Bittersweet Farewell

As the days in our high school and AP English career wane, I am in utter disbelief as to where the time has gone.  I fully realize that our last day of school is this Friday and I know how soon we will go off to college and start real life, it seems to be anything anyone will talk about nowadays.  Yet, I am still in complete shock.  I feel like an underclassman, blundering about without any grasp on reality that I’m even in high school.  And now it’s time to go.  I’m not old enough for this.  Somewhere in between the journals and multiple choice games and complaining about datasheets and soapstones and graded discussions and blogs of course, we grew up.  Definitely in intelligence.  Inevitably in age. Debatably in maturity.  Now, despite learning for two years how to best express my thoughts and emotions into cohesive prose, I will turn to various song lyrics as a means of attempting to relay this fleeting, bittersweet, incredulous, feeling to you all.  Without further ado, I leave you with a short play list of song lyrics:

“Say goodbye to the freak show
Say hello to the footlight's glow
Your success can only grow
Say goodbye to the freak show
…
Farewell don’t forget us
Do tell how you met us
Don’t dwell on sorrow as you go
You will farewell” (“Say Goodbye to the Freak Show” Side Show)

“How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad
I thought we’d get to see forever
But forever’s gone away
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday” (“It’s so Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” Boyz II Men)

“Something is stirring
shifting ground
It's just begun.
Edges are blurring
all around
and yesterday is done
Feel the flow
hear what's happening
We're what's happening
Don't ya know
We're the movers and
We're the shapers
We're the names in tomorrow's papers
Up to us, man, to show 'em.” (“Our Time” Steven Sondheim)

“I've paid my dues -
Time after time -
I've done my sentence
But committed no crime -
And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of sand kicked in my face -
But I've come through
We are the champions - my friends!” (“We are the Champions” Queen)

Why AP English?

1.  Are you a GPA-monger? A’s in AP classes count for a 5 on the 4 point scale, but you already knew that didn’t you? If you get an A, first I applaud your dedication and effort, way to go! Also you’ve just boosted your GPA, well done.  Even if you get a B, still a lot of hard work, more applause, you will still find a grade booster in the effort.
2.  The quote sheets.  Essentially a list of inside jokes that you’re a part of! Hooray for friends! Plus, you can revel in the thought of people laughing about how funny you are by something you said, or at least could have said.
3.  Your AP English class can become like a family.  You’ve been through some good times, and oh, how you’ve been through some tough times, but it was all together.  It’s so nice to have a group of people on the same page as you (oh, the English puns!).  You’ll also find some fantastic friendships with people you wouldn’t necessarily befriend without this class.
4.  Stickers.  There is no greater accomplishment (total hyperbole guys, don’t worry, it’s not only downhill from here on out) than finding a shiny sticker atop your paper.  You probably worked very hard for it, and you earned it, these bad boys are few and far between.  Simply knowing that you are among the elite few to receive such an award should make you happy.
5.  You’ll end up feeling like a really smart person, because you are, of course.  This class stretched my brain further than most, from the sometimes deep in-class discussions to out of class papers.
6.  The multiple choice game. At the end of the quarter, after working your butt off to maintain your thin-ice grade, lies two days of stress free pure competition.  You can make up cool team names and cheers and cheer as you rack up extra credit points. 
7.  Understanding poetry is such a good skill in life.  Not that people go around forcing poems upon others at gunpoint making them analyze them or die an early death, but I’ve heard stories.  Seriously though, it’s nice not being a dense, soulless human being when it comes to poems.
8.  Field trips!  You may get a chance to go downtown to see Othello or another play you’ve read.  As a bonus to the fun, you could be the lucky winner of a seat on the bus with Ms. Serensky.
9.  For the day that it’s over.  These two years of painful strife, as much as I would go back and do it again in a heartbeat and as much as I’ve grown as a person, have been well worth it, but it’s nice to know there is no datasheet in my immediate future.  I cannot explain the pure elation I’ve felt today.
10.  Bobbie Jo Serensky.  You may fear her most, if not all, the time.  But a) she’s 100% for your success, she’ll help you out; and b) she’s one of the funniest people I know, she will laugh at you, but you’ll probably deserve it, and it will be hilarious.

Flies on the Wall of the AP English 12 Exam

[Lady Bracknell, Ralph, and R.P. McMurphy peer through the Rec Center window to watch the AP English 12 students writhe in anxiety as they take their AP exam]

Lady Bracknell: “It’s delightful to watch them” (Wilde 9).

Ralph: [with disgust] “It’s written all over you” (Currie 245). 

[The three zero in on one particular student, a Miss Mary Beth O’Neil, who seems to be working slower than her classmates]

Lady Bracknell: “I wish [she] would arrive at some conclusion” (Wilde 52). 

Ralph: “Quit worrying!” (Currie 246). 

R.P. McMurphy: “Why, don’t you know, buddy?” (Kesey 60). 

Ralph: [glances at the multiple choice question] “I’m not really sure I understand it myself” (Currie 249). 

Lady Bracknell: “Come dear. We have already missed five if not six” (Wilde 50). 

[She finally selects an answer and they let her go on without much heckling and turn to the rest of the room.  Next comes free response and they again find someone who seems to struggle with the time, comparatively]

Lady Bracknell: “It is obviously the same person” (Wilde 50). 

R.P. McMurphy: “Well you didn’t make her feel like any queen” (Kesey 185). 

Lady Bracknell: “most attractive young lady, now that I look at her” (Wilde 47). 

R.P. McMurphy: [looks at the stop time rapidly approaching on the large clock] “Not very long…” (Kesey 278).

Ralph: “I don’t really keep track of time out here” (Currie 253). 

Lady Bracknell: [sees Mary Beth dividing her time into sharp eight-minute segments] “It looks so calculating…” (Wilde 49). 

Ralph: “it feels like [she] wants to do everything all at once” (Currie 245). 

[At the anticlimactic end to the long exam, and thus the end to the students’ AP English career, the three observers disappointedly walk away from the Rec]

Lady Bracknell: “Education produces no effect whatsoever” (13).

R.P. McMurphy: “For a minute there, I thought I was back in a Red Chinese prison camp” (Kesey 66). 

Ralph: “It doesn’t take long in this place before you start looking like you’ve been here forever” (Currie 245).  

Importance of Importance

I loved Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. Due to the high level of dishonesty and other nonsense of the play, I would sooner call it The Impotence of Any Attempt at Being Earnest, but I digress.   I loved it, first off, for the way in which we studied this book, in a stress-free environment of 50 minutes of pure entertainment.  What more could I have asked for, than to do a daily dramatic, but entirely hilarious, read-through? From the first time I laid eyes on Wilde’s work, “I knew I was destined to love [it]” (Wilde 10).  Not only that, but our Dover publication saved a total of 34 trees! This play offered the best English experience for a solid week, and all the while I felt as if I decreased my carbon footprint in some convoluted way.  I also especially enjoyed The Importance of Being Earnest because of the witty humor, with such odd characters and such perfect one-liners.  Lady Bracknell served as a particularly great source of that ridiculous humor, especially when she demands that Jack “produce … one parent, of either sex, before the season is quite over” (Wilde 15).  The whole play left me in stitches, with such enjoyment and laughter only rivaled by a day earlier this year when Team Toast and I inhabited a particularly slap-happy mood and Ms. Serensky asked, “Do I have to check your bags for alcohol?” (Serensky). Turning to a serious note, albeit hard to do in such a whimsical, fun play, this play also offered good quotes on life itself.  Few and far between, Algernon asserts “the truth is rarely pure and never simple” (Wilde 6).  How true, Algernon, thank you for the words of wisdom.  I liked that this play, while being fun and hilarious, still had a legitimate point to offer, there still existed truth in its pages. 


p.s. http://www.playbill.com/multimedia/video/4582.html
All of you should watch this video.  Please excuse what explicit content it contains. The actors who played Algernon and Jack in Broadway's recent cast of The Importance of Being Earnest dress in their costumes and don their witty, over-the-top personalities, as they read through transcripts from Jersey Shore.  Whether or not you like the show, you're sure to be entertained by the odd combination of high-class Victorian Era aristocrats and the wild lifestyle of those on MTV's Jersey Shore.

Top Ten Most Thrilling Academic Moments at CFHS

1.      1. Getting accepted into Northwestern: Perhaps more than the elation of receiving admission to such a fantastic school, I was greeted that day by an enthusiastic cafeteria of applause.  I mostly grant this to the general merriment of the last day before spring break and the fun of clapping, but still, “what a fight. What a victory” (Kesey 275)

2.      2. Doing the entire Othello datasheet in 13 consecutive hours: Sorry Ms. Serensky, the truth had to come out. I did not know how epic the task before me would be, so I spent the day in the library lazily looking for quotes, but altogether not getting anything accomplished.  The thrilling part came with a sigh after printing the beast and was reiterated when I got an A on it, with a shiny monkey sticker atop.  One might think, “this was so stupid. I don’t do s*** like this,” but sadly, I do-quite often (Currie 205).

3.      3. Completing all the essays on the AP English 11 Test: I remain notorious, much to my chagrin, for struggling to finish timed essays.  So when I took the AP Test and somehow found enough time to complete all three essays, I was baffled and overjoyed.  I was much more satisfied when I walked into the commons and found Ms. Serensky, who asked but one simple question—had I finished? She gave me a look like “the happiness of more than one life depends on your answer” (Wilde 52).  Fortunately for everyone, I could answer with a smiling yes.

4.      4. Earning a Cup of Knowledge in AP Chemistry: I got not one, but two shiny beakers for earning the highest grade on a chapter test.  I won’t mention the multitude that a Mr. Alex Kreger has won.  I try to ignore him and think of my small victories, even if they were on the classic PV=nRT tests. In fact, I like to think that “the other kids think [I’m] a Jedi or something” (Currie 59).

5.      5. Induction into the Cum Laude Society: There’s nothing quite like recognition when people notice, “there’s a sensible, intellectual girl!” (Wilde 18). More than the administration recognizing the hard work associated with high GPA, I most enjoyed the photo of the fall inductees.  This photo was serendipitously taken on Superhero Day in Homecoming Week, so Kyle had his ten-year-old power ranger costume on.

6.      6. Beating Sam “35” Schiferl in AP Comp. Sci.: Sam and I sat next to each other for most of second semester of AP Computer Science.  As per usual, he made a competition out of most everything, from who could log on to their computer fastest (when I got to class first, I would inevitably be disqualified) to the progress book grades once we logged on.  So you can imagine my excitement when we received a Friday AP problem back and I earned a higher score, making any of his intelligence, for the day at least, defunct. “He’s never written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows” (Wilde 34).

7.      7. Appearances on Bobbie’s Blog Banter: I do believe I was the first blog to be bantered, back when I made an awkward comment about marrying Andrew Weaver to get a W last name.  I didn’t know how to react in those early stages, but now I accept the credit gracefully, all the while beaming with joy on the inside. There are few things that offer the same surprise and pride than a Serensky nod in the form of a slot of BBB.  Apparently, I love the recognition in front of my peers, “I am very fond of being looked at” (Wilde 35)

Academic success!
Look at him fist pump that diploma!

8.      8. Getting Accepted into Villanova: It was a lovely December afternoon when I received a text from Jillian telling me to check my ‘Nova account.  She effectively took out any surprise in finding a letter or email, so good or bad, “I could see it coming” (Kesey 172). 

9.      9. Winning the Best Essay For Those in AP English 11 Who Wrote About Uncle Pa Keating Award: Judging by the sheer length of the title, it was quite a narrow pool to win from.  But still, the competition was fierce and “I worked at it” (Kesey 288).  I would not be embarrassed to say that the “very special person” ribbon is currently hanging on my wall; in fact, I may bring it to college for bragging rights.

10.  10. Art in the Tiger Times: “This last is both a relief and a worry” (Currie 177).  My painting of my brother and grandpa appeared on the back cover of the Tiger Times completely to my surprise.  I think the newspaper staff must have snuck into the art room to steal it.  But I was excited, even thrilled, and happy to get featured in such a way.  And now, the piece, albeit a dark photocopy, hangs on the AP English 12 board.

Laundering Through Poetry

Without a doubt, my favorite poem of the year goes by the name “Sorting Laundry,” by the wonderfully acclaimed poet, Elisavietta Ritchie.  To begin, with a name like Elisavietta, a poem has to impress.  True, it’s no Ernest, but still, “it is a divine name. It has a music of own” (11).  The title and action of the poem reminds me of my favorite domestic activity: sorting laundry, of course! This is a lie, actually.  As much as I love the organization of going through dirty clothes and sorting them by color, I get stressed out deciding whether or not the in-betweens like light, light blues belong in the colors or whites.  I would offer to do all of your laundry, since I am oh so good at the task, but “I don’t like your clothes” so I certainly would not like to sort through them (30).  In fact, “your dress is sadly simple” (47).  But that is neither here nor there.  Back to the beautiful poetry of Elisavietta Ritchie.  Despite the long overall length of the poem, at a whopping 51 lines, each singular line had well under ten words each.  A big thanks for that Ms. Ritchie, you made my reading experience an enjoyable one! My favorite moment, by far, happened in the fourteenth stanza (have fun counting)  when the poem shifts from nostalgic laundering to intense desperation with the line “former lover…”.  The ellipsis certainly helps display that change, but my first time reading through it, I chuckled from the surprise.  I thank Elisavietta Ritchie for the entertaining and enthralling poem, and for teaching me “the Vital Importance of” forgiving and forgetting lover’s issues and never holding on to jealousy (54).

Confrontation

Dallas Green: “Good to meet you. Good to meet you” (76). I’m Dallas Green.

Dale Harding: Oh I know very well who you are. I only wish I could say the same to you.

Green: What?! We’ve only just met! How have I upset you?

Harding: Oh, I think you know why.

Green: Is this about Vera?

Harding: And the truth comes out! I knew this day would come. It’s so typical of her. But to choose someone with such a “crusty surface” (66)? Seriously Vera? Why not me? I’ve got to be more handsome than this guy… right? … [trails off, bordering an anxiety attack]

Green: “enjoying the view son?” (76).  I don’t need this mockery.  You think it was just a fling “just to piss in your soup?” (79). I really love her.

Harding: I’ve heard enough.  I think it’s time that you should go.

Green: “I do what I want” (79).

Harding: So I’ve heard.

Green: “You think you can come here and intimidate me?” (79).  Not on my watch, sir.  If you want to fight, let’s fight.  I’m gonna get real weird with it.  Let’s take this outside.

Harding: We’re not going anywhere.  In fact, “you won’t be going any place for a while” (75).  Except, perhaps, to the Ward for a lovely lobotomy.  I’ve got friends in high places, Green.

Our Own Disturbed Ward

Ah, multiple choice game day.  Everyone around me feels hyped up and they’re smiling as they enter the AP English 12 room, what an odd sight to see.  I, for one, do not share their merriment for these days.  I don’t much enjoy forced conflict, I would much rather go about my business quietly, silently even.  People call me Chief Bromden, but in this room, I am by no means the chief; I will most likely end up on the losing team.  Assuredly, I don’t even hold a candle to the self-named Dream Team.  Looking over in disgust, I see their team, team 6, announced.  Instead of whooping or doing a fun choreographed cheer, or even sitting awkwardly, as my team, Team 7, will undoubtedly choose, the Dream Team vainly holds a simple number one in the air.  How I loathe them: “they are in contact on a high voltage wave length of hate” (31). No need to cheer or say anything when their team is called; a smug index finger pointed high is all they need to communicate what place they will receive. 

            “’A toast to toast!’” Kelly shouts for the room to hear.  Wow, what a clever team name. I like the simple and strong alliteration from Team Toast.  Not only that, but they can do so much with that word! They can make a toast to toast as Kelly just exclaimed; they can propel toast into the air by pantomiming a toaster; they can even tell other teams that they will be toast.  How versatile—I wish I was on Team Toast with those great girls over there.  I think if they don’t win, this might go down as my worst day in AP English 12. 

            The game begins.  Ms. Serensky announces that number one will go to … all groups.  I feel a rush of joy as my team wins a tally on the board.  But I remind myself, “it’s a minor battle in a big war” with that and each point (113).  The game progresses and I see that I am losing this war.  My hope wanes and I see the fog rolling in.  I wish I could shut myself out from this cruel world, from the sad embarrassment of getting dead last in the multiple choice competition.  Just above me in the ranks, but still obtaining zero extra credit points, is the mighty Team Toast.  The points were so close, so palpable, there for the taking.  However, the wretched Dream Team’s satisfied first place faces only serve to amplify how the extra credit points do not exist for me.  “But if they don’t exist,” I think, “how can a man see them?” (90). Perhaps I do belong back at the mental ward.  I certainly won’t survive here, not with my deaf mute discussion grade.

Letter From a Chagrin Falls Jail

Dear Junior,

            If there is one thing AP English 11 taught me, it’s that there is so much pain and sadness in this world.  And struggling.  And depression. And stress. Particularly in our world in Ms. Serensky’s class. From all the late nights reading, doing SOAPSTones, and worrying over in-class essays; I want what you so effortlessly have. You say, “I’d like one of those for myself. A life”, but face it Junior, at my age, you had a steady girlfriend, you were extremely intelligent—despite your rough family life, you had a lot going for you (186). And now you’re throwing that life quite away with your drugs and alcohol.  Try to see the positives in your life before it deteriorates further.  Things can change for the better if you let them.  For example, in my very first in-class writing assignment of AP English 11, I believe I wrote a total of three sentences.  I felt “paralyzed by the fear that I [would] screw it up,” so I spent minutes frozen in fear trying to perfect each sentence (99).  I received a rubric score of 2 on that essay and now I look back in amusement at how far I’ve come.  When you start at 2, there is nowhere to go but up.  Likewise, you can turn your life around.  Even with Amy gone and the apocalypse in the near future, there can shine a light at the end of the tunnel for you.  There is hope yet, Junior. You worried me when you cried that “any effort to escape was futile. That’s what the past year has felt like” (98).  Sure, Junior, we all feel that way.  In fact, regarding my past year in AP English 11, I may have said those exact words.  Often times I feel that there is no escaping the AP English classroom.  However, I dare say Harriet Jacobs felt just as trapped as you, and she endured for seven years!  At least you don’t live in a closet, you’ll always have that.

Sincerely,

Mary Beth

March 14

Countdown: T-minus four days. Until the beginning of OGT Week and thus five glorious days to sleep in? No… Until the next reading assignment for English? No. Until the first real day of daylight savings time? Much anticipated, I agree, but still no. Give up? This coming Monday is 3/14—Pi Day, of course!

As some of you may know, I work at Math Monkey, and this year we will have our first annual pi contest.   It will consist of taking videos of the students that enter reciting digits of pi and finally we will announce a winner on Pi Day!  If my memory serves me correctly, I recall we did a similar memorization of pi in sixth grade. I thought I was hot stuff for having about thirty digits memorized, but Emily won with two-hundred some digits. Congratulations, by the way Emily! Don’t worry; I’m not at all bitter.  Seriously though, you are a champion.  However your weak triple digit memorization pales in comparison to the tens of thousands on the pi world ranking list. Oh yes, you read correctly, there is a world ranking of memorized pi digits.  People do spend their time memorizing a slew of numbers whose order is without any rhyme or reason, and whose length is undetermined because higher technology computers only add digits as time goes on.  In spending their time memorizing, then reciting this endless list of numbers, these people take up the unachievable task.  They dream the impossible dream.  I say power to them if it makes them happy.  Students at the Maine School of Science and Mathematics seemed to enjoy themselves on Pi Day, 2003: http://www.memoryelixir.com/archive4.html#pi.

So this coming Monday, March 14, please remember Pi Day and pay homage to this great holiday! Even if it is just an approximation-of-pi day, technically.  Fun isn’t built on technicalities.

Don't Panic

This blog entry is what I would much rather write for the paragraph due tomorrow, instead of some focused mumbo-jumbo.  The prompt asks “how would you live if you knew, for sure, that everything will be destroyed when you are 36 years old?” I imagine apocalyptic conditions as the cause of everything getting destroyed in eighteen short years.  Therefore, I immediately thought of Douglas Adams’ novel, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, in which aliens demolish the Earth in order to make way for an intergalactic expressway.  For those of you who have not read this amazing book, or even those who think it’s unfathomable to read anything but a book for school during the academic year, I highly recommend giving this one a try.  Not only is it a relatively simple read, but Adams is hilarious—I find myself literally (and I mean literally) laughing out loud every few pages.  Anyway, in his novel, I find it interesting to look at how the people of Earth reacted to the sense of impending doom they faced upon hearing the world would explode in a matter of minutes, on that fateful Thursday.  Some people at a bar chose to put paper bags on their heads and lie down in one last futile attempt of protection. Mostly though, people screamed mindlessly and ran to nowhere in particular.  I, however, if placed in the situation of the end of the world, would like to live as the main character, Arthur Dent, did.  His best friend, Ford Prefect, is actually an extraterrestrial and had masqueraded as a human for a number of years, portraying himself as an out of work actor.  Ford saves Arthur from Earth’s demise and they go on to have fun adventures in space.  How great! So what would I do if I knew the world would end when I turn 36? I would hope one of my friends unveiled themselves as an alien and saved me.  As you may be able to tell, I have had this plan in effect for a few years now, that’s why I do theater…to meet actors who may one day save me from the end of the world.

Too Close for Comfort

In the past two weekends, I visited some of my potential colleges on their accepted students’ weekends.  You know when all of a sudden something flips in your mind and your sense of reality turns on its side? Sometime two weeks ago, that happened to me: I had a complete shift in perspective.  I imagine this is how Isaac Newton felt when the fabled apple fell on his head.  All of a sudden that whole college thing became very real to me.  Too real.  I guess for the past year and a half, I have gone through the motions of countless campus tours and info sessions, whittling down a list, and even applying to schools, without thinking I would actually go there.  Just think, in six short months, we will have a new set of friends, classes, even a new home.  We’ll be in college, ladies and gentlemen. College.  The “apple on my head,” if I continue this half-metaphor, was probably the sight of other prospective freshmen who might end up as my friends, my roommates, who knows, maybe boyfriends.  The thought blew my mind and I could not stop remarking on it all weekend.  My mom and sister may have made fun of me a bit. But I couldn’t get over it.  In fact, just last weekend, I visited my sister at Villanova (with my good friend Jillian!) and met her friends at a singers/voices gathering.  The next day I realized that if I went to said university, these would likely be my friends.  I became scared and excited and anxious and freaked out all at once.  Like I said: too real.  So, as I try and wrap my mind around the perplexing fact of the future charging toward me, I offer you all a bit of advice that I have heard from a man named Josh Maas, don’t wish away your life.  College, in all its frightening glory, will come before you know it.  And it’s very real.

Obsessive Compulsive Datasheets

Papers aren't as conducive to OCD :(

Apple Addiction: The New AA

Hello, my name is Mary Beth and I am an iPad addict.  Actually that is false, but my sister, Katie, assuredly is, and since she cannot admit it I will for her.  Currently, I’m in Boston visiting with her before I head out to a college visit in Providence, she has talked about her iPad and its magnificent wonders for about 70% of the time.  As such, I have learned quite a bit about this Apple invention in the recent past and so I shall share our favorite iPad apps.  Sorry if this reads like an advertisement for Apple, but feel free to go out and buy these apps after reading, they will not disappoint!

·      Words with Friends: Available for the iPhone and iPad, this virtual scrabble game helps ensure that you do not say any words to the friends around you, rather play others in scrabble 24/7. Lovely. 

·      New York Times Crossword: A favorite of mine, the clues are stimulating and the iPad allows you to check your answers midway through finishing, a fantastic loophole. Also, there’s an almost endless supply of years of crossword puzzles, so you can feel free to simply finish Monday after Monday and feel so great about yourself!

·      Star Walk: Wow, I just learned about it and it blew my mind! You simply point the iPad up in the air and it shows you the stars directly above you.  Stargazing without even leaving the comfort of the warm indoors.  This app names and points out the constellations, stars, planets, basically a handheld astronomer, telescope included

·      Cut the Rope: Such a fantastic game! A piece of candy hangs by a rope tantalizing the green alien, Omnom.  As levels rise, new pieces are added, so the player has to use a knowledge of physics and logic to deliver the nom noms to Omnom, whilst collecting all three stars to achieve a high score.

·      Proloquo 2 Go: As a speech pathologist, my sister uses the iPad as an augmentative communication device. This app allows nonspeaking people, such as children with autism or cerebral palsy, or seniors with aphasia, to form sentences that the iPad reads aloud.  The iPad revolutionized the field because augmentative communication devices cost $8000 but iPads cost only $500

·      Angry Birds: Like Cut the Rope, this seemingly childish game is chock full of physics… and fun! Players try to knock over a structure that protects some green pigs, by sling-shotting various birds at it.  Wow. Non-stop hilarity

·      The Cloudy Shake: For the little kid inside you, users of this app choose food products from ice cream to hot dogs to broccoli, to blend into a milkshake.  They then shake the iPad to blend the virtual milkshake and a “gross-o-meter” measures the degree of deliciousness of your concoction.  At the end, you can even “drink” your milkshake by tipping the iPad toward your mouth, or over a chair, it's not like it's real.

     Now go forth and spread the good news of these splendid apps to your friends and neighbors! They will love you for it. Or get angry and jealous if they don't have said iPad.

This Post Will Blow You Away... Literally

Mostly, I just found this comic hilarious so I wanted to share it with all of you! But I do know a lot of controversy has arisen on the use of the word “literally,” so I thought I’d tackle that as well in this post.  I know the one and only Mr. Maas has recently gone on one of his fantastic rants on the ill-uses of the word.  I personally believe people can casually throw the word into conversations and it shouldn’t be a huge deal, or at least as big a deal as some people like to make it.  And don’t lie to yourself, as a crazy AP English student, you probably fit into the mold of the insane bearded man in the comic above more than any of the average stick figures.  Sometimes, I feel that way as well: angry at the ignorance of some “literally” fans.  But after much deliberation and thought, I decided we should just view the use of “literally” as simply a tool to add color and excitement to an otherwise boring story.  Hyperbole at its finest.  It makes things more fun, especially if you, as I frequently do, adopt some Allie Brosh/Hyperbole and a Half-esque techniques to deal.  Imagine things literally happening exactly as the storyteller describes them—that’s what the “literally” perpetrator intended, right? To so exaggerate his/her point to the point of ridiculousness in order to get the point across.  I like the word “literally,” haters can hate, but I think it would do us all some good to take everything less seriously and accept its modern though incorrect usage.

For all those who disagree, find solace and enjoyment in The Oatmeal, I particularly enjoyed this one also: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/literally

A Prologue to the Upcoming Poetry Paper

“Two friends who met here and embraced are gone/ Each to his own mistake”

--W.H. Auden “The Crossroads”

            After reading this epigraph of Ian McEwan’s Amsterdam, I immediately thought of Les Miserables and a song in it called “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” For those of you who don’t know, Les Miserables is a quite long epic musical, based on an even longer book by Victor Hugo, set in France during the revolution.  In retrospect, the show probably came to the forefront of my subconscious during our discussion of Amsterdam’s redlight district, Les Miserables, too, features a prostitute as one of the leads, Fantine.  Aside from that weak connection, and the fact that both have settings in Europe, the two seem to have very little in common.  Except that quote.  I related it to one point in the show when Marius mourns the loss of his fellow revolutionaries after their failure of an uprising.  He sings, “Empty chairs at empty tables/ where my friends will meet no more.” While I think the “two friends” McEwan refers to in his epigraph will eventually represent the same “two lovers” that begin his novel: Clive and Vernon, I believe a lot of the same emotions relay between Marius’ thoughts in his song and Clive and Vernon’s many feelings.  They all seem to reflect back on the past with regret and pain.  They see some irreversible event, such as Molly Lane’s death or the deaths in the French revolution, and conjecture “what if?” filling their lives with the pain of reliving the past instead of living for the moment.  Judging by these slight parallels, Ian McEwan might do well to take a leaf out of Victor Hugo’s book and be more upfront about such a hopeless and grief-stricken plot in choosing a title.



The musical adaptation of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables



A photo of Victor Hugo: judge away!
I personally believe he looks like a Santa Claus that's
just been told he doesn't exist. Your thoughts?



From Fog to Blog

I am proud to say that I have stepped out of the fog and into the clear air of blogs. My symbolical fog, like Chief Bromden’s of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, still represents avoidance and refusal to accept change, however, my particular brand of escapism was from writing creatively.  Instead I liked to stay in the safety of numbers and structure that the beautiful analytical essay gives, in lieu of pushing my creative boundaries.  When Ms. Serensky first announced the blog project, I felt alone in feeling stressed and afraid. I did not know what to write about, or even how to write if we should not analyze.  That’s the only form of writing, right? I’m not about to write poetry, I’m no Elisavietta Ritchie!  Worse, these creative spawns of the devil would be the sole proponent to our midterm.  Something everyone else looked at as a heaven-sent easy-A, I saw as another setup for failure. 

            How naive! Now I absolutely love the blogs! They are assuredly my favorite part of AP English. In fact, due to my recent hiatus from facebook because of the datasheet and midterms, I have replaced the lovely social networking addiction with an AP English blog addiction.  Rarely a day goes by without my perusing everyone’s blogs to see the new goings on of the week.  To hyperbolize, blogging has improved my quality of life tenfold.  Not only has my internet procrastination improved in intelligence, but I have confidence in my creative writing and even just thinking skills.  This was largely due to the bounding beauty of Bobbie’s Blog Banter (so much alliteration!) Having a mention on the daily show felt like a sticker on top of a paper, on steroids. The nod of approval from the famous Bobbie Jo fueled my overexcitement in my blog with a healthy air of competition and straight egotism.  Each one made my week at least. Suffice it to say, I will greatly miss the blogs if they are disbanded next semester, or even pared down to one per week.  I love blogs! You might say that my initial apprehensive and downright fearful tone juxtaposed with my current relaxed and ecstatic tone creates situational irony, could you not? I don’t have to though; I have pulled myself from that fog. 

False Peace of Mind

The point in Shutter Island when Laeddis flashes back to a mass shooting in the Holocaust reminded me of a similar image in the Kilmainham Gaol executions during the Easter Rising.  Sorry for another Ireland allusion, but stay with me, this will get good.  During those executions, they similarly took the nationalists and had a group shoot at each of them, one by one.  The tour guide of the Dublin jail most captured my interest when she told us how the executioners were told that one of their guns contained only a blank, to rid them of the guilt.  They would comfort themselves in the fact that they might not have killed anyone.  At that point in watching the movie, oblivious to the mind-blowing twist of an ending, I noted how if only someone had told DiCaprio’s character the same thing; he would not have these disturbing flashbacks to warzones.  But in our discussion of the surprising ending to this epic film, I realized how much significance my correlation to the Kilmainham Gaol execution tactics had.  We discussed the notion of making up truths in one’s past to create comfort and peace of mind.  Everyone from Laeddis to the executioners at Kilmainham to members of our English class does this. I remember Chris revealed that he likes to pretend he is a superstar to go through his day.  I do a version of the same: at the end of the day I replay conversations and think of what I wished I had said.   But as Carolyn said, the difference between sanity and insanity lies in knowing that what you made up is not the truth.  That got me thinking, do these police guards in Kilmainham prison classify as insane or sane by that definition? If they like to think that their gun had the blank for some peace of mind, are we to fault them for altering their reality? They deserve the same peace of mind as anyone else and their hopeful imagination does not hurt anyone so why not let them live in that reality? On the same count, why not let Laeddis live in his reality, as long as he does not hurt anyone?

A plaque commemorating those executed at Kilmainham Gaol in 1916

Universal Insanity

      Due to the frenzied state of mind I currently inhabit because of this lovely datasheet, my topic today will be universal insanity.  I realize I am the product of my own issues on the datasheet front, so I take full responsibility of the stress ball I have become.  I guess that sets me aside from Laeddis in Shutter Island and that intense insanity, so at least I have that.  This insane stress over something, in the grand scope of our lives, pretty meaningless, has made many of us insane, one-upping monsters.  If you don’t think we’re all insane, think again my friend! I will use another excerpt from Carrie Fisher’s Wishful Drinking because it was apparently a hot topic a few blogs back.  She comments on the ridiculousness of the tests for something as intricate as insanity:

            “If you say yes to any number of these questions, you, too, could be insane.

1.      In the last week have you been feeling irritable?

2.      In the last week have you gained a little weight?

3.      In the last week have you felt like not talking to people?

4.      Do you no longer get as much pleasure doing certain things as you used to?

5.      In the last week have you felt fatigued?

6.      Do you think about sex a lot?” (122-123).

It would surprise me if any of my loyal readers replied no to all of these questions.  We are all a bunch of lunatics shuffling around day after day.  Now, I am by no means declaring we should get electroshock or lobotomies to balance our systems, much the opposite, I like that I have come to terms with it.

Carrie Fisher's novel Wishful Drinking combats her history of alcoholism and drug addiction

Laughter Really is the Best Medicine



A less-than-breathtaking shot of the dirty water of the Shannon River,
"the river that kills," according to Frank McCourt



            Before we left for a two week break from English, I wondered what I should ever write about.  Since I went to Ireland with my family, an old writing partner of mine suggested that I think back to the good old days of AP English 11 and Frank McCourt’s novel, Angela’s Ashes.  I brought the well-worn book along with me on my trip, looking for ways to contrast modern-day Ireland with McCourt’s childhood view of the island.  Unfortunately (actually maybe not), my family did not include Limerick in our stay because it has a less than fabulous reputation.  My brother’s Irish roommate called it “Stab City,” so we happily avoided McCourt’s childhood home.  Aside from taking some pictures of the Shannon River, or as McCourt called it “the river that kills,” I didn’t make my original goal to see the sights through McCourt’s eyes.  However, my life did come full circle with every literary piece I had.  My backpack carried three books: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher, Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey.  Somehow, I found a strong common thread between all three, the stars aligned I swear.  Fisher claims her life motto as “if my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable” (Fisher 17).  She takes her life’s huge issues in stride and laughs them off, and I so respect her for that.  This theme also came into play in Angela’s Ashes as I flipped through my old notes and the flagged pages of my selected character, Uncle Pa Keating.  I found profuse notes on how he similarly turned frowns upside-down, so to speak.  McCourt’s troubled life needed the healthy dose of humor that Pa Keating offered, for example McCourt recalls that “the minute a politician or a Pope starts his blather Uncle Pa thinks of him wiping his arse” (McCourt 246).  And finally Kesey relays that identical message of the importance of humor when McMurphy makes fun of himself in the face of adversity and even fear of his life undergoing the multitude of electroshock treatments: “Red McMurphy the ten-thousand-watt psychopath” (Kesey 290).  In all three instances, humor stands out as the obvious way to overcome pain and other problems.  After all, Kesey employs laughter as the patients’ main fighting force against the Combine.  Humor overpowers all.

Frank McCourt's Pulitzer Prize winning novel Angela's Ashes details his childhood in Limerick, Ireland

Electroshock Beneficial?

Over winter break, I read Wishful Drinking a memoir by Carrie Fisher.  For those of you who do not know of George Lucas’ six year saga, Star Wars, or otherwise live under a rock, Fisher portrayed the female lead, Princess Leia.  She also gains some fame as Debbie Reynolds’ daughter, of Singin’ in the Rain fame.  From Fisher’s novel’s name, you can guess that she delves into her alcoholism, but also her bipolar disorder and other life difficulties.  She writes her life from the perspective of an amused onlooker, because of some memory loss due to recent shock therapy.  And thus, my blog post begins.  It astonished me to think of electroshock or electroconvulsive therapy, its modern title, as an acceptable form of contemporary treatment.  She even mentioned those with whom she shares “electrocompany” including Judy Garland, Ernest Hemingway, and Cole Porter.  From Ken Kesey’s portrayal of electro shock in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, I would not imagine people of such great genius and high esteem to have experienced something so awfully life-changing as EST.  Kesey associates the treatment with “screaming… ‘Brain Burning’… [and] slaughterhouse” which creates a foreboding and unpleasant tone (Kesey 188-190).  Fisher even mentioned how Kesey’s view of EST dissuaded her: “[Her] only exposure of it was Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest… traumatic, dangerous, and humiliating” (Fisher 13).  But Fisher’s real-life experience with electroconvulsive therapy ended positively, in contrast with much of Kesey’s novel.  And even having lost many of her life’s memories, Fisher seems to have a comical if not positive view of the event.  She says her memories “are lost—along with the crippling feeling of defeat and hopelessness.  Not a tremendous price to pay when you look at it” (Fisher 11).  Sarcastic undertones or not, Fisher poses an interesting exchange.  Would you rather keep your memories along with your debilitating depression or lose your memories and gain happiness?