Textbook Betrayal

I scribbled this down today and realized halfway through that it wasn't just about textbooks. I thought that it was interesting enough to put on my blog, so here ya go! =)

Just like that moment when, purely out of the blue, your dry, dependable Saxon Math testbook makes an error, telling you perhaps that 6x7=45. Your heart stops and you stare at the lie, the ugly mark of untruth glaring out at you under the guise of seriousness. You want to believe that it's true, but you soon realize that isn't an option. You want to correct it with your highlight pen, but you've been instructed to not mark The Book, as it isn't yours and never will be. So instead you flip to the next page and try to forget all about the small (yet world-shattering) printing mistake. You try, yet it nags at you the whole time. You imagine thousands of other people coming upon the same mistake and feeling the same sense of horror and disappointment. Or worse, maybe they'll believe it. You keep working out of the book, but not with that same trust. You keep looking for more more lies printed in serious black ink on the other pages and when you do find more, maybe you'll leave that book entirely and find yourself a different one.

I Am Hyper and Insecure Right Now

 I AM THE GREAT CORNHOLIO.

That is all.

Arachnids

I just learned something terrible.

Solifugae and Opiliones are arachnids, scorpions are not solifugae (they belong to the family Scorpiones), and now I can't claim that I'm not triggering people's arachnophobia by showing them camel spiders.
My life is ruined.

MY FATHER LIED TO ME!!!!
I thought that the arachnid family was much smaller.

....Okay, it's pretty crappin cool that there are so many arachnids, but DUDE. I feel so betrayed. HOW COULD I NOT KNOW??????????????????
Major Geek Point loss.






..... *Ahem.*
PWAHA!!!!!

Ninclowns

I just realized something terrifying.
Mimes are a cross between clowns and ninjas.

Think about it!
What are the two things that clowns and ninjas share in common? They both terrifying. However, this quality manifests itself in vastly different ways when you work with vastly different creatures.
You see, clowns are scary in an in-your-face kind of way. Ninjas are the exact opposite. They're scary in a dum-de-dum-walking-home-from-work-ohcrapaninja-DEAD!!! kind of way.
Both terrifying, right? The question is, what if you take key elements in these different styles and then add them together? The answer? MIMES.
Yes, that's right. When one takes the most terrifying aspects of two* of the most terrifying creatures known to humankind and smashes them together (the smashing itself probably involving quite a bit of setting fire to nursing homes, sacrificing puppies, and jaywalking) we get MIMES.

See for yourself.

Color
C=wild colors
c=neutral colors

Tact
T=subtle
t=up-in-your-face

(We may assume that both clowns and ninjas have the potential to be deadly and/or evil.)

Clown
Ct

Ninja
cT

	C	t
c	Cc	ct
T	CT	Tt

As you can see, when you cross a clown with a ninja, you may get one of these things:
Cc- A Chameleon Ninclown or Shifting-Color Ninclown (very confusing and difficult to look upon)
CT- A Colorful Ninclown (they make up for their eye-drawing colors by being especially deadly)
Tt- A Bipolar Ninclown. (pretty much exactly what it sounds like.)

ct- A Silent Ninclown (commonly known as a Mime) (puts up a wall of invisibility, follows you home, hides under your bed, then silently jumps out and stabs you with an invisible stake-knife. Then mimes eating your heart.)

Yeah.

....... France is so screwed.

_________________________________

*Notice that I didn't say THE most. Just TWO of the most. Not even the top two. Sharks are probably scarier.

......OH NO.


PS!! Please don't chase me with pitchforks and fire if this punnet square is incorrect. I've had enough of THAT from the local villagers already. (I mean 'cmon! Just because I have a strange urge to chase rabbits and howl at the moon about once a month doesn't mean that you have to try and KILL me!! And seriously. Silver bullets?? They don't really do all that much better then the regular lead ones.)

AHEM.
Anyway, tracing clown and ninja genes is HARD. Do you know what I have to go through to get blood samples of CLOWNS?? On a good clownnapping you sneak up behind it, hit it over the head with a shovel, then put it into a body bag and then into your trunk without being seen. Then when you get back and open the bag, it's usually awake and you have to avoid the chloroform-soaked rag thrusted into your face and beat it into dazed submission. (IF it doesn't actually turn out to be the joker. [If THAT'S the case, then just pray that you don't have a heart attack when he sits up and proclaims "Or maybe alive??"])

Don't even get me STARTED on the ninjas.

I Iz Schizo? =D

Huh....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schizotypal_personality_disorder

Let's take a look at how this applies to me, shall we?

• Ideas of reference (excluding delusions of reference)

Yup.

• Odd beliefs or magical thinking that influences behavior and is inconsistent with subcultural norms (e.g. superstition, belief in clairvoyance, telepathy, "sixth sense", or bizarre fantasies or preoccupations)

Odd to whom exactly? And yes.

• Unusual perceptual experiences, including bodily illusions

No bodily illusions. Although does realizing about once every 3 months that I'm actually really just a whole buncha meet on a skeleton count? Because that happens. And man, it is SO weird.

• Odd thinking and speech (e.g. vague, circumstantial, metaphorical, or stereotyped speaking)

      Oh most definitely.

• Suspiciousness or paranoid ideation

Who wants to know?? Seriously though. Definitely. CLOWNS?? Those are some scary bastards..... OH! And mimes. Creepy. Ninjas?? Oh GOD. Trolls..... The government... MY NEIGHBOR! Oh crap. O____O

• Inappropriate or constricted affect

Yeah, sometimes.

• Behavior or appearance that is odd, eccentric or peculiar

Do I even need to answer this one??

• Lack of close friends or confidants other than first degree relatives

I'm not sure how to answer this. I now have two close friends, but all the years before that? Not one.

• Excessive social anxiety that does not diminish with familiarity and tends to be associated with paranoid fears rather than negative judgments about self.

Huh. This is a little creepy. I think that Wikipedia has been reading my mind. OR listening to me through my built-in laptop microphone!!

.......I KNEW IT!!

My Bathroom Is Haunted pt1

Just bear with me, alright?

Okay. A couple of weeks ago, I was in the shower. I was just about to get out when I saw a huge person-shaped shadow move across the shower curtain. It was dark and distinct, so it had to be almost against the curtain. My heart pounded like crazy and I had no weapons or armor inside the shower. Psycho went whirling around my head as I just stood there motionless. I didn't want to die in the shower! I was wet, naked, and held nothing but sheer terror! I planned on dying at the hands of an evil sorcerer with my boots on and a sword in my hand. This was just a disgrace.

In those few seconds, the person-shaped shadow moved toward the end of the curtain and vanished. Just like that.

After a moment of standing there quietly, I recovered my wits. "Woah, Mom! You scared me. Psycho was going through my head..." I called out in a shaky voice. There was no answer. I opened the shower curtain and stuck my head out. There was no one there. The door was closed.

I should probably add that it was an extremely small bathroom with no windows and a very loud door.

I flipped my lid and dressed as fast as I could. I ran out and asked my Mom and my sister if they had come in. They hadn't.

I realized that I should start carrying melee weapons with me at all times.

Of glitter, smart-assery, and Mothers

I was watching my Dad's girlfriend and my sister unpack Christmas ornaments the other day, when I caught sight of something so horrible, I literally reeled back in disgust. GLITTERY CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS. Now, I love Christmas. I love the colors, the cheesy decorations, the cold days (it helps me remember just how much I love the heat), drinking tea and reading Calvin and Hobbes... I love Christmas, but there are 3 things I don't like.

  1. Cut-down Christmas trees (I probably won't go into this one... Let's just say that feeling a tree die is heart breaking.)
  2. Christmas music (Most of it anyway. The H.P. Lovecraft stuff though? Pure gold.)
Aaaand
  3. Tinsel and, by extension, Glitter.
Yes, you heard me. Glitter.

Anyway, as I edged away from the shiny little plastic flecks of pure chaos and hate, I wondered (as I always do whenever I see them) exactly WHY I dislike them. (Glitter and vampires.... Wait. I think I see a correlation here... O_O) I mean, glitter didn't really do anything to hurt me...
So I thought way back.

This is what I remembered.
Aside from that one time where my Mom's friend's kid dumped a container of glitter on my head (the little twerp was about 6 at the time, so I couldn't whoop his butt), I have only had ONE Glitter Incident. Here it is.

The Great Glitter Incident of 2000.

I was a downright contrary little 4 year old. I was voluntarily literalistic, snobbish, rude, smart-assed, stubborn (extra stress on this), temperamental, and utterly brilliant.
My poor Mother, oh my poor poor Mother. She was THE BEST MOM EVER. (did already I mention this?) She put up with my shit (literally and figuratively), she put up with my Dad's shit (also in both senses. [She wants to add that there was considerably more vomit]), she bathed us, clothed us, put a roof over our heads, and she loved us. (I should also mention that Dad did (and still does) all this too.)
Despite all this, mothers have a breaking point. I found hers on numerous occasions (this being the number one job of a 4 year old), but this was the only time I was actually AFRAID of my Mother.

It was a hot Summer day. I home school, so I did my work through the Summer in our roofed patio. My Mom was having me work off of a home-made worksheet (lovingly hand-written by her [WITH illustrations. I KID YOU NOT.], and one of my greater arch-nemesi), and I was not having it. I hated having to sit, I hated having to focus, and I hated being watched as I worked. I, taking any opportunity to piss off my wonderful, loving Mother, decided that I'd write the answers to the addition problems AS BIG AS I COULD.
Que the patient sigh. "Rahel, you need to make it smaller." My writing got BIGGER.
My Mom heaved a slightly more annoyed sigh. "No, Rahel. SMALLER."
I paused. She wanted smaller? I'd give her smaller.
About this small. *
Thus having destroyed the (hand-designed!) worksheet (and, in the process, my Mother's patience), we moved on to the less-stressful arts and crafts.
Arts and crafts were (and still are) a big part in our family. My Mom is the craft QUEEN and we always had little papery scraps and whatnot littering our house. Today's craft was something seasonal. I don't really remember what I was supposed to make, but I know that it integrated pieces of my other subjects (like writing poetry, diagramming the affects of certain chemicals when mixed together, and little snippets of things like "temporary means it goes away, and permanent means it stays forever.") What I remember most about it, however, was the glitter and feathers. It had lots of glitter and feathers. My Mom pointed out a spot that still needed glittering. I threw her a sideways look. She wanted more glitter? I could do that.... I should mention that I bore NASTY grudges, and I remembered little things with finite detail. (More on that in a later post.) And I was still sore about that math. She wanted glitter? I'd give her more glitter. Heck, she could have the WHOLE BOTTLE. Out it gushed.
At this point, my Mom was incredibly exasperated, and nearly loosing her cool. Her jaw set. After grieving for the late handcrafted lesson in her own way (which involved closing her eyes, breathing deeply, and counting to ten), she spared me a peeved look before bending over the table to blow away the stray flecks. I instantly felt bad. She was just trying to teach me. She thought that it was important. I really had no reason to try and set her off. So I decided to help with the glitter cleanup. I should mention at this point that I was seated across the table from her. *evil cackle* I was really just trying to help. I swear. I didn't know that the hateful little sparkley razors flew so well..... Or were so sharp.
I remember very well the cloud of glitter rising, blown away by my over-exuberant breath. (I should also mention that I had an insane lung capacity. And I'm talking INSANE.) I remember her drawing in a startled breath as the cloud engulfed her. It was almost comical. Until the cloud fell away like a curtain and I saw her face. Horror struck. I doubt that I will ever be able to describe the look on her face. It burned, nay drilled into my brain, letting me know just how livid she was with me at that moment. I was never so afraid of her. The time she popped my red balloon (what she describes as her 'lowest point'?) Not as scary. The time I peed on my bed in pure defiance of being put on a time out? Not even close. But this, THIS, was utterly terrifying. I probably would have pissed my pants if I wasn't frozen in my seat, calculating the probability that I'd live this escapade. Could I run? Nope. She was too close. Could I hide? No, she was right there. Could I apologize? Definitely not. Snapping her out of her angry paralysis would be most unwise.
I don't remember what I did, and neither does my Mom, but I can guess that my Dad (Goddess bless his soul) took over. I vaguely remember him giving me a talking to about doing math, listening to my mother, and being VERY. CAREFUL. WITH. GLITTER. Especially around Mom. I can just picture him walking in on the scene. Me, about to lose my bodily functions, trapped like a rodent in a snake's eyes. Mom, fit to spontaneously combust in a flurry of poison and fire, sending a coating of glitter around the room like festive ninja stars.
Definitely one for the yearbooks.







* Unfortunately, blog spot's fonts are relatively normal-sized. Big was about 2" high, and bigger was 3". Small was minuscule. And by minuscule, I mean about 1 millimeter tall. Seriously. I was INSANE.