Friday, February 21, 2014

How Math Inspires My Life

I just thought that I'd remind you guys that today is FRIDAY!

(and please, for the time being, ignore the title of this post)

Friday: (Noun) The schoolday that all students adore.  Indicates goodwill, happiness, rainbows, and no school for forty-eight hours.

Also, The day that teachers decide to torture their students by assigning math, English, and Spanish homework.

I have a Performance Task and a worksheet due for math, a whole packet of Literature terms for English (due March 3rd, no exceptions), and a Writing Activity for Spanish.  I'm groaning most about the math...because A) I hate Performance Tasks and B) I have actual, real life homework.

#LifeofaHonorsStudent

#LifeofaProcrastinator

And while we're on the subject of math, let me explain the title: "How Math Inspires My Life."

While I'm completing math problems that are detrimental to my creativity and supposed right-brained-ness, I somehow manage to break free of the Common Core box by singing.  I usually sing while I do math.  Probably that's how I'm so good (kidding).  But seriously, I sing while doing math.  I sing "Ready or Not" (Bridgit Mendler), "Roar" (Katy Perry), and a bunch of other old songs that suit my mood and my one-octave vocal range (although I can do a mean Plumb rendition of "Don't Deserve You").  Sometimes I sing AJ Michalka's "All I Ever Needed" (from Grace Unplugged) because it's slow, and whenever I feel depressed about math I sing slow songs expressing my depressed-ness.

And other times, I sing songs that haven't been sung yet.  Weird songs.  Sometimes the words flow right out of my mouth, and other times I catch myself trying to rhyme "amazing" with "crazy."  

Well, this one particular time yesterday or so I was singing, and suddenly I realized that I had a really good rhyme thing going on.  I jotted it right down:

There is sorrow with the joy
Every girl for every boy
Every winner for the fight
Every day for every night
There are stars to see us through
When the bad catches up to you
When the war on earth is won
We'll stand up with the rising sun.

Okay, the last rhyme was stretching it, BUT STILL.

Don't ask me where that came from, because I don't know, but I have a sneaking suspicion it came from the sappy, glorious, hope-filled well of my oh-so-vibrant personality.

I don't really have a vibrant personality.  Sure, I buck out my dance moves once in a while, and sure, I sing while I'm playing tennis (doesn't do much for my tennis skills, but just in case a talent scout happens to march by...).  Whenever I hang out with my friends, though, I just sit there.  And eat.  And laugh.  And attempt to be funny, but really I'm only funny when I'm on my own terms.  And whenever I say something audible, it's about school.  Because most of the time, I feel like that's just all I can talk about at school.

It's really rather weird.

Speaking of weird stuff...my Health class has been really fun.  Seriously.  My teacher--we call him Mr. G--has weird facts, interesting injuries, and a great sense of humor.  For example, he has a quote of the "whenever I get around to changing it, so don't bug me about it."

One of my favorites was 
Dear Algebra,
I heard your X left you.
No, I don't know Y.

Geddit?  LOL.  For those of us vets who have bonded over mutual hate of Algebra I (HATE GRAPHING), we can look back on those days and laugh about it.

We talked about phobias the other day.  He said that one time he had a student who was afraid of buoys (like the bobbing things?  that you put in the water?  and are completely inanimate unless you use personification to describe something, which in that case is only figurative) and that he'd put up a picture of a buoy on the Smartboard, and the girl would freak and run out of the classroom.

Yeah.

And did you know that there's a phobia of being tickled by a feather?  Not just plain old tickled, mind you--tickled by a feather.

And there's a fear of vomiting; of bald people; of bathtubs; of writing in public; and of sleeping.  Oh, and the fear of long words is called:

hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia


(I copied and pasted that from Wikipedia.  I love words, but not enough to write that thing out).

Health is fun.

Today we watched a video and I did math homework, because Mr. G did something to a muscle in his shoulder and it hurt bad enough for him to not feel like lecturing.

I came home from tennis, grabbed my Kindle, and read Jenny B. Jones.

I think I'm going to write a full-blown post ranting about the A Charmed Life trilogy, because I seriously need to bust the author out for writing such a magnificent masterpiece.  Jones is no Charles Dickens, but she's, like, a master of literal laugh-out-loud humor.  I'm so glad I spent eight dollars of my precious Amazon gift card on those books.

Just to give you a taste of what it's like, I'm going to put a quote or two here:

"I stop picking the label off my water bottle long enough to notice Ruthie has once again colored her hair.  It looks like Barney held her at gunpoint and took her hair as hostage."

"Ruthie steals another fry off of my untouched plate.  'You could tell her how you feel.  I'm a firm believer in honesty.'  
         Budge does a double take.  'You told me you had a rare mouth disease for the first two weeks we dated so I wouldn't kiss you.'  
         'I wasn't exactly lying.  I was adding to my mystique.'  
         'I had to call my doctor to make sure all my shots were updated.'                            'Awwww....' Ruthie throws her arms around Budge.  'That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me.'"

Ruthie is by far the best thing that ever happened to Bella here.  Honestly.  Bella's hilarious narrative too--she's one of my favorite protagonists that I've read so far--but Ruthie is just divine.  PURRfect comic relief.  She even printed a "How to be a Sidekick" book off the Internet.  If that's not dedicated sidekickness, I don't know what is.

I found Jenny B. Jones' site off of Jill Williamson's site.  Jill Williamson writes on Go Teen Writers, the writing site I keep ranting about, and it just so happened today that I found a newsletter from Go Teen Writers in my inbox.

In it, they're announcing yet another contest: a 1,000 word contest, a reward for hitting 1,000 followers.  (They're at 984 followers, including yours truly).

And guess who the judge of it will be?

A literary agent, Amanda Luedeke, of the same literary agency Jenny B. Jones is represented by!

Ohmygargoyles...

So I went back, and read my stories, and, well, um, I looked at them sadly and thought, Heck.  I'm a terrible writer.  Seriously.  The beginnings of my stories suck.  I really need to spiff them up.

And I kind of got down on myself today.  Because I read my books and it's all like, um, OK.  Cool.  Can I get on with my life now?  Your characters aren't vibrant enough, you need a lot of help, and it's just a big mess of work.

Sucks to be down on yourself, big time.

But I shall PERSEVERE!  

I want a Twitter.  I find myself switching the bio on my Instagram account several times a day, and it just ain't working for me.  I also have a notepad on my phone entitled "Possible Tweets," and they're full of cliche, inspiration, and hilarious sayings.

As for the Goodreads account I'm yearning for...I'd love to connect with other people over books.

I've been listening to Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You."  I like it--light, bouncy, no remarkably bad message to it.  

*sighs*  This is a long post.

I was planning on posting more, but I think I'll quit now.  Your eyes are probably rotting out of the bone right now.

1 comment:

  1. The lyrics would sound good making a song or--maybe a rap!!!

    ReplyDelete