Saturday, March 10, 2007
Bibliophilia
Today is one of my favorite shopping days of the years: the Acton Memorial Library book sale. What I love about these book sales is that they're a bit like surfing the Internet. You never know what you're going to find -- and specifically trying to look for something is a futile goal -- but the messy, wayward search is the fun of it. Amidst the crowds of people and stacks of books is a hidden book waiting to catch your fancy. And best of all, everything is cheap enough that you can indulge every fantasy.
I only ended up getting 4 books. (Haha, I haven't even read anything I bought last time...) All of them are a little worn, but that gives me license to read, use, and abuse these books to make them my own. I'm always intimidated by brand new books because I hate marring something perfect. So I got an anthology of modern short fiction, Crime and Punishment (I have to read it someday), Waiting by Ha Jin (whose short story When Cowboy Chicken Came to Town still haunts me), and a giant tome called Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I'll be tackling them sometime this summer.
Since high school started, my reading as degenerated and devolved, mostly transposed to blogs and forums online. Academic fatigue is also a factor, making me blithe and blase to the written word. I was trolling around the Internet today, aimlessly clicking links, until I got to a Wikipedia list of Newberry Medal winners. As I clicked through the list, I realized that from 1990 to 1999, I had read every single Newberry Medal winner with the exception of one. I was quite voracious reader in elementary school. All of these books were some of my favorite as a kid, and I own many of them. (But everything after 2000 I haven't even heard of.)
Missing May is the only one I haven't read, but I love love love all of the other books on this list. (Walk Two Moons and Shiloh and lower on the love list, but still overall positive impressions.)
This list prompted me to dig The View from Saturday out of my bookshelf. Why?
I only ended up getting 4 books. (Haha, I haven't even read anything I bought last time...) All of them are a little worn, but that gives me license to read, use, and abuse these books to make them my own. I'm always intimidated by brand new books because I hate marring something perfect. So I got an anthology of modern short fiction, Crime and Punishment (I have to read it someday), Waiting by Ha Jin (whose short story When Cowboy Chicken Came to Town still haunts me), and a giant tome called Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I'll be tackling them sometime this summer.
Since high school started, my reading as degenerated and devolved, mostly transposed to blogs and forums online. Academic fatigue is also a factor, making me blithe and blase to the written word. I was trolling around the Internet today, aimlessly clicking links, until I got to a Wikipedia list of Newberry Medal winners. As I clicked through the list, I realized that from 1990 to 1999, I had read every single Newberry Medal winner with the exception of one. I was quite voracious reader in elementary school. All of these books were some of my favorite as a kid, and I own many of them. (But everything after 2000 I haven't even heard of.)
Missing May is the only one I haven't read, but I love love love all of the other books on this list. (Walk Two Moons and Shiloh and lower on the love list, but still overall positive impressions.)
This list prompted me to dig The View from Saturday out of my bookshelf. Why?
"It documents the story of four 6th grade children, Noah, Nadia Diamondstein, Ethan Potter, and Julian Singh, along with their paraplegicteacher, Mrs. Olinski, as they form a group they call "The Souls" and make their way to the New York State Academic Bowl Championship."
Oh man, these sixth graders are so much cooler than us. Seriously. It's not even funny.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Rejection, Deferral, and Weird College Emails
On Monday, I conspired to maximize time away from English class by signing up for the latest possible blood donation slot. My altruism/selfishness was for naught because I apparently have no veins. Instead, my blood diffuses through my body under a thick layer of subcutaneous fat. I walked into English class only 1 minute late. It was all very tragic.
Tuesday was a brief Acadec meeting that only confirmed Crick is severely disappointed in us. Either that or he is severely distracted.
I opened up my inbox today seeing an email about "Your Harvard Application." "Great," I think, "I forgot to send in my transcript." My concerns played out less seriously, but the email asked for a few of my Spectrum articles. What? I find it hilarious that the fate of my application rests on the quality of my Spectrum articles. Oh golly gee.
Tuesday was a brief Acadec meeting that only confirmed Crick is severely disappointed in us. Either that or he is severely distracted.
I opened up my inbox today seeing an email about "Your Harvard Application." "Great," I think, "I forgot to send in my transcript." My concerns played out less seriously, but the email asked for a few of my Spectrum articles. What? I find it hilarious that the fate of my application rests on the quality of my Spectrum articles. Oh golly gee.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The Surreal Life
Last night, I was trudging through the mall parking lot in sweatpants, surrounded by a flock of teenagers dressed in black suits and ties. I had in tow a coffee mug, a pink shoe box, and an obese backpack.
These things only happen in Acadec.
States was actually a bummer. After the adrenaline and oxytocin pumped meet in November, states was so much of a letdown. As the perpetual state champs of MA, we carry the arrogance and expectation of winners, so a win, even one by the same 5000 point margin as in November, was just not good enough. Crick was giving us the death glare during the entire team-wide Superquiz fiasco. (Correction: Honors totally pulled its weight in Superquiz and was then awarded a magic 200 extra points. Either my ditziness worked in my favor or something very very strange happened.) We won states with the lowest score ever and even lost Superquiz. Though we were somewhat vindicated when we got 2nd in Superquiz when Crick had predicted 6th or 7th.
But honestly, I'm more disappointed in myself than the rest of the team. I have plenty of faith in my teammates to step it up at nationals, while I apparently need to magically acquire more charisma.
It's days like these that I wonder why I do Academic Decathlon. Back when I was a wee freshman, my parents picked Acadec as one of the activities I had to join to get into college. That's right: they picked it for me. Freshman year was also the year of 2004, the year of CM and VW--the epochal year of ABAD. With this mantle of expectations upon me, I tried Acadec junior year, bombing a few math tests and doing surprisingly well on a well econ ones. When I realized the amazing awesome of last year's Honors team, I promptly slinked away and disappeared from Acadec. But this year, I was determined to try again, even before Crick started his guerrilla recruitment campaign and even before I found out Nationals was being held in sunny Hawaii. But why? It wasn't my parents any more. I had long stopped listening to them, snubbing piano and athletics in favor of less college-worthy but more enjoyable activities.
Maybe it's for the glory. Long ago, I realized that my true strength in academics lay not in a photographic memory or innate smarts, but my ability to take multiple choice tests. In US and World history classes, I'd fly through the MC in less than 7 minutes, as the rest of the class was still puzzling over question 15. And while the rest of the class bemoaned MC questions, I aced them, banking points and time for my essay scores. (Euro is an entirely different story, but let's not go there.) So Acadec is my one chance to capitalize on the skill that frankly is useless in real life. I might as well make the most of it while I still can.
But glory is short-lived. Even if Crick harps incessantly on the 2004 team, nobody outside of ABAD knows what he is talking about. People study, win medals, and move on. In the world of college, Acadec is just another activity you did in high school, and you'll be just another person who won some competition.
What I've always regretted most about high school is never being part of a team. Participating in athletics is an intense bonding experience while you push yourself to your physical and mental limits. Acadec is a "team," even if it often doesn't feel like it and the limits are only mental. During the awards ceremony, our school got accused of having no team spirit, which may be true to some extent. (It's also because we get too many medals to properly cheer without being obnoxious, and by the time golds are announced, half the team is already on stage...That sounded obnoxious, but that's only because MA Acadec is just not that great. I'm really puzzled why other schools don't do better since our team doesn't study or practice, at least compared to CA and TX, but I digress )
There definitely some weird team dynamics, but I'm being wistful if I wished everyone would love each. When you combine students from all strata of high school (as Acadec does attempt to do), you will doubtless have tensions and cracks. But I really do like all of the team. Maybe even love the team as a whole. And yes, I would gladly keep in contact with all of my teammates next year regardless of whether I'm in Illinois, Texas, or New York.
After regionals, I came back replete with <3 and joy abound, but yesterday evening was much more subdued. Superquiz meltdown aside, subjectives were also surprisingly low, but we can do better. We will do better. If we don't, there's too much talent and intelligence on the team going to waste.
These things only happen in Acadec.
States was actually a bummer. After the adrenaline and oxytocin pumped meet in November, states was so much of a letdown. As the perpetual state champs of MA, we carry the arrogance and expectation of winners, so a win, even one by the same 5000 point margin as in November, was just not good enough. Crick was giving us the death glare during the entire team-wide Superquiz fiasco. (Correction: Honors totally pulled its weight in Superquiz and was then awarded a magic 200 extra points. Either my ditziness worked in my favor or something very very strange happened.) We won states with the lowest score ever and even lost Superquiz. Though we were somewhat vindicated when we got 2nd in Superquiz when Crick had predicted 6th or 7th.
But honestly, I'm more disappointed in myself than the rest of the team. I have plenty of faith in my teammates to step it up at nationals, while I apparently need to magically acquire more charisma.
It's days like these that I wonder why I do Academic Decathlon. Back when I was a wee freshman, my parents picked Acadec as one of the activities I had to join to get into college. That's right: they picked it for me. Freshman year was also the year of 2004, the year of CM and VW--the epochal year of ABAD. With this mantle of expectations upon me, I tried Acadec junior year, bombing a few math tests and doing surprisingly well on a well econ ones. When I realized the amazing awesome of last year's Honors team, I promptly slinked away and disappeared from Acadec. But this year, I was determined to try again, even before Crick started his guerrilla recruitment campaign and even before I found out Nationals was being held in sunny Hawaii. But why? It wasn't my parents any more. I had long stopped listening to them, snubbing piano and athletics in favor of less college-worthy but more enjoyable activities.
Maybe it's for the glory. Long ago, I realized that my true strength in academics lay not in a photographic memory or innate smarts, but my ability to take multiple choice tests. In US and World history classes, I'd fly through the MC in less than 7 minutes, as the rest of the class was still puzzling over question 15. And while the rest of the class bemoaned MC questions, I aced them, banking points and time for my essay scores. (Euro is an entirely different story, but let's not go there.) So Acadec is my one chance to capitalize on the skill that frankly is useless in real life. I might as well make the most of it while I still can.
But glory is short-lived. Even if Crick harps incessantly on the 2004 team, nobody outside of ABAD knows what he is talking about. People study, win medals, and move on. In the world of college, Acadec is just another activity you did in high school, and you'll be just another person who won some competition.
What I've always regretted most about high school is never being part of a team. Participating in athletics is an intense bonding experience while you push yourself to your physical and mental limits. Acadec is a "team," even if it often doesn't feel like it and the limits are only mental. During the awards ceremony, our school got accused of having no team spirit, which may be true to some extent. (It's also because we get too many medals to properly cheer without being obnoxious, and by the time golds are announced, half the team is already on stage...That sounded obnoxious, but that's only because MA Acadec is just not that great. I'm really puzzled why other schools don't do better since our team doesn't study or practice, at least compared to CA and TX, but I digress )
There definitely some weird team dynamics, but I'm being wistful if I wished everyone would love each. When you combine students from all strata of high school (as Acadec does attempt to do), you will doubtless have tensions and cracks. But I really do like all of the team. Maybe even love the team as a whole. And yes, I would gladly keep in contact with all of my teammates next year regardless of whether I'm in Illinois, Texas, or New York.
After regionals, I came back replete with <3 and joy abound, but yesterday evening was much more subdued. Superquiz meltdown aside, subjectives were also surprisingly low, but we can do better. We will do better. If we don't, there's too much talent and intelligence on the team going to waste.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Slabs of Oil and Sundry Things
Calculus just leached out of my brain over vacation. I started number 10 during lunch and finally figured out 15 minutes ago that I was rotating the wrong region. Other problems have not been going much better, and slabs of oil make no sense in my brain though they do make my stomach queasy.
Errgh, I've been feeling really stressed out all week. WashU scholarship notifications. I feel mixed about this because I want money but I don't want incentives to tear me away for UofC either. An optimist would call this a win-win situation. I call it a lose-lose.
So Oscars, right. They happened a couple nights ago. Unlike last year, the Oscar ceremony was really classy--from Errol Morris' opening montage to the foreign film tribute to the TV graphics to the costume showcases to the shadow dancing to the sound chorus... Ellen's hemming and awing style bugs me, but she generally fit the classy theme of the entire show. Al Gore, neither a director nor movie star, seemed to be the toast of the night. I was so excited to see the screen combust when Eva Green and Gael Garcia Bernal walked out to present, but they kinda sucked. Her chilly persona and bribe of mummy dress clashed horribly with his small stature and easygoing charisma. Gah.
But.
But.
The most exciting part of the Oscars?
There was a commercial.
For American Express.
Directed by Wes Anderson!
Errgh, I've been feeling really stressed out all week. WashU scholarship notifications. I feel mixed about this because I want money but I don't want incentives to tear me away for UofC either. An optimist would call this a win-win situation. I call it a lose-lose.
So Oscars, right. They happened a couple nights ago. Unlike last year, the Oscar ceremony was really classy--from Errol Morris' opening montage to the foreign film tribute to the TV graphics to the costume showcases to the shadow dancing to the sound chorus... Ellen's hemming and awing style bugs me, but she generally fit the classy theme of the entire show. Al Gore, neither a director nor movie star, seemed to be the toast of the night. I was so excited to see the screen combust when Eva Green and Gael Garcia Bernal walked out to present, but they kinda sucked. Her chilly persona and bribe of mummy dress clashed horribly with his small stature and easygoing charisma. Gah.
But.
But.
The most exciting part of the Oscars?
There was a commercial.
For American Express.
Directed by Wes Anderson!
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