Karma is a butch

Being a high school student comes with its prices. I have chemistry this year to teach me all the fundamentals of how chemicals react and apply them to my daily life. At the beginning of the year I was expecting my last year teacher who was on my schedule. He was fun and cheery and really down to earth and shared a common love for learning with his students. He taught impeccably and really became much more than a teacher to us but rather a friend that merely discussed science. As I walked through the door, I was bitterly disappointed to find that not only was my favorite science teacher was no where to be found, but a teacher with a monotone voice, an abundance of nose and ear hair, that grades homework on correctness was filling his spot as a long term substitute teacher for the first semester.

If you haven't been in school in a while then I wouldn't find it shocking if you didn't know the significance of grading homework for completion. When a teacher assigns homework, the next day when he/she collects it, he/she checks for completeness and participation in the assignment. Grading homework that covers material that we only learned that day for correctness would evidently bring one's grade down to a C. This did not settle well with me as my "average" grade stared back at me. Not only did he grade homework, but didn't help us understand the material when we didn't get it or asked for help.

My fellow classmates shared this hostility towards our new teacher. Obviously, as a room full of teenagers filled with recklessness and not a care in the world for authority, we decided to challenge him. We devised a plan to get him to quit, as he was already retired (just filling in for our teacher) by the end of the first month of school. We collaborated and really did the most immature, obnoxious things you could imagine. Every single student coughed for a good 5 minutes straight everyday. We would argue back, waste time, make loud noises when he turned his back, throw things across the classroom, switch seats on a 10 minute basis, constantly leave to go to the bathroom, and my favorite of all scream at the top of our lungs for a split second everyday.

Just as we planned, the first month was up and last week he had put in his resignation form. Our class celebrated his departure with joy and, to be honest, we felt quite accomplished with ourselves as he left the classroom. Sure, what we did was unreasonable and quite rude and disrepectful, but I could not live with a bad grade because I didn't carry the 1 when I was changing 2 liters of H2O to 200 mL of H20.

Little did we know, we just got ourselves into a big pile of shit. I rarely use curse words but, to explain the extent of the terrible predicament we just landed ourselves in, "shit" is a very appropriate word to use. Our new chemistry teacher bursts through the doors and lays down the law almost immediately. We literally can't, and I'm not exaggerating, ask "if" questions, which come up a lot in science, eat, yawn, laugh, smile if there is no need, sharpen our broken pencils, use tissues, throw away trash, go to the bathroom more than once a month, or really be happy in any kind of notation. And on top of everything he has the most atrocious hair cut that makes him look like a lesbian.

So yes, "shit" is a very appropriate term to use. Karma is a very interesting thing in life. Sometimes it gives you a boost and others it makes your life a scary debacle. I guess, you get what you give.

Friday Night Fights

Nothing makes me feel school spirit more than a high school football game on a friday night. Sporting green and gold, our entire student body sat in the stands cheering on our fellow classmates in a good game of football. We cheered, and shouted, and jumped up and down when we scored, and pretty much had a great time. Now, let's rewind a few hours to right after school.

I had made previous plans with my friend Allison to hang out after school and then attend the game together. Expecting to see her right after 6th period, I was confused when I was told that she had other plans. Now, to understand the rarity of me ever hanging out with my friends, you have to know that I live a good 20 minutes away from the city I attend school. So it is always a pain to make plans. On regular days, my dad picks me up after school. If I decide to not get picked up by him, then my mother gets me... at 5. So I either go with him, or wait around for 2 and half hours waiting to get picked up. So when I told my dad to not pick me up on this glorious friday afternoon, I was left stranded.

We had made plans and then she drops this enormous bombshell on me. She says it was last minute, but she should have told me as soon as she found out knowing my circumstances. I tried to make other plans with other friends, but seeing as they can communicate well with each other, they had plans that didn't have room for a 6th person in a 5 seater car. Now what do I do? I guess I'll just wait around until the game starts. I walked around the city for 4 hours and then caught up with friends that showed up to the game early.

I met with Allison before the game and tried not to show my irritation with her because I wasn't going to let that ruin my night. Besides, I wasn't stranded anymore. I was with friends and the past 4 hours seemed irrelevant to this night, seeing as it was our first home game of the year. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, which worked for the most part. And by the end of the night, after we won by a touchdown, and everyone was at In N Out, a post-game ritual, I completely forgot about the incident.

But the morning after, when my feet and legs hurt, I figured it was from the walking I did. I confronted her and she apologized. I mean, best friends fight, and get into arguments, or sometimes forget the others' predicament, but when it all came back to the beginning, I was upset with her. She made me laugh and then it was like nothing happened. She is my best friend, and I'm glad to have her. Seeing all this trouble that I went through wasn't even close enough to end the relationship with her. A couple hours of walking is nothing compared to what we have traveled together.

So You Think You Can Dance

Never have I been so humbled in my life. It all started at the end of last year when I thought I could make dance team at my school. All my friends were on dance team, but they have been dancing since they were 3 years old. And as cocky as ever, I sincerely thought i could make it. So, naturally, when I didn't make it, I was devastated, but was determined to not give up. I really wanted to be on that dance team. Then, I settled for the option of Intermediate dance. They didn't perform as much, and well obviously weren't as good as dance team was.

After, not making dance team, I auditioned for Intermediate, the process of which was very simple. It included simple pirouettes, pique turns, chain turns, and a couple jetes. I passed with flying colors. However, the audition reflected nothing of what the actual class is about. It is fast, intense, and very technical. As I was struggling to get the choreography, the other dancers around me seemed to be getting it no problem and they looked amazing while dancing. I'm sure I looked like a hot mess trying to get everything down. I was sweating, gasping for air, and practically dry heaving.

All my friends, of course, were encouraging me, saying this is only my second year of dance. My first being dance sampler where we learned what 3 year olds learn in their ballet classes. I felt so ashamed, and embarrassed, and quite frankly upset. I didn't deserve to be in a class with this amazing talent when I have absolutely none compared to these girls. But, by the end of the period, I finally got down the choreography which definitely gave me a confidence boost. But, if this is how it's going to be everyday, I just know I have to try as hard as I can, because my dance teacher really believes in me. At least, that's what she told me.

This was the most humbling experience of my life. It left me in the dust. But I just keep telling myself to never give up. I know I will improve and by the end of this year I will try out for Dance Team again.

Too Fast

School started in hurry, Summer felt like it was just a long weekend, and as I got to school on my first day of my Junior year, I was shocked to say the least. Freshman galore. Yes, I know I was one of them once, but I can't help feel that they are in the wrong place. Not because I've never seen them on campus and miss my graduates, but because the better part of class of 2015 are less that 5 foot.

I had a freshman that I didn't see me, walk head first into my stomach today. I almost screamed and called for the Wicked Witch of the West to come and kill this munchkin that dares walk into an obviously superior Junior! I just see the freshman class each year getting smaller and smaller, shorter and shorter. But then as I was complaining to my Algebra teacher from last year about the invasions of delusional fifth graders that simply can't find their way to elementary school, she told me that the kids coming in are not smaller than normal.

This got me to thinking, we were once that small, but I'm sure not in our freshman year, at most sixth grade. But no, my teacher corrected me once again. We were that small in our first year of high school. I couldn't believe it. I reiterated my doubts to her, and she came right back with the growing argument.

HA! Don't make me laugh. I couldn't possibly have grown that much in a mere two years! But alas, it seems my suspicions of invading munchkins were false. We're really growing up, and fast too. I makes me feel old. But now as I think about where I am in my life, I can see that we are growing. I honestly can remember elementary school like it was yesterday. Now everything feels like life is just hurtling towards us and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Time is ticking faster than I can ever recall it ticking. I'm a Junior in high school. I'm 16. I have to shave every other day. And all I'm doing is getting older.

For Sale

Seeing as my sister was almost literally drowning in baby clothes, she decided to sell a myriad of outfits that no longer fit her baby. A yard sale just seemed like the greatest idea... at the time. With onsies, pants, jackets, shirts, and even toys that the baby outgrew like a play saucer and some quilts, we tossed it all onto the lawn, marketed it on Craigslist, and waited.

As each thrifty shopper came up to our modest collection of baby knick-knacks, we watched them as they thumbed their dollars back and forth in their hand. They went through the clothes, scanned over the other items, and then barely spent 2 dollars. What a waste of time. Getting me all excited and then huge disappointment as I collected the 8 quarters. And then after they left we waited for the next thrifty shopper. And waited... and waited.

To pass our excruciatingly slow ticking time between each customer, my mother, my sister, and I joked about the customers and about how stingey they were with their money. My mother, oh the classy one she is, called one of them a not-so-nice name. After guiltily laughing at such a comment, my mother, throwing her head back while sitting in her chair, fell backward smashing to the earth with a great thud. And of course I helped her up, after my sister took pictures while tears were streaming from her eyes. She then posted the pictures to Facebook. I guess you can say that she got what she deserved.

But after all of this, we only got away with $35. Perhaps next time we will be more successful.

Many Compliments

Compliments are very common in my life, but when you get them when you tried really hard at something, they become much more than nice words, but deserving nice words. Not saying I don't deserve each and every compliment I get, but when I'm exerting myself to my stress limit and get a compliment on my hard work, it's special.

Today my nieces birthday party kept me on my toes, co-hosting with my mother. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. First, I set up the decorations at the park and moved tables that weighed as much as a McDonalds addicted rhinoceros. Then as the people started showing up, with my mother running back and forth from the house to the park bringing food, I had to entertain them with my good looks and my award winning jokes. While simultaneously juggling on a unicycle, I prepared some of the food, finished decorating our section of the park, and had breathe the entire time. I know, I'm amazing. Then as my mother and my sister, with the guest of honor, showed up, late to her own party, I could finally trickled down into a chicken running around with just half his head cut off.

After all this shenanigans, we had a surprised party for my father. Already exhausted and burnt out, we had to pretend to have fun, which wasn't so hard when we all started playing a quick game of LCR. It involves winning money, of course I had fun.

So now as the day is done, I can remind myself on all the compliments I got. Shall we go over them? I think so. "Wow, these decorations look great, Tyler." "Wow, this party is fun, Tyler" "Wow, you're really good looking, Tyler". And since I tried so hard to make it the best it could possibly be, it felt so earned, which makes it all the worth while.

Round 156

It seems that my sister and her "baby's daddy", she refuses to be linked to him in any romantic way, have yet to find a common ground when it comes to their daughter, my niece, Aubrey. Both mean well, and sometimes more or less than the other, but they cannot solve their minor issues to save their lives. Their heated arguments can be subjected to anything from money to work to the baby to her held-together-by-a-piece-of-scotch-tape car or my favorite of them all is Aubrey's new haircut.

With her 1st birthday in less than a week, Baby Daddy decided to give Aubrey her first haircut. However, her hair now seems extremely unnatural as you can easily tell that someone botched her first haircut. To make matters worst, Baby Daddy did it without permission. He snuck the baby away to his mother's and gave her a haircut there. She now looks like a refugee infant boy escaping from the Philippines in a hollowed out tree.

That was the subject of their most recent fight, but all of it feels like endless rounds of kickboxing. They both know what needs to happen; it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Breakup, stop living together, and find a good custody arrangement. But until they can see clearly, which they cannot now from trying to hurt the other, they will always remain enemies.