Time Travel

As I wrote my essay about Puritans for my APUS history exam (which was not a pleasant time for me. I am not a big fan of taking tests.) I just remember that I kept thinking, I really wish I had a time machine...

I'd buy myself a pilgrim-y looking dress make myself look awesome, and go back in time and bring my camera along with me and take a bunch of pictures of Puritan society. The making myself look awesome part of this fantasy of mine serves the purpose of looking like a societal elite. So that they might take me more seriously than if they thought I was some lower class impoverished scum. I'm actually not too sure if social classes were established in the very first Puritan colonies, which just goes to show on how much I don't know about US history.

Another thing I'd do is go back to the 60's and shake hands and take pictures with the Beatles. I'd go back to their low scale, pub playing days where their sound was a lot like popular American, Elvis inspired bands. Before they were signed. When Brian Epstein (the man with the perfect voice) was still their manager.

Then after having accomplished this, I'd go back to the days where Christianity and Islam had yet to exist and take a picture with Jesus. Then I'd probably try selling it on ebay.

After doing this, I'd take a picture with Julius Caesar. I actually don't know how plausible this is. Keep in mind, he was an emperor. He was royal from birth, so I feel like my execution may very well happen if I try to get near him. Should I tell him that his death was imminent and that his very companions were the ones who were going to cause this? Should I tell him to listen to the man who told him to beware the ides of March? Should I tell him that his last words would be "et tu Brute?" Nahhh, I'd just history take its course.

To do all this I feel like I'd also have to speak the language. And Latin, I've heard, is a quite challenging language to master. I figure taking along one of those English to (insert language here) books wouldn't do. They'd call my bluff.

I'd also try to talk to William Shakespeare. And see if my modern English could possibly be understood by his intellect.

Places I'd stay away from: The Spanish Inquisition. If they were already accusing people of fraternizing with the Devil, then I doubt my carrying around a mysterious boxy contraption that mysteriously flashed and then showed the photograph of the very person who'd stood in front of the flash would help my cause much.

Salem, Massachusetts circa 1692, same story, basically.

Classic.

I like old things.

Vintage clothing, retro trinkets, old fashioned styles.

That seems to be the direction in which current fashion is headed, and I can't say I'm complaining at all. I feel all that stuff is more classy and more high end than the current, simple, blue jean-tshirt wearing ways of society.

I personally wouldn't mind wearing a nice dress everyday. Or cute A-line skirts that does wonders for my body.

There's a certain charm that a classic car or an article of clothing from another era has. I don't know what does it, maybe it's the natural fading it seems to posses, but I find it really alluring.

I like old fashioned clothing, as well. I love lace and ruffles and feminine pinks and natural beiges, retro blacks, or crisp whites.

I would love to be able to travel back in time to be able to go shopping. Preferably the early 60's. Get my hair done at a salon, get my nails done, then get my make up done. Buy a camera and some film, and take old fashioned pictures. Make a film using a 60's video recorder. Buy a bunch of old records and a record player and transport them with me to the future.

Get my room some new, cute accessories. Perhaps a new bedspread, and a cute rug or two. Buy retro looking, space age furniture. Some silver platform boots.

Another era I wouldn't mind going back in time to would probably be the 40's or the 50's. I feel like those 20 years were just two decades of really well dressed people. 40's through the 60's were just a good time in American history, fashion-wise, anyways. Designers really should have just stopped progressing clothing since then, I feel that body shapes (up until the 60's anyway), were more realistic than they are nowadays. At least back in the 60's big boobs weren't a must. Women who were waif thin were also expected to have consistency throughout. How the hell are girls supposed to be size twos while still filling their tops up nicely?

Music was also awesome, we went from big band, to swing bands, to British bands.

What a time. Really. Can I just take a step back in a time machine? Best birthday gift ever: big, bad time machine, with room enough to bring back all sorts of goodies, big and small back to the future with me.

Anyway, as I said before, there's just something about that cute 50's era skirt and top with the ruffles and lace in that creamy, faded beige color that possesses some awesome charm.

"You can't laugh and be afraid at the same time."

Ah, political satire. Oh, Stephen Colbert.

I love you so much. The Colbert character as well as the actor behind the comedian. You both are genuine people who can easily get a point across in the most subtle of ways.

You're untouchable. When on the O'Reilly factor with Bill O'Reilly, the most he could play on you was the fact that you changed the pronunciation of your last name from a pronounced "T" to a silent "T". He repeatedly asks if you're French. As if that has anything to do with the fact that Bill O'Reilly is seriously getting owned at the moment. His studio and film crew are heard laughing in the background at some of the jokes that Colbert cracks. It's HILARIOUS.

How about that episode when Colbert recreated the moment when Bill O'Reilly lost his temper due to the fact that he didn't understand what "to play us out" meant? That episode, I about pissed my pants laughing.

And then you're on Youtube reading all the O'Reilly adoring comments posted about the video. It's a bit creepy, the level of adoration they have for this clearly insane political commentator, who seriously needs to get himself a round of anger management therapy.

But, hey, the topic of this blog post is not Bill O'Reilly, or his extreme conservativeness. I'm not going to get into any of that at all. The real topic of this blog post is the amazing irony that Stephen Colbert posses.

He makes people laugh, and whoever makes people laugh deserves some kind of a medal. A prize. At least a pat on the back. His extremely popular TV show does just that. Everyone adores this guy. I have yet to hear a practical, plausible critique of his show that isn't from some radical neoconservative.

I've watched interviews with Stephen Colbert where he's out of character and genuine about his show. The way he talks about his kids and his family, his values and beliefs really makes this guy seem genuine and knowledgeable. He collaborates with all his writers so that the words he says won't be some scripted thought that he's just reading out loud. They'll actually be some of his own words and thoughts.

Stephen Colbert, I love you. You make me laugh and I appreciate that.

Advanced.

Placement.

Exams.
Are eating away at my soul. These past weeks have been nothing but practice exams, urges to study from teachers, reminders on the announcements, people asking to get together in a group to study.

(Review, review, review. Study, study, study.)^3983958340543098 power.

And guess what? I'm already sick of it! I am ready for all this to be done! Fini! La fin!

It's May! The weather's warm. The sky's blue. Spring sports are coming to a close. Friends are making their way home from college. I just want nothing to stress about. I want stress and school to end.

School and stress...very rarely do you have one without the other.

It amazes me to see that people still write in their action planner this late in the year. It amazes me that people can still take their notebooks out and pay attention and take notes in class. I am amazed by the amount of effort put in by my peers. I've heard many a person talk about how they don't do anything anymore, how they're so disappointed with their work ethic. The very same people who do the above mentioned, and I chuckle, and pat them on the shoulder and explain gently that as long as they're turning in their homework, getting assignments done on time, and not falling asleep during class then they're far ahead of where I am.

I don't know how I'm going to pull my grades up this late in the term, and honestly, I'm pretty worried. My GPA has fallen to such great extremes I didn't even know I was capable of getting. School has always been my strong point, throughout my life. I was always pretty academically inclined. You know, Prime Time as an elementary school kid, PACT during middle and high school. Involved, participating, always going to class, won essay awards, raised my hand, was well behaved BLAH BLAH BLAH. But then I get to junior year and I'm like: Wow. Where has any ounce of self dignity I once had gone?

I could rant and rant about this particular subject, and I will because I can and because it'll make me feel better...for a short while, at the least.


I ran across this picture in my search, and thought, how could I not include this?

Les Cles Part 2

Things start getting weird.
The screen doesn't stay rectangular. It shifts and the its shape's completely different.
Things pop out. Characters are coming at me. I feel like I could reach out and touch them.
And I do.
We both do, my friend and I. Our hands are outstretched. Our fingers are slightly bent and ready to curl around anything tangible. Of course, the protruding images were just a result of the 3D show. As soon as they retracted back into the screen, my friend and I looked at each other and laughed.
And boy did we laugh.

Guffawed. Hooted. GIggled. Gaggled. Cried. Our chuckles filled our eyes with tears. We were hysterical.
We were two teenage girls, having an awesome night out, watching this already amusing movie, and we'd just done the most ridiculous thing you could possibly do at a 3D showing. Try to grab the 3D images.

We were so embarrassed!

The movie dragged on. Time passed so slowly. The concept of time really didn't even make sense to us at that moment. Time? We started theorizing hardcore on what time was. Talking about spatial time and the fourth dimension and time travel and a whole bunch of other time related concepts and ideas. Time couldn't be real, could it? This movie was 5 hours long. We weren't just 2 hours into it.
Our clocks must have been wrong.

My friend had a miniature bag of dill pickle cashews and Cadbury chocolate eggs. At the moment, food was not appealing to me at all. I hadn't eaten a lot that night or anything, but I held no interest in the favorite foods of mine she had resting on her lap. Strangely enough, she thought the same thing.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Finally, the movie ended. We were so happy to have seen it and the mood it left us in was wonderful. To this day I still have "flashbacks" to the movie. I remember the beautiful colors and the odd shapes, and its deeply profound meaning. I feel like I'm there, sometimes, back to that particular moment.

Wonderful.

Les Clés Part 1

You know those "usual night ins" that you have with a certain designated friend of yours if there doesn't happen to be any parties or events going on. We'll come to my house, rent a movie or Netflix it up, and pig out until 1 AM, when she has to leave. Oh, sometimes instead of just going to WalMart or Target for our snackies, we'll get some greasiness in our system via McD's.

One night, a night that she was planning to sleep over, we decided to switch things up a bit. We weren't going to have the same old girl's night in. They were fun, and silly, and we'd always talk about the goofiest things, and they were relaxing, but hey. We were going to take a walk outside our comfort zone.

My good friend and I decided to go to one of those 3D movies. Yes, they were ridiculously expensive and between the both of us, the same $5 dollar night ended up costing us $40, but we decided it was worth it. The reviews we'd heard gave us mixed feelings. Some said this movie was the most amazing experience anybody could ever have, and others told us that the movie was overwhelming and mind boggling and just plain old too much, and sometimes would even make them throw up. We were a bit worried about this, but we figured we'd be just fine.

We bought our tickets well in advance, and just decided to wait around the theatre until our showing started. We waited and waited and waited. We got so tired of waiting that we almost became fed up with the whole thing and were going to leave. But finally, slowly, the doors opened and we were ushered inside. The movie began, fast it seemed, and we were hit with a melange of colors and noises and such strange sights! I'd never been to a 3D show before, and boy was it weird.

No shape held its form, it seemed. Everything was constantly moving and flowing and seemed to be made out of some sort of liquid. The dresser in the main character's room appeared to be bending and flowing as if it were a belly dancer. I shared this little absurd thought of mine with my friend and we burst out laughing. And boy did we laugh. The whole theater was laughing.

The energy inside that theater was great. The audience was into it, and we chose great seats. We were almost smack in the middle and the sounds were coming at us at an almost perfect pitch it seemed.

We were happy, everything was perfect, and life just couldn't get any better.

But then I noticed something...the people in front of us were eying us pretty rudely. I gave them a look, and then they burst out laughing. I figured it out...they thought my friend and I were lesbian! How judgmental of them! Were they dumb? Couldn't they see that we were just great friends who were having a girls' night out? It just got me so mad. Why does everybody have to judge and make assumptions when they have no idea what's going on? I told all this to my friend but she just shrugged her shoulders and "oh well'd" it. I was still fuming, but the nice feelings that this movie put in me helped to curb my unhappiness.

Ode to premature Senioritis

The weather’s warmer, Prom’s over, tennis has started and is coming to an end, AP exams are in a mere matter of days, the word “final” has been tossed around by many a teacher. AKA: the school year is winding down. Summer’s so near I oftentimes feel like I can feel that summer vibe. You know the vibe I’m talking about; the lazy, green calm of outside, broken only by the sound of an occasional lawn mower, flip flops, sweat, sunglasses, bed at 2 rise at noon, smell of sun tan lotion, and constant, never ending relaxation and fun.

Knowing that these will all be characteristics of my daily life in a couple of weeks makes it hard to bring myself to sit down and buckle down. I’ll peek out my window and the grass will look so lush and welcoming. My phone’s on my desk and I’ll text up my tennis partner and suggest a quick match of tennis. Homework? Pshhh, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m sitting in my photography class, and we’re having an interesting conversation on the making of heroin, and whatever photography assignment I’ve got on my mind nags slightly: I’ll get it done sometime soon, no big deal. Paying attention in class, but it’s just too dull. I’d rather think about my plans for the weekend, and text everyone to make sure the bonfire’s still going down. Who gives a hoot about what electrons do and why they do it. I need to find out if I’m in charge of bringing hot dogs. I’ll just call up (insert name here) and get the notes later. No big deal.

Except tomorrow comes and my homework’s still not done. Project due dates slip by and yet my assignment grade remains a zero. Later comes, my phone’s in my hand, and I choose to get on Netflix instead.

I am on a one way track to failing my junior year. This is so unlike me. The girl who scores in the top percentile or two on standardized tests, the girl who was the head of countless committees in middle school, the girl who passed freshman year and most of sophomore year with a 4.276 GPA, the girl who was a hard worker, who could buckle down and GET STUFF DONE.

Well, good-bye, studious alter ego of mine, and make room for the new procrastinating, disorganized, mess of a pupil.