Most recent additions to my music library

Careless Whisper, Faith, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go- George Michael, George Michael, and Wham!, respectively

The Chain, Dreams, Gold Dust Woman, Rhiannon- Fleetwood Mac (I happened to pick this up before the GotG 2 soundtrack was announced. So obviously I was into it before it was cool.)

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart- Elton John & Kiki Dee

Bulletproof- La Roux

Message in a Bottle, Roxanne- The Police

 

It’s nice to have something other than video game soundtracks to listen to.

What I’ve been listening to

Footloose and Danger Zone- Kenny Loggins

White Wedding- Billy Idol

Cake By The Ocean- DNCE

Let’s See How Far We’ve Come- Matchbox Twenty

Takin’ Care of Business- Bachman-Turner Overdrive

Come on Eileen- Dexys Midnight Runners

Nocturne- Secret Garden

Mambo No. 5- Lou Bega

Tainted Love- Soft Cell

Rasputin- Boney M.

Looking Classy

Saturday night I, donned in my fanciest garb, had dinner in a Panda Express with four girls wearing prom dresses. That’s one of the perks of joining a dance team. Plus, you learn what to do when thrust onto a dance floor at weddings and such. Earlier in the evening I tangoed to the Pirates of The Caribbean theme, and even with the farcical music choice, I felt quite fabulous.

Some good books

I’ll start the list off with Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Forced to read it in high school as a freshman, I fell in love with it and couldn’t put it down. The language is slightly antiquated and ornate, but it’s certainly quite penetrable. Besides, Dickens was paid by the word. Seriously. That’s why he’s somewhat, ah, longwinded.

Anything by John Green. All his works alternate between hilarious and moving. The Fault in Our Stars in particular is fantastic.

I grew up on the Redwall series. They’re traditional fantasy, gloriously heroic, and very escapist. (By Brian Jacques)

I also grew up on Harry Potter, of course. I read each of the books many, many times. At one point my father actually took away all the Harry Potter books in my room because that was how I was spending my summer vacation, just reading them again and again.

Perks of Being A Wallflower is something I only read recently, but it described high school me perfectly, minus the residual emotional trauma. I didn’t have nearly that good of an excuse to not make friends.

Terry Pratchett is an amazing and hilarious author. It doesn’t matter where you start with his books. He created this world called Discworld, and each of the books is told from somebody else’s perspective. He’s one of those authors you don’t want to put down because the book is always building up for another joke, even better than the last.

Oh, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. I first read it in 7th grade, but I didn’t get all the humor then. I recently reread it and realized just how amazingly brilliant it is. If I could pick any of these books to be required reading in school, that’s the one I would pick. Half of the book is razor sharp humor of a quality I haven’t found elsewhere, and the other half is emotionally moving and discusses some pretty serious business. It’s… an experience.

London, III.

“Hello? Yes, uh, I’m a student from your tour group.”

I frown, thinking. Stupid body and its unquenchable thirst for water… I walk into a nearby shop. It’s one of the small ones against the outer wall of one of the circular rooms in the tube. Nobody’s inside but the clerk, and it still feels crowded. Sometimes I feel like an American.

“Sorry, but have you got change for a ten-pound note?”
“No.”

I frown and half-turn, the merchandise catching my eye.

“Do you have change if I buy something?”
“Yes.”

I glance at the rack and grab something edible. He gives me a handful of change and mutters something about being sorry. I don’t catch it because I’m striding out. I glance at the tube exits and pick the one that seems most familiar. I end up in Piccadilly Circus, which was quite familiar because I was fortunately there last night. I look around for the nearest bright red phone box. I would use a Tardis-colored booth but they don’t seem to exist in London- all the boxes are red. (This fact is the saddest thing my mom will learn from this trip.) Near a statue of three rearing horses with water eternally spitting out of their mouths I find two phone booths back to back.

I enter, read the instructions, and proceed to waste the next twenty minutes dialing and redialing. See, I copied down our guide’s phone number (unlike everyone else bar two) when she announced it to the group, but she gave us fourteen digits. In the US, phone numbers have at most ten. So (after figuring out how to operate the dang thing) I try the full number. No luck. I take the first number off. No luck. I take the next number, and then the next, until I get to six digits which can’t possibly hold all the numbers of just people in London. I eventually call the operator and ask what I’m doing wrong, I’m using a London phone box, I’m not from here, I’m a bloody stupid foreigner, god help me, or rather you, please, and she informs me that I need to put a zero before the fifth digit. Okay, fair enough. I figured it’d be something like that.

*dial, click*
“Hello? Yes, I’m a student from your tour group.”
“…”
“Yeah, when you stopped in the tube to get tickets for the play, I wandered off to find somewhere to fill my water bottle. I came back and you were gone. Yeah- and hey, that was really my fault. Sure, I’ll wait for you here. See ya.”

London, II

I should really type this up and post it before having a good night’s sleep. Otherwise, it might retain some sense of normalcy which doesn’t quite grasp my feelings throughout the day. Oh, it was a fine day, but all this happens after the nasty jetlag with three-ish hours of sleep, so I wasn’t feeling terribly normal today.

I forgot to mention it was sunny all day. I hear that’s quite unusual.

I’ve never been to Mardi Gras. My grandparents have, though. I’ve seen the pictures and I’ve heard the tales. I don’t think I’m old enough to go. In fact, I think they might have been too old to go. Regardless, I hear Mardi Gras involves copious amounts of alcohol, probably lots of drugs, and skimpily-dressed girls. If you subtract the- well, the drugs are probably still part of it. Come to think of it, there was no lack of girls wearing short skirts, revealing blouses, or tight dresses either. Really, both are festering drunken orgies of debauchery.

I am talking about St. Patrick’s Day, of course.

Well, maybe the ‘of course’ has no place whatsoever in that sentence, if you’re from East Tennessee like me and are nearly 18 like me. I had no idea St. Patrick’s was such an alcoholic holiday. I know the stereotypes about the Irish and their drink, but apparently that applies to all of London this holiday.

Their is some beautiful architecture here. It reminds me of D.C.

I was hoping to type up some more, but I’m much too tired for that.

London, I

These drivers are terrible. Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road here. It is cool how everyone has a British accent, though.

Okay, the intentional American insensitivity is out of the way. Let’s move onto any unintentional insensitivity. Note that this is lightly edited and was written with nasty jetlag on three-ish nonconsecutive hours of sleep during an abnormally long drive to the hotel on the Sunday before St. Patrick’s Day. What this means is that it’s probably safe to ignore any insanity herein. Also I was feeling mildly neurotic because our hours’ drive took three hours and I was hot, hungry, and dehydrated. But so far, it’s been great.
Note that this is not intended to be chronological, but merely a way to help me remember the drive and prevent insanity from nesting itself further .
_____________

The Americans’ tour continued. Our bus swerved through the tight streets of London- they certainly seemed tight compared to the fat United States interstate, anyway- showing ever more of the city. I couldn’t help but compare it to the other cities I’d been in. I’d walked the streets of Knoxville, Chattanooga, Baltimore, and D.C., so while no expert on the urban, I wasn’t a country hick. Our journey began (disregarding the airport) in what I would call suburbs. They reminded me of Columbia Heights in D.C.- a row of residential houses all physically connected with their own little garden and doorway in front, rarely with a driveway to be found. Instead, the streets were lined with cars shoved against the edge of the sidewalk. Few walked here, as there were hardly any shops, and what were tended to have shutters shut. The description of the shops may sound sketchy, and think of criminals, but it didn’t seem quite like that to my highly trained eye. It just didn’t seem like a good place to open a shop.

London is so much more friendly to bikers than anywhere I’ve been. D.C. had bike lanes, but they were quite new and the drivers seemed to have taken the lanes as a personal insult to their dominance of the roads. Nevertheless, it was against the law to hit bikers.* Knoxvillian drivers treat bikers like the person talking loudly on the bus- they glare at them and aren’t afraid of a passive-aggressive shoulder bump to show who’s boss.

Seriously, the swerving of this bus is terrifying. It’s not the swerving really; if we were swerving in an empty parking lot I wouldn’t give it a second thought other than to wonder about our presence and purpose there, but it’s the nearly hitting everything that worries me. Traffic lights, cars, pedestrians- it’s as if our bus driver thinks he’s driving the Knight bus and all obstacles will step aside with nary a thought. The lanes are definitely smaller here.

*It also ‘is’ against the law to hit bikers. With car or fist, although it’s interesting to compare the pros and cons: one is much easier to get away with and less likely to get charges pressed, but the other gives you a much speedier getaway, especially considering the first involves you on foot and an angry person on a bike.

“Oh God No” Frozen Parody

Written with the girlfriend in a Barnes & Noble cafe.

“Oh God No”
A parody of “Let It Go” from Frozen
Parody written by Madi Mansouri and Noah Caldwell

The homework glows white on my desktop tonight
Not a pencil mark to be seen
A kingdom of procrastination
And it looks like I’m the queen
The wind is howling like my internal voice tonight
Couldn’t do my work, heaven knows I’ve tried

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be productive like they want you to be
Conceal, don’t feel
Don’t let them know
(knocking) Oh God they know!

Oh God no, oh God no
They’re certain to find out now
Oh God no, oh God no
They’re sure to have a cow

Senioritis since freshman year
Let the crunch time start
Sleep is for the weak anyway

It’s funny how such little work can pile up so fast
The time for food and TV is long in the past
It’s time to see what I can do
To test my endurance and BS too
No right, all wrong, I’m suffering
Please help me…

Oh God no, oh God no
This due date is long past
Oh God no, oh God no
Since when did I have this class?!

Is this even my work or is it my friend’s?
Please let this be mine…

*instrumental*

My pencil hurls from my sore hand against the wall
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve sang “Fuck It All”
And one thought crystallizes like a surprise test…
My C’s not coming back, I can’t finish the rest!

Oh God no, oh God no
I can see the break of dawn
Oh God no, oh God no
I spent too long writing this song!

I don’t care what they’re going to say!
Watch my grades go down,
I’ve been accepted to college anyway.

Macbeth, Act I. Twitter Edition

My English teacher had us write what the characters of Macbeth might tweet. The requirements were one tweet every twenty lines and we had to do all of Act I.
By the way, my English teacher is awesome.

ACT I.

Scene 1.
Practicing the whole ‘tandem mysterious prophesying’ with my girls. – Witch 1

Scene 2.
Sucks to be @McDonwald- almost heir to a billion-dollar franchise, almost king. U mad bro? -Macbeth

Hey @macbeth, thanks for brutally slaughtering my enemies! You’re such a great guy! #atruescotsman -Duncan

Another one? Why is everybody rebelling against me, I’m a great king! @macbeth, if you kill this guy’s armies, you can have his title! #deathtotraitors -Duncan

Scene 3.
All I wanted was some *censored* chestnuts! Is that too much to ask for?!?! #selfishpig
- Witch 1

Hah, we’ll teach that *w*itch a lesson! By horribly abusing her husband! All it takes is a pilot’s thumb, a little chant, and… -Witch 1

Smooth, @banquo. If you can’t tell if it’s a lady or a man, you really shouldn’t comment on the beard. Rule of thumb. -Macbeth

@macbeth Eloquence matters little when I am lesser but greater and not as happy but much happier than you. :P -Banquo

@banquo @macbeth Excuse me, what is this? I expect a thorough explanation of this statistically improbable sentence. -Duncan

@duncan @banquo Nothing, my liege, merely a trifling comment of such petty importance so as to be utterly insignificant. -Macbeth

Direct message from @macbeth to @banquo: Have you thought any about those witches? Btdubs, Twitter autocorrect keeps correcting your name, so I’m gonna call you Banjo.

Haunting prophecies portend terrible things to happen. I need time to think about this… #vaguesubtweet -Banquo

Scene 4.
Note to self: do not place unquestioning trust in any man. Except for @macbeth (luv u!) -Duncan

In light of the wondrous victory by @macbeth today, I announce @malcolm as heir to the throne. Party at @macbeth’s! -Duncan

I am yet closer to my newfound ambitions… I need a good five minutes to think things though, lest I make a terrible mistake. -Macbeth

Scene 5.
@macbeth, I remind you that when you want something, to take it you must be willing to go through with the action. -Lady Macbeth

@ladymacbeth Hon, the king is coming for dinner tonight, dust off the fine china and kill Babe so we might have the finest meat. -Macbeth

@macbeth Of course darling, I’ll prepare a special brew. Remember that ambition and resolve go hand in hand.

Scene 6.
Hail King @duncan, the most benevolent king known to the great Scots! -Lady Macbeth

@duncan favorited @ladymacbeth: “Hail King @duncan, the most benevolent king known to the great Scots!”

Scene 7.
Truly, @duncan is the most noble king of Scotland; angels will weep at any misfortune upon him. -Macbeth

@macbeth http://goo.gl/IMkKbM -Duncan

@duncan I confess ignorance of this phenomenon, my liege. I’m not quite sure what you mean. -Macbeth

@duncan It’s called a meme, google it.

Ballad of the Victorious Conqueror

икона за подарък(This is my English final.) (EDIT: WordPress screwed up my formatting. It sucks now, sorry. Nothing I can do.)

T’was the end of the year

In the way measured by students

They wanted away from here

With all due prudence

It was a day that would never end

Lectures eternal

Thus one chose to send

For an escape that was maternal

He bid adieu

To his many friends

They took the cue

And glared, giving him the bends

The rest remained

Staring with their eyes shut

Til one feigned sickness

Heaving his gut

Another had fled

Filling his classmates with envy

But envisioning a warm bed

They contained the building frenzy

The day wore on

Wearing them thin

After what felt an eon

10 minutes, it had been!

“I cannot survive, I must go now!” a student proclaimed.

“You’re still alive, stay there cow!” a teacher exclaimed.

“I am sure to fall over dead!” he protested.

“Due to lack of brain cells in your head!” the teacher attested.

The sparring continued

the teacher always won

Both sides were rude

Until he announced, “We’re done!”

But then a student rose

And donned his cap

He had a largish nose

And looked like a sap

He challenged the teacher

To one more verbal duel

One final feature

To end school

The teacher laughed

Right in his face

“Are you daft?

“You can’t keep up with my pace!”

“I certainly can,

“And I certainly will!

“Now face me, man,

“And prepare to take ill!”

The battle was long

And often rough

Each was strong

And couldn’t get enough

Terminology and

Etymology and

Phonology and

Philology and

Bibliology and

Characterology and

Codicology and

Demology…

The students could not keep track

Of the flurry of terms

The teacher was called a quack

The student, a can of worms

As a climax was reached

Seething fury flowing

The teacher screeched

“IT’S TIME FOR YOU MAGGOTS TO GO HOME AND START MOWING!”

The bell had rung

As one, all stood

And they all sung

Praise to the hero

Who stood up to the tyrant!

Besting him in every manner,

Equaled by none,

Triumphant conqueror

Of all Englishland!

Over the break

The villain’s house was afflicted

With toilet paper and eggs

Horribly depicted!

And the monster himself

Considered a life of piety

Before saying “screw that!”


And returned to filling student’s lives with fear and anxiety!

T’was the end of the year
In the way measured by students
They wanted away from here
With all due prudence
It was a day that would never end
Lectures eternal
Thus one chose to send
For an escape that was maternal
He bid adieu
To his many friends
They took the cue
And glared, giving him the bends
The rest remained
Staring with their eyes shut
Til one feigned sickness
Heaving his gut
Another had fled
Filling his classmates with envy
But envisioning a warm bed
They contained the building frenzy
The day wore on
Wearing them thin
After what felt an eon
10 minutes, it had been!
“I cannot survive, I must go now!” a student proclaimed.
“You’re still alive, stay there cow!” a teacher exclaimed.
“I am sure to fall over dead!” he protested.
“Due to lack of brain cells in your head!” the teacher attested.
The sparring continued
the teacher always won
Both sides were rude
Until he announced, “We’re done!”
But then a student rose
And donned his cap
He had a largish nose
And looked like a sap
He challenged the teacher
To one more verbal duel
One final feature
To end school
The teacher laughed
Right in his face
“Are you daft?
“You can’t keep up with my pace!”
“I certainly can,
“And I certainly will!
“Now face me, man,
“And prepare to take ill!”
The battle was long
And often rough
Each was strong
And couldn’t get enough
Terminology and
Etymology and
Phonology and
Philology and
Bibliology and
Characterology and
Codicology and
Demology…
The students could not keep track
Of the flurry of terms
The teacher was called a quack
The student, a can of worms
As a climax was reached
Seething fury flowing
The teacher screeched
“IT’S TIME FOR YOU MAGGOTS TO GO HOME AND START MOWING!”
The bell had rung
As one, all stood
And they all sung
Praise to the hero
Who stood up to the tyrant!
Besting him in every manner,
Equaled by none,
Triumphant conqueror
Of all Englishland!
Over the break
The villain’s house was afflicted
With toilet paper and eggs
Horribly depicted!
And the monster himself
Considered a life of piety
Before saying “screw that!”
And returned to filling student’s lives with fear and anxiety!

подаръци