Wish I had a Warning

              I do not envy Junior’s situation whatsoever. He has a very difficult home life and the whole end of the world thing is a major bummer. However, I must admit that I would have appreciated an (almost) all-knowing voice giving me helpful advice as a child. Such a presence could have helped me avoid some of my more embarrassing or trying moments. My own personal narrator would have sounded like this:

            As a child, you will think you know far more than you really do; most, if not all, children think the same way. However, with our help, you may actually have the advantage of more knowledge than the others. First of all, when you reach the age of three years old, you parents will bring another child home. He will cry a lot and sometimes emit displeasing smells. People will come to bring him gifts and have nothing for you. You will experience feelings of jealousy toward the child, but you must resist the temptation to lash out. This will only earn you timeouts in your bedroom. The cuter you act and the more willingly you sit still for photographs, the more likely it is that others will come to bring you presents as well. At the age of seven years, your parents will move your family far from home. You will threaten to run away and claim that you will never feel happy again. Do not worry, this is not true. Ohio may seem strange at first; people will say things like “pop,” instead of “soda.” Yet, you must try to maintain a positive attitude because you will grow to love your new town despite the fact that they have ten months of winter. One day, your father will offer to trim your bangs. He will only have the best intentions at heart; however, you must rebuff his offer at all costs. His in expertise will result in a fourth grade photo that looks as though you went to the salon where Edward Scissorhands works. In the fifth grade, you will discover a beautiful (or so you will think) pair of purple wooden clogs. These are not as fashionable as you think and have the tendency to set off the sound of explosions every time you climb the Intermediate school stairs. Furthermore, as a young child, you will experience the urge to twirl around the house with your eyes closed: beware and make sure to close all basement doors beforehand. Also, make sure to tie your hair back when using the blender, especially if you ever make snicker doodles. The resulting tangle could cause a rather obvious bald spot. But, remember most of all that if you do make mistakes, at the very least have funny stories to tell about them.

  These photos are probably worse than my fourth grade one

The Cuckoo Bird Flew Over... Me?

          Following the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, I noticed a reoccurring theme of crazy in my life. I assumed that I was just hyperaware or looking for connections in wake of data sheet mania. However, I continue to find an increasing amount of insanity in my life, despite the fact that we finished the book MONTHS ago. Unfortunately, I have noticed this unsettling pattern in myself. And all of my symptoms have been brought to light due to AP English. Exhibit A of my instability: the blog polls. I enjoy making the polls and hope others enjoying voting on them. However, this is not always the case. The number of votes on my various polls makes it painfully obvious how few people view my blog. The fact alone that I have given it this much thought may serve as a red flag, but that is not the only problem. I do not want people to see my pathetically unnoticed polls. So I vote on my polls. Multiple times. I voted on this most recent poll on my home computer, my iTouch, and at least one computer at school. And the fact that I willingly admit my obsessive behavior to the world only solidifies my insanity. But one isolated incident alone cannot land a person in a mental institution. No, my true deterioration into insanity began with the Amsterdam papers. For starters, I somehow convinced myself that a "focused paper" meant to use as few quotes as possible. I cannot tell you where this notion came from, all signs point to delusion. Upon finding out that this was not the case, I quickly went into panic mode. I even informed Ms. Serensky that I would have eight separate mental breakdowns that night. Clearly my filter was malfunctioning. The insanity only continued that night and afternoon as I wrote the paper (a painful experience that I do not wish to recount). And yet all this did not convince me of my insanity. Class today put the final nail in my crazy coffin. From the sombreros to the Spongebob piñata with a baby face, I could simply not comprehend the situation. So now, I fully know that I am crazy. I am not saying that AP English made me crazy, but there does seem to be a theme here.

Cuckoo