Monday, May 19, 2003
Ark. My wiley archive trickery did not work. Again. Blogger claims that they're changing people over to a new, better version of Blogger sometime soon. This, presumably, will have working archives. But I'm not entirely certain if this new version of Blogger is for all, or just for the paying folk. I don't do this whole 'giving people money over the Internet' deal. Call me old fashioned if you will.
Hm. I, of course, make it a point to regularly read ScaryDuck, because it is just so damn well written and so very damn funny. But I do notice something interesting. Either Scaryduck is making a lot of that stuff up, or my childhood has been disappointingly and unusually devoid of explosions. I certainly hope that this is just a generational thing, and that I'm not alone in missing out on all this vast, explosive goodness.
Last period I had health. I love health. I love it more than life itself. Life would not be worth living if I did not have health class to look foward to. The creepy, creepy teacher, of course, just makes the class. He has a creepy goatee, and a creepy mustache that looks too big for his face, and creepy clogs that he wears all the time, and a creepy way of sitting with his legs wide open on a chair.
We're in a unit on stress now. He was describing to us the difference between internal and external stressors (things that make you feel stress). School, for example, is an external stressor. He then asked us what an example of an internal stressor would be. No one said anything. So he said, "Well, for instance, a bad acid trip would be an internal stressor." Um... what?? Who says that?
Also today, while discussing coping mechanisms for stress, he leaned foward eagerly and asked, in a husky voice, "Do you kids have... active fantasy lives?" He then waited with bated breath for our responses. Since we all value our lives and our right to resist molestation, no one said anything. He seemed rather disappointed that no one wished to share their fantasy lives with him and the rest of the class. So he turned to the gym teacher who assists (hinders) in the teaching of the class, and said in a creepily cheerful voice, "Well Billy, I hear that boys especially often have sexual fantasies. Isn't that right, Billy?" The uncomfortableness level of the class went up another couple of notches.
Later in the class, we were discussing why exercise is a good way to reduce stress. The health teacher was kind enough to explain to us why running helped him, personally, to reduce his stress. Imagine the following said in a preoccupied, intense voice, almost like he's talking to himself: "If I'm angry at someone, then I'll tell them off in my mind while I'm running, and there's a sort of physical release..." He got all wistful-looking for a minute, as though contemplating the pleasures of fantasizing about telling someone off while running.
Jeez. What do you do when a teacher does something like that? Do you sit there and clasp your hands worriedly in your lap, glancing nervously about the room to see how everyone else is dealing with it? Do you leap up from your seat and run screaming from the room? Some combination of the two, perchance?
Or do you do what I do, which is to write it down as quickly as humanly possible, so that I won't forget it later on when I try to blog it. Naturally.
Class ova. (ending I mean, not eggs)
*edit* End of the day, in French now. Not much happened today. A rather wasteful day, on the whole. In psych we're watching the Breakfast Club, for undisclosed reasons that I'm sure have nothing at all to do with psychology. I doodled through the entire thing anyways... there's no need for me to pay attention to that sort of tripe.
There's a hornet in the room right now. It's pretty big, but it's just buzzing around, and I don't think people ought to be freaking out this badly. The computer teacher is chasing it with an aerosol can of bee killer. Ha! Lookit her go! Chase that hornet! Ooo she got it. She made the can let loose a massive spray, which hit the hornet once, and then it started flying around, and then all of a sudden it had a heart attack (hemolymph attack?) and fell to the ground. There's bee killer spray all over the computers and Maddie now. I larf. It also smells something horrid. Ha. Maddie is going to have to go to the bathroom to get all that bee killer off.
We went outside in math today, having nothing better to do. We sat on the grass. It was very hot out today, in the sun. Ice cream later, I am thinking. Anywho, Maura and Mariya were trying to teach Jess and Corey an insanely complicated Russian card game, so I was watching this. And I found an inchworm! I let it wander all over my hands for a while. It was cute. I washed my hands before eating lunch, though.
no one's shooting bee killer spray at this little bugger
Agck. Starting to get a bit lightheaded from this bee killer stuff in the air. I shall, therefore, desist.