HAI TERRIBUG.
Sooo... Here I go!
CATEGORY R.
What do you live?
I live a continual state of detachedness and seeming aloofness, wandering the back ways of my own crazy mind for the answers to the Secrets of the Universe, and a really cool metaphor to spice up my next short story.
When do you live?
Twenty minutes in the past, when everything that was popular three years ago is fresh and hot, and it's still "cool" to still be slightly obsessed with the things you loved when you were nine.
CATEGORY S.
Define poverty.
Poverty is the state of being unable to provide for one's basic needs, be it through lack of money, ability, or other things.
A hunter with no material possessions save for his weapon isn't poor, so long as he can catch his food and he can build a tent to shelter him at night. However, if he twists his foot and can't hunt, or if he looses his tent, he's poor.
A homeless person trapped in a city where food and shelter comes only from money is poor. However, if she gets outside of the city, somehow, into the wilderness, and joins the hunter and learns from him, she is no longer poor.
If either of them get sick and they can care for themselves in most situations, they're not poor.
But if they know no first aide and only a doctor can treat them, they become poor.
Poverty is complicated.
Define ambiguity.
Ambiguity is something-or-other.
KATEGORY K. (Eye c wut eye did thar.)
Tell me an anecdote about a time you cried.
I was 11 years old. I was in my sixth-grade class. It was January. We were reading the newspapers, as we did every morning. After reading my favorite section (the op ed pieces), I opened up the comics. I wanted to read them because today was the day of the final Peanuts strip.
I read it. Gee, that's sweet, I thought.
Then somebody said to me, "Did you hear? Charles Schultz died today."
"Did he," I said.
I turned to the teacher. "Teacher, can I go to the bathroom?"
"Yes," she said.
So I went to the girl's bathroom.
I sat in the big, handicapped stall. I closed the doors.
I cried.
Tell me an ancedote about a time you succeeded.
They used to make us take these awful standardized tests in high school. They were unpleasant. They were long and tedious. The questions were stupid. They were often ambiguous and dumb. The prompts they gave us for the writing section were inane. I HATED them. The only respite I had was that I was more intelligent than approximately 70% of our student population, so I could be in and out of those annoying tests in one round. No retakes. Right?
Well, I passed math. I passed reading.
I failed writing.
You have no idea how enraged I was. I couldn't believe what they'd done to me! How could
I fail writing?! Me! The greatest writer in my class, as secretly confided to me by my English teacher! Why, I--well, after my ego recovered from its bruise, I was still righteously angry. I had to retake the writing portion, which I did not look forward to.
The day came, unfortunately. I sat down. Dumb prompt. Something about kids failing in schools.
I'd write them a paper, alright. I'd tell them exactly how standardized testing WOULDN'T solve their problem. The useless, godawful, pure rote thing.
But I was angry. Angry, angry, angry. And I didn't just want to chew them out, no. I wanted to make life
hard for them.
I wrote the entire essay backward, in mirror, DaVinci handwriting.
Yes, the whole thing.
Fuming, I turned it in. I knew I'd have to retake the test, but I needed the catharsis.
I passed the test with the highest marks.
L+ CATEGORY. TWO LETTERS AWAY FROM TE N+ CATEGORY.
2. Chapters.
Book 2 has exactly 40 of them, not counting prologue and epilogue. I like that. And the first 20 are the first half of the book, and the second 20 are the second half! The plot's split up so nicely between them! I love it. I think the page count is uneven, though. If only we had a true editor to help us clean the wordcruft from the first 20 chapters! Book 2 is currently on Chapter 14, which was originally part of Chapter 12. Chapter 12 was going to end up being 50 pages long in Times New Roman size 10 font, single-spaced.
I remember the first thing I ever tried to write. Died at chapter 2. The second thing, a Zelda fanfic, might have gone to completion if my computer hadn't died right after I'd finished chapter 8. And chapter 8 was so cool, too... It had Link fighting giant electric jellyfish!
Say, why ARE fictional jellyfish always electric?
You deserve it, loves.
My sister got to take tap dancing lessons from her hero. I forget his name. I feel like such a heel. She watches his movie ("Tap!," I think it's called) on every road trip. She got to shake his hand, give him a hug, and learn his mad moves in person smack dab in the middle of Hollywood, California.
My best friend Ender finally got to become a Magic: The Gathering official judge and tournament organizer. Her gets to officiate official Magic stuff. He's wanted to do this for years. He's so psyched about his first tournament, which he's holding in October at the local used book store.
My roommate, whom I still don't know all that well but who is awesome, became an aunt yesterday.
And I should buy her best friend a pizza, because she fixed our drain.