once more with feeling

And another one!

2006-02-15T15:42:00.000-05:00

I realize I haven't done this in a while, and I'm sorry for that. Thing is, most of the things I have that are worth saying are private. I guess everyone has that problem, but then again, most people manage to post things occasionally.
Anyway.
I've been thinking a lot lately. Maybe junior year is finally getting to me (about time, too). I've been doing a lot of self-evaluation, I guess, and rethinking the way I look at people. I've come to the conclusion that everyone has reasons for doing the things they do, and I've been trying not to hold it against them. It's useful, but at the same time, it's difficult for me when I need to be angry at someone.
I've also been thinking about college, to some extent. Okay, a lot. I'm still thinking about a double major in music composition and creative writing, but I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I love both subjects, and I'm not sure I could say which I enjoy more than the other (which would make a major/minor program difficult), but I want to have time to take other classes, too. I love to dabble. You guys know that. I have lots of interests in lots of different things, and I'm not sure I'm ready to restrict myself to just two disciplines. Then there's the fact that I might not even get accepted into a music composition program, because I haven't been doing it seriously for very long, and there would be so many other applicants more experienced than I. I'm going to indulge my egotism for a moment and say that I think I'm rather talented--and I'm not the only one--but that means nothing if I'm against other talented people who have been studying theory since the age of three months. Maybe I'll have to sneak in through the proverbial back door?
So I'm still probably going to apply to my schools as a double major. But I'm thinking of alternatives, in case I don't get accepted.

I should do this more often

2006-02-11T14:19:00.000-05:00

I went to her house yesterday.
I really didn't want to. I had told Drew that I would go to improv, and besides that, I really just wanted to be alone. Or maybe I just wanted to be away from her for a while. Which, these days, means alone.
I was in the practice room, trying to learn a really hard aria. It's the mad scene from Lucia di Lammermoor. Then she came in and started making up a song on the piano, in some painfully low octave. I think it was in E minor. She started talking about how she didn't want to go home, and how she didn't like her house. I don't like it either. She asked me if I would go home with her. I was going to say no. But then she looked at me.
I can't say no to her.
At her house, she found a dress in the closet. "Wear it, Becca. Please?" And somehow I ended up in the closet, putting on this short, multicolored dress, thinking all the while about how much I didn't want to do this. I'm too fat to wear dresses. I haven't shaved in far too long. And my legs are dry.
I got out of the closet, and Ellen called. I was talking to her when I saw a half-completed note left on Nikki's desk. "So much for partners in crime," it said. And I wondered if it was to me. I wondered if she had noticed that I'm going a little bit out of my mind. I wondered if she had noticed that every little thing she does drives me crazy, and I can't explain why.
I looked at the note. I don't know why it was so important. But it was to that boy, and not to me. Of course. Why would she notice?
Then she was playing with my hair, giving me accessories, doing silly things. "You're my dolly, for me to dress up," she said.
Which is true.
Why do such innocent things send me on angst-filled rants? Why am I ridiculous? Why does she bother me so much? And why can't I say no?

So...how about those Redskins?

2005-12-19T23:03:00.000-05:00

Seriously, I have nothing to say here. At least at the moment. I am posting here only to oblige a certain someone. You know who you are. The one person who reads this. You.
We had our chorus concert tonight. I had adventures trying to change from my women's chorus dress to my chambers dress... I was running around in the green room wearing only a pair of shorts and a bra, and I pretty much threw my chambers dress at Chris Nolfi and said, "Hold this," while I hung up my women's dress. He obliged, of course...who can refuse a half-naked girl?
Also, today I got my SAT scores. So I am in an extremely good mood...

What did I dream?...

2005-11-15T16:02:00.000-05:00

West Side Story is soon. I am excited, because not only do I get to see my wonderful friend Nikki do an equally wonderful job as Maria, but when it's over, I get to see Nikki get her life back. Which is always good.

As if I haven't told you often enough, I have a voice recital on Sunday. It's at 6 o'clock (I'll tell you where if you're interested in coming). I'm singing two duets (one with Ellen and one with Sam). I am also making my debut as both an accompanist and...get ready...a composer. Nikki has kindly agreed to sing a song I wrote, and Deb is letting us do it in the recital. I am SO excited. So you should come. Because I'm really cool.

2005-10-13T20:34:00.000-04:00

Ha-ha! I'm not in love! I win!

I promised.

2005-10-01T23:36:00.000-04:00

Yeah. So I said I'd let you hear me sing. So here's me singing.

Yes, I'm aware that it's pitchy in places. Yes, I was deathly ill when I recorded it. And no, I do not usually sound that good when I am deathly ill. The song was written for an English project--we had to write an Odyssey-esque epic. Ours was about pancakes. This was for the movie version of our epic.

Wow, I'm awesome.

2005-10-01T22:45:00.000-04:00

I'm sure most of you know about my tendency to over-think things. But maybe you didn't realize it was this bad.

Rebecca Attempts Philosophy

Sometimes I wonder if my ego is too big. By one school of thought, the very fact that I wonder about the size of my ego indicates that it is not too big. But not only would that make self-evaluation impossible, it would also make me think, “I’m not egotistical!”—which in itself is an egotistical thought, which would then mean that I was, in fact, egotistical.
This is kind of like that proverb, “Fools believe that they are wise, while wise men know that they are fools.” Until someone said that, wise men were wise and fools were foolish. But as soon as the wise men heard that proverb, they thought, “Well, I believe myself to be a fool, so I must be wise.” This realization, in turn, would make them fools.

Wow.

2005-09-28T18:44:00.000-04:00

It's been a while, hasn't it? Where to begin...
I saw John today, speaking of "it's been a while." It was...very good. There's nothing more I can say on the subject except that Lauren V., despite her brilliance, is an idiot.
Hey, speaking of brilliance, I learned something exciting today. According to the collegeboard.com search engine, if my SAT scores are as good as the ones I've been getting on the diagnostic tests...well... Okay. Um, if you don't mind horrible egotism, I'll tell you a secret. (Select next paragraph to read.)
The college board's website lists 3641 schools. Apparently, if admissions were based solely on SAT scores, I would be able to get into 3639 of those schools. And who wants to go to MIT or California Tech anyway?
Is that cool or what? *does college admissions dance* Of course, admissions are based on much more than SAT scores. Grades, from what I understand, are pretty important. So that narrows my prospects a bit. But still. Isn't that AWESOME? I actually ran around my house, singing, "Yay! I don't suck as much as I thought I did!"
Speaking of singing, does anybody know of a free audio hosting site?

I'm so sexy...

2005-06-07T17:41:00.000-04:00

Hi, everyone. Sorry for the lack of updates--I've been busy, what with exams and everything. Um...I haven't much to say, except that if you want to see some video from my voice recital (which was last night), then go to batsonarampage.neptune.com. If that doesn't work, try http://www.neptune.com/features/view/framesetview.cfm?randomid=45484. And yes, I am aware that there's a giant skip in the middle of my song. And no, there's not anything that can be done about that.

my timing is wonderful

2005-05-25T18:10:00.000-04:00

How many singing things do I have coming up? Well, let's see.
Sometime next week there are auditions for Eighth Notes, an all-female a cappella group.
My women's chorus audition is in thirteen days.
My chamber choir quartet auditions are on June 13th.
Matt Robertson's senior recital, at which madrigals will be singing, is on June 3rd.
The chambers farewell concert, at which madrigals may or may not be singing, is on June 1st.
And my voice recital is on June 6th.
And I've got a cold and a sore throat. Lovely.

Whoa!!!!!!!!!

2005-05-18T15:22:00.000-04:00

Today was crazy-awesome!!!!!!!
Okay. Right. Sanity. Here's why today was crazy-awesome:
1) We're doing a project in English class which involves us changing a part of a play that we're reading. And my teacher likes what we've done so far. This is especially exciting because I wrote most of what we've done so far...
2) In NSL, nobody in my group wanted to work on our project. Instead, we spent our time conversing in French and Spanish, and discussing 1337 culture.
3) In creative writing, our student-led activity was to write about someone in a mythological fashion--kind of a power of myth activity. So I decided to write about 1337. I may post that later, because it's pretty amazing. I had time left, so I wrote another myth thing about Scott Kominers. I also started one about John Wiethorn, but I only got one sentence into it.
4) In French class, not only did we have a party, but I also received a very exciting letter. Apparently, I have been accepted into the French Honor Society. God only knows why, but I have been.
5) My solo doesn't suck! It's not as good as it ought to be, but it's not terrible, either. So I have that reassurance.
6) I got 100% on my chemistry test.
And finally...
7) I am now officially an author. One of my poems was published in Eidolon, which is my school's literary magazine. So if anyone's going to Festival of the Arts tonight (Come see me sing in the cafeteria at 8:30! There will be sexiness in the form of solos and "Popular."), then they should pick up a copy. I think they're available at a booth outside the gym.

This is how cool I am

2005-05-05T10:58:00.000-04:00

Yesterday in creative writing, we did student-led activities. The first activity was to write a piece based on a title that we were given. Mine was "The Sun Also Rises." That really wasn't working for me, so instead I wrote this.

The Sun Also Rises

The light
Is bright
But not at night.
I cannot bring myself to write
A thing of substance for this class
You can’t make me, so kiss my ass.
I find this title very poor
The sun’s too trite a metaphor
“For each thing, both great and small—
The sun gives power to them all.”
If sun’s symbolic of my mind
Then it has gone and left me blind.
Write for real? There’s just no way.
The sun may rise, but not today.

Our second activity was to write about a day in the life of an inanimate object.

The first thing you learn is it's gotta be wet. Otherwise it's no good--it's painful, it's messy, there's white stuff everywhere, and nobody ends up happy. So moisture is always good. Then you've gotta know that each chick likes it different. Some chicks like quick and easy. Some prefer long, slow, and gentle. Some of 'em like it fast and rough. And some of 'em even want to do it again just after the first time is over. The chick I got now is amazing. She's obsessed with doing it. Twice a day--sometimes even more! She digs this vibrating action I've got going on. She says it feels good. The only depressing part is that I know it won't last. I'll start to get tired, she'll start looking for a new guy--you know how it goes. But I don't worry about that. So basically, I'm pretty happy to be a toothbrush.

Am I awesome or what?

First entry of May! Woot!

2005-05-02T21:31:00.000-04:00

My Festival of the Arts performance is at 8:30 on a Wednesday--I think the 18th or something--in May. Come see us. There are several reasons why.
1) We are just that sexy.
2) My hair may or may not be its original color.
3) We're singing "Popular" from Wicked.
4) Guess who has a solo? ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Emily! And Sonya! And Allie! And Nikki! Again!

There is wothing nurse than a pesearch raper.

2005-03-06T14:56:00.000-05:00

Instead of doing my English homework, I engaged in frivolous wordplay. But I stumbled upon some valuable knowledge.
"Research paper" anagrams not only to "each prep errs," but also to "here's a crapper."
I thought you should know.

Rebecca forgets to post for several days (part one of infinity)

2005-03-06T01:06:00.000-05:00

Monday, February 28, 2005
Hah! Guess where I didn't have to go today!
You: School?
Me: You guessed it.
So mock trial is still crazy. There are many possible ways we may end up going about playing our next defense match, which may or may not be on Thursday (I think the draw for playoffs was cancelled today, and I'm not sure what the implications of that are for the playoff schedule). Possibilities include:
-Rebecca plays Dana and Ben is the lawyer
-Ben plays Dana and Scott is the lawyer
-Rebecca plays Dana and Scott is the lawyer
So it's craziness. I'm meeting with Ben tomorrow after school to run over things. I think he and Scott both get cookies at the end of the season. Any objections? (No pun intended.) I thought not.
It just occurred to me that the vast majority of my sentences start with the word "so."
In anticipation of having school off today. I spent the majority of last night recording songs and writing liner notes for a CD I'm making. The sound quality is awful. But the songs are amazing. There are, of course, the serious pieces, but I also included "Aunt Jemima," "The Song Song," "The Penis Canon," and, of course, the infamous "Stupid People." If anyone can recommend a site that hosts music, preferably for free, I can post the songs online for your listening (dis)pleasure.
My schedule is slowly starting to take shape. I've got a list of classes that I could potentially take. But if I were to take up a new language, would you recommend Spanish, Italian, or Latin. Spanish, I've been told, would be easy for me. I already know a few words in Italian from my adventures with singing. And Latin is just plain cool. Suggestions?
Now I must get back to eating the world's worst apple and cleaning my room. But before I do, I need to share these two wonderful little excerpts from yesterday's mock trial meeting...
Ms. E: Ben is more likely to draw objections on demeanor than Rebecca is.
Ben: Plus I can't put my hair up.
Scott: So, Dr. Koran, you have no way of knowing whether the loose material was present when the accident occurred, do you?
Ben: Well, I doubt the little elves came and sprinkled it during the night.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Communications are tough today, even frustrating. Perhaps unpleasant words are being exchanged, and you Librans are not attracted to uncomfortable situations. It may be your avoidance of difficult issues that have made matters worse. Don't give up. If you can willingly face the problems, you'll be rewarded with more meaningful relationships.
Does anyone know why Ben U has, it seems, developed a passionate hatred for me over the past few days? Does anyone know why, when I met with him this afternoon to go over the direct examination of my witness, he was terse and unapproachable? Does anyone know why he was cross, both in the questions he was asking me and the way he was acting? Does anyone know what I did to make him so impatient with me? And does anyone know why it bothers me so much?

Thursday, March 03, 2005
I had another entry about Ben, but I decided it should be a protected entry. It wasn't that long anyway, so it doesn't matter.
Does anyone know where I can get a (relatively) cheap iPod (or iPod mini)? I think I have the money to buy one, but babysitting only brings in so much income, so I want to get the best deal possible.
Inspired by Lyssa's xanga name, I started writing a poem. It was crap. But inspiration is nice anyway.
I wonder if anyone finds my life as interesting as I do. And my life isn't even that interesting. I'm just content with its level of interest, I suppose. Plus I have that talent for dramatizing everything.
So let's talk colleges. I've been getting all these "prostitution letters" in the mail, some from very good schools and others from University of Nowhere. "Dear Rebecca," they say. "You are so awesome. You are a genius. You are going to grow up to be God. Please bear our children." Of course, I am paraphrasing somewhat. Not all of the colleges punctuated correctly.
Anyway, lured into the trap of believing these blatant lies that I am actually intelligent and have a prayer of getting into any college at all, I recently did a college search online. Sure, they're pretty rudimentary, but they narrow my choices down a bit. A few schools I've thought about: -Macalester-Brown-Ithaca-St. John's
What do you guys know about any of those schools? Are they any good? Are they too good for me? Am I too good for them? (The answer in at least two of those cases is a resounding "no.") In particular I'm curious about atmosphere, because you can't search for atmosphere online.

Saturday, March 05, 2005
Um...out of curiosity, what would you guys think of me dyeing my hair red? Or reddish? (Of course, I'd make sure to find a shade that works with my skin tone.)

Sunday, March 06, 2005
Ooh! I totally pwned my chem quiz on Thursday! 22 out of 22! I know organic chemistry!
Wait...
Pwned?
Let me explain that word choice. See, those of you who know me well know that I never, ever, EVER use the word "pwned." But it's a chem-nerd word. And I, having just gotten 100% on my chem quiz, thus feel obliged to use the word "pwned." Until the next chem quiz.

Let the record reflect that I hate everything

2005-02-24T21:32:00.000-05:00

1) Next week marks the beginning of mock trial playoffs.
2) We want to win playoffs.
3) In order to win playoffs, we need to have good witnesses.
4) Therefore, all the witnesses testifying next week will be our good witnesses.
5) Next week, Ben U., not me, will be playing Dr. Koran.
6) Therefore, I will not be testifying next week
7) Therefore, I am not a good witness.
QE-effing-D.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...only not.

2005-02-24T18:28:00.000-05:00

All right. It's schedule time again. I've got myself together--more so than last year, anyway. Here's what I've got so far...

-Precalc (not with analysis; I'm not smart enough)
-AP English Language and Composition (I hear the transition from honors to AP is difficult. Is that true? And how difficult?)
-AP World (I've heard some sinister things about this one as well...)
-French 5 (this isn't much harder than honors French 4, is it?)
-Women's Chorus (at last, a class in which I can definitely get an A! Assuming I get in.)
-Chamber Choir (I've been told that I have a good chance at getting in, but I'm not completely sure.)

So that's six classes so far for next year. My seventh class was originally going to be journalism, but I've been thinking about that, and I really have no interest in journalistic writing. Facts? Yuck. The only reason I'd take journalism is to be on the staff of the Black and White (newspaper) in senior year, and I'm not even completely sure I want to do that. On the other hand, it'd be good for my college application. But I hate the idea of doing something just for the sake of my college application. But I also hate the idea of not getting into my college of choice just because I didn't take journalism.
What do you guys think? Is my college app worth the two-year time commitment? Will I eventually grow to love journalism? Would the class benefit my writing, or would it deter me from writing forever? In short, should I take the class or not?

And, as a bonus: If I don't end up taking journalism, what class would you recommend I take?

This never happens!

2005-02-23T23:19:00.000-05:00

Warning: The following is a mock trial-induced rant.
We're 4-0! We're 4-0! We won our case tonight! Elyse wasn't convicted of murder! We're 4-0!
Oh, man. Tonight was exciting. See, last night, Scott stumbled upon what we believed to be an error in the mock trial fact pattern. So we changed, essentially, our entire case theory. So I testified using a totally different fact pattern than the one I was used to. And it went okay.
Until cross-examination.
"So, Dr. Koran," the lawyer said, "you've based your testimony on the K index, isn't that correct?" Hmm. Well, ordinarily this would have been correct, if not for the last-minute change to the case. So my answer in this case was, "No, it's based on a study that was conducted by NHTSA."
Apparently, as he read from my affidavit, this was wrong. Being thus impeached, I calmly said, "Ah, I did say that. My apologies." I was in character, despite the fact that I was convinced that the opposing lawyer could see my ribcage rattle as my heart pounded.
So then he asked, "So you admit that you based your findings on the K index?" I replied that I had based my findings on both the K index and the NHTSA study--they showed the same data, after all, so I saw no reason why I couldn't have. So then he asked me to name and explain NHTSA's formula.
"Certainly," I said, again being very professional despite having no idea what I was doing. "It's known as the Safety Star Rating." This was, of course, complete bullshit. I had no idea what it was called. But the opposing lawyer didn't pick up on that--and neither did anyone, save Lauren W. "It's based on height, weight, and track width."
So again, this lawyer showed me something from the casebook, again proving that what I said was wrong. The NHTSA formula doesn't take weight into account. Oops. But before I responded to his question, the lawyer attempted to take away my copy of the article. "Excuse me," I said politely, while simultaneously conveying how superior I am (I've worked with NHTSA for 16 years, after all...), "I haven't had sufficient time to look at the exhibit. May I have it back, please?" I used this time to a) stall for time to come up with a way to gloss over my utter failure, and b) examine what the SSF (static stability factor, in case you were wondering) actually does account for. Finally I returned the document and came up with some way or another to sound credible while not lying.
"So, Dr. Koran," the lawyer continued, "you're saying that you have no idea how your formula works?"
"Of course not!" I exclaimed, with mild outrage--which, when you're Dana, is possible. "It takes into account height and half of the vehicle's track width." Of course, I said this very authoritatively, despite the fact that I've known this for all of fifteen seconds.
The rest of the cross went fairly smoothly. Afterwards, Scott (who helped me prepare for cross) came up to me and told me, "You did a really good job even when you were being bullied. And the judge didn't like that you were being bullied. You just did really well." He patted me rather firmly on the back. It hurt a little, but it was worth it.

Permission to have outside interests, your honor?

2005-02-20T01:08:00.000-05:00

You know mock trial has taken over your life when Scott K. shows up in your dreams. (And no, it was not one of *those* dreams.)

2004-12-23T07:59:00.000-05:00

Hello, Blogger, my old friend. It's been a long time, eh?
The last few weeks have been insane. Like many other people this time of year, I have been seized by a psychotic impulse to shop. In between mall explorations, I have written some things, including a poem in iambic octameter and a Poe-esque story about the sub who was in my creative writing class.
I have gotten presents for most of the people on my list. I still don't have one for William, Nathan, Lauren, and Ellen, though I know what I'm getting for each of them. Actually, in Lauren and Ellen's cases, I already have part of the present, but still need to purchase the main part. So today I need to stop by Hot Topic and an art store.
Should I get a present for Suzi? (How does she spell it?) I don't know her well. She's William's girlfriend, and they're inseperable, so it would be awkward if I gave William a present and didn't give one to Suzi. Plus she gave me a birthday present. On the other hand, that present was $5 in quarters. On the other hand (the previous hand), I was in Les Mis at the time, and really needed quarters so I could buy snacks/water/soda. I guess I'll get her something...I just haven't thought of what yet.
Yesterday was our choral concert! It was really fun. The freshmen this year are really good; they're better than we were, and we were pretty good ourselves. Trebles (that's me) were okay, I guess. We tended to speed up, and we sharped a lot, but the sharping kept us from going flat. Ashley, Nikki, and Ellen did beautifully on their solos, not that I expected any less. Nikki was upset after the concert because her parents came late and didn't see her solo. That made me angry. Nikki's self-esteem is low enough without her parents missing the chance to hear her sing. I mean, they probably had a good reason, but that doesn't make me any less angry.
A bunch of alumni came to the concert, including Mike Baer and Zaiyan (from my French class last year). It was exciting.
I also saw Lauren V, whose ballet performance is tonight. Good luck, Lauren! Even though you don't read this, I'll imagine you do!
Ah, one more story. In French class yesterday, we were reading a story called, "Le Chair de Maitre," which means, "The Flesh of the Master."
"Sounds like a porno," I said, and everyone laughed.
Then, we were reading the story out loud. A few paragraphs later, I saw a phrase that caught my eye: "le cinema porno." For those of you who don't speak French, "le cinema porno" means "the porn theater."
Seeing this, I cried in surprise, "Oh, my God! It is a porno!"

l'histoire d'un chapeau vert

2004-12-02T01:31:00.001-05:00

(I hate doing this to you guys--being absent from blogland for fifteen days, then posting something depressing like this--but I felt it was important. We did an assignment with rocks on Monday in creative writing, and it helped me recover from the Killer Case of Writer's Block from Hell, from which I have been suffering for a year and a quarter. This is something I dashed off in fifth period on Monday--completely top-of-the-head, so I'm sorry if it sucks. And yes, it's based on reality.)

He always wears a green hat, but today he does not. His head is bare, and his short haircut makes his scalp visible. Today he is hatless. Today he is unprotected.

When he walks in, eyes downcast, I make some crack about his bare-headedness. Wordlessly, he holds up the green hat clutched in his hand. I start to say something else, then stop, suddenly realizing that his lack of a witty retort might indicate a problem. "Are you all right?" I ask, out of habit.

He smiles weakly, his exhausted eyes still fixed to the floor. "No, not really."

"What happened?" I ask sympathetically, expecting to hear about a sleepless night or a bad test grade.

There is a long pause as he sets his backpack down beside the keyboard. Just as it occurs to me to tell him that it's okay, he doesn't have to tell me if he doesn't want to, his eyes meet mine and he speaks.

"Well, my parents are probably going to get divorced, and a friend of mine committed suicide over the weekend."

"Oh," I breathe, shocked. He sits down, either oblivious or apathetic towards my reaction. At first it bothers me, but I realize I am being selfish. Why should he pay attention to my reaction?

Hell, it hardly was a reaction, just a quiet noise.

I sit in silence, staring at my knees, wishing I had said something comforting. But my reasons are selfish--I want to relieve my own guilt. I'm not thinking of anyone but myself. How like me.
But what could I possibly have said? To him I'm just the girl in music theory and NSL. What do you say to make someone stop hurting? What do you say to a boy who suddenly seems so alone? What do you say to a boy whose pain you wish you felt?

What do you say to a boy you barely know?

l'histoire d'un chapeau vert

2004-12-02T01:31:00.000-05:00

(I hate doing this to you guys--being absent from Xanga for thirteen days, then posting something depressing like this--but I felt it was important. We did an assignment with rocks today in creative writing, and it helped me recover from the Killer Case of Writer's Block from Hell, from which I have been suffering for a year and a quarter. This is something I dashed off in fifth period--completely top-of-the-head, so I'm sorry if it sucks. And yes, it's based on reality.)

He always wears a green hat, but today he does not. His head is bare, and his short haircut makes his scalp visible. Today he is hatless. Today he is unprotected.

When he walks in, eyes downcast, I make some crack about his bare-headedness. Wordlessly, he holds up the green hat clutched in his hand. I start to say something else, then stop, suddenly realizing that his lack of a witty retort might indicate a problem. "Are you all right?" I ask, out of habit.

He smiles weakly, his exhausted eyes still fixed to the floor. "No, not really."
"What happened?" I ask sympathetically, expecting to hear about a sleepless night or a bad test grade.

There is a long pause as he sets his backpack down beside the keyboard. Just as it occurs to me to tell him that it's okay, he doesn't have to tell me if he doesn't want to, his eyes meet mine and he speaks.

"Well, my parents are probably going to get divorced, and a friend of mine committed suicide over the weekend."

"Oh," I breathe, shocked. He sits down, either oblivious or apathetic towards my reaction. At first it bothers me, but I realize I am being selfish. Why should he pay attention to my reaction?
Hell, it hardly was a reaction, just a quiet noise.

I sit in silence, staring at my knees, wishing I had said something comforting. But my reasons are selfish--I want to relieve my own guilt. I'm not thinking of anyone but myself. How like me.
But what could I possibly have said? To him I'm just the girl in music theory and NSL. What do you say to make someone stop hurting? What do you say to a boy who suddenly seems so alone? What do you say to a boy whose pain you wish you felt?

What do you say to a boy you barely know?

2004-11-16T15:33:00.000-05:00

Urk. I apologize for my prolonged absence, but I'm sure you appreciate that it's difficult--impossible, even--to participate in a musical while simultaneously maintaining one's blog, room, and grades.
Oh, speaking of grades, I got my report card. I got a C in math--ick--but a high B in AP NSL, and A's in honors English, chemistry, creative writing, music theory, trebles (like that wasn't a given...), and honors French 4. Apparently six of my eight classes count towards a certificate of merit (whatever that is...), and four of them are honors (and music theory should be, because it's HARD). Definitely a good report card. You'd think that my grades would be good enough for my parents, right?
Wrong.
I told my father about my grades over the phone, and all he could think to say was, "A C? That's unacceptable." No "Congratulations on earning a high B in your first AP class." No "Wow, six A's our of eight classes." Just "That's unacceptable." Well, fuck you, I find that answer unacceptable. "I got a C once in chemistry," he said, "and that was my only C for all of high school. You've gotten your one C." What the hell is that? I'm not my father. I'm not a fucking math genius. I just feel badly for my cousin--he's a freshman at WJ, and he did not do so well in his math class, either. I don't know if my family realizes that everyone expects high schoolers to be overachieving freaks whose days are apparenly 30 hours long (how else are we supposed to do all our extracurriculars and get straight A's?). It doesn't help that I apparently come from a family of math geniuses. My father is brilliant at math, and both of my younger brothers love math. My mother isn't that good at math, but when has that ever made her face the reality that maybe I'm not, either? I don't even believe in Jesus, but Jesus Fucking Christ.
Anyway, enough of that. I've got another story. On Friday, we had our first dress rehearsal. We were doing "Lovely Ladies," and I had just finished my solo (which is awesome, by the way ;-)) and was going to sit back down in my whore pose. As I sat, I felt something dig into my calf. Though it hurt a lot, I figured it was just a splinter and I'd deal with it once I got offstage. When I was finally able to limp offstage and inspect the damage, I realized that the thing digging into my leg was not a splinter. It was a staple.
I spent the next few scenes hobbling around backstage, cheerfully informing everyone, "I got stabbed in the leg with a staple!" As far as I know, I don't have tetanus, seeing how I'm not dead yet.
If you're coming to see the show (Thursday, Friday, and Saturday), then please help me with something. I have a personal goal of getting 25 carnation-o-grams by the end of the show. They only cost a dollar, and the money goes to a good cause: feeding the hungry (specifically, my ego). If you don't have money, I will lend/give you some. I'm that pathetic.
Ooh, one more thing. If I streak my hair or do something equally weird to it after the show, what color should I use? Should I at all? I've never used hair dye before (not counting the spray-on kind), so I'm a bit unsure. Feedback is appreciated.
Next in blog-land: my plot to conquer the (literary) universe.

Grrrrrrr

2004-11-10T17:49:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was on the computer until 11:15-ish talking to two people. I know it sounds like a waste of time, but I hardly ever see one of the people and I have not spoken to the other person in a very long time. Anyway, my father came downstairs and started yelling at me (whose stupid idea was it to put the computer in our very public living room?) how "you shouldn't be up this late, you're going to be tired, there will be consequences, blah blah blah." I thought nothing of it.
When I got home this afternoon, my mother said to me, "Oh, by the way, you're limited to an hour per day on AOL, and your hour expires at 10 p.m." Sure enough, I signed on, and a pop-up appeared, telling me that "a time limit has been placed on your screen name." Bullshit. Ten p.m.? I don't even get home until then, some nights. Thank the computer gods for Internet Explorer and AIM.
Still, the entire thing bothers me. Supposing I've had insufficient time to finish a research project, what do I do? Do I do an hour's worth of research and go into school the next day, telling the teacher, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't finish the project, because my parents are full of shit"? And what if I'm talking to someone important to me, as I was last night? "Oh, sorry, Rebecca, but we're going to contradict ourselves by telling you to talk to your friends and have more of a social life, and then limit your means of human contact." Or what if I'm just being stupid, as I sometimes am, and stay up way too late? Isn't that my own fault? Shouldn't I have to deal with the consequences? Isn't that the only way I'll learn, and hence be prepared for college and real life? Maybe I'm just being immature, but the limit itself is an immature concept. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, even if they are sometimes the wrong ones.

Sort of like an update, but without being organized

2004-11-09T22:28:00.000-05:00

Sorry, this is really out of order. Just read it backwards, I guess.

Monday, November 08, 2004
When I woke up this morning (and by "this morning" I mean "Sunday at 11:30 a.m.), I promised myself that I would Be Productive. I have been getting into a very, very bad habit of not doing my work until the period before it is due. This really doesn't work so well, especially when it comes to projects like the one I have to do for French (write a children's story, complete with illustrations), so I decided that today would be the day when I turned over a new leaf. From now on, no more procrastination. No more late nights overdosing on caffeine and struggling to finish that NSL essay. No more waking up at 6:55, five minutes before I have to leave the house. Starting today, I was going to Be Productive.
And productive I was. From noon until dinner, I typed ceaselessly at the computer, even managing to create a remotely coherent story in French. I was the most productive I've been in days, weeks, or even months.
The disillusioning part is that I'm still not finished.
I've got four hours in which to finish these illustrations, do my assessment of the presidential election, and find quotes in my copy of Night. I don't know how much of this I will actually be able to finish.
The good news? My French project looks amazing. I'm watercoloring the illustrations, and even though I'm not very good, it has a wonderful effect. Later on, I may post the picture of the character I've fondly named "Crazy Guy." But for now, it's back to the illustrations.

Friday, November 05, 2004
Yaaaaay for midnight babysitting! Since all the kids were in bed, I got bored and made this:
If the picture doesn't work for you, it can be found at http://www.geocities.com/ihav8nu/altoid.html
I should definitely make t-shirts.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Urgh. You stupid Americans. I'm moving to France.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Today is election day. I was going to be clever and put a link to a certain movie poster, but it appears that http://tim.movementarian.com/archives/000482.html beat me to it. (There, that link ought to work.)

Monday, October 18, 2004
My shower is leaking. In triplets. The droplets of water seem to be following a basic quarter note beat in 4/4, with a few eighth notes here and there, but every so often I'll hear a triplet. I wonder if this means I've been studying too much music theory.

Sunday, October 17, 2004
As some of you may know, October 19 is my two-year Bat Mitz-versary. To celebrate, I am declaring it National Spell Your Name With A Q Day. Everyone who can will spell their name with a q. For example, I will be Rebeqah, and my friend Kit will be Qit. Kelly could be Qelly, Doug's last name would be Broqmeier, and Lena probably doesn't want me posting her last name, but she knows where the Q goes. If you have multiple possible Q substitutions, as in Katie Couric, use as many as you want (Qatie Qouriq). And if you don't have a letter in your name that can be replaced with the letter q, then stick it randomly into your name (Joe Smith=Joe Smiq, Qoe Smith, or Joe Sqith, to name a few possibilities). Or if you don't want to do that, then Q can be your new middle initial, as in Joe Q. Smith.

Wow. lack of updates

2004-11-09T22:20:00.000-05:00

Perhaps I should rectify this situation?

Whoops...perhaps I should have updated...

2004-10-14T18:13:00.000-04:00

Sorry for abandoning you guys, but I've been ridiculously busy. My MCYC concerts are this weekend, and I had waaaay too many tests this week.
We took the "officially scored" practice PSAT yesterday. And yes, I know that the P in PSAT stands for practice. The only concept more BS than the PSAT is the practice PSAT. But anyway. We were sitting in our classroom, working through the math section, when the fire alarm went off. So we all ventured outside and waited for the fire department. I wanted to play on the playground in back of Whittier Woods, but our teacher wouldn't let me. Darn.
We eventually came back in and finished the test. The last section--the grammar--is the one section on which I am confident that I scored well. (Funny how that sentence does nothing to prove my point.) I'm funny to watch during that last section because the grammar is ridiculously terrible, and I'll sit there making faces at the paper. "What is THAT? Are you CRAZY? Oh, God, that sentence made me feel ill. And don't even get me started on the next sentence."
My parents found out that I have a C in math, and they have not shut up about it since. "Do you need extra help? Do you need another tutor? Will you go in and talk to your teacher? Have you done your homework? Have you studied for your test?" I understand the motivation behind it, but God, it's annoying.
I am now in search of a male duet partner. Any takers? Is it possible that Kit would be interested?

I'd never erase this

2004-10-10T01:30:00.000-04:00

Today was the...er...surprise birthday party for Nathan and me. We watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," which is an effing good movie. After that, Chris and Drew started being typical stupid boys and using each other as weapons of mass destruction. I didn't really want to deal with that, so Allan and I went into Drew's basement, bounced on his trampoline, and spent the rest of the party just talking--about his dad who lives in Wisconsin, about hang-gliding, about everything and nothing. It was one of those rare, beautiful moments when you're neither joking nor miserable--you just are, for a while. There are so few people who I can do that with, and I can't even remember the last time I had a moment like that. It's amazing, really, how you don't miss human contact until something reminds you of what it is you're missing.

Laziness

2004-09-19T01:59:00.000-04:00

Since Friday afternoon, I've posted five (brief) entries in Xanga-land. If you know where my xanga site is, then LOOK AT IT! If you don't, then it's www.xanga.com/ and then one of my screen names. If you still can't figure it out, contact me.

Les Mis...

2004-09-10T21:29:00.000-04:00

Oh, dear, I've been a bad person.
This week I've pretty much lived and breathed Les Mis. My audition was on Wednesday, and I thought it went pretty well--or, anyway, it could have sucked a lot more than it did. They had me sing "Someone Like You" and "I Have Dreamed," which were the two songs that I wanted to sing. The student teacher was one of the judges for the audition, which threw me off initially. But I got over it.
The cast list goes up on Tuesday. There aren't going to be call-backs, because they've already determined who's getting the lead roles. Here are my speculations (these are just ideas, nothing definite):
Valjean: Either Marshall or Ian McEuan
Javert: Marshall, Joe Newman, Eric Weissman, Reed Wilson
Marius: Ian, Christian Gero, Reed, Matt Glenn
Thenardier: Joe, Matt (can't you just SEE that?)
Enjolras: Christian, Reed
Grantaire (the drunk guy): Matt, or maybe even Joe.
Cosette: Kathy Albert
Eponine: ...hell if I know. Kristen Golden, maybe? Or Sonya Glaessner?
Fantine: There's been speculation about Michaela Lieberman, but that would seriously hurt my soul. I'd love to hear Sonya singing "I Dreamed a Dream," but I don't know if the character suits her.
Madame Thenardier: Alex Bachorik, maybe--I know she wants the part, and she could definitely handle the character. Apart from that, I haven't a clue.
Best Damn Whore Ever: Me, if I get in.
Final, random thought: Wouldn't Ellen Bryson make the cutest Young Cosette ever? They'll probably cast Claire Lyon, though, but I...strongly disagree with that casting decision.
So now all I have to do is wait. For-fricking-ever.

Adventures in eight-period-ness

2004-09-01T22:07:00.000-04:00

MCYC was cancelled today! I got two and a half hours of my life back! Hooray!
I don't have time to do a real entry (I'll do one tomorrow, hopefully), so here's some stuff.
Vivaan (among others) is in my writing class, which makes the class very entertaining. We're currently writing poems made up of random words cut from magazines and glued to index cards. I should post mine. I'm not sure, but I think it's about the hierarchy of sweater society. Or something.
Music theory is the best class ever, except for creative writing. Mr. Chadwick did cause me a bit of Ender's Game-induced terror yesterday when he used my paper as an example of how we were supposed to write the note names, but apart from that, it's awesome. (Wow, that was an awkward sentence.) Mr. Chadwick has a keyboard that plays back voice recordings, then plays them at various pitches. Hilarious. Plus there's the fact that every time I see Mr. Chadwick, I can't help but remember that time when I caught JW leering suggestively at Chadwick during chorus last year. Good times.
Speaking of chorus, Davidson was doing part tests today. For the second year in a row, he's not sure where to put me. Of course, I'm not sure either, and it's kind of cool that I could go either way. He wants me to be either an alto or a soprano 2, which is what I suspected. (I'm definitely not a soprano 1, which is nice, because it means I'll probably never be competing with Kathy Albert for a part in the musical or all-state or MCYC.) Oh, Davidson's new student teacher, Mr. Liddel, is very fortunate that he told us on the first day that he was married, because he is HOT. He is to us what Miss Bennett was to the guys last year. Rarr. (Do I need to add a footnote or something that says that "rarr" is a registered trademark of Kelly? Because it's her word, but I seem to have stolen it, and probably misspelled it as well.)
The Les Mis meeting was today after school. Mr. K was trying to tell us about how to physically convey emotion in our audition songs. "There are three parts of your body that you can use," he said. "Your face, your torso, and (pointing to his legs) your things." After everyone had a good laugh, he corrected himself. "Your legs. Your things would be part of your torso."

Amor Que Une Con El Amor Grandisimo

2004-08-27T13:39:00.000-04:00

All right, let's talk MCYC.
I've gotten to the point where all the pieces just need fine-tuning (except for the Psalm of Praise...but let's not go there). I'm totally digging "Amor Que Une..", especially the part that goes "y versos del pasto" and ends on the low A flat. So sexy. Since I'm singing Alto 1, I don't really get a whole lot of really low notes (which are fun), but I do get some pretty high ones (well, not high for me, but high if you're actually an alto, instead of a soprano who's just pretending). I think we get up to an E at one point, which I didn't realize...happened.
Tomorrow is the testing thing. I'm somewhat nervous. I'll be fine, though.
Wow. Twelve birds just simultaneously flew onto our deck.

This one is from Wednesday...

2004-08-27T13:33:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry for the lack of updates, and I'm unfortunately short on time, so I'll keep this short.
On Saturday at six a.m., my family and I left for Lake Toxaway, NC. At eight a.m., I realized that I had left my MCYC rehearsal CD at home, meaning that I would be unable to practice. It was a sad day for baseball.
The vacation was awesome. Lita slept over at my family's house one night. I gave her a not-too-horrible French manicure, because her nails are just that awesome. Max has a hat and a t-shirt from Wicked--they both say "Defy Gravity" on the back. My brother taught me how to play pool, which made me feel amazingly blue-blooded, to the point of fleetingly wondering if I should go buy a Mercedes and a few polo ponies, or perhaps the Hope diamond. I found out that my cousin's friend Daniel, who came with us on the trip, might go to Whitman next year. He's graduating in '08, and he's really cool, when he's not being stupid. He let me put makeup on him for the show.
Ooh! The show! Max has gotten a lot better at writing. Some of the songs were actually really good. As I said, I didn't have one of the leads, but I did have a pretty major part, and I got to belt! Or try to. Anyway, it was really good.
Since I got home, I've mostly devoted my time to school-supply shopping, room-cleaning, and MCYC music-learning. And now Daddy wants the computer.

The Almost-Week in Review

2004-08-13T18:20:00.000-04:00

Eurgh, I'm feeling vaguely ill. Does that even make sense? Vaguely ill?
Let's see. I babysat for Alyssa (who's three) on Sunday night. We had some pretty brilliant conversations, but this one was my favorite.
Alyssa: (holding a stuffed gorilla) Is this my monkey? Oh, yes it is.
Me: How can you tell?
Alyssa: It says "Alyssa" on it.
Me: Where?
Alyssa: (pointing to the copyright information on the tag) Right there.
On Monday, the somewhat annoying boy in my bio class wasn't there. Instead, the definitely annoying right-wing EVIL noxious boy sat next to me. It was amusing, because I just sat there writing an outline for my story and ignoring everything he said--except for towards the end of class when we got into an argument and he started using derogatory words that I don't want to repeat but have been known to get me amazingly pissed off. I was too involved in my outline to cuss him out, so I just told the teacher that he was harrassing me. As a result, the DARWEN did not speak to me ever again, and hopefully never will. Oh, Lauren, this is probably not the best time to tell you, but he's going to your school next year. His name is Robbie. He has blond curly hair, dresses like a prep, and looks way too much like that Peter kid who deserves to be shot. Stay the fuck away from him.
On Tuesday, I wrote things. Unfortunately, they were crap. But I wrote them.
What I didn't do on Tuesday was study for my bio final, which was on Wednesday. However, I still got an A on it. After that was over, I went to CVS and bought more makeup than a human being should ever own.
Yesterday was not especially interesting, except I sounded dead sexy at my voice lesson, and later on there was some awesomeness that was, for the most part, not related to music.
This morning I woke up at 5:00 a.m. Blech. So now I'm going to take a nap, unless I'm going to pack for my trip to North Carolina. While we are there, my cousins, siblings, and I are going to perform the musical that my cousin Max wrote. (He and his twin sister, Lita, are playing the leads, as is to be expected.) Since he's all of eleven years old, it should be interesting. But good, because he's awesome. That's a really bad conclusion for this entry, but you know what? This is what (and it's not as dirty as it sounds):
"Mine is thicker than yours...and CARBONATED?!!!"

Shit I should have posted a long time ago

2004-08-12T21:57:00.000-04:00

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

The Life and Times of Schnooky the Dinosaur

Chapter One

Once upon a time, before humans or Dr. Phil walked the earth, there was a dinosaur named Schnooky. Schnooky was a velociraptor, which was a kind of dinosaur. Specifically, it was a kind of dinosaur that was a raptor that traveled at a particular velocity.

One day, Schnooky was out searching for weaker dinosaurs that she could brutally murder and eat when she stumbled upon a wrinkle in the space-time continuum, or something like that. She sniffed it curiously. Unable to determine what it was, Schnooky tried to eat the wrinkle in the space-time continuum. However, what she ended up doing was vanishing from prehistory and reappearing in the year 2004 A.D., or C.E., if Schnooky was Jewish.

“What the crap?” shouted Rebecca, glaring at her computer screem. “This is the worst story ever! Why would Schnooky be Jewish? And why is this computer writing down everything I say? I mean, for f—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

For at this point, you see, Schnooky had gotten tired of waiting for the story to get back to her. Besides, she was hungry. So she had done what any normal dinosaur would have done, and eaten the speakers for Rebecca’s computer.

“Oh, well,” said Rebecca. “At least she didn’t eat the keyb

(I may do a real one later, when my writing goes back to sucking in a good way.)

Saturday, August 07, 2004

I was going to do something stupid with my night, like type stuff, but then I remembered--I have a Xanga site that has been without updates! Quel tragedie! That's definitely some of the worst French ever!

The Whitmanite who sits next to me in bio class is becoming increasingly annoying. I like him well enough, I suppose, but he's not very bright. Kind of like how the starving children in Africa (and America, too) are not very fat. Maybe I just have a low tolerance for people who(m?) I consider to be unintelligent. Anyway, because of him, I was prompted to write a song about stupid people. I don't want to post it yet, because not all of you have seen me perform it (which you really should), but I might later.

On Wednesday, I babysat for a boy named Dylan. I was there until midnight. And I had to go to school the next day. It made me very angry.

Thursday was a good day.

Yesterday, a few friends and I got together and had a sleepover party. I know it sounds childish, but you know what? I enjoy sleepover parties. They're some of my best memories. We all got seriously sugar-high on gum, Jolly Ranchers, and various gummy candies. Then we watched way more movies than we should have--"When Harry Met Sally," "The Breakfast Club," and "Breakfast at Tiffany's." (If we'd rented "My Dinner With Andre" and "Tea with Mussolini," we could have had a theme, except for the Harry and Sally-ness.) Audrey Hepburn amazes me.

I spent my entire day today cleaning various things--tidying up after the party, helping clean out the garage, typing stories on the computer so that I could throw away the things they were written on (which, by the way, included napkins, field trip permission slips, and theater programs). I also painted my toenails orange.

Nathan, if you get a chance, I'd like to talk to you.

Sorry for the nonexistant updates--here's a nice long one

2004-07-28T18:03:00.000-04:00

Oh, wow. I fail at updates.
I didn't fail the semester exam, though! It was much easier than I had thought it would be. I got an A on that, so I got an A in the course. Huzza!
After the exam on Thursday, I kind of wandered around near WJ. They're right next to Giant and pretty close to Starbucks, so I pretty much lived there until my mom picked me up at 12:00 (I got out of school at 10:30). Oh, I also tried on a 200-dollar dress at South Moon Under. That was made especially fun by the fact that I had about $5 on me at the time. Ha-ha, I'm so easily amused by the most ridiculous things.
My voice lesson went pretty well, I thought. I asked my teacher if I could learn how to belt, and she agreed to teach me, but I need to find a belter song first. Can anyone think of any good belter songs? I've found a few, but I'd like other people's input.
When I got home from the lesson, I saw under my mailbox a large cardboard envelope, which contained my MCYC music. I opened the folder to see if I recognized any of the pieces--and the second piece I pulled out was "Amor Que Une Con El Amor Grandisimo."
I spent pretty much all of Friday learning my Torah portion. That night, I went to see BAPA's production of Macbeth, starring the always-fabulous Lauren as Lady Macbeth, and with Matt G. as Macbeth's Id. Their director made it all apocalyptic and awesome. And, of course, what production with Lauren has ever *not* been awesome? I envy her.
Speaking of productions and acting and such, I've been thinking of taking acting classes, so that I can eventually get to the point where I don't suck. Does anyone know of any reasonably close theater programs that offer classes during the school year? I've already looked at BAPA, MTC, and Roundhouse, but I want to consider every possible option before I make any definite plans.
I read my Torah portion on Saturday morning. Due to a combination of lack of preparation and nervousness, I basically failed. But whatever. Lena showed up to support me, despite having to get up early, because she's cool, unlike Nathan. She and I hung out in the bathroom for most of the service after that. I kept getting all these compliments, which led me to hypothesize that if you get a lot of compliments, you were either really good or really bad.
I wanted to go camp-supply shopping with Lena, but I had plans to see a movie with Alexandria (those plans fell through later, of course), so I couldn't go. Tragic.
On Sunday, I slept through Ben's divisional dive meet, to which I hadn't been planning to go anyway. He got in eighth place, but he was still very happy about it. I was happy that he was happy about it, because it used to be that if he wasn't in first place, he would stomp around the house and tear up his ribbons and make everyone's lives miserable. I don't remember what I did during the day, but I do remember that I started writing a song when my family wasn't home that night. (Or was that Saturday night?) I've decided that would never be able to have a musical career, because I'd be afraid that the subjects of my songs would hear them on the radio and be all, "Oh, my God! That's ME!" Plus there's the fact that my voice doesn't work for that kind of music, and my lyrics suck. Yeah.
Monday was the first day of Bio B. I'm sitting next to Dan again, but we're at different tables this time. I'm also sitting next to a boy named Justin, who also goes to Whitman. He's not particularly sketchy, though, so I broke that part of the trend.
My teacher is not as attractive as my last teacher, plus I get the feeling that he hates me because I answer his questions (how dare I?!!).
Yesterday we had a test. We're getting our grades tomorrow. We spent the first part of class reviewing, but I did a few (awful) drawings when I got bored. After I got home, I spent most of the rest of the day organizing my room. I've nearly organized it to the point where I can start painting my furniture. Hooray!
Oh, Torrell. I figured out what his motives were--sort of. It became pretty obvious when he said I had a nice ass and told me that my cat noises were "sexy." So either he was hitting on me or he's just like that with every girl, which doesn't exactly appeal to me. (Side note: has anyone else noticed that while I have pretty average luck in terms of getting a date/boyfriend/whatever, the sketchy boys are constantly hitting on me? Never the normal boys. Just the sketchy ones.) Anyway, I was a little worried about the potential awkwardness of the situation if by some strange chance he asked me out "or something." Fortunately, there was no asking out and no "or something," so that awkwardness was avoided. That also made me reasonably certain that he's a lot more like Lu than I'm comfortable with. I mean, guys like Lu can be good for the occasional ego boost, and they're fun to talk to and secretly make fun of, but only if you can keep your feelings (and, okay, hormones) from complicating things.
When we were leaving after the exam, Torrell just said something to the effect of, "I'll see you at school." It was rather anticlimactic, and even had an ominous "to be continued..." kind of vibe to it. I'm not worried, though--it ended without awkwardness and messy emotions, and I was able to figure out his motives, or at least accept the fact that it's impossible to figure out his motives. It wasn't quite the tidy little ending I'd been hoping for, but I guess in the fabric of life, there are always a few loose threads.
Until next time, I'm over and out.

All your life, you've been waiting to tell me how much of a loser I truly am. Here's your chance.

2004-07-24T00:50:00.000-04:00

http://www.blunttruthgame.com/takesurvey.cfm?uid=0948701

Fun with timers and open minds

2004-07-14T21:14:00.000-04:00

The following was written in twenty minutes, more or less without stopping to think or correct errors. Unless the errors were really, really stupid.

My mother was supposed to be home 45 minutes ago. Speaking of time, the time you spend in summer school is approximately equal to the amount of time you spend on one subject per semester in regular school. Summer school is an adventure. I have somehow ended up with the second-highest grade in my class. My class is full of interesting people, though. People like Torrell. I don't know what to make of Torrell. I don't know if it should worry me that he reminds me of Lu. Maybe I should avoid him. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
My hair is being annoyingly frizzy today. Lauren always used to complain about her hair being frizzy. I always thought it looked perfect. I haven't seen Lauren in a long time. She's playing Lady Macbeth at BAPA. I want to go see it, but I'm worried that she'll talk to her other friends and not to me, someone she probably barely considers a friend. Or maybe she'll try to talk to me and I won't have anything to say and I'll further fuck things up. I miss Lauren, but sometimes I wonder how we stayed friends. I don't work at maintaining friendships; I expect them to maintain themselves, then wonder why they fail. I guess it's kind of like how I expect to get A's and B's in school without studying. It hasn't quite occurred to me that there's a correllation between studying and grades. And life.
I can't write. I was trying really hard for a long time, but it wasn't working for me. Words don't just appear on the page like they used to. I have to work for it. I don't know how to work for things.
My stupid fake nails are dying because of the crappy fake nail glue. The nails are green and awesome. They're just about the only thing in my life that I'm happy with right now.
The guy who sits next to me in bio is amazing. His name is Dan, or perhaps Daniel. He's like Scott K., only gothic. It's fabulous. Yesterday he said something like, "Why can't we learn about reproduction? I mean, come on--meiosis is hot!" He also found a publication that was full of insane anarchist propaganda. Isn't that exactly what you want to find in a bus station?
I got to see Karen today. She's a fun person, at least in small doses. We played Clue. She has a little nephew named Cian who kept jumping on the Clue game board. I told him he could play with one of the little pawns, but he wasn't allowed to put them in his mouth. He grinned mischievously and pretended to put it in his mouth. I love little kids.
I got to see Linda Eder at Wolftrap on Thursday. She was incredible. That high note in the Don Quixote song amazes me every single time. I mean--wow. What a range. And to think that my cousin thought she was an alto.
Sometime, maybe last summer, we had what we thought was a mouse living in our playroom downstairs. I thought it was cute. I left a waffle under the ottoman for it. My mom got mad at me. I wanted to keep it in the house forever, but my mom didn't want it pooping and getting into our food. We got one of those humane traps--the ones that they can't escape from, but don't hurt them--and we caught it with that. My mom released it in the woods by the canal. It turns out that it was actually a vole, which is like a mouse-sized mole. Voles are my new favorite animals.
I've decided what songs I'm doing for the Les Mis audition. I'm doing "Someone Like You," "God Help the Outcasts," and "I Have Dreamed." I don't actually know that last one, but Deborah sang it for me, and it was really pretty.

Just when I thought I was rid of him...

2004-07-06T14:19:00.000-04:00

I got back from New York on Sunday, and I waited until Tuesday afternoon to update. I'm a bad person.

The Lion King was awesome, but I can't necessarily say the same of the family reunion in Stanfordville. I'm writing a story-thing about it, so I don't want to say much about it right now.

When we got back, the air conditioner was broken, thanks to an incompetent person we got to check to make sure it was working properly, which it had been before he checked on it. I had a lovely time last night trying to find a comfortable place to sleep. I was in my own bed for a while, but that didn't work so well because my fan's high setting makes the fan look like it's going to fall out of the ceiling. I'm not even kidding. So I went into Ben's room (he and Sam were sleeping upstairs in my parents' room) and tried to sleep on the bottom bunk of his bed. When this failed, I moved to the top bunk, then eventually to the floor. Around 11:30, I gave up and went to watch Drew Carey. After that was over, I went upstairs and decided to try sleeping in Sam's bed, even though it smells like infrequently-showering deodorant-neglecting pre-pubescent boy. I don't think I fell asleep until 2 a.m.

Then today was my first day of biology. I understand the material, but I get the feeling that the teacher doesn't really know what he's doing. He's attractive, though, so that's a bonus.

There's a boy in my class whose name is Terrell (I can't spell that). He goes to Whitman, but he's going to be a senior. He came over to talk to me during our lab, and we also spent our entire 20-minute break together. At first I thought he seemed nice, but then I thought about it more carefully. The first person he talks to is the naive-looking younger girl. He spends the equivalent of half an hour talking to her. He says things that most boys don't even say when they know you well, like, "Are you all right? You look tired." He gives the impression of being the world's nicest person.

The similarities to Lu are uncanny.

Oh--at one point he said something to the effect of, "I like meeting new people... I knew I had to meet you." Is anyone else reminded of the "Nice seeing both of you" incident? Come to think of it, I was wearing the same outfit when that happened...

On the other hand, I might just be being paranoid. Maybe he genuinely wanted to talk to me without having any kind of hidden agenda. But outside of the Magic-card-playing set, how many boys do I know who fit that description? How many boys *exist* who fit that description?

So Terrell is either a very nice, friendly person who's trying to meet new people, or he's a total player in need of some action. Big difference.

I hate to disappoint my fans, but I'm about to do it anyway

2004-07-04T22:41:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry that I haven't written in so long--I was dragged to a family reunion and had all sorts of adventures. Ha, not really.
The imaginary regular readers of this blog will notice that the number of posts has suddenly dropped from 112 to about 5. This is because, due to the personal nature of some of the posts on my blog, I decided to delete most of my archives and start over. So here I am, with a brand-new blog and a pretty layout, and nothing interesting to say. Ironic, or just typical of me?

Rebecca Sorts Through Old Papers, Part 2

2004-06-24T17:49:00.000-04:00

Again, there are pictures on my Xanga. Go and check it out. Please. They're really cool, and they include a cartoon in which my HP fanfic characters act in a butchered version of Little Red Riding Hood.

Adventures in Camelot
These are all true stories about our school production of Camelot in April 2002.
"Does anyone have any questions?" Mr. Beaty asks us, just before the Thursday performance of Camelot. I think for a minute. During the previous day's performance, Carter (Sir Dinadan) and James (Sir Sagramore) had nearly dropped Chris (Sir Lionel) while carrying him onstage after his "death" in the joust scene. Elyse, Ellen, and I had been nearby, and were wondering, "Should we continue weeping, or should we help them carry Chris?"
I raise my hand. "I have a question regarding the joust. If Carter and James once again decide that Chris needs to actually die in order to accurately portray a dead person, should my cluster of people help them to carry Chris?"

I have brought a sock monkey-making kit to the performance to keep from dying of boredom while sitting backstage. Unfortunately, my needle has vanished. I have spent the past ten minutes looking for it.
"Rebecca?" says Anna. "You have to go to the backstage place now."
"Fine," I say. "But if anyone steps on something that makes them bleed, it's probably my needle."

"So, how was rehearsal?" Ashley's father asks us, as we're driving home.
"It was really good for me," says Helena.
"Well, it went okay," says Ashley. "But we got our nymph skirts, and they're the see-through ballet skirts. All of our leotards are see-through, and you can kind of see...everything."
"Eh, we can blame Mr. Nateghi," I point out. "If he'll pay for my psychotherapy, I'll come quietly. Maybe I can get rid of the schizophrenia, too--all on Nateghi!"

"D," says Ellen, for what must be the millionth time that day. "Eight. I fixed it."
She has been doing this for ages. "D" refers to the starting note of "The Sounds of Silence." She got eight problems wrong on our last math test, and she had fixed what she'd done wrong, but our math teacher had refused to change her grade. Ever since, she has been saying "D. Eight. I fixed it." My patience has passed the stage of wearing thin and is now completely nonexistant.
"Ellen," I say, "shut up."
"D," says Ellen. "Eight. I fixed it."
"Shut up!"
Finally, Ellen listens. She walks over to Chris. "Don't say 'D,' 'eight,' or 'I fixed it' to Rebecca," she says simply.
Smiling wickedly, Chris walks over to me. "D. Eight. I fixed it."
"No. Don't say that. Ellen's said that enough times already. She doesn't need your help," I say, hoping against hope that Chris will actually care.
He doesn't, of course. "D," he says. "Eight. I fixed it."
This goes on for quite some time. After he's said it about twenty times, I slap him lightly. "Shut up!"
"Don't slap him!" yells Sara.
"He deserved it," I mutter.
"Hey," says Chris. "This table isn't in the right place. I'll move it to coordinates D8. There! I fixed it!"
Ellen, if you're reading this, I'm sorry for being so impatient with you in seventh grade. Hopefully I've learned to be more tolerant.

On Thursday, I cut my ankle shaving just before going to the performance. Figuring that my ankle will stop bleeding before I have to go onstage, I leave for the performance with my things.
Needless to say, my ankle refuses to stop bleeding. By the time I've finished applying my stage foundation, my ankle is still bleeding. I dampen a cotton pad and hold it on my cut. I hop out through the hallway, and somehow manage to kick myself in the leg. Later, I get blush on my throat. In trying to wipe it off with my washcloth, I draw blood. This is really sad, I think.

There is a scene in the second act where King Arthur (Christian G.) goes hunting in a forest, only to have a sleeping spell put on him by Morgan le Fay (Elyse). Morgan's court, who had previously disguised themselves by pretending to be trees, shrubs, and rocks, then builds an invisible wall around Arthur.
Before we go to get changed before our Wednesday performance, Mr. Beaty reads us his notes from our Tuesday dress rehearsal. "In the Morgan le Fay scene, Morgan's court needs to have body-width invisible bricks. Some of you are making gigantic bricks. Oh--and Rebecca? You make a really good tree."

What Happens When I Already Understand Grammar But My Teacher Makes Me Do Grammar Exercises Anyway, And It's One A.M. And I Don't Care Anymore
"The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas"
or
"Mommy, Where Do Verbals Come From?"
A verbal is a verb form used as another part of speech.
Infinitives come after the word "to" and can act as nouns, adjectives, or adverbs. Not Advils.
Verbals are called verbals because they come from verbs. Plus, "nounals" sounds just plain bad.

Types of Undergarments
A man walked into the ladies' department of a Macy's and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, "I'd like to buy a bra for my wife."
"What type of bra?" asked the clerk.
"Type?" inquired the man. "There is more than one type?"
"Look around, said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material. "Actually, even with all this variety, there are really only four types of bras," she replied.
Confused, the man asked what the types were. The saleslady replied, "The Catholic type, the Salvation Army type, the Presbyterian type, and the Baptist type. Which one do you need?"
Even more confused, the man asked, "What is the difference between them?"
The lady responded, "It's all really quite simple. The Catholic type supports the masses, the Salvation Army type lifts up the fallen, the Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright, and the Baptist type makes mountains out of molehills."

Yankee Soldier in Britain
An American soldier, serving in World War II, had just returned from several weeks of intense action on the German front lines.
He had finally been granted R&R and was on a train bound for London. The train was very crowded, so the soldier walked the length of the train, looking for an empty seat.
The only unoccupied seat was directly adjacent to a well-dressed middle-aged lady and was being used by her little dog. The war-weary soldier asked, "Please, ma'am, may I sit in that seat?"
The Englishwoman looked down her nose at the soldier, sniffed, and said, "You Americans. You are such a rude class of people. Can't you see my little Fifi is using that seat?"
The soldier walked away, determined to find a place to rest, but after another trip down to the end of the train, found himself again facing the woman with the dog.
Again he asked, "Please, lady. May I sit there? I'm very tired."
The Englishwoman wrinkled her nose and snorted, "You Americans! Not only are you rude, you are also arrogant. Imagine!"
The soldier didn't say anything else; he leaned over, picked up the little dog, tossed it out the window of the train and sat down in the empty seat.
The woman shrieked and railed, and demanded that someone defend her and chastise the soldier.
An English gentleman sitting across the aisle spoke up. "You know, sir, you Americans do seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You eat holding the fork in the wrong hand. You drive your autos on the wrong side of the road. And now, sir, you've thrown the wrong bitch out the window."

Harry Potter Fanfic Excerpt
This is one of those stories about James Potter when he doesn't suck. It takes place in fifth grade (not year), because in my imaginary world, they get some kind of elementary pre-Hogwarts education. Lixie is James's girlfriend, but he doesn't like her much.
"...so then Rachel and I worked on the project for a little while, but then we got bored, so we played around with her sister's makeup, and we found this really pretty blue eyeshadow, and--James, are you listening?"
"Huh? Oh!" James nodded. "Yeah."
"Good," Lixie said smugly. "Man, this project is so boring."
"That's an astute observation," James muttered.
Lixie frowned, apparently deep in thought. "What does that mean?" she asked after a moment.
James sighed. "It means, DUH!"

Excerpts From My Uncle's Yearbook
-"Did the lights go out or is that a new special effect?" (Thomas Bennett, Jacksonville Episcopal High School class of 1983)
-"I've driven to the beach 5 times in 2 days--never again." (Clifton Merritt Blanton, JEHS class of '83)
-"Episcopal, like water in the ocean, has something to tell us about ourselves. It reminds us that no man is an island, and if we don't stop to smell the flowers, we'll never hear the voice of the turtle." (James Frederick Bond, Jr., JEHS class of '83)
-squirky
-"The chalkboard won't work unless you have a piece of chalk."
-"Life is like an onion/ you peel away the layers/ and sometimes you weep." (Salada Tea Bag)
-"You've got to believe in yourself or no one will believe in you."

I can't finish this now because I have to go babysit. Check the bottom of this post for edits; I've got about three more things to share with you.

*edit, 10:51 p.m.*
Mildly Amusing Civil War Quote
November 7: The president places McClellan with Gen. Ambrose E. Burnside as the new Commander of the Army of the Potomac. Lincoln had grown impatient with McClellan's slowness to follow up on the success at Antietam, even telling him, "If you don't want to use the army, I should like to borrow it for a while."

Rebecca's List of Questions
Why does it take thirty-five minutes to put a luggage tag on a suitcase in D.C., but it only takes two minutes in LaGuardia?
Why is LaGuardia pronounced "la-GWAR-dee-uh?"
Why is there so much innuendo in musical theater?
Is that why I enjoy musical theater so much?
Does anyone really care what happened to Janet Reno?
How come my grandfather NEVER STOPS COMPLAINING?
Why does said grandfather insist on buying an aisle seat and a window seat when he knows that it will only pose problems for the person in the middle?
What would Nathan's reaction be if I bought him a box of condoms? Tampons? A "100% Woman" keychain?
Why does the keychain cost $4?
(after getting "randomly" selected for a thorough search on my way to New York and on the way back) Why do people think I'm a terrorist?
Why does my grandfather think that SNL is trash?
Why is David Gagnon still doing Les Miserables?
What is the correct pronunciation of "Les Miserables?"
Why did Nathan take theater?
Why is Evan a better dancer than I am?
How come some cloud formations look like Alaska?
What has orange juice ever done for the world?
Why does Ashley eat only blue M&Ms?
Why are these jawbreakers soft?
Why do they sell condoms at airports?
Is that what people use the plane bathrooms for?

Japanese Student
It was the first day of school and a new student named Suzuki, the son of a Japanese businessman, entered the fourth grade in an American school.
The teacher said, "Let's begin by reviewing some American history. Who said, 'Give me liberty or give me death'?"
She saw a sea of blank faces, except for Suzuki, who replied, "Patrick Henry, 1775."
She said, "Very good! Who said, 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth'?"
Again, no response except from Suzuki: "Abraham Lincoln, 1863."
The teacher frowned. "Class, you should be ashamed. Suzuki, who is new to this country, knows more about its history than you do."
She heard a loud whisper--"Screw the Japs."
"Who said that?" the teacher demanded.
Suzuki put his hand up. "Lee Iacocca, 1982."
At that point, a student in the back said, "I'm gonna puke."
The teacher furiously asks, "All right, now who said that?"
Suzuki again answers. "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991."
Now furious, another student yells, "Oh, yeah? Suck this!"
Suzuki jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!"
Now with almost a mob hysteria someone said, "You little shit. If you say anything else, I'll kill you."
Suzuki frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy, 2001."
The teacher fainted. As the class gathered around the teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh, shit, we're in BIG trouble."
Suzuki said, "Arthur Andersen, 2002."

COMING UP NEXT (tomorrow): Rebecca Sorts Through Old Papers, Part 3

Darn, I forgot people who condescend

2004-06-23T23:19:00.000-04:00

my little brothers
Circle I Limbo

Rednecks
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

George Bush
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Creationists
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

Saddam Hussein
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

New York Yankees/Fans who can't spell
Circle VII Burning Sands

Osama bin Laden
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

people who dislike me
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

Rebecca Sorts Through Old Papers, Part 1

2004-06-22T22:21:00.000-04:00

As you all may know, this summer I am going to try and paint my furniture. I attempted this last year, but only got as far as painting my desk chair metallic pink. I'm going to try to get more done this year. However, before I paint my furniture, I have to organize my bedroom.

Today I made a lot of progress--I organized my bookshelf and began sorting all my loose papers. Those of you who have seen my room know that this is quite a daunting task indeed. At any rate, I managed to sort my papers into broad categories, but in the process I discovered a bunch of papers that were interesting, hilarious, or sometimes just plain weird. Since I love you all so much, I decided to share some of them with you, in a misguided effort to make you happy. Unfortunately, I'm too lazy to figure out how to put pictures on Blogger, so you'll have to check the Xanga. But trust me, they're worth it. If you like any of the pictures, please let me know, as I am currently looking for a profile picture to replace the cicada on my Xanga.

Now I can't post any pictures on the blog, but there are some fun quotes. Here we go!

Birthday Card From Karen O.
Rebecca, did you ever stare at the flickering candles on your birthday cake, while your friends and family sing that song and then their voices sort of faded and were drowned out by ominous-sounding organ music that kept playing louder and faster... Then dozens of tiny, twisted, weasel-like creatures with glowing red eyes burst out of the cake, throwing frosting and still-burning candles all over the room while you looked on, paralyzed with horror as the weasel creatures started attacking the party-goers, ripping at their throats and faces with razor-sharp teeth, turning the once festive scene into one of unrelenting TERROR?!
Oh, right! Like I'm the only one that's ever happened to.

Rebecca Analyzes Songs
"Sparrow" (Simon and Garfunkel) is about a sparrow who dies from cold and malnutrition because no one else gives a shit.

Mock Trial Thank-You Note: Michael B.
Dear Mike,
I'm writing this after a four-hour Junior All-State Chorus rehearsal, so please forgive me if I'm a little crazy. Above the toilet in our hotel room, there is a sign that says, "No Lifeguard on Duty." This disturbs me greatly.
At any rate, I had a better reason for bothering you than just telling strange stories about my choral adventures. I wanted to thank you for "co-presiding" over the mock trial team this year. I learned a lot about what to do in a courtroom (and, thanks to John, what not to do...) I loved watching you during the trials, especially during cross-examinations. You're an amazing lawyer, and also a really cool person. (It's up to you to decide whether "lawyer" and "person" are mutually exclusive terms.) [This goes on, but I'll stop here.]

Mock Trial Thank-You Note: Ben U.
Dear Ben,
Before I tell you anything remotely interesting, I must indulge in a rant about all-state chorus. Grr! We're rehearsing at least five hours a day! My throat hurts! I'm enjoying it, though, because this is the first time I've worked with tenors and basses who actually produce a sound. Okay, I'm done now.
First, I'd just like to say that you did a fantabulous job as Lu Blick. You were so good that I had to resort to imaginary words to describe how amazing you were. You should definitely take acting classes or something, if you don't already. Thanks so much for not getting sick and forcing me to stand in for you; I could never have played Lu as well as you did.
Also, thanks for helping me get rides to and from various places. If not for you, I would never have been able to maintain my perfect attendance record. I realize that I must have gotten annoying, calling you every week and going, "Ben, I need a ri-i-i-ide!" in whiny falsetto. You dealt with it (and me) admirably.
Finally, thanks for keeping me amused with stories about your crazy schedule, Judaism, languages, guidance counselors, etc. You're wonderfully entertaining, very articulate, and a little bit crazy. Those are all good things.
I'd like to close with a lovely little non sequitur, or perhaps several.
1) I'm getting my hair cut on March 24.
2) How's your cough?
3) Go see Little Shop of Horrors at Pyle. It's March 24-26. My little brother Sam has a couple lines in the show, so I've become his self-appointed publicist.
4) How many lawyers does it take to shingle a roof? It depends on how thin you slice them!

Mock Trial Thank-You Note: Mr. Baer
Dear Mr. Baer,
Thank you very much for driving me home at 11:30 p.m. on March 1, despite wanting to go to bed. I appreciated your entertaining Martha Stewart stories. Thanks also for acting as a "judge" for our mock trial team. The rest of the team and I were grateful for the opportunity to practice in front of an adult who wasn't one of our attorney coaches.
In addition, thank you for allowing us do destroy your house--multiple times, in fact. Most parents would be reluctant to let a large group of teenagers into their house even once, let alone on a weekly basis. Either you're really generous or you just never learn.
Finally, thank you for putting up with my pathetic sense of direction. ("Oh, you turn left near that school...or do you turn right? Then take a right after the German shepherd tied to the tree...") I admire your ability to end up in the correct place despite my demagnetized internal compass.

Not Funny, More Just Sad
I received the following notice in my mailbox a few months ago. I have retyped it exactly as it is written.
Maribel's Cleaning Service
Are you looking for a Housekeeper well Maribel's Cleaning Service is looking for a job
-Experienced Housekeeper
-Excellent References
-Own transportation
-Reliable
-D.C. & MD area
Please contact us at soon as possible XXX-XXX-XXXX

Exploring the Mind of Tony ("Mafia-Boy"), Future Gypsy
Tony: I'm going to go home and indulge in a bottle of red wine.
Rebecca: Because of course that's legal.
Alice the bus driver: He's already indulged in something...

Dinnertime Humor
This real conversation occurred during dinner one night. We were having fajitas, and my younger brother Sam was telling jokes, oblivious to the fact that he was the only one laughing. My youngest brother, Ben, who doesn't eat fajitas, tried to steal a tortilla even though he was done with dinner. Hence the following...
Rebecca: So this boy walks into a bar and tries to steal a tortilla. And the bartender goes, "What is this, a joke?"
All but Sam: *laugh*
Sam: I don't get it.
Rebecca: Me, neither.
Dad: Then the guy says, "I don't get it." Then everyone else laughs, but they're not quite sure why.

As Do Most Things...
Rebecca: (burning incense) This smelled better before I set it on fire.

Best T-Shirts of 2003
"Remember when sex was safe and skydiving was dangerous?"
"Heck is where people go who don't believe in Gosh."
"We have enough youth--how about a Fountain of Smart?"
"Two rights do not make a wrong. They make an airplane."
"You spend the first two years of their lives teaching them to walk and talk, and the next 16 telling them to sit down and shut up."
"Let's get one thing straight--I'M NOT."
"If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, then why is there a song about him?"
"Now how did our oil get under their country?"
"Upon the advice of my attorney, my shirt bears no message at this time."
"Who put a 'stop payment' on my reality check?"
"Take my advice--I'm not using it."

That's it for today's installment of "Rebecca Sorts Through Old Papers." I'll be pretty busy this week, what with cleaning my room and all, so don't expect too many real updates. In the meantime, you can read my Nair stories. Just scroll down. There you go.
Tune in on Thursday for the next episode of "Rebecca Sorts Through Old Papers."

Eye kandt rite vrey gud

2004-06-21T15:24:00.000-04:00

I took this quiz and got 13 correct out of 15. Both were society's fault. One was partially my fault. Just out of curiosity, Doug, which word was the one you felt was excusable? Was it miniscule/minuscule/minoskyool/mystical/menstrual/whatever? I need to know this so that I can regain what confidence in my ability to spell that I previously possessed. That was an awkward sentence. Apparently I need to read more.

For those of you who couldn't click on the above link or have a pathological fear of clicking on links in text, the URL is http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/Features/Quiz/Quiz.aspx?QuizID=103. Take it.

The Nair Skin-Removal System

2004-06-21T15:22:00.000-04:00

As even the less observant among you have undoubtedly noticed, it's summer. This means hot weather, which in turn means shorts, skirts, and bathing suits, which in turn means attempting various methods of hair removal. Ordinarily, I rely on a traditional hair removal method, known as the “shave, slice, & swear” method to those of us who can’t hold their razors correctly. However, a few months ago, I realized that I was making one cut in my skin for every hair I shaved. So I decided to try Nair, a hair removal cream. I bought a bottle, used it once, and threw it away. It didn’t work particularly well, plus it gave me a rash, and the smell reminded me of the time my entire family had stomach flu. I went back to maiming my legs with the razor and was doing very well until one day, without warning, a sample of Raspberry Nair came to me through the mail. I am certain that terrorists are responsible. Anyway, forgiving person that I am, I decided to give the Nair a second chance.

(cue ominous music)

Perhaps thankfully, the sample Nair was not enough to remove the hair on so much as half of my leg (and if you’re wondering, I have very normal-sized legs). I felt a slight warming sensation when I applied the lotion, but I figured it was normal.

I want to make one thing clear: Raspberry Nair does not smell like raspberries. More like raspberries with severe diarrhea. I could barely stand to be in the same room with myself; in fact, at one point I was seriously considering chopping my body in half in order to avoid the smell. Fortunately, I was quick to realize that my decision-making skills had been impaired by the toxic fumes I was inhaling.

When I rinsed off the Nair lotion, not only did it leave a lingering smell and turn my washcloth pink, but it had actually BURNED HOLES IN MY LEGS! They weren’t huge gaping holes; they were only about four millimeters in diameter at their worst. They were, however, very painful, and you do have to be wary of any product that burns holes in your skin.

And after all that, I still hadn’t gotten rid of the hair on my legs.