I was looking through My Really Crappy Writing when I came across this old poem that reflects my general outlook on the mathematical world. I share it with you now.
"It's All In My Head"
I sat cringing in algebra,
Working strange formulas,
When all of a sudden...
I fell over dead.
A victim of i, an imaginary number.
Something that existed just in head.
Just in my head, just in my head.
Something that existed just in my head.
The math teacher with the mean disposition,
Reprimanded me for my uncouth position.
So the morticians came and took me away.
took me awy to the morgue where I laid.
The studiers came and studied my brain,
They studied my brain until they were almost insane,
But they finally concluded that my brain was polluted,
With roots, squares, and other such things.
--->Sadly I was fourteen when I wrote this. I know. I was already starting on My Really Crappy Writing. *wipes away tear*
Regardless, the point is...that poem made me think of another form of poem, Double Dactyls!
--For some odd reason saying double dactyl makes me want to hum the tune to the new Willy Wonka movie.--
I shall show you step by step how my friend and I composed a Higgeldy Piggeldy about my favorite section...the brass.
How to Write a Higgeldy Piggeldy:
A Higgeldy Piggeldy is a poem follows the rythm --work with me here-- Da du du, da du du. It's eight lines long and follows these general rules.
The first line must be a nonesense word such as, "Higgeldy Piggeldy", "Jiggery Pokery", or "Bibbity Boppity" etc. You can make up your own nonesense words just make sure they follow the Da du du Da du du rule.
My friend and I went with the more commnonly used Higgeldy Piggeldy.
The next line can be whatever your talking about, be it person, place, or thing. Follow the Da du du rule!
Mr.B Denton is, --make note that I have no skill at this and therefore cheated like a monkey playing poker.--
The third line is just whatever is needed.
Constantly having to,
The fourth and eight line must rhyme!
yell at the brass.
Now, the last rule is that the fifth, sixth, or seventh line needs to be composed entirely of a six syllable da du dun word. Cha. Whatever. Words like that are nearly impossible to think of and work into it. I've seen plently HPs that have them, but you try. It's hard!
Some examples of these words are--Megalomaniac and err...I'll put some more down when they come to me. --See, told ya. HARD.--
So, after all of this long hard work I finally give you the finished project that my friend and I spent several long periods on last year.
-If your offended by the word ass then read no further. *chortles to herself*--
Higgeldy Piggeldy,
Mr B Denton is,
Constantly having to,
Yell at the brass.
Horrible section of,
Underachievers they,
Always rush Breadfan*,
And love to suck ass.
*Breadfan is a song that you can find by the artists Budgie and Metallica. We play during our marching band and it's one of our faster pieces. Mostly because the trumpets are ridiculous *coughs* Awful crappy players *coughs* and rush it a good deal.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Oh look! An Ancient short story!
Ya! I know! I wrote this about the same time that I was reading Wuthering Heights in....errr...seventh grade maybe? But I continue. This is a really crappy short story probably written during algebra class.
--Geez! Just because it's crappy doesn't mean you shouldn't read it. Continue on!--
“Mr. Newman, could you please tell the rest of the class why you are NOT PAYING ATTENTION?!” Ms. Fifestein glared and wiped the spittle of her mouth.
Brayden could not in fact tell her what was so interesting. He was doing what all extremely bored and moderately intelligent beings do. Zoning out to the point of incoherence. He could of course tell her that he was thinking, but that would be a complete lie. Not that she would know that. “ I was thinking Mrs.Fifestein.” he lied.
“And why were you thinking Mr. Newman?” She glared a bit more and neglected to wipe the spittle from her face this time.
Ah Well, I should have saw that one coming, thought Brayden. Now he was in a bind. Why was he thinking? Nothing in this environment could have inspired such an activity. The endless repetition of bland facts, the monotonous voice of the harpy up front, the ancient and yellowed posters on the wall. Nope, there was absolutely no reason why he should have been thinking. He glanced the black board and saw only the faint outline of a rather unflattering caricature with an even more degrading caption. No help there. He was on his own to get through this one.
“ I was thinking about the Pythagorean theorem Mrs.Fifestein. “ He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Nice answer, Pythagoras was a smart guy. He probably wouldn’t have told the geography teacher that he was thinking about Geometry during her class. He took back the mental pat.
“ Mr. Newman take your stuff and remove it to the hallway for the rest of the period so maybe tomorrow you’ll remember to keep your mind on this class!” Her glare was fairly murderous by now and a small puddle of spit had formed on one of the front desks.
Well, that went over rather well, he thought with some asperity. He grabbed his books and shoved them all haphazardly into his ragged book bag. He saw a title one of the books out of the corner of his eye Wuthering Heights. He had been conned into reading it by his girlfriend ( A friend that was a girl, not his significant other.) and had to admit that he had enjoyed it. Then the idea struck him. Would Heathcliff have taken this? No, he would have given his teacher the what for. Then, right in the middle of class, he lost it.
He saw red. If you’ve ever saw red you know the feeling of complete helplessness that overcomes you as you sit back and watch the not so rational part of your brain take over. You, the rational part, are sitting in the back of your head thinking “ Oh dear.” While the slightly evil and more than slightly entertaining part of yourself takes the most rash course of action. Be it slugging the quarterback for cutting in line, keying the car that took your parking spot, or, in our heroes case, forgetting for a moment that your not HeathCliff and giving your ancient crab like teacher a piece of your mind.
“ I’m leaving Mrs.Fifestein, but first I want you to know something. This class is the biggest waste of time I have ever had to endure. I sit here day after day learning facts about landscapes that I will never see. Will I ever need to know the average percent of rainfall in Bulgaria? I think not, Mrs.Fifestein. I will not stand another minute of this vile and grotesque torture. You, wrinkled prune that you are, can do nothing to stop me. ” He looked about the room with finality and turned his face toward a nonexistent moor. “ And I’m taking Catherine with me!”
Brayden swept out of the class room and marched down the hall. The rational part of his mind had conveniently died from mortification so he was now free to do as he chose. As he walked the thirty four miles to his house the rational part came to just enough to wish he had chosen to remember he didn’t have a car.
What you just read was supposed to be humorous. If you didn’t find it funny then I suggest you go back, read it again, and think funny thoughts while you do so.
--Geez! Just because it's crappy doesn't mean you shouldn't read it. Continue on!--
“Mr. Newman, could you please tell the rest of the class why you are NOT PAYING ATTENTION?!” Ms. Fifestein glared and wiped the spittle of her mouth.
Brayden could not in fact tell her what was so interesting. He was doing what all extremely bored and moderately intelligent beings do. Zoning out to the point of incoherence. He could of course tell her that he was thinking, but that would be a complete lie. Not that she would know that. “ I was thinking Mrs.Fifestein.” he lied.
“And why were you thinking Mr. Newman?” She glared a bit more and neglected to wipe the spittle from her face this time.
Ah Well, I should have saw that one coming, thought Brayden. Now he was in a bind. Why was he thinking? Nothing in this environment could have inspired such an activity. The endless repetition of bland facts, the monotonous voice of the harpy up front, the ancient and yellowed posters on the wall. Nope, there was absolutely no reason why he should have been thinking. He glanced the black board and saw only the faint outline of a rather unflattering caricature with an even more degrading caption. No help there. He was on his own to get through this one.
“ I was thinking about the Pythagorean theorem Mrs.Fifestein. “ He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Nice answer, Pythagoras was a smart guy. He probably wouldn’t have told the geography teacher that he was thinking about Geometry during her class. He took back the mental pat.
“ Mr. Newman take your stuff and remove it to the hallway for the rest of the period so maybe tomorrow you’ll remember to keep your mind on this class!” Her glare was fairly murderous by now and a small puddle of spit had formed on one of the front desks.
Well, that went over rather well, he thought with some asperity. He grabbed his books and shoved them all haphazardly into his ragged book bag. He saw a title one of the books out of the corner of his eye Wuthering Heights. He had been conned into reading it by his girlfriend ( A friend that was a girl, not his significant other.) and had to admit that he had enjoyed it. Then the idea struck him. Would Heathcliff have taken this? No, he would have given his teacher the what for. Then, right in the middle of class, he lost it.
He saw red. If you’ve ever saw red you know the feeling of complete helplessness that overcomes you as you sit back and watch the not so rational part of your brain take over. You, the rational part, are sitting in the back of your head thinking “ Oh dear.” While the slightly evil and more than slightly entertaining part of yourself takes the most rash course of action. Be it slugging the quarterback for cutting in line, keying the car that took your parking spot, or, in our heroes case, forgetting for a moment that your not HeathCliff and giving your ancient crab like teacher a piece of your mind.
“ I’m leaving Mrs.Fifestein, but first I want you to know something. This class is the biggest waste of time I have ever had to endure. I sit here day after day learning facts about landscapes that I will never see. Will I ever need to know the average percent of rainfall in Bulgaria? I think not, Mrs.Fifestein. I will not stand another minute of this vile and grotesque torture. You, wrinkled prune that you are, can do nothing to stop me. ” He looked about the room with finality and turned his face toward a nonexistent moor. “ And I’m taking Catherine with me!”
Brayden swept out of the class room and marched down the hall. The rational part of his mind had conveniently died from mortification so he was now free to do as he chose. As he walked the thirty four miles to his house the rational part came to just enough to wish he had chosen to remember he didn’t have a car.
What you just read was supposed to be humorous. If you didn’t find it funny then I suggest you go back, read it again, and think funny thoughts while you do so.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Emo Poems
What is in an emo poem? What makes a poem emo?
Since we're on the subject...What the heck is an emo?! A darker more emotional version of a large flightless bird perhaps.
Here is my list of tentative requirements for emo poems. Feel free to add your contributions to be later posted.
For a poem to be considered emo it must be/have:
1. Vaguely depressing...and if it doesn't vaguely depresss you then you at least know that they were attempting to be maudlin.
2. Be so poorely written that all attempts to be written in typical emo-maudlin fashion have made there work slightly hilarious.
*To see a typically badly written poem feel free to visit my badly written emo poem blog-->http://www.brokendespair.blogspot.com
Since we're on the subject...What the heck is an emo?! A darker more emotional version of a large flightless bird perhaps.
Here is my list of tentative requirements for emo poems. Feel free to add your contributions to be later posted.
For a poem to be considered emo it must be/have:
1. Vaguely depressing...and if it doesn't vaguely depresss you then you at least know that they were attempting to be maudlin.
2. Be so poorely written that all attempts to be written in typical emo-maudlin fashion have made there work slightly hilarious.
*To see a typically badly written poem feel free to visit my badly written emo poem blog-->http://www.brokendespair.blogspot.com
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor
Okay, the characters are static, the action scenes are crap, and it's completely unbelievable...Still, it was so good it took me less than a day to read it. Have I mentioned I'm a sucker for fantasy?
While reading it you feel like you're sitting in the cinema. Have you ever read a book like that before? It's like the author wrote it because they eventually wanted it to be a screen play. So you really don't get in depth with any of the character's feelings. You just get these nice flat people whose reactions are always the same.
Alice is unsure. Hatter Madigan is stoic. Bibwit Harte is scholarly. Dodge is out for revenge.
There you are character wise. But the ideas...The mirror system (The Continuum) which is tantamount to sky diving while on shrooms. The Cheshire cat is a part human assassin. Beddor is taking a young children's book and turned it into a violent, bloody, action filled book for everyone who isn't a young child. Bravo, Mr.Beddor. I applaud your ideas if not your characters.
With the exception of Hatter Madigan who is just freak to the awesome. I leave you with a quote from the book.
"No amount of Millinery training could have prepared Hatter for getting sucked through the Pool of Tears. Having somersaulted out of a puddle and landed on his feet with the agility of...well, of a cat, he let his instinct for self-protection take over. His backpack sprouted its usual array of weaponry. His steel bracelets popped open and spun in propeller-like action. He reached for his top hat but it was gone, which was bad news. Really bad news. The top hat was his signature weapon, the one he had worked the hardest to master. And he was probably going to need it, judging by the shocked and alarmed faces all around him. He had emerged from the exit portal in Paris,France, 1859, and found himself standing in the middle of a wide thoroughfare known as the Champs-Elyse`es."
"Who was this strangely attired man with knives and over-sized corkscrews jutting out of his backpack and rotary blades on his wrists?"
So, I recommend this to other suckers for fantasy and definitely to those who enjoy Alice in Wonderland.
While reading it you feel like you're sitting in the cinema. Have you ever read a book like that before? It's like the author wrote it because they eventually wanted it to be a screen play. So you really don't get in depth with any of the character's feelings. You just get these nice flat people whose reactions are always the same.
Alice is unsure. Hatter Madigan is stoic. Bibwit Harte is scholarly. Dodge is out for revenge.
There you are character wise. But the ideas...The mirror system (The Continuum) which is tantamount to sky diving while on shrooms. The Cheshire cat is a part human assassin. Beddor is taking a young children's book and turned it into a violent, bloody, action filled book for everyone who isn't a young child. Bravo, Mr.Beddor. I applaud your ideas if not your characters.
With the exception of Hatter Madigan who is just freak to the awesome. I leave you with a quote from the book.
"No amount of Millinery training could have prepared Hatter for getting sucked through the Pool of Tears. Having somersaulted out of a puddle and landed on his feet with the agility of...well, of a cat, he let his instinct for self-protection take over. His backpack sprouted its usual array of weaponry. His steel bracelets popped open and spun in propeller-like action. He reached for his top hat but it was gone, which was bad news. Really bad news. The top hat was his signature weapon, the one he had worked the hardest to master. And he was probably going to need it, judging by the shocked and alarmed faces all around him. He had emerged from the exit portal in Paris,France, 1859, and found himself standing in the middle of a wide thoroughfare known as the Champs-Elyse`es."
"Who was this strangely attired man with knives and over-sized corkscrews jutting out of his backpack and rotary blades on his wrists?"
So, I recommend this to other suckers for fantasy and definitely to those who enjoy Alice in Wonderland.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Yet another review done for my school paper.
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Terrorists can attack open society, but governments can abolish it. (WWW2.Piratepartiet.se/the_pirate_party)
Little Brother follows Marcus, a 17 year old senior in San Francisco chaffing under constant surveillance of the school system. So, when the school isn't watching he becomes W1n5t0n, figuring out how to evade the newest security measures that have been put into effect. From putting rocks in his shoes to avoid gait recognition to nuking the tracking cards on his library books, he's got it covered.
He is with three of his friends in downtown San Francisco when the worst happens. A mushroom cloud rises over the ruins of Bay Bridge as people trample each other trying to get away from the destruction. Terrorists have bombed California. In the aftermath that follows Marcus and his friends find themselves prisoners. When he refuses to let his captors have access to his phone and computer passwords he is tortured and humiliated for answers that he doesn't even know. No, not by Al-Qaeda or political extremist. Marcus has been taken into the custody of the Department of Homeland Security. A week later he is released. " But from now on, you belong to us. We will be watching you. We'll be waiting for you to make a misstep. Do you understand that we can watch you closely, all the time?"
Outraged and afraid of what the government is becoming Marcus does the only thing he can. He starts a revolution. A secret one. Using his Xbox he makes a spy proof system that even the government can't crack. He also earns the following of other kids like him who don't want to be watched. So starts the underground revolution of Xnetters.
Little Brother a great read steeped in American Culture --odd considering Doctorow's Canadian--. It's the hippie movement and 1984 both applied to a more technological world. You'll be able to recognize allusions to Emma Goldman and other heroes of the 60's and 70's. Not to mention the "Don't trust anyone over 25" slogan floating around throughout the book. Don't let the Orwell influence dissuade anyone from reading it, though. It's fast paced and directed at a teen audience so you're not going to be bored half way through. Just take into account that this is a book of science-fiction and shouldn't be taken seriously...yet. It could easily double as a handbook for the paranoid, but even you less paranoia prone guys will probably enjoy it for the different gadgets Cory Doctorow introduces. So, unless you absolutely can't stand conspiracy theories this is a must read.
--> This was indeed a good book that I can recommend without shame that you read. I didn't like that how much of the technological stuff went WAY over my head, but that may be due to my lack of technological savvy-ness.
Neil Gaiman wrote a review for it saying that he wished it could be in the hands of all thirteen year olds...I say no to that. It does casually mention sex and drugs throughout it. I wouldn't want my thirteen year old kid reading a book that portrayed sex and drugs as an acceptable recreational activity. Now fourteen...Heh. Just according to how mature your thirteen year old is I guess, but I was impressionable at thirteen. (Take into account that I'm only seventeen. I'm just saying that if my hypothetical kid was thirteen I wouldn't want them reading it. Thirteen year olds please do not be offended...but if you insist feel free to bite me. ;) )
When reading this you might want to keep in mind who it was written by. Cory Doctorow has some slightly extremist views on things. So, take the book with a grain of salt. Much like you would our pessimistic friend, Mr.Orwell.
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Terrorists can attack open society, but governments can abolish it. (WWW2.Piratepartiet.se/the_pirate_party)
Little Brother follows Marcus, a 17 year old senior in San Francisco chaffing under constant surveillance of the school system. So, when the school isn't watching he becomes W1n5t0n, figuring out how to evade the newest security measures that have been put into effect. From putting rocks in his shoes to avoid gait recognition to nuking the tracking cards on his library books, he's got it covered.
He is with three of his friends in downtown San Francisco when the worst happens. A mushroom cloud rises over the ruins of Bay Bridge as people trample each other trying to get away from the destruction. Terrorists have bombed California. In the aftermath that follows Marcus and his friends find themselves prisoners. When he refuses to let his captors have access to his phone and computer passwords he is tortured and humiliated for answers that he doesn't even know. No, not by Al-Qaeda or political extremist. Marcus has been taken into the custody of the Department of Homeland Security. A week later he is released. " But from now on, you belong to us. We will be watching you. We'll be waiting for you to make a misstep. Do you understand that we can watch you closely, all the time?"
Outraged and afraid of what the government is becoming Marcus does the only thing he can. He starts a revolution. A secret one. Using his Xbox he makes a spy proof system that even the government can't crack. He also earns the following of other kids like him who don't want to be watched. So starts the underground revolution of Xnetters.
Little Brother a great read steeped in American Culture --odd considering Doctorow's Canadian--. It's the hippie movement and 1984 both applied to a more technological world. You'll be able to recognize allusions to Emma Goldman and other heroes of the 60's and 70's. Not to mention the "Don't trust anyone over 25" slogan floating around throughout the book. Don't let the Orwell influence dissuade anyone from reading it, though. It's fast paced and directed at a teen audience so you're not going to be bored half way through. Just take into account that this is a book of science-fiction and shouldn't be taken seriously...yet. It could easily double as a handbook for the paranoid, but even you less paranoia prone guys will probably enjoy it for the different gadgets Cory Doctorow introduces. So, unless you absolutely can't stand conspiracy theories this is a must read.
--> This was indeed a good book that I can recommend without shame that you read. I didn't like that how much of the technological stuff went WAY over my head, but that may be due to my lack of technological savvy-ness.
Neil Gaiman wrote a review for it saying that he wished it could be in the hands of all thirteen year olds...I say no to that. It does casually mention sex and drugs throughout it. I wouldn't want my thirteen year old kid reading a book that portrayed sex and drugs as an acceptable recreational activity. Now fourteen...Heh. Just according to how mature your thirteen year old is I guess, but I was impressionable at thirteen. (Take into account that I'm only seventeen. I'm just saying that if my hypothetical kid was thirteen I wouldn't want them reading it. Thirteen year olds please do not be offended...but if you insist feel free to bite me. ;) )
When reading this you might want to keep in mind who it was written by. Cory Doctorow has some slightly extremist views on things. So, take the book with a grain of salt. Much like you would our pessimistic friend, Mr.Orwell.
