I Am a Good Person. No. Really.

The day was going fine until my four-year-old cousin started spitting up blood. But I'm getting ahead of myself! So, somehow, through threats, pleas, and blackmail, my mother cajoled me into taking my cousin out in the snow. He lives in Houston so this was his first time. So I zip up my gigantic orange onesie, pull on a mismatched pair of gloves, and head outside into the snow. My little cousin wanted ride on the sled. I curbed the impulse to simply find the largest mountain of ice and gravel to shove him off of, and just tugged him gently along behind me. So where do you think I went? Through the largest thicket of brush I could possibly have stumbled into. Not because I'm mean, but because that is something I would have enjoyed at his age. Eventually, after being assailed by wild brambles, dunked in small puddles of water, and bounced over ridges of ice, my little cousin decided that the best thing for his safety and mine would be to evacuate the sled. It took me several minutes to realize that making the sled airborne was much easier than it had been a few minutes ago. I looked back and found him sitting in the snow. I sat down next to him. I had noticed while I was gallivanting around that there was a very thin layer of ice in the middle of the snow. Probably what had happened was that the snow had melted the previous day and had refrozen with the new snow fall. So I carved a large piece of ice out from the snow and showed it to him. He laughed and punched it. He picked up a considerably smaller piece of ice. I punched it. Bad idea. He carved out an astoundingly large piece of ice and threw it at me. I assume my yelp of pain must have distracted him from my curling up in a fetal position. At least, that was the plan. "OK, it's time for a ride." I placed him gently on the sled and ran up the nearest hill. As I pushed him (gently!) I slammed my knee against a spiky rock hidden underneath the snow. I rolled after him. "Let's sled some more!" said the little tyke. I am gasping in pain by his feet. Oh joy. I attempted the feeblest little hobble. "OK, let's just sit down and play with the ice some more okay?" He promptly sat down and started munching on ice. Sharp ice. This is the part when blood started coming out of his mouth. My mother walked by. Outstanding. Could my day get any better? Could I be blessed more than I already had? Apparently. My cousin's face is covered in blood. I'm limping like a Vietnam vet. "I think it's time to go inside" I said. My mother didn't say anything but I could tell she thought it was a good idea. Probably the best idea I had had all day. And that is where my story ends. Through the duel miracles of paper towels and specific omission of facts, my aunt probably never heard about it. That's the plan anyway.

I AM INTERESTED IN

Absorbent paper towels. Useful in a variety of situations.

Radio lab (because you don't get it)

and... «ŖΛǤЄ»

Problem Child

Who in their right minds would want to be a high school teacher? Teaching high school is like having 100 children who never complete adolescence. You have to go to college for years, work for minimum wage, and interact with people who secretly (and openly) hate you. Like an insurance agent. Without the benefits. What kind of people would this job attract? I honestly don't believe that every single high school teacher really, really wants to make a difference in children's lives. I just imagine that in every grade level there is one sane teacher surrounded by overwhelmingly cheerful coworkers. Imagine the horror.

Elementry school teachers I can generally understand. They usually enjoy kids. Even mean elementry school teachers like small children. Medium rare. For me, teaching elementary school kids would be like a dream where earth has been transported to Sesame Street. And everybody loves it but you.




















I AM INTERESTED IN

The most recent THIS AMERICAN LIFE was great. It was on "mind games."

A clip from The Best Of British Commercials show that my parents recently went to
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=besDBr0bCWA

My favorite commercial EVARRRAR
You may recognise it ;-)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6biz85fUv04

Of Men and Monsters

"Which words don't you understand? I thought I had made myself clear." I spoke these words to (girl in my German class) with little to no effect. "But WHERE is it coming from?" she said. I put my face in my hands and slowly raise my head as I recite for the second time: "Ok, I'll break it down real simple for you. There is a radio SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO OUR HEADS. Where do YOU think the sound is coming from." "I don't know. I'm confused." "Obviously" I say. "As always" I think.

This is a typical day in high school German. I can barely understand most people in that class. God forbid they attempt to sputter out a cohesive sentence in English. German, on the other hand, is where they decide to talk as much as possible and omit enough grammar rules to shame first generation immigrants. The way they speak in there would make Hitler want to put them in a... oh never mind. You understand what I'm saying right? Before learning a new language you must learn how to speak your own. I cannot possibly imagine how most people get through the school day. If you can't comprehend the difference between a verb and a noun it must be like trying to solve a Rubix Cube with your face to conjugate one.

Throughout the rest of the class I sigh loudly and often enough that another girl sitting next to me asks if something is wrong.














I am interested in

lobotomies to improve intelligence

RADIO LAB (I would strongly suggest the one about life after death)

Quad's blog @ http://quadsspittle.blogspot.com/