A DAS Ramble of Sorts

One thing that has come out of these various Digital Audio classes, is an unwavering ability to confuse the Apple techies stationed at London's Best Buy. I know it's probably not what my teacher had in mind when he started teaching the course, but I don't think he expects any less of me.

However, in spite of my unerring ability to screw myself over ad naseaum, I do have some sense of self- preservation and so, I know when my attention is required in classes...generally.

I've recently been down to the school's recording studio…Notes and visuals in class do little to teach you how to actually use the equipment or set up a talk-back mic, which I have attempted to do on several occasions, and succeeded only thrice.

Then there is the audio. Something that I am constantly worrying about, is my lack of musical talent.

“Hello and welcome to the audio and music-based recording class! Go record yourself playing music!!” :)

Crud.

Question:

How do you mic a tissue box guitar?

Because honestly, that is the only thing I can ever hope to play with the amount of musical ability that I possess.

Being deaf in one ear doesn't help very much either.

“Today we're panning audio!”

I guess if I don't hear it in my left than it's panned hard right. You cannot imagine the breakdowns I went through when we did soundscapes. D:

Hmm…

Let’s take a slight detour for a moment, and learn yet another thing about me.

If I’m not interested, and see no point in listening, I usually don’t. Something my younger brother and I have in common, I guess. But I realized something today when I left that abnormally freezing classroom and lesson of advanced stereo mic’ing behind, I’m actually learning. And, I’m learning because I’m listening, and I’m listening because I’m interested.

I guess my point is that, despite me finding this class difficult, I’m still in it, even though I’m constantly failing to do something properly, I’m still trying, and I’m doing it because, well…I guess I like the challenge.

Honestly, I’m never going to work in a recording studio or be a professional in this field, but I get my own small satisfaction when my teacher says something and I actually understand it, or when I manage to finish a half-decent project in ProTools. I have a passion for editing and recording, that’s why I’m so involved in film. And a lot of aspects in audio recording walk hand-in-hand with film production, so that’s probably why I’m so into it at the moment.

I’m also in a video editing class this semester, but it’s a bit of a drag due to the fact that there are no set projects, no rubrics, and I don’t think my teacher knows what he’s doing. There’s structure in my Digital Audio Studies class but there’s still that creative freedom that I love. I don’t know, I guess I just appreciate it. It’s about time there was structure somewhere in my life, haha.

Rambling over.

Conclusion: Dedicated teachers make dedicated students J

-MegaTron Out.

3 Times MegaTron Fell Down The Stairs...And The One Time She Didn't. Part 2

If there is one unnecessary fact you shouldn’t know about my house, it’s that it never has any cordless phones with a charge. They’re all dead, always, all the time. All five of them. Their docks are in five different rooms in my house, but ninety percent of the time, the phones themselves occupy my younger sister’s room, scattered amidst makeup, clothes and a frightening amount of stuffed animals. Impossible to find really, and very frustrating, especially when the phone is ringing.

-------Number 2--------

It was a Saturday evening and I was in the basement getting ready to go to work. The phone rang. At first, I hesitated, waiting for the second ring to confirm that I’d heard it. Then, I was running. (Now, I don’t know how I always find myself in instances where running indoors in necessary, but it seems to happen to me a lot.) So, I was running, and having a hard time of it due to the lack of grip my socks had on the hardwood floor. The phone downstairs was missing, so I turned and flailed with a severe lack of balance, around the corner. I was halfway up the stairs (also hardwood) when it happened.

My foot slipped and..

BANG! SMASH! THUNK! Ow…

Now I hadn’t fallen down the stairs per se, but I’d fallen forwards, landing on my stomach and sliding backwards to the bottom of the staircase via my front. My feet touched the ground gently, (I had lost a fair bit of momentum by this point) and I stumbled to a standing position. My knees ached from hitting 12 wooden steps repeatedly with a decent amount of force, and I’d managed to cut my hand somehow. The phone continued ringing so I hurried back up the stairs (at a slightly slower pace) and grabbed the first phone I saw. Dead. I ran into the living room. No phone. I threw open my Mom’s bedroom door. No phone. I hesitantly peeked into my sister’s room, and could have sworn something alive was shuffling about under the mountains of clothes and preteen mess. I closed the door without even attempting it. Finally, I found a living cordless phone in the mudroom. I picked it up, smiling at my small accomplishment and ability to come back quickly from yet another nasty spill down a set of stairs, made to push the talk button…

And the phone stopped ringing.

I proceeded to throw it very angrily at the couch, (I can’t break the only living phone) and stomp back down the stairs. Oblivious to the lesson I should have learned.

-MegaTron Out.

Writing Vs. Visual Arts

I don't like art. Sure, there is the brief joyous moment that you experience when you finish a painting that is particularly grand. But it doesn't last. Not really. Well, not in my opinion.

“Why then,” people ask me (when I complain about it), “do you draw and paint and create these things?” This statement is usually accompanied by a deadpan glare from me and a wild hand gesture towards whatever I had recently created from the speaker. I shrug. It is a subject I really don't care much for and a topic that is dull to discuss.

But, for those who (for reasons beyond me) are truly curious, here is my answer.

I am a writer. I love the English language. I love that you can take a word that means something, surround it with others and give it a completely different definition. I cherish that small rush you get when you know you've written something particularly amazing but then leave it, reading it again months later while trying not to bask in your own genius. I take note of sentences or brilliant similes in novels and poems that I read, sometimes rereading them three times before moving on. Sure, winning long jump or getting the high score on COD or whatever it is, is something to be proud of. But, leaning back in your seat knowing that you've just created something that no one else could have without your mindset, it feels remarkable.

However, how many people in today's world will sit down and enjoy reading a text? Who goes out and buys a book of poetry for the hell of it?

Exactly.

Art is a quick way to tell a story, to make a point, to share an idea. And it is a universal language. Anyone can look at a picture of an orange and know it's an orange, and you don't need to be literate to understand art. The only barrier is the person's mind. And really if you consider it, that is a common road block in many other aspects of life as well, so no big loss there.

I'll draw a picture, or paint, or CG not because I enjoy the process of it, or because I want to keep that particular visual forever. I create because I am a fan of self-expression. Writing and visual arts are not bound by creative laws and I can do whatever I want with either.

So, I guess I do like art. I enjoy looking at other people's creations, decoding their meaning and appreciating the work and thought put into them, I like the free expression, and how you can surround one colour by a multitude of other’s to portray a specific message. I guess, if you think about it, art is a form of writing, and writing is an art.

-MegaTron Out.

3 Times MegaTron Fell Down The Stairs...And The One Time She Didn't

AN: [The inspiration for this post is brought on by the classic ‘3 to 1’ writing prompt. If you haven’t ever come across this web-famous writing style have no fear, because I’m about to explain it. Basically, you write about 3 common instances where a similar event/thing occurred, and then one time it didn’t. (But this one time has to still relate to the other three). Confused? Yeah, I was too but hopefully you’ll understand when you’re done reading this.]

------NUMBER 1------

The first instance was Monday. It was a Day 1 at school and I thought it was a Day 2. What difference does that make? Well, it’s the difference between having a class, and not having a class, and I thought I didn’t have a class. But, my luck being how it is, I did, and it was Digital Audio Studies. This is a serious matter because if it was any of my other classes I could slip in quietly, avoiding a late slip in the process, in Digital Audio this is impossible and extremely dangerous for a plethora of reasons. (That I won’t list) So… The bell is about to ring, I’m on the opposite end of the school, I realize I DO have class, and if I get another late slip I have detention. (Not because I’m a delinquent or anything, I just tend to go to the wrong classes all the time, making me late for the one I need to be in).

And so…

I ran.

Full tilt down the hallway, which was a dangerous move on my part but it was a desperate time. I reached the stairs, at the top of the staircase was my class, almost home, I continued my sprint up the stairs, got 5 steps up and…

CRASH! BANG! TUMBLE! THUD! Ow…

I groaned from my new position sprawled on the last step of the staircase. My knees and arms were already bruising and I had bitten my tongue on the way down. I sat up slowly, happy my laptop had survived the fall due to it being clutched to my chest, (bones will heal, so save the electronics) and the bell rang. I groaned again, this time in frustration.

I took my time stumbling back up the stairs and paused for a second outside of the class to compose myself before entering. I shuffled to my seat thankful that my knees hurt less when I sat down; my teacher looked up from his Macbook Pro.

“Late slip.” He deadpanned.

Time to justify yourself MegaTron, “But I-“

“Late slip.” Deadpan.

I sighed, dropping my gaze (his was of course unwavering), and stood again,

“…Yes sir.”

And that was the first time this semester that I fell down the stairs. Memorable because of my failure and inability to keep track of my life, disappointing, because it was also the cause of my first detention of the year. Kind of humorous ‘cause I like to laugh at myself like that, and you should feel free to as well. ;)

Stay tuned for the remaining staircase stories.

Something I learned from this experience: My DAS teacher would win every staring contest. Ever.

-MegaTron Out.

An Outlook on Higher Powers

I don't know if it is a recent resentment for a particular person in my life, or a talk about religion we had in 16th Century History today, but I was reminded of this poem I wrote last year. And so, I thought I would dig it up and put it out there for the world to see.
Here you go.

Dismay

Dear;
Father of all things regarding;
Clear.

Please accept this offering of prostitution;
World segregation; &
Fear.

Also take notice of my efforts to please you;
Worship you;
And entice them near.

Near enough to offer what you would presume;
I hold most dear.
My soul;
My duty;
My peer.

I'm contacting you to display why I;
A human;
A solitary being in and from within her temple;
Why we are here;

To fear.
To portray fear.
To one day be feared.

Why we as humans;
Strive for the popularity of being the all-knowing.
To be the chosen proprietary of his majesty;
The tree of knowledge;
To which is always growing.

Embodying you;
Father of all things summoning clarity of time;
Which is in and of itself;
Folding.

Even molding.
Our consciousness;
Truth and Prosperity;
&
...Loathing.
This weakness of knowing.
Your strength of reminding;
&
Showing.

Displaying why we have no choice;
But which to obey.
The indisputable fact;
That we are the prey.

The reasons why incompetence among the masses;
Rules the day.
Laughing at our horrible decision.

Unfortunately well positioned.
Immovable while propositioned.
Charismatic and full of someone Else's visions.

Of a future in to which we will not participate in this play.
Pretend we're considering;
Or even relate to;
' The way. '

Regard you as father;
Or even take note of what you say.
You're an imaginary wall of misdirection.
That perpetuates;
Religious practices of dismay.

To know,
Is to realize.
There is no 'One' ;

True way.

Conclusion: I was a very angry person once.
-MegaTron out.

Sherlock Holmes: The Final Adventure.

A week or so ago my friend who performs at The Grand Theatre in London, told me to enter a contest and win two tickets to an adaption of Sherlock Holmes to the stage. I love theatre and I have a slight obsession with the many adventures of the world's only consulting detective so I truly had to do it.

The challenge was to come up with a theory as to what happened to The Grand's founder Ambrose Small, who mysteriously disapeared on December 2, 1919.

Details provided are here!
Though I did do some of my own research. :) I'm fairly bad at being clever (believe it or not) and extremely unconvincing in this case, but I figured that I should post my submission somewhere so I can chuckle at it in a few months.

And so, without further ado....

"Teresa Small was aware of her husbands various 'escapades' with women,but chose to ignore them. That is until she found various obscene letters addressed to her husband by his mistress Clara Smith. She left them on the kitchen table so that he would know she had seen them, and later confronted him about it and demanded that he stop his cheating ways. He agreed and their lives continued on for the most part. That is, until he disappeared.

Now, when examining the disappearance of Mr. Ambrose Small the most obvious solution would involve his wife conspiring against him despite his promise of dedication or maybe his gambling and multiple affairs had finally landed him in severe debt with 'the wrong people'. These conclusions are incorrect as they are only based on a handful of the facts and every detail has not been brought into consideration.

The first would be that Teresa truly did love her husband and their argument about Clara's letters had no doubt been aggressive but also ended passionately. (How else was he to assure his wife that he adored only her and his cheating days were over.) Despite being of a wealthy and well-educated background, Teresa was foolish enough to believe her husband, and if she hadn't the woman was obviously not capable of keeping some master scheme a secret from the authorities, she was far too over dramatic (most likely a result of too many free tickets to the theatre). Thus, Small's disappearance was not a crime of passion.

However, his vices did have a large role in his demise. Small had made many enemies. His prejudices were well known to anyone who would listen, even strangers. He disliked children, Catholics, the poor and felt that giving anything away to a charity was foolish. His continued gambling and scheming did eventually anger some 'bad people' but it also infuriated Charles Ross Somerville, Mayor of London at the time. Somerville adored his city, he would freely give his time and money to every worthy public-spirited movement or event and wanted nothing more than for it to grow as a controlled and peaceful community. Small was branding the area with a foul image and setting nothing but bad examples for its citizens, he continued to have affairs despite his promise to Teresa and was uncontrollable. The news of Ambrose Small's fortune reached Somerville, and I have no doubt that the man paled instantly (perhaps a sickly shade of green) when he heard. For you see if Small was a powerful force now, he would soon be invincible with such a large amount of money behind him. Somerville knew action had to be taken.

He teamed up with the more shady characters that Small had also angered and together they schemed to get rid of the millionaire. The snow storm on December 2^nd proved to be a convenient twist to the whole ordeal, it provided the perfect cover for the kidnapping, as no one was out and about for fear of the strong winds and biting cold. Ambrose was most likely knocked out by a blunt object, (a gunshot would draw attention) and transported to the local crematorium where he 'disappeared'. Ashes can be disposed of more easily than a corpse and the owner of the establishment was a good friend of Somerville. Though, the threatening shady characters and a decent bribe helped with the situation.

And it was done. Each member in the ploy was paid off for their troubles and everyone was happy, with the exception of Theresa Small who was the unfortunate suspect involving her husband's 'disappearance'. Their earlier argument and Small's continued affairs were no major secret amongst the citizens and Somerville was more than happy to cover his trail by blaming the poor woman. In an attempt to clear her name she had offered a reward which helped little, but she was eventually proclaimed innocent. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who had expressed an interest in the mystery was never asked to assist because the more powerful people involved didn't want to risk being exposed. All in all, no one truly liked Ambrose Small, he is long gone and his wife, the only person who still had faith in him, lost it with the discovery of his fresh lies, she blames her husband's many mistresses for his disappearance, completely oblivious to the real culprit-much like every other investigator who has pursued the answer.

You must consider all of the facts when examining a case such as this, and eliminate the impossible, because whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

And the truth here is obviously murder.

With the best intentions of course."

The Infamous Question

I was lounging on the small couch at my Dad's last night, pressed just so into the corner of the cushions, drowning in the suitably slow, winding undulations of the late-night movie channel-when it happened. My sister's voice overpowered Forest Gump's stutter and even though I pretended not to listen, curiosity provoked my response.

“Do you want a Klondike Bar?” Was the question posed. I paused for a second and was hit with the sudden realization,

I've never actually had a Klondike Bar.

I quickly nodded and reached my hand passed the armrest of the couch, towards the kitchen island a where my sister sat. I swear she handed it to me in slow motion, (Forest Gump's emotional soundtrack added a special effect). I noticed that the ice cream was wrapped in shiny white paper, perfectly square and most likely cool. I suddenly had an overpowering craving for ice cream.

And then, when my fingertips were mere centimeters away from the glorious ice cream bar. My sister pulled her hand away-taking it with her. I straightened, ready to fight for something I've never actually tried before. For reasons beyond my own comprehension, I wanted that bar and I felt as if I'd do anything for it.

And thus the infamous question is posed.

What would you do for a Klondyke Bar?

Fortunately for me, the only action I had to take involved a hug and a secret handshake.

However, I am now aware of the incredible hold the offer of a Klondike Bar can have on a person. And I find it very dangerous.

Here's to Ice Cream and the ridiculous actions it causes.

Conclusion- Ice cream may be my weakness, but in my own defense it is my only one. :)

-MegaTron out.

The Shelf

As you are most likely not aware, my bedroom has shifted both in location and in layout a few times over the past few months. I use to pride myself on my room's ability to describe me in a single glance. Every inch of the walls was either covered with movie posters, (Transformers, Iron Man, Star Trek, Batman etc.) or what I deemed as my 'Yard Sale Vinyl Collection'. Paintings, Mangas, Postcards...it's really hard to describe, there was also a glow-in-the-dark universe spread out across the various surfaces of the room. It was my haven, though come summer time and my parents separation it was taken from me. I took the whole 'fiasco' particularly well, though the loss of my room seemed almost like a loss of identity. I was thrown into the confined, plain, dull yellow-walled rooms of my grandmother's basement, and even though I'd managed to drag a couple hundred comic books with me, it didn't feel quite the same.

The packing away of my precious belongings was symbolic of me packing away my old life. It was slightly depressing to say the least.

However, by Thanksgiving I was back, but there were serious limitations on the layout of my 'new room'. No posters on the walls, no glow-in-the-dark, and sadly no bed. (I have a mattress though.) I did get to pick the colours, and really, it isn't bad- just a huge change.

I found it when they cleaned out my sister's room. A shelf. Plain, dull, wooden, and dusty. Perfect.

A few hours of painting and carrying it down a flight of stairs later, and BAM!! A nice cozy corner to describe myself at a glance. A smaller version of my own room, completely portable and completely fantastic.

I know this whole rant seems somewhat lame and hard to relate to, but it's just the way I am.

Here is the infamous shelf before:

And here's a more current picture:

Conclusion- sometimes, material possessions do matter. :)

-MegaTron Out.

The Self-Justification of a Self-Diagnosed Insane Student

Sometimes I like to sit back and analyze the situations I'm in. I think about it for a while, take a deep breath and say, “MegaTron, Why the heck are you such a hypocrite?” Honestly, if I could answer that question with a simple answer I would, but human beings are far more complex then that aren't they?

I'm aware of the fact that no one reads this blog, and that everyone who stumbles upon it knows me personally or through Twitter, but to me the purpose of this blog is to vent (sometimes uncharacteristically) when the need arises, and possibly organize my thoughts in the process.

Some of you non-existent readers may be wondering why I've defined myself as a hypocrite, and to put it simply I've gone and done something completely out of my character (how ironic) and resent in other people.

I've cheated.

Now before you panic or criticize, I'll have you know that it was not on some 'partner' or person, or video game high score, it was on a small question on a test- and get this it was worth THREE marks.

Not worth the risk? Obviously.

Then why did I do it? Maybe I'm crazy?

I'm going to explain my actions because I have a funny feeling when I sulk into the office tomorrow afternoon for the 'dealing of the consequences' I won't be able to without the possibility of sounding like a blubbering idiot and just ruining my life even more. Yes, this entry is an odd form of my own self-justification-get over it.

Now, I've been overwhelmed lately, I'll be completely honest in saying I haven't been working around the clock, but I have done enough to know that I'm being overworked- but hey that's grade 12 for you. I'm under the constant pressure of giant workloads from classes, family “difficulties” and attempting to keep my social life in order- because I'm a teenager and that's important. This isn't an excuse for writing the definition of existentialism on my hand, but it is part of the reason I did it.

To sum it all up, I was so busy the night before working on an ISU novel project while multitasking with research on Hans Zimmer for Digital Audio Studies that I forgot to review existentialism.

OOPS!

So here we are, it's 15 minutes to my test, and I can't remember if it is “Existence Proceeds Essence” or “Persistence Exceeds Pretense” so, I did whatever a girl would when a half stoned kid suggests it from across the hallway- I wrote it on my hand.

And within 5 minutes of writing the test. BUSTED!

Lesson learned? Definitely. In all honesty, I'm so paranoid that they'll give me a zero on this test and I won't get into University that I cried for a good hour and a half, passed out from exhaustion, ate dinner, told my Mum, and sobbed a bit more. Pitiful eh?

But I think I'm through the hysterics and ready to face this like a calm and collected yet slightly insane human being.

Actually, can I do that? Can I go into the office tomorrow, and not plead Guilty or Innocent? The people who plead Insanity always get off the hook- and really I think I'm crazy for doing it in the first place. Blah.

Anywho, lame self-justification end. I've got to cheer up and face this before I become an existentialist myself (now THAT would be irony). Oh Oh! Rhetorical device! See? I know things? :)

I'm aware of the fact that what I did was wrong, unfair and downright silly, I'm not insane it's just my lazy procrastinating self catching up to my respectable self and it's 100% my fault. And really, if I hadn't been caught- I'd probably still feel crappy about it.

Conclusion: I plead GUILTY! ...and perhaps slightly insane. :)

-MegaTron out.

TEDx, Bitstrips and Metamorphic Teachers

Ello readers!

Today was another typical Thursday. I struggled to keep conscious in Math, discussed taxidermists in Writer’s Craft and watched a 17 year old boy dressed like a leprechaun run around the drama room for 75 minutes. Though, last period in Communications Technology I was handing in a timeline for my stop motion animation project when I noticed a familiar website open on my teacher’s computer monitor.
“Mrs. V?” I had asked, and she nodded in recognition.
“Is that a Bitstrip?” To which she nodded again, excitedly.

Bitstrip, in a nutshell is an online program that helps you create a comic strip and characters for it. I first became aware of the website when my mom started using it, but only realized its importance after listening to Jesse Brown’s TEDtalk at TEDxOntarioEd last Friday. Jesse Brown is the co-founder of the website that was created by Jacob Blackstock as a literacy tool! Comic strips and literacy fit together, go figure. It’s a great program and gives kids who may not be strong at sitting down and writing an essay an opportunity to sit down and make their point with images and speech bubbles instead. Mrs. V explained to me that she was using it in her grade nine class comic unit. (Probably because it’s convenient and even the kids who can’t draw get a fair chance.)

Now I’m a high school student as well, and I’ve come to realize there are two types of teachers; the old school teachers,( who would rather stand at the front of the class and read out of a text book in a monotone voice while expecting you to absorb all of the information like a sponge when really the majority of your energy is focused on staying conscious) and the metamorphic teachers. Metamorphic means change, and these teachers are constantly changing their teaching styles to suit their classes, and trust me we appreciate it.

That was another main focus at TEDxOntarioEd, the initial theme was motivation but everyone kept bringing it back to motivating students in the classroom, new techniques to use, programs etc. I have to admit, it was pretty impressive.

I have classified Mrs. V as a metamorphic teacher, she constantly goes to workshops and learns new programs to use and it is quite obvious that she enjoys doing it. So, it is probably safe to guess that that is how she stumbled upon Bitstrip. Though, Bitstrip is only one of the awesome things teachers are using today to help motivate and engage students, TEDxOntarioEd is proof of this.

Conclusion: There are teachers, and then there are teachers who engage you with comic strips, developing the characteristics of a taxidermist and marking you on your ability to dance like a leprechaun for 75 minutes. I prefer the latter.

-MegaTron

Clickity Click This Link

Circle of Light, Day 1

Ello fellow bloggers!

I speak to you tonight from the Royal York hotel in Toronto! I love Toronto, I feel at home here, but It makes me miss New York. Why am I in Toronto and staying at one of the oldest hotels in the city? Why for the Circle of Light conference of course. I was chosen to be on a student panel of First Nations, Metis and Inuit teenagers and we all had eight minute speeches. Mine went decently well, I got a few laughs and all, it was fun. To tell you the truth my Mumsi was more nervous then I was. She filmed it and her hand was shaking, and I was the one addressing 750 people! She makes me laugh sometimes.

Now, there are a few things I’ve learned about this hotel since I first arrived.

1)It’s Old.
2)The higher up the floor, the better the rooms. (I’m on floor 2 and it’s nice….Makes me wonder what floor 10 is like…)
3)The beds are too squishy to jump on.
4)The bathrooms ACTUALLY have shelves you can put stuff on!
5)Every towel comes with a ribbon bow.
6)There are 20 billion elevators.
7)Not every elevator will take you to the same place.
8)4 of the elevators DO NOT go to floor 2. (Learned from experience)
9)If you wave at the guys in the office building across the street, they’ll wave back.
10)If you wave at a teen in the office building across the street, he’ll flip you off.

And Finally,

11)You CANNOT wear long dresses on the escalator or they WILL get caught. (There’s even a warning sign)

My room has this really tacky lamp in it, that kind of freaks me out. It’s yellow with red and blue patterns on it. But, in the middle of the patterns is, you’ve guessed it.

A GIANT EVIL ROOSTER!...or chicken. I can’t really tell personally, all I know is it’s right by my bed, has this big creepy eye, and most likely watches me while I sleep…..

I’ve also met some neat people here. I just returned from the dinner banquet where I saw a group of students from Nunavut, they did some throat singing. I’ve always wondered what that was. You should seriously YouTube it. It’s intense.
Well, that’s about it for now, I’ll post my speech later and the link to my Mumsi’s shaky video :P

Oh yeah I almost forgot!

Conclusion: The Royal York is cool, Throat singers are cooler, and the evil chicken rooster on my lamp is probably alive….Help.

Homework, The Darkness To My Tunnel's Light

I write this with Hugh Jackman’s opening for the Oscars in my head. Why? Well, I’m writing about reading, and he sings about The Reader. It’s catchy, and if you, like me, are dangerously curious and get odd songs stuck in your head easily, then you will watch that opening and be singing ‘The Reader’ until you stumble upon another pointlessly catchy song. Perhaps ‘I Am Cow’?
Anyways, there really isn’t anything interesting happening in my life right now. I, like most high school students, am up to my eyes in homework. However, if I stand on my tip-toes I can see over the large pile of textbooks and ISP novels. I see a long dark tunnel with a light at the end of it. Comically enough, this light involves a large root beer, my Wicked novel and a towering pile of burnt previous homework assignments. Though, I’m not allowed near fire anymore, so I doubt the burning will occur, but a girl can dream.
I currently have four classes right now, three of them involving constant attention, the fourth? Not so much, but I won’t get into that now.
They are as followed.
English
World Religions
Ancient Civilizations
Physics
Now this post will focus on English, I’ll circulate through each subject in said order at another time.
Our current English project is a partnered movie trailer on Catcher in the Rye.
With the help of my partner in crime from OZitivelyWicked(Taryn), we are hoping for a high enough mark to;
A) Cancel out my dreadful physics mark
B) Show the World Religions teacher that I have future in video editing!
C) Market Taryn’s amazing acting skills
And
D) Improve my mark after the ‘Killer Sheep Incident’
Yes, we had another project last month, to read a short story and draw a picture to represent it. This is what I ended up with.

Funny enough the story was about three children and a storyteller, not a killer sheep, but I found that the picture related to the children’s loss of innocence quite effectively. Everything is not as children originally perceive it to be. Thus, a cute cuddly sheep at first glance, could turn out to be a vicious wild animal that eats children! You don’t see it? Well neither did the teacher marking it, sadly enough I nearly failed the thing. Yet, it is currently tacked to my bulletin board in the front entranceway to my house. Why? Well to show off my amazing art skills of course. :)
Conclusion: -It is now obvious that I’m not cut out for the world of English literature and interpretation.
-You may be able to ‘bull’ your way through some classes, but you can’t ‘bull’ your way through life!

-MegaTron

Halloween Hair Extensions

Halloween is the time of year that all little children look forward to. It is the time to dress up your child as their favorite super hero, send them off on their own to wander the neighborhood in the middle of the night and knock on strangers’ doors asking for candy. Not quite the most practical event, but I’ve heard of worse.

I normally partake in the festivities but this hallows eve I was scheduled to work, and let me tell you there is nothing duller than sitting around an empty grocery store at 8pm dressed in a checkered costume that itches. Yes, I dressed up to go to work, I put effort into my costume and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. I wasn’t the only one dressed up though. I work with a woman, let’s call her Sally. She came to work as Cinderella, is around 5’7 and in her 40’s. Now, Sally is a lot like a big kid, literally, and when an old woman who lives across the road from the store came in complaining that she never got any trick-or-treaters. Well, I guess Sally made it her mission to make this night different. And so, promptly at 7pm when Sally had her 30 minute dinner break, the old lady opened her front door to see a 40-something year old woman, dressed in a princess gown and holding out a basket.

“TRICK OR TREAT!”

Another thing about Sally that really freaked me out that night was her hair. She cut off her hair at the beginning of the previous year, it was long and curly and I thought that she’d donated it to cancer wigs or something. Boy was I wrong. It took me a good chunk of time but I soon realized Sally was sporting a long pony tail of brown curls. So, I approached her out of curiosity.

“Hey Sally are you wearing hair extensions?”
She then grinned at me a pulled the hair clip out of the back of her hair, a large curly ponytail fell off and her hair was short again. She held the clump of curls out to me.
“Nope! It’s mine from when I cut it!”
“Wait so you saved it?”
“Yep! I keep it in a tin can.”

Conclusion: Sally is a nut bar.


-MegaTron

Pre-Mother's Day Present Fiasco

On Mother’s Day, Mothers get flowers and chocolates. My mom told me ‘Absolutely no flowers.’ She is also currently on the infamous South Beach Diet.

Conclusion;

This isn’t going to be a cliché easy to obtain Mother’s Day gift. I’d have to be (god forbid) creative.

The first step in finding the perfect Mother’s Day gift is to leave it until the very last second.

The day before Mother’s Day I woke up slowly and stumbled out of bed into my daily routine of getting ready. The bathroom equipped with shower, is literally right next to my basement bedroom. So, if I felt like smashing a hole above my sink, I’d instantly have a nice view of my wardrobe. I’m not one to randomly smash holes in my wall though, so I’ll pass.

After slowly making my way into the bathroom and showering with an equally sluggish pace I start to wake up. Yes, sometimes I’m completely dressed before I realize I’m not sleeping in my bed anymore; call it sleep-dressing if you will.

This is about the time when my IPod dock turns on, blasting loud waves of techno music and I check my Batman calendar. It is also about the time when I realize Mother’s Day is tomorrow, and also about the time when I realize I’m screwed.

Over the next few hours I used the skill that multiple English classes have drilled into my head. I brainstormed.

This is the product of my brainstorming.

Yes, it is titled ‘Mumsi’s Gift Thing’

Yes, A Leprechaun and Noodle Art are indeed two items on the list of possible gifts,

Yes, there is a cow randomly on the middle of the page.

And yes, I 'wrote screamed' all over the paper.

As you can see I got nowhere. Then a savior ran down the hall and into my door (literally) in the form of my brother…Yes, he runs into doors, a lot.

My younger brother suggested an ITunes card, because my Mumsi had recently obtained an IPod touch, and had only 2 songs on it at the moment.

Conclusion: -There is a reason why my younger brother is a classified genius, and I am not.

-I am horrible at drawing. (Count the cow’s legs.)

Hope your Mother's Day was a whole lot less thought inducing than mine. :)

-MegaTron

Farm Town

It’s sweeping the community of Facebook quicker than the Black Plague of 1665, and is twice as contagious. Farm Town is an Ap. Like most other popular Facebook things, yet this one allows you to grow and manage your own farm, send your friends animals and trees and even add your friends who also use the Ap. as neighbors to your farm. Sounds stupid right? I know, but the sad thing is people love it.

Now I’m a high school student, and am currently taking math as one of my subjects. My mathematics class always is home to the oddest of conversations. There’s a new topic almost every week, last weeks was the two headed girls (Brittany and Abbey) and this week was, you guessed it, Farm Town.

That’s what got me started; I’ve never been one to really go with the flow, but the conversations just sounded too ridiculous! I HAD to be in on the joke, and thus the addiction begins.

This is my Farm.


I’m currently a level 7, which I discovered today was not very high at all, I have a few neighbors but I removed them for confidential reasons before taking this picture. I know the farm isn’t much, but I’ve got a few cows and a tree or two.

Now, there’s another sign about how ridiculously popular the Ap. is, according to the ad at the bottom, they now sell T-shirts, Mouse Pads, and even COFFEE MUGS!

The other day in Math class, after checking out the game, I asked the person sitting beside me why they didn’t just go out and make their own real farm. They replied with a shrug.
Conclusion: The average person is too lazy to enjoy the thrills and excitement of owning and managing a real farm, so they do the next best thing. Digitalize it.

The last thing that really made the cake was my lunch break at work today. There’s a boy I work with, he’s 18 years old, around 5’8 and has an evil grin that reminds me distinctly of a vampire. Let’s call him Evan. Now, Evan and another boy who works with him were standing across from me at the other end of the lunch table. I was quietly eating my sandwich, Evan was on his cell phone, and the other boy was leaning over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” The boy asked Evan.
“I’m on Youtube.” Evan replied with an almost dazed expression as the web slowly devoured his IQ.
“Thank god! I though you were on Farm Town again!”

This is where I proceeded to choke on the piece of sandwich in my mouth and both boys stared at me.
“Do you have farm town?” Evan asked. I held up a finger while trying to swallow my food and stop gagging. The two boys promptly ignored me, not having the patience to wait for me to recover.
The one boy eventually left and called for Evan who stood and right before leaving turned to me.
“Well do you have Farm Town?” He asked expectantly.
“Yeah.” I was trying extremely hard not to laugh. A proud vampiric smirk crossed his freckled face and he added.
“What level are you?”
“Err….seven..” The smirk widened and Evan was literally surrounded by his proud aura. He laughed.
“I’m a level 27.” Then turned and left, leaving me sitting in the lunch room, laughing my head off and wondering why an 18 year old’s biggest accomplishment is being a level 27 on a Face book farming Ap.

Facebook, is home to many Aps, but in my opinion Farm Town is the most amusing by far, and is slowly taking over the world, one brainless teen at a time.

Blog-warming

I've recently been inclined to create a blog.
Let the Blog-warming party begin!

Epic is by definition; " Noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style"

This will be a record, of the various adventures that occur in my daily life. However, they will probably lack the poetics and I'm not much of a hero, though there are many events I can assure you. However, some may not be that great.

That's where the word inept is considered.

The title of this Blog is ironic, it suggests the recordings of a great hero who is yet an accident-prone person. Think about it, I find it funny, thus why I chose the name. You will soon come to realize the ironic value the title of my blog possesses, but you will have to wait for the epic-ness to begin until tomorrow night.

Don't get too excited so that you can't sleep, it's a blog post not Christmas morning.

This Blog-warming Party is officially over.

Don't forget your gift bag on the way out. ;)

-MegaTron