Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Cleaning My Room

Over the past few months, my bedroom has gone from disorganized to cluttered to fairly squalid. Meanwhile, I have remained cheerfully oblivious to the impending hordes of dust and bits of thread and occasional dead fly, sort of like how crazy cat ladies don't really notice that their feline friends have been breeding under the sofa for months and now they have 50 cats living in the house.
(That will probably be me when I'm older, by the way.)
Anyway, the grossness of the place has been pointed out enough for me to start noticing, and so I've finally taken the initiative in cleaning fumigating the place. So far, so good. I've spent the day sifting through the stacks of paper along the wall that have accumulated through the years, and have stumbled upon some treasures. I thought I'd share them with you, because they amuse me.


In ninth grade (hey, isn't that when I started this blog?), I was subjected to a highly insightful career determining test. The well-crafted diagnostic asked a series of questions, mostly concerning likes & dislikes and abilities, to ascertain what my ideal job would be.
These tests are rarely accurate, but I was at the receiving end at one of the most brilliantly inane prognoses ever. At the time the test was taken, I was thinking about going into a career in writing. The test, in its supremely omniscient capabilities, told me that I would be better off being a mime, flower salesperson, stone carver, or coroner. To this day, I'm impressed that "mime" is a career option.

Some choice vocab sentences from 10th grade:
1. "It appears that the girl was bludgeoned to death, poor thing," the inspector said, shaking his head sadly.
2. With nuclear war imminent, the citizens were shepherded into bomb shelters stockpiled with enough supplies to last into the next century. Of course, the radiation would have destroyed everything so entirely, they would probably never be able to live on the surface again and the human species would slowly go into extinction - if they didn't die of vitamin D deficiencies before then.
3. Harry Potter was ambivalent about the Firebolt; he wanted it so badly, but he already had a broom, and it was extremely expensive.
4. Dolores Umbridge tried to present an amiable face to the world, but her true, sadistic nature refused to be concealed.
5. Ron was invigorated when he thought he had taken the Felix Felicis potion because he believed that he was invincible.

MASH - Remember that?! That highly amusing fortune-telling children's game, in which a list of topics and choices is presented on a paper, and a system involving counting is used to eliminate options. This highly amusing game told me that I would have the following when I was older:
A job as a clown.
A car that was actually a bicycle.
No children.
A green wedding dress.
One million dollars in the bank account.
A hobby that involved smoking pot.
A style in clothing as an emo.
A mansion in Australia.
A husband named Brad Pitt that worked as a janitor, drove a rocket, and enjoyed hunting.
A honeymoon in my grandmother's backyard.

I miss Amanda. She graduated last year, and she was a scary grunge kid who was absolutely hilarious. When she saw me in the hall, she would ask me how life in the mafia was, and had I kneecapped any people lately?, or yell "Happy birthday!" on random dates. Occasionally I was too bemused to respond. Other times, I asked her where my cake was. (For my birthday, of course. Don't tell me you forgot it! How could you!? I...I thought you cared.)
She also wrote me notes sometimes:
"Maddy,
Tag you're it.
NO TAG BACKS. NOT PLAYING.
-Mander."
Here's one that had a drawing of a mushroom and an angry caterpillar with a cape.
"I DREW YOU AN ANGRY SUPER WEEVIL. From MAND."
Once she wrote me an angry letter: It was a picture of a letter "M" with a snarling face on it.
I miss Amanda.

Ah, Health class. A beautiful time. By which I mean a terrible time, but a time which did provide some amusement. (I find amusement in strange places). I don't think the teacher liked me terribly, for all that I was a quiet, model student who never made jokes during the reproduction unit or listed the numerous colloquial definitions of the word "sauce".
Goal-Writing:
1. Write a goal for tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will wake up on time and get out of bed and not go back to sleep.
2. Write a goal for next week.
By next week I will have finished my APUSH book and not have hosted any book burnings for the other kids who dislike that book, too.
3. Write a health-related goal.
I will eat a piece of fruit today. Without sugar. Or in a pie. Not that that's an issue, but I just thought I'd clear it up. Because pie is tasty.
Writing "I" Statements:
"That's really stupid!" becomes  "I feel sorry for you when you say stupid things because I don't want you to look like an imbecile." (So much nicer!)
"You don't really care about me!" becomes "I feel unloved when I am shoved down the stairs because caring people don't shove each other down stairs."
"You really don't care what I think!" becomes "I feel undervalued when my mouth is duct-taped shut because I want to share my ideas with you."
"You're mean to me!" becomes "I feel hurt when you try to stab me with a wooden stake because I am not an undead being."
"You gave me a lower grade than I deserve!" becomes "I feel offended when you mark me wrong for my humor because a sense of humor is all that has kept me from insanity." (Based on a true health class story! In a different goal-writing project, I talked a lot about clowns, chain saws, etc. I was docked points for "lacking sincerity." Bah.)


That's enough for now. I have several more piles of papers to get through, and headway is slow. I should probably neaten up more often, and spend less time documenting.

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