info @ the P.Pole 04.26.06

3 earthly temptations i think i’m going to have to give in to:

• Pilate’s Sell Control For Life’s Speed, the release of which just happens to have been yesterday. winner for me. i still haven’t figured out how my Caught By The Window was scratched that badly… just thinking about it makes me feel like melting into the walls…
• continuing to subsequently disrupt Ms. Q’s “lessons” [in sexual disgustificationismality and unprofessionalismaticationality] by playing BS Bingo (something taught to me by Sherman, i believe) in history class with Kishon and Hanan
• Square Enix’s Kingdom Hearts II once i actually find a copy of it. it was released in the US back in march, but i dunno whether it’s out here yet. i’ve got to find out whether Sora and his sweetheart, Kairi, find one another again! at the end of the first KH, Sora had just found Kairi, after fighting his way through many worlds and monsters, only for the two to be torn apart again. now Sora’s got to find his way back to her… again! it’s all so romantic… uh, i mean, “i want to kill monsters with two swords instead of just one.”

i need a good word

…to describe that anus of a woman. today, my group (consisting of Shivon, Pradeep, and i) presented at the YPI finals of our school. we were up against craptacular competition and it was somewhat obvious which charity and presentation ought to win the five grand. we went in with hope and smiles that were soon to be crushed (like Ms. Q’s testicles under a truck’s tire). it turns out Ms. Q (the teacher that i am currently waging a war against in a just fight for freedom from idiots) would be one of the three judges on the panel.
long story short, Romero House — totally deserving and in need of the monetary grant — lost because of, and solely because of, Ms. Q’s position on the panel of judges. the woman representing the organization sponsoring this whole YPI thing personally came up to our group and said something along the lines of:
“Personally, your presentation touched me the most by far, and if it were up to me, you would’ve won but one of the other judges — the stupid one, you know, with the sex jokes — has a personal beef with you, Carl, so that’s why poor refugees and their families have to suffer now. Sorry.” [italics mine... c'mon, her face implied it. i read her like a book.]
and now i simply must rant and rave about that cursèd wretch of a person who simply must make my period twos or fours a living hell of idiocy and revolting sexual puns coming from a middle-aged, laughable woman with emotional and/or mental issues. but she can’t stop at that, oh heck no. open unprofessionalism just won’t cut it for her. she’s got to go out of her way to get involved in things that don’t concern her at all just to screw Romero House over, all in hopes of getting back at me. what for, i’ve not a clue. oh wait, that’s right, i did well in her class without paying attention to her stupid teaching. i also write well and thoughtfully with a hint of spice, and for these, Romero House simply must pay the price. it all makes sense now.
idiot woman. i hope she sleeps well tonight, knowing that refugees somewhere can’t afford a damnèd repair for a wall or a new window or a solid roof over their heads. what a jackass of a person she is.

i know, i know, i sound bitter and angry. the truth is, i am. a little at myself for not sucking up and being a teacher’s pet — wait a minute, heck no, that kind of living is spineless and despicable. i just hate to see innocent people screwed in places they shouldn’t have to be because of one ignorant and unreasonable halfwit’s decision to be a total butt munch.

note: if you read thus far, i would like to reward you with a little musical treat courtesy of my bro, Adwin. click here for a completely original piece written just for Romero House. as if.

info @ the P.Pole 04.17.06

5 random facts of Life:

• Life isn’t fair with blonde hair
• Life is short and gorgeous
• Life isn’t always fun and lively
• Life is sometimes like an unpredictable drag queen
• Life isn’t easy, unlike the others

Pure Randomness

Courtesy my cousin’s blog. Vulgar language rocks sometimes. Dr. McNinja is a total badass. Check it out!
Burger Zombie Mother F*ckers!
Yo Ho Pirate Mother F*ckers!
This stuff is the bomb.

Mush It Black

I was feeling a little bit bored and figured, “These cover songs are yummy.” so I decided to upload this set of songs for your downloading pleasure. There are:

• Feist – Mushaboom
• Bright Eyes – Mushaboom [Cover]
• The Postal Service – Mushaboom [Cover]
• The Rolling Stones – Paint It Black
• Gob – Paint It Black [Cover]
• The Agony Scene – Paint It Black [Cover]

I’m thinking the best one out of these is the Bright Eyes cover of Feist… I don’t know. Check it out for yourselves. Heck, let’s have a poll. Leave your votes as comments, if you’re moh liu enough.

C’est fini!

I like this feeling of being done with it. It was a lot of hard work and strugglefications (yes, that’s right, I made a word up) but I do think the end result was way better than anyone could’ve possibly hoped given our practices, proving that God is a God who can use people to do good and even great things. Now that we’re done and midterm evaluations are over, I can get back to my good old gaming ways, especially with the new [white] PSP. Oh baby.

Speaking of midterms, I’ve got an inkling that this semester’s marks aren’t going to be quite as hot as last semester’s. This is probably due to my two grade 11 IB level courses (i.e. Economics and French). Then again, I’m nearly top of my class in economics (based on the results of our tests) and I’m doing decently (I think) in french. What I’m passive-agressive about is actually History. IM[MHBNR]O — that is, “in my [most humble but not really] opinion” — this course is a total waste of time in the way my teacher teaches it. Not only is she self-imposing and conniving in the way she deals with students, and not only does she penalize (more on this word and others like it later) students like me for no reason, she’s also a witch, not to mention the fact that she’s a perverted old hag who puns and puns, feigning innocence and naivete.

I mean, I’d like to succeed in this course, and I’m sure I could, if I just grovel and suck up to her slime covered hooves, but I refuse. Some kids are okay with being teachers’ pets and living their lives like that, but I prefer earning respect and accepting correction where they are due, of course. Such a relationship I’ve been able to establish with all my other teachers. I don’t exactly behave very properly or upright in class (mostly because that gets stale very quickly) but my other teachers and mentors know me enough to not take that as a sign of disrespect. I certainly don’t mean to come off as rude and insolent.

I show that I do care about the course material and whatnot not by participating excessively in class or whatever it is people do to get attention, but by doing my best whenever it counts. I’ve had a pretty good academic record, so it’s not like I’m a juvenile delinquent that causes trouble or ignores the teacher for kicks. I’m just very easily bored when the class doesn’t move at the pace I’d like.

Of course, others may need more time to absorb because that’s just the way they learn, and I’m cool with that. I just hate it when teachers try to constrict and control me. If others need to go over things one more time, by all means, go ahead. Just don’t expect me to pay attention to something doesn’t interest me. You wouldn’t if you were me. Of course, if you’re a teacher and you’d just like me to pay attention or at least act like it, then just tell me to nicely and I will. There’s no need to resort to being a conniving b*tch, so please, don’t be a conniving b*tch. My other teachers are actually very understanding when it comes to this kind of stuff, but not this teacher. This teacher is… unprofessional is the only term I can think of without being really rude and crude.

Here’s an example. She likes to give perfect marks to people who write sentences like “If you have two pizzas, you can use one to trade and still have another pizza left over.” within formal writing assignments that have absolutely nothing to do with pizzas, and yet she takes marks off of my friend and I for writing “with confusing style”. It’s not incomprehensible linguistic flare that kills me, it’s a retarded teacher who has no idea what she’s doing. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not angry. Not at this anyway.

This, however, did get me going. She writes “page 138 # 1-4″ on the chalk board and changes the page number right before class is over, without letting the class know that she had made a mistake before. I, for once, actually do the homework, but from the wrong page. When I go to explain, this is what I get:

“Yeah, I did the work on the board. I didn’t know you changed the page number.”
“Mmhmm, but the work was on page 145.”
“Well, I just did what was on the board. I’m sorry.”
“Alright, well try and pay more attention next time.” [insert fake smile with the connotation similar to "Haha, stupid you."]
“…” [insert turn and leave with the connotation similar to a "Haha, f*ck you."]

Of course, in traditional unfairness, she gives the homework mark to someone else that did exactly the same thing I did. I have now decided that History (taught by this unworkable and unprofessional slattern of a woman) is such a worthless subject that I refuse to apply myself in this course. At least not seriously. It’s not that I get only bad marks in it, since I have nailed a good number of high 90’s in this course — and all on concrete evaluations such as multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank parts of tests, which really says something about the way this teacher operates. I get 95-100% on all things that are either right or wrong, but on subjective things like written assignments I get marks like 75%. Of course, this might be because I’m a bad writer, but I think my writing skill is pretty much on par with anyone else in the class. In fact, I received the highest mark in the grade this year for grade 10 Pre-IB English, which clearly shows that I’ve got some kind of skill when it comes to writing.

In fact, my peers almost always ask me to help revise their pieces for them. I pretty much rewrote my friend’s piece and he got 100% on that one. I didn’t revise a second one and he ended up with something around 65% for that one. My friend, Kishon, was so outraged at my repeat mark of 75% that he was going to show my piece to his english teacher (the head of the english department at my school) to get feedback on whether it was my style that was confusing or the teacher’s intellect that was and is lacking [severely]. She just doesn’t like me, that’s all.

In the end, I’m not particularly enthusiastic about this class and can only wait for the entire thing to be over. What the heck am I going to use a grade 10 credit in Canadian History for? It’s not like I’ll be pursuing a career in… professional historying?

It’s not that I hate her guts. I just don’t like her dirty jokes.

Note: About the dirty jokes, she draws penis-shaped diagrams and she writes stuff on the board like “Please me, ______ and ______” when she wants people to put their answers on the board. That’s not just iffy diction or misinterpretation of words anymore. It’s just blatantly obscene and explicitly sexual. Now imagine that coming from a pug-faced dunderhead of a woman. I puke now.

The Calendar Hung Itself

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly from the place between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes,
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you?
Oh, does he know that place below your neck that is your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences like, “I love you far too much”?

Does he lay awake listening to your breath,
Worried that you smoke too many cigarettes?
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there’s a thousand more
that you won’t ever see but must hold inside yourself eternally.

Well I dragged your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper: “Here is where you rest.”
I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees,
And I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine,
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her.
She had eyes bright enough to burn me. They reminded me of yours.
And in a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge,
Sun-bruised field and there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed.
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands.
And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end where I wrote,
“You make me happy when the skies are gray.
You make me happy the skies are gray, and gray, and gray.”

Well, the clock’s heart, it hangs inside its open chest with its hands
Stretched towards the calendar hanging itself,
But I will not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who have left there are a few that stayed.
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid.
- Bright Eyes, The Calendar Hung Itself

Man, has Conor Oberst got a way with words or what?! Kudos to Garry for showing me this song on the ride to Kenny’s Noodle. This song is so emo, I think it almost rivals my beloved Haligh Haligh A Lie Haligh… Don’t get me wrong, this song isn’t what I’m feeling or anything. It’s just really really good. : )

info @ the P.Pole 04.12.06

5 things i’m anxiously waiting for:

• Zippo to arrive for parcel pick-up
• long-long-weekend fun
• easter drama’s showings
• return of my parents and sister
• me to [literally] grow up

et c’est ca. je dois travailler comme un esclave pour quelques heures.

EDIT: zut! mon zippo n’est encore pas arrivé. je veux tuer quelque chose… ou quelqu’un… ou quelques personnes… je sais. je suis violent mais quelquefois, c’est nécessaire.

pyromaniargasm

EDIT: check out all this stuff.

Responsibilities

Since my rents + sister have left for HK, I’ve had to take care of myself + home + my three beautiful cats. Some things I’ve had to do that I’ve never realized had to be done regularly include: getting the mail, bagging and disposing of garbage, washing of dishes and pots and pans, cooking of [hopefully proper] food, shovelling of cat crap, feeding of cats, watering of cat pans, planning of dinners and whatnot, cleaning of house, doing of laundry, and a load of other stuff that my mommy did for me until now. This whole thing with them being gone has really started to foster a craving in me for interaction and emotional/ mental intercourse (not like, mind-sex or anything like that, but more like talking and living with someones other than my kitties) with others. Today marks exactly one week before they come back. Now, I’m not sure if I should be happy about their return. Part of me likes this sense of personal-responsibility, where I’m pretty much the only one in charge of what happens to me, but I also miss them quite a lot.
Seeing as how I have managed to stay “alive” (physically at least) so far, I am convinced that my parents have not failed in raising a child that can take care of himself. On the other hand, I am still quite in need of their supervision and parenting for me to actually become a real grown-up. Yeah, I’m admitting that I am still very… “immature”. I plan on never living alone for long periods of time later on. I’ll move out of my parents’ place and straight into an apartment with a roommate. If/when I finish post-secondary, I’ll get married to a super-fab lady and then we’ll live together. I’m not to fond about living totally alone and whatnot, as there’s no one to monitor what I do at home and to keep me accountable (and you know, to wash the dishes and clothes).
In short, I think… I miss my mommy. >_O