rehearsing and they've got got their whole poem down to pat, movements and all. "Hm," we think, "that's weird. It seems the teacher actually made herself useful with them. Why not us? Oh, well, it doesn't matter. The teacher told us that the judges were going to grade us on voice only, because nobody had time to do anything extra."
Then we all go into the gym, and a teacher (last year's Spanish teacher, not the current one) reads out some stuff, and then says "The aspects that the judges will evalute are: Tone of voice, memorization, yadda yadda yadda, and gestures."
Wait. What???
"And now one student from each of the participating classes will step foreward - come over here - and pick, out of this box, a ball with a number on it, to determine the order of participation."
We got #3.
I didn't even pay attention to the first two groups because I was desperately... well, being desperate. So was everybody else.
It's our turm. Ohmegod. We go onto the stage...
...and, beautifully, begin to recite our poem. Hey! This isn't so bad, I find myself thinking. And okay, we were just standing there and not moving, but our class has the best quality of voice. It was good! Good, I tell you!
And then, all of a sudden, disaster strikes.
We reach the part of our poem where our Spanish teacher always halted us, and we stop.
We stand there for what seems like hours, and nobody can answer the question echoing inside each and every one of our minds:
@$^*&!%, what's next????
And then, salvation! One guy remebers, and saves the day by reciting the next line, and everyone catches on and continues.
And then... Gawd. I still can't believe it.
We forgot it again. We recite half of the third page, and once again, and for the last time, silence falls. And this time there's nobody who can remember what goes next. We all stand there, petrified. Half a minute passes. I hear my friend, behind me, whisper something I won't repeat.
And then everybody starts clapping.
Suddenly a whispered fight springs up.
"Let's get off the stage!"
"No, don't!"
"Come on!"
"But..."
The clapping fades away. We're still standing there.
Then, slowly, the first guy turns and descends the steps.
And we all follow.

Oh, you thought that was the end, did you? We didn't leave it at that. We sought revenge. Read about it (and how it bit us in the butt) in Pt. 2, coming soon.

History and a limerick

We wrote a History exam earlier this week, and got it back today. I love History; however, I suck at it, and thus I guessed a lot of the answers.
I also happen to have the bad habit of doodling on my exams once I've solved them. Most teachers ignore them, but some actually do read them, like my Math teacher in first year. She would even scribble answers back. Last year my Math teacher would also read them, but only answered once or twice. This year, none of my teachers had appeared to take any notice of them until today, when I got my History exam back and the teacher, smiling, said: "I read that little thing youu wrote..." Huh?" I answered. She motioned with her hand to my exam. I read what I had scrawled on the back:

Ave María, dame puntería.

Which means something along the lines of "Ave María, give me a good aim", which I wrote because most of the exam was multiple choice.
All this means that my History teacher actually has a sense of humour. Eek.

On another note, check this out this limerick:

(12 + 144 + 20 + (3 * 4^(1/2))) / 7) + (5 * 11) = 9^2 + 0

A Dozen, a Gross and a Score,
plus three times the square root of four,
divided by seven,
plus five times eleven,
equals nine squared and not a bit more.

-John Saxon

My Life's Soundtrack

Open iTunes, hit shuffle, and for each question, write the song that's playing.

Soundtrack to my life:

Opening Credits: El Baile Y El Salon, by Cafe Tacuba

Waking Up Scene: Seuls, by Bruno Coulais (from Les Choristes... it'll be a bad day, I see)

Car Driving Scene: Inquisition Symphony, by Apocalyptica (hm. Not sure what to make out of this)

High School Flashback Scene: Du Hast, by Rammstein

Nostalgic Scene: I am a man of constant sorrow (Instrumental), by John Hartford (this is from the O Brother, Where Art Thou? movie. I guess it fits.)

Bitter, Angry Scene: Across the Universe, by the Beatles (okay, this one reaaaally doesn't fit, it sounds more like a post-fight song to me)

Break-up Scene: Stuck With Me, by Green Day (contradictory title! )

Agony scene: Yesterday, by The Beatles

Regret Scene: I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow, by The Soggy Bottom Boys (this is also from the O Brother soundtrack. The name fits, but the song itself is too happy, I think)

Nightclub/Bar Scene: Wings, by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra (from an Escaflowne soundtrack)

Fight/Action Scene: Enid, by the Barenaked Ladies (doesn't sound like much of a fight scene... I guess that's because I can't fight?)

Lawn Mowing Scene: Easily, by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Sad, breakdown scene: Potter Waltz, by Patrick Doyle (from the fourth Harry Potter soundtrack. Doesn't fit either... what is up with this thing? I never did like the shuffle option... huff)

Death Scene: Baby You're A Rich Man, by The Beatles (an inheritance, is my guess- and a nice, big one, too, it seems. Whoohoo!)

Funeral Scene: Deathzone, by Apocalyptica (oh, good, another one that fits. It's making more sense now.)

Mellow Scene: Orinoco Flow, by Black Jade (then again, maybe not)

Dreaming About Someone Scene: Revenga, by System Of A Down (it's in the lyrics: All my sweet revenge will be yours, for the taking... you're dreaming about someone, but not in a nice way. Teehee)

Sex Scene: It's hard work!, by the New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra (from the Spirited Away soundtrack. ...what else can I say?)

Contemplation Scene: And I Love Her, by the Beatles (Him. It should be And I Love Him)

Chase Scene: Achachau, by los Incas (these guys are good! Except this would only fit if the things being chased are hummingbirds)

Happy Love Scene: La Mort de Juliette, by Gerard Presgurvic (Happy love scene. Happy!) Okay, let's try again:

Happy Love Scene v. 2: Boom!, by System Of A Down (okay, I give up)

Happy Friend Scene: Si Tu N'Etais Pas La, by Yann Tiersen (from the Amelie soundtrack. Okay, the thing here is not to read too deeply into this. Let us just move on)

Closing Credits: Prophecy Fufilled- And the dark night entered, by Haggard ("Fufilled", see? Good, good...)

Okay... The next time I have to compile songs, I won't trust iTunes.

Sniff, sniff. Hm.

Today we didn't have our Civics class in our classroom, instead we migrated to the one next to us, which was empty because that class had workshop or lab or something.
Anyway, we went because the teacher couldn't stand the smell of the perfume an unknown culprit spritzed all over our room. I think she should be thankful, because last time they sprayed coughing stuff and we all piled into the hall hacking for our lives.

Smunday

I was all happy and had that nice morning freshness feeling when I suddenly realized it's past 1:30 and I have homework that's due tomorrow.
I hate it when that happens.

My dog is better at martial arts than I am

Well, It's been 13 days since the year started, and not much has happened yet.
Oh, wait, something happened: my dog punched me in the face. I was next to her, and she paws the air sometimes when she sits in her chair, so she was there, pawing away, twenty centimeters away from my face and then- I have no idea how- she reached out really far and brought down her paw on my cheek. Some people might say it was a scratch and not a punch, but it was. It was a doggy-punch. And it hurt, but I don't think Maxie noticed, because she wasn't looking at me.
On another note, my mom bought me Froot Loops, yay! I haven't had any Froot Loops for ages, and I haven't had a proper bowl of them for years. I connect Froot Loops with my early(ish) childhood, when my mom would make porridge for my sisters and me. We would form a sort of porridge mountain in the middle of our bowls, and pur milk around it to form an island. Then we would bury yellow Froot Loops (I don't remember if it was a few or just one, I'll have to ask my sisters) to represent the treasure, and use green ones as palm trees. It was Treasure Island. I remember I used to love that. Hm... I think I might have been four, maybe three. I don't know, it was before we moved, and then I was four.
Happy days.