I've had some really odd dreams. I'm pretty sure all of my readers have heard about at least a few of them, but I'm going to attempt to compile some of my strangest ones. I can come up with some sort of explanation for the first three, but I have no idea if the others have any relation to reality whatsoever.
Last night, my dream involved derivatives, an academic team meet, and presidential candidates. I was at an academic team meet, and we had to compare the derivatives of the presidential candidates' stances on certain topics. When I was rudely awoken up by my alarm clock, I continued to try to solve the problem for a minute or two before I woke up enough to realize that I didn't really have to find the derivatives of their stances and that such a task was a category mistake.
In a rather recent dream, Kari Buchheim had had a nightmare in which dogs were wearing glasses (in real life, I had seen these glasses on a friend of mine I ran into this weekend for the first time in over a year). We arrived at school, and everyone was wearing the same glasses the dogs in her nightmare had worn. For the rest of the day, we ran around the school trying to hide from the people wearing glasses. Hannah Irvine kept on creeping up on us and scaring the crap out of Kari. At one point I gave up (on escaping? I'm not sure exactly what I was giving up on) and laid down on the ramp between the locker area and the English hallway. The Jeremy Bell came up to me and startled me. He wasn't wearing glasses.
This is the only dream out of this collection that counts as a nightmare, but I can think of few people other than my eleven-year-old self who would be frightened by it as I was at the time. I freaked out quite a bit in the weeks leading up to the commencement of middle school. One night, I had a dream that someone had put my schedule in my locker, but I couldn't find my locker without a schedule. I ran all over the huge building (I can't believe I used to think it was so large) searching for someone to help me, but they were all in class where they were supposed to be. I ended up running away from a teacher who I assumed was trying to give me a detention, but I kept getting lost.
Another time, I was sitting in a sunlit cottage in a clearing in a forest late one morning. There were three doors and a window. The window faced the east (thus letting in the morning sun), the door to the outside faced the west and had a small window, and the other doors led to rooms. I was in the main room. It was a light greyish color and had no source of light other than the sun. The only pieces of furniture were a table covered in a white tablecloth and I chair I was sitting in. On top of the table was a basket containing many different types of apples. I was trying to cook apple pies for my friends, but I couldn't remember which apples each one liked best.
I was standing alone in a sunlit, circular tower made of stone in a clearing in a forest. There was nothing inside the tower, and it wasn't paved. The floor was grass. There were narrow, un-paned windows arranged so that they spiraled up the tower (I'm not sure that was a clear description, but I can't think of how to describe it in words), and they let in lots of sun. I was the only person in the tower, but there were several robins and cardinals clinging to the walls and singing.
This dream came from seven or eight years ago, but I still remember it well. I know this one will sound familiar to at least one of you. I was in an expansive white room. I couldn't see any walls or windows, but it was naturally lit. Tall, white, regularly-spaced columns held up the lofty ceiling. The floor was a black and white checkered pattern. Near where I stood, there was an orange goldfish in a bowl on a pedestal and a black cat trying to catch the fish.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Sir Cephelebrum Man and His Mighty Brain
For psychology class, we had to write a children's story explaining the functions of various parts of the brain. For my project, I created a super-hero. I can't stand my character. He was kind of fun to create at times, but he's like something my little brother would invent and love. I can't just change the entire personality of a character if it wants to be the way it is. Without further ado, here's my brain book.
Greetings, friends! My name is Sir Cephelebrum Man. I have learned that any real super-hero needs to use every part of his brain, from the cerebral cortex to the medulla. Allow me to introduce the parts of my brain and explain how they help me in my super-heroism.
My cerebral cortex is the outside layer of my cerebrum, the largest part of my brain. It is split into two halves called hemispheres. The corpus callosum is a bundle of neuron (nerve cell) fibers that connects the two hemispheres and lets them share information.
My cerebral cortex is divided into sections called lobes. Each lobe is responsible for different kinds of activities. The four types of lobes are the temporal lobes, occipital lobes, parietal lobes, and frontal lobes. The lobes come in pairs, one for each hemisphere.
My temporal lobes are found at the bottom the cerebral cortex around my ears. These lobes help me process information from my ears. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to hear calls for help. If I don’t know when the citizens of my fair city need my help, how can I be a hero?
My occipital lobes are at the back of my head. They let me process information from my eyes. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to see sinister villains, damsels in distress, stranded kittens, raging forest fires, or any other matters in need of my heroic attention.
In front of my occipital lobes are my parietal lobes. These lobes allow me to feel. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to feel whether I was walking on firm ground or flying through the air. Plus, I wouldn’t know when my admiring fans were timidly tapping my shoulder to ask for autographs.
My frontal lobes are at the front of my cerebral cortex. They let me move and make decisions. Without them, I couldn’t rush to the aid of helpless civilians or decide which superhero suit to wear each day. What on earth would I do without my frontal lobes?
Without the help of my thalamus, my cerebral cortex would have no information to work with. My thalamus sends messages from my eyes, ears, hands, and other body parts to my cerebral cortex so that I can see, hear, and feel. It also sends messages to my cerebellum and medulla, who we will meet later on.
My cerebral cortex isn’t the only part of the brain that helps me out when I save the day. I also rely on my limbic system. My limbic system is responsible for important things like emotions, memory, and hunger. My hippocampus, hypothalamus, and amygdala make up my limbic system.
My hippocampus helps me process memories. If it were damaged, I wouldn’t be able to remember who my enemies and allies are. Just think of the chaos that could cause! I also wouldn’t be able to remember my countless heroic deeds or the directions to my favorite pizza parlor.
My hypothalamus tells me when I need to eat and drink, and it keeps my body temperature stable. If I forgot to eat or drink, I would be too tired to accomplish my daring deeds. If my body couldn’t keep a healthy temperature, I would have a hard time travelling to the ends of the earth to fulfill me heroic duties.
Without my amygdala, Mondays would be unbearable. It has a lot of influence over my emotions, especially anger. On Monday mornings, it’s hard to muster the enthusiasm to fight evildoers if I don’t feel any righteous anger. I turn my anger into something productive, and it helps me save the world.
Outside of my cerebral cortex and my limbic system, I have additional helpful brain parts. My reticular formation keeps me awake. Imagine what would happen if I fell asleep while I was flying to save a woman from a burning building! Surely we would both perish in the flames!
My cerebellum is responsible for my impeccable balance and coordination. It allows me to scamper across power lines in pursuit of ne’er-do-wells in addition to helping me fasten my cape to my shoulders while I rush to save the day.
My medulla and my brain stem work hand in hand. Both of them take care of my body’s vital functions so I don’t have to. My medulla controls my heart rate and breathing rate, and my brain stem takes care of digestion and other tasks. If I had to think about all these things, I would never have time to leave my lair and fight evil.
My pons helps out my reticular formation, my medulla, and my frontal lobes. It helps keep me awake, regulate my breathing, and control voluntary movement. When my other brain parts are overloaded by the stress of controlling a superhero, my pons is there to lend a hand.
All of these brain parts combine forces to allow me to become the super hero that I am. Guess what? Your brain has each of these parts too! You, too, could one day become a super hero or super heroine. I look forward to seeing you working for the good of awesome!
Sir Cephelebrum Man and His Mighty Brain
Greetings, friends! My name is Sir Cephelebrum Man. I have learned that any real super-hero needs to use every part of his brain, from the cerebral cortex to the medulla. Allow me to introduce the parts of my brain and explain how they help me in my super-heroism.
My cerebral cortex is the outside layer of my cerebrum, the largest part of my brain. It is split into two halves called hemispheres. The corpus callosum is a bundle of neuron (nerve cell) fibers that connects the two hemispheres and lets them share information.
My cerebral cortex is divided into sections called lobes. Each lobe is responsible for different kinds of activities. The four types of lobes are the temporal lobes, occipital lobes, parietal lobes, and frontal lobes. The lobes come in pairs, one for each hemisphere.
My temporal lobes are found at the bottom the cerebral cortex around my ears. These lobes help me process information from my ears. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to hear calls for help. If I don’t know when the citizens of my fair city need my help, how can I be a hero?
My occipital lobes are at the back of my head. They let me process information from my eyes. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to see sinister villains, damsels in distress, stranded kittens, raging forest fires, or any other matters in need of my heroic attention.
In front of my occipital lobes are my parietal lobes. These lobes allow me to feel. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to feel whether I was walking on firm ground or flying through the air. Plus, I wouldn’t know when my admiring fans were timidly tapping my shoulder to ask for autographs.
My frontal lobes are at the front of my cerebral cortex. They let me move and make decisions. Without them, I couldn’t rush to the aid of helpless civilians or decide which superhero suit to wear each day. What on earth would I do without my frontal lobes?
Without the help of my thalamus, my cerebral cortex would have no information to work with. My thalamus sends messages from my eyes, ears, hands, and other body parts to my cerebral cortex so that I can see, hear, and feel. It also sends messages to my cerebellum and medulla, who we will meet later on.
My cerebral cortex isn’t the only part of the brain that helps me out when I save the day. I also rely on my limbic system. My limbic system is responsible for important things like emotions, memory, and hunger. My hippocampus, hypothalamus, and amygdala make up my limbic system.
My hippocampus helps me process memories. If it were damaged, I wouldn’t be able to remember who my enemies and allies are. Just think of the chaos that could cause! I also wouldn’t be able to remember my countless heroic deeds or the directions to my favorite pizza parlor.
My hypothalamus tells me when I need to eat and drink, and it keeps my body temperature stable. If I forgot to eat or drink, I would be too tired to accomplish my daring deeds. If my body couldn’t keep a healthy temperature, I would have a hard time travelling to the ends of the earth to fulfill me heroic duties.
Without my amygdala, Mondays would be unbearable. It has a lot of influence over my emotions, especially anger. On Monday mornings, it’s hard to muster the enthusiasm to fight evildoers if I don’t feel any righteous anger. I turn my anger into something productive, and it helps me save the world.
Outside of my cerebral cortex and my limbic system, I have additional helpful brain parts. My reticular formation keeps me awake. Imagine what would happen if I fell asleep while I was flying to save a woman from a burning building! Surely we would both perish in the flames!
My cerebellum is responsible for my impeccable balance and coordination. It allows me to scamper across power lines in pursuit of ne’er-do-wells in addition to helping me fasten my cape to my shoulders while I rush to save the day.
My medulla and my brain stem work hand in hand. Both of them take care of my body’s vital functions so I don’t have to. My medulla controls my heart rate and breathing rate, and my brain stem takes care of digestion and other tasks. If I had to think about all these things, I would never have time to leave my lair and fight evil.
My pons helps out my reticular formation, my medulla, and my frontal lobes. It helps keep me awake, regulate my breathing, and control voluntary movement. When my other brain parts are overloaded by the stress of controlling a superhero, my pons is there to lend a hand.
All of these brain parts combine forces to allow me to become the super hero that I am. Guess what? Your brain has each of these parts too! You, too, could one day become a super hero or super heroine. I look forward to seeing you working for the good of awesome!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Frustration and Music
Why? Why does the orchestra suck? Why don't the members of chorale care? Why am I still part of either?
This year in orchestra we have barely 30 members, and the total apathy and lack of skill is simply astounding. For starters, intonation is abominable. I can understand occasionally missing notes, but our degree of not-skilled-ness is inexcusable in a high school orchestra. For example, one of my fellow violas consistently plays a B flat rather than a B natural during a viola solo no matter how many times I remind him that he's wrong. I think the violins think they're playing the right notes, but they aren't even close to in tune with one another. It's hard to say much about the cellos. I'm so excited when they actually play that I'm willing to give them a bit of a break. The music we're playing right now isn't that great. I don't mean that I just don't like it: I mean that musically it isn't good. The harmonies are sub-par, and in one song they build chords that shouldn't fit into the key we're playing in. It's just bad. Even if we had decent music and we could play in tune, we still wouldn't be making music. There is minimal dynamic contrast, scarcely any phrasing, and a negligible amount of emotion. Add to all of this the fact that our teacher is unreliable and garners little (if any) respect from the orchestra. I come to school at 7:15 in the morning every day to participate in a group that I am thoroughly ashamed of. Why? I have a tremendous amount of love for my viola, but I have no time to plug into a group of devoted musicians outside of school. I can't wait to play in college. After all, it can't get much worse.
The chorale is the top audition chorus at Finneytown, so all of its members are talented. In this way it far surpasses the orchestra. Unfortunately the class is unbearable. People never stop talking. Literally. Some people talk while we're supposed to be singing, and more than half of the chorus bursts into chatter the second we pause in a song. It's ridiculous and irritating. Absurd, even. The director has to tell us to fix the same things day after day since few people pay any attention to him, so we can be stuck on a single passage for days with minimal improvement. Like the orchestra director, the chorus teacher doesn't demand much respect. He is generally liked (unlike the orchestra director), but nobody pays much attention to him. I despise that class so much that I'm considering dropping it and jumping into AP Art History (which I originally wanted to take, but rejected for the sake of chorale). I do love to sing, but I can always sing elsewhere. I'll probably audition for the vocal jazz ensemble (even though jazz isn't exactly my thing), and if I make it I'll give more serious thought to the idea of dropping chorale. I'm not going to go into all the reasons for and against taking art history instead of chorale, but it's going to be a more important decision than it may seem. The issue goes far deeper than chorus versus art, and my choice could have a major impact on how I make future decisions. I'm going to have to put a lot of thought into this.
Thank you, readers, for reading through my disorganized mental dump. Sometimes it's nice to vent a bit.
This year in orchestra we have barely 30 members, and the total apathy and lack of skill is simply astounding. For starters, intonation is abominable. I can understand occasionally missing notes, but our degree of not-skilled-ness is inexcusable in a high school orchestra. For example, one of my fellow violas consistently plays a B flat rather than a B natural during a viola solo no matter how many times I remind him that he's wrong. I think the violins think they're playing the right notes, but they aren't even close to in tune with one another. It's hard to say much about the cellos. I'm so excited when they actually play that I'm willing to give them a bit of a break. The music we're playing right now isn't that great. I don't mean that I just don't like it: I mean that musically it isn't good. The harmonies are sub-par, and in one song they build chords that shouldn't fit into the key we're playing in. It's just bad. Even if we had decent music and we could play in tune, we still wouldn't be making music. There is minimal dynamic contrast, scarcely any phrasing, and a negligible amount of emotion. Add to all of this the fact that our teacher is unreliable and garners little (if any) respect from the orchestra. I come to school at 7:15 in the morning every day to participate in a group that I am thoroughly ashamed of. Why? I have a tremendous amount of love for my viola, but I have no time to plug into a group of devoted musicians outside of school. I can't wait to play in college. After all, it can't get much worse.
The chorale is the top audition chorus at Finneytown, so all of its members are talented. In this way it far surpasses the orchestra. Unfortunately the class is unbearable. People never stop talking. Literally. Some people talk while we're supposed to be singing, and more than half of the chorus bursts into chatter the second we pause in a song. It's ridiculous and irritating. Absurd, even. The director has to tell us to fix the same things day after day since few people pay any attention to him, so we can be stuck on a single passage for days with minimal improvement. Like the orchestra director, the chorus teacher doesn't demand much respect. He is generally liked (unlike the orchestra director), but nobody pays much attention to him. I despise that class so much that I'm considering dropping it and jumping into AP Art History (which I originally wanted to take, but rejected for the sake of chorale). I do love to sing, but I can always sing elsewhere. I'll probably audition for the vocal jazz ensemble (even though jazz isn't exactly my thing), and if I make it I'll give more serious thought to the idea of dropping chorale. I'm not going to go into all the reasons for and against taking art history instead of chorale, but it's going to be a more important decision than it may seem. The issue goes far deeper than chorus versus art, and my choice could have a major impact on how I make future decisions. I'm going to have to put a lot of thought into this.
Thank you, readers, for reading through my disorganized mental dump. Sometimes it's nice to vent a bit.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Saving Mystic Village
I was looking through my bookshelf today and I found a story I wrote back in fourth grade. It was called "Saving Mystic Village." Here it is, exactly as it was written, all errors and ambiguities included. The influence of C.S Lewis is clear, and I laugh to see that I was already an advocate for the environment at that age (although I have found poems from as early as second grade about saving the earth).
After lunch, they started off to Mystic Village. Along the way, they discussed ways they might defeat King Duffer.
"Do you know of any weak spots the king has?" asked Joe.
"Yes," answered Momecton. "He greatly cares for his possessions."
"Is there anything you can offer him as a bribe?" Joe inquired.
"Yes. We Tolones are very fine miners." Lizar answered.
"Could you spare some gems?" asked Cindy.
"Sure," replied Lizar.
As they finished their walk, they finished their plan. When they finally reached Mystic Village,
When they reached the King's castle, they were immediately lead to his throne room. There, they told the King why they were there, and after a little thought, refused. A sad group of four and their two wagons entered the village later that evening and told them that their plan had not worked.
By the next morning, a new plan was formed. The creatures of Mystic Village and of the forest (who wanted to) would form a large army and try to attack. In two days the army was formed and a week later, they left an expectant forest and went to the castle.
Then after three days of anxious waiting, the army returned to the village, and the news of their success traveled quickly through the forest. Shortly after the army returned a huge party was thrown in honor of Lizar, Momecton, Cindy, Joe, and the army. That night, news was passed that the King's army had retreated to another kingdom, and the King had gone with them. So, at the party a new King was chosen and he moved into the castle.
Later, around midnight, Lizar and Momecton awakened Joe and Cindy.
"Are you ready to go home?" asked Lizar.
"Yes." The kids both yawned.
"Then let's go." Momecton whispered, "Remember to be quiet, the whole village is sleeping."
They went to the end of the forest where the kids had come into the forest.
"There's a door behind the moss on that rock over there. It will be open. Go through the tunnel and enter the first door you see. It should be your attic. Good-bye my friends." explained Momecton.
"Good-bye." Said Lizar.
Our two heroes found the door with ease and followed the directions to their attic and found that the clock on the wall read ten minutes after they had left. Later they both promised never to tell anyone about their adventure in Mystic Village.
THE END
Saving Mystic Village
Cindy and Joe, two kids who are 10 and 12. Cindy is 12, has brown hair, brown eyes, is tall, and skinny. Joe is 10, has brownish blonde hair, blue eyes, is the normal height for his age, and is skinny. Their story started when they were going upstairs to see what was in the attic. When they reached the attic, they found themselves in a very strange forest.
The forest smelled of the ground, but had many other strange and wonderful smells. The plants in the forest were like none they had ever seen. One kind of plant was as tall as a two story house, had a navy blue bloom with sharp looking gold stamens sticking out of the middle, a turquoise stem, two turquoise diamond shaped leaves that were as big as bathtubs at the bottom, and two "spiraling" leaves that were a pearly light green ascending from the bottom of the plant and ending one third from the top. Another plant was four foot tall, had an orange trunk, sharp gold leaves on top with silver spirals on stems shooting out of them, and brown vine like leaves hanging over the sides. The last of the three main plants in the forest grew on the ground everywhere except for on the paths that wound throughout the forest. It was forest green with cube flowers that were green, blue, and purple marbled together.
As the two kids took in all of this, it stared to rain, so they quickly crawled under one of the trees, and sat against the trunk as they discussed their surroundings.
"This place is definitely not the attic." Stated Joe
"How long did it take you to figure that out?" asked Cindy sarcastically.
"A few minutes." Answered Joe.
Cindy sighed. She never expected Joe to answer those questions, but he always did anyway.
"So how do you like our new attic?" Questioned Cindy.
"I told you! It's not the attic!" exclaimed Joe, "I think it's some kind of magical forest like in the book I just read."
"Come on, Joe! You can't be serious." said Cindy.
"I'm serious!" exclaimed Joe.
"O.K., O.K. Maybe we are in some magical forest," admitted Cindy. "But what forest are we in?" questioned Cindy.
Joe couldn't answer that question so he just sat quietly. Then, Cindy, noticing how uncomfortable the shrubs they were sitting in were, suggested they walk along the path in the drizzle and see what they could find.
After about 10 minutes, the rain stopped and Cindy and Joe saw a strange creature coming towards them. It had two furry gold legs with three sharp light green claws on each foot, a tall yellow body with black spots, a magenta-purple-blue-green stomach, orange spikes down his back and tail, red ears, an olive green nose, reddish-brown thick unkempt hair, and two light green horns that curved outward from each other.
"What do you think it is, Cindy?" inquired Joe.
"I have no idea," responded an astounded Cindy.
"I have no idea," responded an astounded Cindy.
As the "animal" got closer it was carrying what might have been a picnic basket on earth. It was a brownish-green color and seemed a lot like a bag because it was sagging with the weight of whatever was in it and had a brown napkin folded neatly over the top. When "it" reached the kids it began to speak to them.
"Hello humans, My tolone (we are a type of animal that live in this forest) friends and I have been waiting for you for four quams!" the strange creature exclaimed.
"What are quams?" asked Joe curiously.
"In your language, days." answered the tolone.
"Oh." Joe said as if the answer to his question was obvious.
"Excuse me, but will you mind telling us who you are, where we are, and why we're here?" Cindy asked.
"Of course. My name is Lizar and any minute now my sister Momecton will be here. We are now in the Mystic Village Territory of the Great Clafondon Forest. Which is where my village is and where you will be staying for the nest week or less (but don't worry about the time, each of our days only equal ten minutes, but it will feel like days have passed). Now for your last question. You are here because the vain Kind Duffler of Clafondon has a problem with all the tolones in the forest. We don't know what it is, but it must be pretty serious, because he is destroying these plants, which our lives depend upon. So we brought you here to help us." explained Lizar.
"So we're here to help you." summarized Cindy.
"Yes." agreed Lizar.
Just then, another Tolone (that looked like Lizar, except that it had lighter features) appeared on one of the paths.
"Hey Momecton!" shouted Lizar. "We've been waiting for you. Come enjoy the picnic lunch I've prepared with our human helpers who have just arrived!"
"Sure, I'd love to!" answered Momecton.
Then Lizar started to pull things out of the picnic bag, but first he put a blanket of weird colors that no human had ever seen on the ground. The food looked like some of the food on Earth, but it tasted much better and soon all four were full.
After lunch, they started off to Mystic Village. Along the way, they discussed ways they might defeat King Duffer.
"Do you know of any weak spots the king has?" asked Joe.
"Yes," answered Momecton. "He greatly cares for his possessions."
"Is there anything you can offer him as a bribe?" Joe inquired.
"Yes. We Tolones are very fine miners." Lizar answered.
"Could you spare some gems?" asked Cindy.
"Sure," replied Lizar.
As they finished their walk, they finished their plan. When they finally reached Mystic Village,
The sun was setting. So Momecton quickly found a family that would let them stay with them until they returned home. Meanwhile, Lizar told the village about the plan and they started to work on it right away. The next morning after a very good breakfast, Cindy and Joe found that a fairly sized pile of gems had been formed. They were very happy and after lunch, their two companions and themselves set out for King Duffer's castle with two wagonloads of jewels.
When they reached the King's castle, they were immediately lead to his throne room. There, they told the King why they were there, and after a little thought, refused. A sad group of four and their two wagons entered the village later that evening and told them that their plan had not worked.
By the next morning, a new plan was formed. The creatures of Mystic Village and of the forest (who wanted to) would form a large army and try to attack. In two days the army was formed and a week later, they left an expectant forest and went to the castle.
Then after three days of anxious waiting, the army returned to the village, and the news of their success traveled quickly through the forest. Shortly after the army returned a huge party was thrown in honor of Lizar, Momecton, Cindy, Joe, and the army. That night, news was passed that the King's army had retreated to another kingdom, and the King had gone with them. So, at the party a new King was chosen and he moved into the castle.
Later, around midnight, Lizar and Momecton awakened Joe and Cindy.
"Are you ready to go home?" asked Lizar.
"Yes." The kids both yawned.
"Then let's go." Momecton whispered, "Remember to be quiet, the whole village is sleeping."
They went to the end of the forest where the kids had come into the forest.
"There's a door behind the moss on that rock over there. It will be open. Go through the tunnel and enter the first door you see. It should be your attic. Good-bye my friends." explained Momecton.
"Good-bye." Said Lizar.
Our two heroes found the door with ease and followed the directions to their attic and found that the clock on the wall read ten minutes after they had left. Later they both promised never to tell anyone about their adventure in Mystic Village.
THE END
Sunday, October 5, 2008
In Which I Become Hopelessly Lost (Again) and Attend Homecoming
Yesterday was the homecoming dance. I hate dances. I really do. But for some reason I decided to try one again this year. For the first time in five years I wore a dress in public. For the first time in my life I wore high heels. Most surprising of all, I actually liked my dress. It was about as Maria-ish as a dress can be. On more than one occasion, I was told that I looked like a woodland fairy or a nymph.
I wouldn't even have considered going if it hadn't been for the group I went with. It included eighteen delightful people. I was one of the many drivers getting us all to dinner, but if I had known what getting there would involve, I would never have agreed to drive. I didn't even read the directions I was given before we left. I entrusted them to my front seat passenger and planned on following the person who knew where she was going. We lost said person when we got on the highway. I did not know we were going to drive on a highway. As you already know, I hate highways. Then we got onto another highway. That other highway was I-71 (which fortunately was not as frightening as it was when I had my temps). Then we got onto a smallish highway-esque road. All three had plenty of traffic. I was not happy at all. Once we finally got off the highways, we caught back up to the front driver. We promptly lost her once more when she decided to speed through a yellow light. After this, we got completely lost. The people following us also got lost. We found ourselves about to get onto I-71 again, but just in time we turned onto a narrow side street and got back on track. Eventually we arrived at our dinner destination. Dinner was a lot of fun.
On the way back, we resolved to drive closer together, and the leader promised to drive as though she was being followed by clueless people. Before we even left the parking lot, we lost one of the four cars in our caravan. Once we were all on the highway, we got off at the wrong exit and were lost again. We pulled over at what turned out to be a school of some sort with an awesome playground. It was castle-themed and included a dragon and a ship. Most of us got out and played on the playground while the head of the caravan called her dad and asked for direction. I declared myself captain of the ship, but did not manage to enlist many crew members before we departed.
Once we left, we had to take a detour to find a bathroom. After we left the Gold Star where we stopped, I got separated from the other two cars and was lost again. Several roads later, we somehow ended up behind the other two cars without knowing it. When they stopped to wait for us, we passed them. We couldn't really turn around very easily, but at that point they discovered that we were on North Bend Road and we figured that we could get to the school easily enough from there.
We were wrong. We wound up being moderately lost and debating whether or not we should leave our path and pursue a new one that we thought we recognized. We turned around and returned to the place we thought we knew, and eventually one of my passengers recognized where we were even in the darkness. In the end, we found our way to the school. We arrived just in time to be admitted to the dance.
For the entire duration of the ride to and from Buca di Beppos or wherever we ate, I was quite angry and on the verge of panic. We were driving in the dark on highways, people kept cutting me off (I nearly cussed a few of these drivers out), I was forced to do some risky driving to keep up with everyone, and there were a few other things that made me less than happy. Surprisingly, the fact that we were lost wasn't as terrifying as it has been in the past; I've gotten so used to it that I enjoy it as an adventure, so long as I have passengers with me. When I get angry while driving I just become a source of amusement to my passengers which in turn calms me down. When I'm lost and alone, I just panic. It also helped that most of the songs that came up when I pushed shuffle on my ipod were perfect for the situation. During the long stretch of time we spent driving with uncertainty down what was supposed to be North Bend (I'm not confident that it really was North Bend), The Long and Winding Road played, and we all had to laugh at the correlation between the title and our current predicament.
Homecoming itself wasn't that great. In fact, it was decidedly not great. That's all I have to say on the matter. I left early, and for the ride home I rolled down all my windows and put one of my favorite songs on repeat (it fits pretty much every mood I have, and it was particularly fitting at the time). That final drive was wonderfully refreshing, especially in contrast to my driving adventures earlier in the day.
I wouldn't even have considered going if it hadn't been for the group I went with. It included eighteen delightful people. I was one of the many drivers getting us all to dinner, but if I had known what getting there would involve, I would never have agreed to drive. I didn't even read the directions I was given before we left. I entrusted them to my front seat passenger and planned on following the person who knew where she was going. We lost said person when we got on the highway. I did not know we were going to drive on a highway. As you already know, I hate highways. Then we got onto another highway. That other highway was I-71 (which fortunately was not as frightening as it was when I had my temps). Then we got onto a smallish highway-esque road. All three had plenty of traffic. I was not happy at all. Once we finally got off the highways, we caught back up to the front driver. We promptly lost her once more when she decided to speed through a yellow light. After this, we got completely lost. The people following us also got lost. We found ourselves about to get onto I-71 again, but just in time we turned onto a narrow side street and got back on track. Eventually we arrived at our dinner destination. Dinner was a lot of fun.
On the way back, we resolved to drive closer together, and the leader promised to drive as though she was being followed by clueless people. Before we even left the parking lot, we lost one of the four cars in our caravan. Once we were all on the highway, we got off at the wrong exit and were lost again. We pulled over at what turned out to be a school of some sort with an awesome playground. It was castle-themed and included a dragon and a ship. Most of us got out and played on the playground while the head of the caravan called her dad and asked for direction. I declared myself captain of the ship, but did not manage to enlist many crew members before we departed.
Once we left, we had to take a detour to find a bathroom. After we left the Gold Star where we stopped, I got separated from the other two cars and was lost again. Several roads later, we somehow ended up behind the other two cars without knowing it. When they stopped to wait for us, we passed them. We couldn't really turn around very easily, but at that point they discovered that we were on North Bend Road and we figured that we could get to the school easily enough from there.
We were wrong. We wound up being moderately lost and debating whether or not we should leave our path and pursue a new one that we thought we recognized. We turned around and returned to the place we thought we knew, and eventually one of my passengers recognized where we were even in the darkness. In the end, we found our way to the school. We arrived just in time to be admitted to the dance.
For the entire duration of the ride to and from Buca di Beppos or wherever we ate, I was quite angry and on the verge of panic. We were driving in the dark on highways, people kept cutting me off (I nearly cussed a few of these drivers out), I was forced to do some risky driving to keep up with everyone, and there were a few other things that made me less than happy. Surprisingly, the fact that we were lost wasn't as terrifying as it has been in the past; I've gotten so used to it that I enjoy it as an adventure, so long as I have passengers with me. When I get angry while driving I just become a source of amusement to my passengers which in turn calms me down. When I'm lost and alone, I just panic. It also helped that most of the songs that came up when I pushed shuffle on my ipod were perfect for the situation. During the long stretch of time we spent driving with uncertainty down what was supposed to be North Bend (I'm not confident that it really was North Bend), The Long and Winding Road played, and we all had to laugh at the correlation between the title and our current predicament.
Homecoming itself wasn't that great. In fact, it was decidedly not great. That's all I have to say on the matter. I left early, and for the ride home I rolled down all my windows and put one of my favorite songs on repeat (it fits pretty much every mood I have, and it was particularly fitting at the time). That final drive was wonderfully refreshing, especially in contrast to my driving adventures earlier in the day.
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