"There is nothing so self-righteous nor so right as an adolescent imagination."

(The above: a quote from the wonderful Stephen Fry, who is probably better at most things than a vast majority of people, but who is too polite to say so. And whose voice sounds like *insert simile here*... I am in love with it. That is all. Anyway, besides being eloquently written and beautiful, it's true. I found it on Wikiquote, which I also love, and have been searching for free access in some way to the autobiography it is from. Which, given his style of writing and my obsession over biographies, should be superb.)

The longer version of this quote (I'm paraphrasing. And over-dramatizing. And adding bits that apply to me that I see as universal.) is that all teenagers by nature have somewhat the self-perception of "Nonconformity! Yay! I am an individual, a loner; society is flawed and I'm the only one who can see it. Woe be to they who cannot see above the world they all live in, but I am awesomer than them. If they don't like me, screw 'em. I CAN and I MUST fix this for the good of everyone else. If, in that process, I cease to be a nonconformist, then I am nobly willing to do so. And then they will love me, because I have inspired deep thoughts within the very rawness of their souls and illuminated them to the error of their ways. I CAN and I MUST leave a permanent scar of triumph on the beautiful face that is humanity. *humble bow* *thunderous applause*"

Which is also true. Personally... yeah, it's true. Just because I'm aware of this doesn't mean I'm going to change it. It's probably a violently skewed view of my role in the universe, but this is derived from necessity. Reality is a heartless bitch. It's incredibly probable that I may amount to nothing significant in the big picture of things, history, the world, et cetera. Graduating from U of I with a BA in English, writing, getting published occasionally and having a part-time job at an indie bookstore/coffee shop but being a virtual unknown. (Or worse, which very literally frightens me. The words "Wal-Mart" and/or "desk job" come up.) But I am very important in my own universe, glancing into the universes of people I know from time to time. Seeing how small I am, now in particular, would make my head explode. I acknowledge this, and then gratefully crawl back into my hole of informed nonconformity.

I often make light of how *awful* my life is and how when I am famous, yet educated and traveled and philanthropic and living as a recluse in a cabin in Wyoming somewhere, watching snow fall non-picturesquely (because pretty snow is cliche), and grayly and dimly ponder the light flurries of February in Wyoming whilst typing on a secondhand vintage typewriter the ensuing memoirs encompassing this period of time in my life will be dramatically heart wrenching and inspiring and all the other adjectives truly good memoirs actually are. This is partly to be satirical of all the other teenage stereotypes, and partly because it's something I desperately want.

So, did that just inflate my ego a little? Of course. Stephen Fry used the word "right" whilst describing something applicable to me.

FIPOGI:

A Soapbox-Sadie Six Words

It's 6WS! So, my six words:

Good judgement: proofreading posts while calm.

The explanation for this is I wrote a particularly long and curse laden and incoherent blog post ranting on about people who underestimate/mislabel kids with autism. (or who are just generally twits whom I don't like anyway, but whose chronic verbal vomiting on this subject gives justifiable proof to this opinion...) Which I suppose is my "cause" if I had to pick one other than the universal type ones (E.g world peace and the environment and so on). Which I think is understandable because my brother has autism, so it affects me and the people I care about, moreso than like, being an amputee does. I don't know any amputees, even though there are probably charities for them and it kind of sucks (being an amputee, not having charities... God, why am I even using this as an example?). I'm strongly against the likes of Jenny McCarthy and the people that treat autism like it is WRONG and should be CURED, like it's that black and white. (And here's where it gets into the rant-y points about conformity and the things that are wrong with society in its treatment of disabled individuals and other cliches, so I'm stopping. I feel that way, yes, but I can't say it in an interesting and eloquent enough manner to allow myself to let the Internet see it.)

Okay, original point round-up time: I'm spectacularly glad I proofread for once.

FIPOGI!

THIS: When even blatant Photoshoppery can't detract from the awesomeness.

April (Month) and Fool (Me)

Well hello, cyberspace. Happy April Fool's Day.

. . .

I was going to turn this post into some kind of trick, as per the goal of the holiday states, but I am in no mood or mental capacity to do so. I feel like death in a can. It's a beautiful day outside.

Why I chose "in a can" as an intensifier I have not a clue. I Googled it to see if it was some kind of expression or something, but most of the results claim that either Red Bull or processed food is the above mentioned--it's not a more eloquent synonym for "OMFG *drool* *spazz* *headsmack* *die*" as I had hoped. Bleagh. In other news: today is the first day of Script Frenzy. (like Nanowrimo for scriptwriting. We'll see if my failure at novelwriting is any indication of the results of this...) Which I will foolishly be attempting. Which means I may not blog as much in April. I have a few drafts of posts I may finish just to give this blog an air of consistency, but otherwise, see you in May.

FIPOGI:

Just in time for Easter! LULZ! :-D


(I get it, not funny. . . April Fools. Yes! I got at least one in before I die a whiny and flu-related death. In a can.)

News From Geniusland

Without further ado, Six Word Saturday:

Thirteen, genius, ecology major. I'm jealous.

And now, further ado:

Is it so wrong to be jealous of this kid? I mean, come on. Prodigies make for humorous subjects of movies and books and other works of fiction, but in real life graduating from Stanford at age 11 is... amazing. Incredible. Improbable. I don't mean to moan, but, yeah, screw it, I'm going to moan. When *I* was 11 I was memorizing state capitals. That's pretty much it. Certainly NOT even dreaming of my college major. I hardly am NOW. He's likely to be a million or some crap before he's 25. And not letting him go to South Africa is "discrimination"? It's pretty basic safety. Sorry dude, the school is not going to be held liable when you get eaten by a Venus flytrap or something. You probably have a high enough IQ to know that there aren't man-eating Venus flytraps in South Africa, but can a school trust that some other accident isn't going to happen? It's risky.

I may be pointlessly whining, but I think he should just be glad to be where he already is. It's possible to keep "moving forward" or whatever, he has his whole life to go everywhere and get PhDs and make money and save the Earth or whatever he plans to do. Sheesh. So, I pose a question, my dear readers:

I am I really just being envious and evil? Does he deserve to go regardless of the consequences?

More Meaningless Moaning About The Weather

My Six Words:



Spring starts tomorrow. Today: snow. WHAT?!!

Other news in brief: I'm making over the blog a bit, trying to find a properly fitting header. Non-blog-life-update: .... reading, essaying, procrastinating and cursing the weather. Have a nice day. (I usually hate that phrase, because it sounds insincere. I'm not going to insist that of course, coming from me it's sincere; but I at least hope your day is more interesting than mine.)

FIPOGI:

Under Construction

If you've seen this blog in the past few days, it's probably really weird looking and hardly readable. I've been toying around with backgrounds, first trying to manipulate my own and then switching to the freebies made by nice internet people with an eye for design. (which I fully admit to not having.) Going through tons of these has made me realize one thing:

I am picky.

Despite having no grounds to be as such.

Anyway, hopefully it will be normal looking by the time I post my 6WS. (later today, hoping to be last again. There's already 60-something entries.)

EDIT: Alright, I'm stopping here for a while. It's very earthy-looking now. The stripes remind me of pajamas or something. This is a good thing, yes? Yes. (European statement endings, no? Why do I slip into these affectations while I'm blogging?) I really don't like changing the entire configuration of my blog constantly, so it might still be changing by the time anyone reads this, but once it's done I probably won't do this again for a while. Thoughts on the current layout, anyone?

And the rest of the day to yourself

The traditional response to "Top of the morning to you." that I guess fewer people know. If someone ever says that to you, you now know how to respond. Even if you already knew that, I like to feel informative.

So it's Saint Patrick's Day. w00t.

Why is St. Patrick's Day (patron saint of Ireland) popular in America?

Two seconds after I asked this semirhetorical question, I've come up with my own nonsemirhetorical answer: Beer and theme colors. It makes sense. BUT, this is not a blog about St. Patrick's Day. *cue point where I stopped blogging for quite a bit to do something marginally more important, so when I came back to this draft that statement wasn't finished... I forgot what this was going to a blog about. So yes, it's going to be a blog about St. Patrick's Day.*

The KGH had "Rueben pizza" as some kind of lunch special. Corned beef, swiss cheese, and sauerkraut. On a pizza. Wow. I'm not going to comment on the sheer absurdity and repulsiveness of even the thought of that, but who thinks of Rueben pizza? Was it dyed green, too? You can dye any random foodstuff green, isn't that enough celebratory faux-Irishness? But the best part of this was after to announcement was made, the announcer had to say some teleprompted line like, "MMMM! That sounds good!" She couldn't do it with a straight face. :-D

Other than that, my St. Pat's Day was rather uneventful. Have the day to yourself and all. You deserve it.

FIPOGI!:

**I've always thought leprechauns were the coolest of the mythical creatures. Devilishly clever, rich and annoying. Terrific qualities not found in the standard werewolf.** (Excepting the latter. Why am I typing this with an Irish accent running through my head? Ah well. If this were spoken, imagine it with an Irish accent, so that my oddity shan't've been in vain.)