Columbus Day

Ah Columbus Day, that awkward holiday that sneaks up on us in the middle of October, and you really only care about it if you're in elementary school, because the teacher takes the day off (or part of it) to teach about how Columbus discovered America. You do a little fist bump to yourself because you get to color a ship and you don't have any math homework. Also apparently it warrants flags to be put up by the Boy Scouts in people's yards like you would for Memorial Day, Fourth of July, or Flag Day.

I hate this holiday with a seething fire that burns hotter than wildfire that happened in Yosemite National Park this past summer.

Here's why:

1) Columbus didn't DISCOVER or even land in America. Funny thing, I'm pretty sure you have to land in America to discover it. From my knowledge he landed in the islands now known as the Bahamas.

2) He enslaved and killed many of the native people from the Bahamas. Because of that, nowadays, there aren't any of those native people anymore.

You can make the argument that he set the foundation for exploration, and because of that America was eventually discovered by Europeans, but I don't think it should concern us. I wouldn't dislike it so much if people got their facts right. A small unit on it in elementary school and then in middle school should suffice, but no, we had to go and erect a holiday for it.

When I see flags in yards for Columbus Day, all I can think is, "We salute you, mass murderer person you."

I'm sure Columbus was a great guy, but I think all those dead Native Americans would beg to differ.

This is why we can't have nice things.

A story that my friend told my friends and I infuriated me, to no end. My friend is half Latina, her mom is the one that's Latina.

This said friend of mine explained that she went to the grocery store with her mom, and she switched back and forth between registers because people kept butting in front of her. Finally this person got angry at my friend's mom and yelled at her to go back from where she came from. My friend said that her mom just shrugged it off because she's used to it. The guy at the cash register apologized fervently for this man's behavior.

My other friend then proceeded to say that if she was the manager of that store, she would ban that person from the store.

I on the other hand, don't think that this is proper punishment for a person as ignorant as this. He shouldn't be banned from the store, he should be banned from life itself. A person like that should just stay in their house all day and not interact with other humans.

I would have said this if I was in the cash register's position.

I think my friend's story may have struck a nerve.

No, this is Patrick.

For anyone that speaks the English language, my surname should be the easiest in the world. It's Best, a name with no alternate spellings, no weird way of pronouncing it. People always get it wrong when I try to verbally tell them what it is. Why is this so hard for the general public?

This video sums up how I feel about it, just yesterday I had spell it out to a guy.

Guy: "Okay, what's your last name?"

Me: "Best."

Guy: "Okay, so that's Beth?"

Me: No, it's BesT" (emphasis on the T)

Guy: "So that's spelled B-E-T-H?"

Me: "No, it's B-E-S-T."

This wouldn't bother me nearly as much if it didn't happen so often. Maybe I need a microphone installed in my throat so people can hear me better.

Guilty pleasures

I know we all have these, I think my favorite guilty pleasure is reading soap opera comics. There a multiple opportunities to laugh, gawk, and snark at these specimens of comic. While there are many out there, I really only follow two: Rex Morgan MD, and Mary Worth.

These strips want to be taken seriously, but oh man they are laughably horrible sometimes. Most of them have been around for what seems like centuries, and I'm fairly convinced that the authors that write the strip only do it because they want to retire, but didn't get enough pension.

What takes the cake for these laughable strips is the illustrations. Whenever the text in the strip wants a nice picture to convey what the character is saying/doing/feeling it makes you wanna either facepalm, or laugh your guts out. Take today's Rex Morgan for example:

Forget your husband, look at that hunky statue in the background!

June is talking with a museum working about a book deal for her precocious little daughter, Sarah. While they are discussing the details, Rex has some news for June, but uh oh! It looks like the museum worker is smitten over Rex. Which is a common theme in this strip. I'm serious, everywhere Rex and June go, there is always some female that falls head over heels for this chiseled beauty. Rex goes and leaves a path of smitten females in his wake. When in reality, real women that read the strip find him about as attractive as an unsightly wart.

It's hard to find him attractive when he makes faces like this:

What we can conclude:

1. Rex is trying to make his face recede back into his skull

2. Rex is taking The Bible very literally (I'll just be quoting from memory here) "If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out."

3. Rex is horny

4. Rex has some kind of skin pigmentation disease, and also his daughter Sarah is consumed some of Willy Wonka's gum that is a meal, and the dessert is a blueberry pie and ice cream, so she is turning into a blueberry. You can just picture the Jaws theme while Sarah is trying to prey on her unsuspecting dad. 

 

For anyone that asks

School starts for me in less than a week now. I'm not really looking forward to it, like 99% of the adolescent population. Contrary to what you might think, it's not for typical reasons, such as:

"I hate getting up so early."

Not a problem, I'm actually a morning person and can get ready for school pretty quick.

"I hate learning, it makes my brain hurt."

I love to learn, it's one of the best things under the sun to do.

"I hate all my teachers, and they hate me."

I hardly have problems with my teachers, sure some of them are really boring, but they've done nothing to warrant any hate from me. My surname is Best, and as you can imagine, being the good student that I am, I have had a lot of "you're the Best!" puns thrown my way by teachers my entire student-hood. 

"I don't wanna deal with all these drama llamas!" -rich girl pout-

I've never really had to deal with drama, save it be a few things. I haven't made any enemies, as far as I know, no one has a real beef with me. I stay out of the way and keep my head down, I listen to other people's drama, and then stay out of it. 

Now now, I bet you're getting sick of my Mary Sue perfectly perfect attitude about school, so what do I hate about it?

Atmosphere

+

People

=

\

If there were less (insert every negative adjective here) people in the world, school would be a better place. The one answer you here from lots of college graduates about why they liked college more than high school is because it's a friendlier place. The people that go to college usually want to be there. I strive for a place where I can learn and do my own thing and not be afraid of ridicule. Someday...

This is why I am excited for next year. 

1. I will be a senior, no more...no more

2. My favorite English teacher is hopefully going to be running a creative writing class. Ah yes, hopefully the people that take that class will want to be there, and not be there as a result if needing that one last credit. 

R.I.P. Nicholas Black

This past Saturday, a classmate of mine named Nick Black died.

It was all very sudden, and it came like a hawk in the night, silent. All was right with the world, it was this past Wednesday, I had just dyed my hair blue and was excited to show everyone at church. Every Wednesday the youth of my church gather together and do activities. One of the youth leaders got up to announce some things, including Nick's death. It was all very surreal. I was never friends with Nick, and my mom wasn't too fond of him or his sister. Long story short, my mom is a Sunday school teacher for my church, Nick's family used to come every once in while, and my mom taught both Nick and Jessica (his sister) and they were downright rude and disruptive.

I didn't really mope about it yesterday, but today I feel particularly sad about it. This makes me wonder, if I feel this sad over someone I barely know, what will it be like when someone close to me passes? Person on the other side of the screen, don't go anywhere anytime soon please.

I was looking for a specific poem on the internet and found this instead. It has no correlation to the Black family, but I think it's nice.

All I Know Is...

All I know is.... I will always miss my Nick and long for him. 
All I know is.... one minute I'm together and the next I'm falling apart. 
All I know is.... my heart hurts all the time and it has never felt whole since the day he died. 
All I know is.... the tears won't stop filling up my eyes, soaking my pillows or staining my face. 
All I know is.... I "Really Really" miss him.
All I know is.....it hurts ALL the time. 
All I know is.....I want him back.
All I know is.....sometimes I want him so badly, that I want to go to him. 
All I know is.... there is no greater ache in this world than my child dying.
All I know is.....I love him, even in death, I love him so much.

By: Tina Pielstick 10-19-09

Writing challenge

I have decided to write about this little guy:

I cannot take credit for drawing this, it was done by someone on a site that I frequent.  She invited anyone who likes to write to do this. She gave us the following scene: 

"Let's set the scene first. I'm a fanatic who's collecting newspaper clippings and articles about strange occurences: plushies being found in cases of missing people; people who the public dismissed as insane have told of animals, insignificant people, etc turning into plushies; and mysterious groups who claim that the world is going to end at the hand of a certain plushie. 

Your challenge? 

You're a journalist, reporter, editor, freelance writer, etc and you're writing about one of these incidences (or another if you so choose. Your imagination is the limit ;D). You can write it as an article, editorial, in code, a police report, an old song/poem written thousands of years ago. It's up to you. 

I will do all the formatting so don't worry about that =) Length doesn't matter either~ 


Info about Horus: 

Horus is the man (or plushie) behind the action. Picture here. He does not talk and he no one will ever see how he moves. He just randomly appears in places. It's unclear whether how he chooses his victims, but it is a permanent thing. Once you turn into a plushie, there's no going back. 

To turn into a plushie, the victim must look into his eye. Here's a sample passage of a transformation: 

He thought it was a pity that the doll was missing an eye. The one it had was so… alluring. Leaning in to get a closer look, the backdrop of the store slowly slipped away until only the eye of the plushie remained. There were no other feelings, thoughts, or reactions. Simply the emerald button eye."

This just fascinates me for some reason, so I've decided to write a small passage on it.

How did this all start? I Amy, never intended to become a fanatic of this particular thing. It first started as a hobby, but now I think it means something more. It spared me for some reason. When I had heard of a particular plushie always showing up at crime scenes that involved missing people, I started saving those newspaper clippings and printed out articles that involved it. I was hoping to see if I could connect the stories somehow and solve the mystery. I wasn't even trying to stumble across it, but I did. 

The plushie without a name

It happened in a cabin that I own in the woods. I use it as an escape to do whatever I want. I wasn't even thinking about the plushie. I stopped collecting articles and accounts from people that claim they've seen it, it just slipped off of my to-do list because it didn't seem important anymore. 

The main reason I bought this cabin is because it has internet and a signal so I can look at my phone. You might think that's the opposite of being alone, but what if some emergency comes up? What if I want to write about something, but can't because I don't have adequate resources? Anyway, I was taking a break from a picture that I was painting and looked at pictures on my phone. I wanted to see if there was a picture of a drawing that I wanted to send to my Mom. Suddenly I came across a photo of the plushie, the plushie missing an eye. My muscles started to tense up, like when you know a scary scene is coming up in a movie.

Then I looked up. 

Nothing. 

Okay, I think I'm just paranoid, but why am I so afraid? No one can either confirm on deny that this plushie really is dangerous. Lots of people pass it off as coincidence, because there is a company that specifically makes unique plushies that are only released in stores for a limited time. They're very popular collector items. Everyone and anyone that is a plushie collector buys at least one of the company's limited edition plushies, there must be several of these plushies all around the world. 

The light switched off suddenly, which caused me to gasp really loud. I fumbled around in the dark and found a light switch, but it wouldn't turn on. There has to be a fuse box in here somewhere.  With my phone as my only light source, I found the fuse box and turned on the lights. 

I was walking to my bed when suddenly I tripped over something. My face must have been bright red, I mean, really? Of all the annoying things to happen this has...to...happen

to

me?

I was staring straight into the plushie's eyes, but nothing was happening. The staring match seemed to go on for hours. 

Then I blinked, and it was gone. All that was left behind was an emerald button. I gingerly picked it up and examined it. What was I supposed to do now? Nothing but 'whys' were running through my head. I put the button in my pocket and booted up my computer. I thought I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye. 

...

Nope, I guess it was nothing. 

It was time to do some research.

~End

An ode to cookware

This past school year I went to a multicultural youth conference at a conference center. (Where else would you have a conference?)  There were a few workshops things with other activities, I will not go into the activities except one particular workshop. It was run by a slam poet/motivational speaker named Joaquin Zihuatanejo.

He talked about writing, and what we can do to improve it, from what I remember. 

What I remember the most is he talked a little bit about poetry, and good ways to start it. He then challenged us to start a poem with 'so much depends upon.' We had five minutes to write it, and he would take volunteers to read them to the people in the room. This is the poem I wrote for it:

So much depends 
upon
cooking utensils
They feed me 
day after endless day
try cooking without
an 
essential tool
like a wok
a skillet
a spatula
What do we do with them?
take care of them
Sharpen your knife 
hand dry your silverware
never let it rust
These tools will serve you for a lifetime
Maybe we should apply this to other people
How much better
would the world be
if our language, our morals
were as sharp and precise as that kitchen knife.

I read it in front of a sizable crowd and Joaquin. I received what adulation from the crowd and the Joaquin. I haven't since edited the poem at all, so it's exactly how I wrote it a few months ago.  I must say I'm very proud of it, and hope that I can see Joaquin again. 

The creep factor has been raised

Cats are fun, I love cats. My family used to own 3 cats until we moved.

They however, are NOT fun when they pee all over your stuff. My mom told me to go through my room to find stuff that I could donate to the Deseret Industries. While I was searching in my closet, I found a box. I didn't remember what I put in said box, so I opened it. Holy heaven was I in for a surprise. Apparently I had stuffed some pee-riddled items in that box and shoved them away so that humanity would never see them again. Not a good idea, mind you. The items had been in there for a few years, so the box also smelled rancid too. Unfortunately something precious was in that box.

I don't have any pictures of them before, so I'll just post a picture of ones I don't own.

I don't know what they're called, so I shall deem them 'Mexican dolls'

Regardless of what they are called, they are near and dear to my heart. My Abue goes to Mexico occasionally with some of her children. Of course they come back bearing gifts. Many years ago when they went, she brought back two of these dolls. Of course as you see in the picture, that is how they are supposed to look. Well since mine had cat pee stench all over them, they got a washing machine treatment. They came out like this:

Oh my...Slenderman anyone?

Naturally I looked around for household remedies and attempted to fix them.

There, I fixed it

I think they look okay. Although only after looking at some on the internet did I realize that the noses are supposed to be orange. I still have some orange cloth that can mend that up. Oh yeah, and the one on the right has a green-ish face because I drew in her eyes in black, unfortunately the ink bled all over because she was still a little damp. I promptly erased the eyes and did them over. They're a little small...oh whatever, I don't do this for a living. 

So everyone lives happily ever after right?  WRONG. Not when you wake up startled to see these things staring at you from inside your closet.

Sweet dreams

I think I should invest in moving them to a different location.

I'm only 6 days late

On my dad's side of the family, we did our Pioneer Day celebration on the 26th of July. Well of course just now I'm deciding to write about it. I'm rationing that it's still July, so it's okay. I took some pictures of the fireworks we did, and am deciding names for them respectively.

Frizzy hair

As beautiful as it looks, picture this as someone's hair. It's every girl's nightmare not being able to control frizzy hair. Their are multiple hair care products out there for controlling frizzy hair. Now just imagine, all of those hair care products literally disappear in some freak way. There is no possible way to make any more. Just imagine all that chaos...sales in scrunchies and ponytails bands would suddenly go up. It would be the female's response to the disappearance of all that frizz control.

The story of an average suburban female and her husband after the disappearance of frizz control.

"JimJimJimJim JIM!!" 

"What is it Caroline, has Susan gotten into our flour supply again?"

"No Jim, it's worse than that! I was going to take a shower, and the conditioner is gone!"

"Caroline, we probably just used it all, what's the big deal about that conditioner anyway?"

Caroline looks at Jim with crazed eyes, one of her eyebrows seems perpetually raised in concern all of a sudden.

"Jim, normally I would just go and buy some more, but look at the TV and internet!"

Jim then proceeds to look at the news on TV and multiple articles on the internet.

"I don't understand Caroline...all frizz control products...gone?"

"You've seen it Jim...maybe somebody's pulling some elaborate prank! This will all be over come a few weeks, I'll just use shampoo for now."

Weeks later...

"Jim, my last ponytail band snapped! Will you go out and buy some more?"

Caroline gestured to a commercial on TV.

"Those kind specifically, it says that they have dual strength and help keep frizzy hair matted down!"

And so the females of the world that cared about frizzy-ness were doomed to ponytails, braids, buns, and pigtails for the rest of eternity. The end.

Wish upon a dandelion

My mom is a novice gardener that is testing her green thumb in our backyard. I have to give her props, she's been reading books, maintaining a successful compost pile, and making the most out of the soil in our backyard, which is really crappy. The garden has produced lots of good things, but unintentionally produces weeds like any garden out there. While we were waiting for dinner, I was in my Grandma's backyard with her. I picked a dandelion and blew on it, making a wish. Aww, isn't that sweet? Not for mom, the gardener.  

I told her that I made a wish and she scrunched up her face and proclaimed that it would make more weeds.

That killed the mood faster than tri-strength weed killer, if such a thing exists.   

In my defense, the wind would have picked up eventually and the seeds would have blown wherever they desired at the time. My grandmother has a garden too, and the dandelion that I picked was very near the garden. I blew the seeds the opposite direction of the garden. The day has been saved yet again!

Neon microorganisms

 That's about all I can think of that would be appropriate for this kind of picture. If you've ever taken biology, then you'll know that when your teacher hands you some algae from his fish tank to look at, you wish it would be more exciting. For the most part, all you really see is a few squiggly lines and maybe something little bug things that resembles a dust mite that you see in vacuum cleaner commercials.  Wouldn't it be cool if you looked under the microscope and saw this instead? Don't deny it, this would make class more fun and maybe people wouldn't skip class so much. I can just see the thoughts running through young adolescent minds now:

"Oh man, I really need to get my grade up in biology, so instead of skipping, I'll actually go! I know today is the day we're looking at stuff under microscopes, I can't wait to see what beauties await me under that slide of algae!" 

There would be so many more scientists of all kinds if this were a thing.

The ultimate Ferris Wheel

Yuck, I really hate Ferris Wheels. I can handle most roller coasters just fine, but I hate being suspended in the air for a long period of time and having nothing to do but observe how high up you are. 

This is a Ferris Wheel that has magically being suspended really high up in the air, neon lights and everything. The people that are on this are either thrilled or petrified because their spouse/significant other/family has forced them to go on it and now look what's happened. All they can do is wait while the rescue helicopters arrive and attempt to get everyone out safely. 

I don't know if many other of these firework pictures have story potential, so you can just enjoy them in plainness. 

I'm sure the pioneers appreciate the lovely fireworks we do in their behalf. And now to go out

With...


a...

BANG!

I accidentally my motivation

For those of you who don't speak internet memes, I just don't know if I have enough motivation to keep this up, or at least not daily. Oh well! Time to write about something that tickles my fancy, something that's makes me squee with a child-like innocence, something that makes me redundant in my speech.............


GUM!

Oh my that must be the must beautiful picture in all the four winds.

Gum has often been my savior in the fact that I really like to chew on things. If I'm just at home sitting on the computer, if I don't have a piece of gum in my mouth I pick up a pen and start chewing on it. 

Also if I'm running late for school and don't have time to brush my teeth, gum is my soul mate for a few hours. Pop it in your mouth, then rub around your mouth for guaranteed freshness. Unfortunately gum after a while picks up the bad taste of your mouth and you have to swap out a piece. No worries, you  can throw away that piece of gum knowing it had a full life and did its duty.

My favorite flavor of gum is watermelon, but I won't turn down a piece of mint if offered. I think I know someone else that loves gum almost as much as I do, my Abue (grandma). You look in the makeshift pantry she has in her kitchen, and there's always a fresh supply of trident spearmint gum. Some of it which looks and tastes like it's past its expiration date. 

If you hate gum and think it has no redeeming qualities...I'm not even sure why you read this far, (to read my humble opinion? Aww...that's sweet) but take your hate somewhere else! Just leave a piece on  your way out. 

I hope this all works out and stuff. I started this blog for a few reasons:

1. Mrs. Perez. She insists that I write well and that I should start a blog. She proceeded to give me some names of a few blog websites. In the end I chose this one because it seems simple enough. 
2. My 'cousin' You know he's not even my cousin. He's my mom's cousin, so what does that make him to me? ~*~The plot thickens~*~
3. A sorta famous slam poet whose name has slipped my mind. I made a poem, read it in front of a bunch of people (which is really hard for me to do) and he loved it. He gave me some advice that I made a cavity in my chest to keep it in there. It's very accessible, all you have to do is press my forehead, and the cavity opens up! It's very roomy too, so I keep spare gum in there too.

If someone could tell me what my mom's cousin would be to me (cousin once removed, 2nd cousin, cousin/uncle/fusion thing?) That would be nice.