For the past nine years I've been driving by Sandwich High School, staring up at the giant brick building, thinking "One day, I'll be graduating there." Three weeks ago, I took my first step towards graduation.
When you walk into the gargantuan brick building you automatically get discombobulated. Three floors, about a hundred rooms, roughly six hundred fifty people (including teachers) walking up and down the hallways, long hallways that turn this way and that... within five minutes, you're bound to get lost.
Thankfully, there are some friendly upperclassmen that have been through this first-day anxiety, and know where everything is. I remember on my first day I got lost looking for the Algebra room, and a Senior pointed it out. Turns out I was only about ten feet away from the room.
Don't even get me started on the daily schedule. Everyone's schedule is different. All the classes get out at different times. The schedule is so complicated, there's even a separate schedule for lunch period! And to make matters worse, as soon a you get used to one schedule, it totally changes the next week, and you're brain has to recalculate a route for you to get to each class on time, and in the correct order. Your brain becomes something like those annoying little GPS systems people get for their cars. You think you know the right way to go, but the system gives you much more confusing route.
Walk fifty feet, then turn left.
"No, I'm pretty sure, I keep going straight."
Walk two feet, then turn left.
"Sorry, but I'm still not turning."
Recalculating... walk twenty feet, then make legal U-turn.
"What are you talking about? My class is right here!"
Now approaching... Girl's Bathroom.
"Crap!"
But it's actually not that bad, because I have my mental GPS's voice set to a sexy swimsuit model voice, so it's kind of soothing... Better than that nagging voice you usually get with GPS systems.
Anywho, I've adapted to life as a Freshman fairly quickly, and, I never thought I'd ever say this in my life, but I'm actually glad to be in school. It's actually pretty fun. I'm participating in some after-school clubs, such as Knights Theater Company (our school mascot is a blue knight), (We had a very interesting conversation about sleep-walking, and the never-ending expansion of the universe in that club.)
I'm also glad to say I'm scoring proficiently in all of my classes, which is a huge improvement for me. So far, high school looks like it will be quite an experience, and this is only the beginning.
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Do I Know Why I Pulled You Over?
It was a typical Friday morning. We were driving up the highway towards Plymouth, heading to visit my Nana. Jack was in the front-passenger seat, while Mike and I were in the back. I was listening to Green Day on my iPod, the volume turned up just enough to block out the noise of the traffic rushing by us outside.
Then, I heard my mom say something in the driver's seat in front of me. I didn't pay much attention to it. We were in the left lane of the highway, and my mom kept driving until she saw her chance to cross over to the right lane. It was when she pulled over to the breakdown lane that I took one of my ear buds out to ask what was going on.
My Mom was silent for a minute. Had the car broken down? Were we out of gas? Did we run over something?
Then, I saw someone walk by my window, and I realized he was a cop. That's when it hit me.
My mom had gotten pulled over.
He was fairly tall, dark skin, wearing a blue button-up tee shirt, along with black trousers, a police hat, and to top off the intimidating cop-look, a pair of large, dark sunglasses.
He cautiously approached the driver's window, most likely to make sure my mom wasn't some lunatic bearing a handgun, or some other type of weapon. Yeah, I thought, Like a married lady, with three children is prepared to attack a policed officer.
"The speed limit on this highway is 60 miles per hour," he told my mother in a deep voice.
"Okay," my mom replied, "What was I going?"
"Seventy-four," he said earnestly, all this time keeping a serious, no-bull face, behind those dark shades of his.
"Oh," was all mom could say.
"You were also driving in the left lane, which is strictly a passing lane."
"Okay," my mom agreed.
"Is speeding a habit for you?" he asked.
"No," my mom said, curiously.
"Is driving in the left lane a habit for you?"
"No," mom replied again.
"May I see your license and registration?" he requested.
Oh boy, I thought. Speeding ticket.
The police officer walked back to his cruiser to look up mom's record, and do the usual legal stuff cops do when they pull someone over. I've watched episodes of "Cops" with my dad before, and I pictured the officer talking to the camera guy, narrating the current situation at hand;
"We've got a typical soccer-mom here. She's showing signs of road-rage, which could explain the speeding. She's most likely in a hurry to get one of the three kids in the car to a practice, or something. I'll check her record, and then search the car for any cocaine, alcohol, or weapons, and probably give her a sobriety test as well. Just to be safe."
I then pictured him sending a message through his radio, requesting back-up in case "things got messy."
We waited for about five minutes, until he came back, holding some papers.
"Well," he said, "You haven't had a speeding citation since the nineties, which is good. But I did follow you for two miles in the left lane. Now, a ticket for driving in the left lane amounts to around one-hundred thirty dollars, but I've knocked it down to twenty dollars for you."
He continued to explain just how important it is to avoid staying in the left lane on the highway. As he did so, I tried to count the dozens of other cars on the highway that were driving in the left lane, most likely going seventy-plus mph.
After his speech was over, he directed mom to- and I quote- "Accelerate, get up to highway-speed, then verge over to the right lane."
Emphasis on "right".
I figured this guy took his job very seriously, and hadn't seen too much action in a while. I assumed he was clocking everyone's speed on the highway. Then, out of the hundreds of drivers going seventy mph. on the highway, he picked one car (in this case, a red Toyota Camry), and pulled it over, hoping to use up some of his tickets on some innocent citizens. Once he pulled mom over, he gave her the usual "Do-you-know-how-fast-you-were-driving?" lecture. Then, to add to the seriousness of the matter, he informs you that you have committed not just one misdemeanor, but two, and sucker-punches you with a twenty-dollar ticket for driving in the left lane.
Now, I'm not criticizing this guy for being a jerk, and ticketing my mom just because she was one of the many who were in the passing-only lane, but you gotta admit, it's kinda ridiculous. Her record is almost spotless (or so she tells me), with the exception of one or two minor speeding violations. You'd think the cop would let her off easy.
Have a great weekend, everyone. Drive safely.
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Then, I heard my mom say something in the driver's seat in front of me. I didn't pay much attention to it. We were in the left lane of the highway, and my mom kept driving until she saw her chance to cross over to the right lane. It was when she pulled over to the breakdown lane that I took one of my ear buds out to ask what was going on.
My Mom was silent for a minute. Had the car broken down? Were we out of gas? Did we run over something?
Then, I saw someone walk by my window, and I realized he was a cop. That's when it hit me.
My mom had gotten pulled over.
He was fairly tall, dark skin, wearing a blue button-up tee shirt, along with black trousers, a police hat, and to top off the intimidating cop-look, a pair of large, dark sunglasses.
He cautiously approached the driver's window, most likely to make sure my mom wasn't some lunatic bearing a handgun, or some other type of weapon. Yeah, I thought, Like a married lady, with three children is prepared to attack a policed officer.
"The speed limit on this highway is 60 miles per hour," he told my mother in a deep voice.
"Okay," my mom replied, "What was I going?"
"Seventy-four," he said earnestly, all this time keeping a serious, no-bull face, behind those dark shades of his.
"Oh," was all mom could say.
"You were also driving in the left lane, which is strictly a passing lane."
"Okay," my mom agreed.
"Is speeding a habit for you?" he asked.
"No," my mom said, curiously.
"Is driving in the left lane a habit for you?"
"No," mom replied again.
"May I see your license and registration?" he requested.
Oh boy, I thought. Speeding ticket.
The police officer walked back to his cruiser to look up mom's record, and do the usual legal stuff cops do when they pull someone over. I've watched episodes of "Cops" with my dad before, and I pictured the officer talking to the camera guy, narrating the current situation at hand;
"We've got a typical soccer-mom here. She's showing signs of road-rage, which could explain the speeding. She's most likely in a hurry to get one of the three kids in the car to a practice, or something. I'll check her record, and then search the car for any cocaine, alcohol, or weapons, and probably give her a sobriety test as well. Just to be safe."
I then pictured him sending a message through his radio, requesting back-up in case "things got messy."
We waited for about five minutes, until he came back, holding some papers.
"Well," he said, "You haven't had a speeding citation since the nineties, which is good. But I did follow you for two miles in the left lane. Now, a ticket for driving in the left lane amounts to around one-hundred thirty dollars, but I've knocked it down to twenty dollars for you."
He continued to explain just how important it is to avoid staying in the left lane on the highway. As he did so, I tried to count the dozens of other cars on the highway that were driving in the left lane, most likely going seventy-plus mph.
After his speech was over, he directed mom to- and I quote- "Accelerate, get up to highway-speed, then verge over to the right lane."
Emphasis on "right".
I figured this guy took his job very seriously, and hadn't seen too much action in a while. I assumed he was clocking everyone's speed on the highway. Then, out of the hundreds of drivers going seventy mph. on the highway, he picked one car (in this case, a red Toyota Camry), and pulled it over, hoping to use up some of his tickets on some innocent citizens. Once he pulled mom over, he gave her the usual "Do-you-know-how-fast-you-were-driving?" lecture. Then, to add to the seriousness of the matter, he informs you that you have committed not just one misdemeanor, but two, and sucker-punches you with a twenty-dollar ticket for driving in the left lane.
Now, I'm not criticizing this guy for being a jerk, and ticketing my mom just because she was one of the many who were in the passing-only lane, but you gotta admit, it's kinda ridiculous. Her record is almost spotless (or so she tells me), with the exception of one or two minor speeding violations. You'd think the cop would let her off easy.
Have a great weekend, everyone. Drive safely.
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition
By now you've probably noticed some changes to the way the blog looks. How do you like it? I did it all myself, using my nerdy ability to edit HTML and CSS coding on a blogger template, which can be more complicated than a normal layout.
Did you get all that?
I just felt the blog needed a bit more "pizazz." Notice how the blog posts and sidebar move up and down when you scroll, but the "awesome" background doesn't. Yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself.
Anyway, not much else to say. Just wanted to let you know about the new look on the blog. Tell me what you think in the comments if you want!
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Did you get all that?
I just felt the blog needed a bit more "pizazz." Notice how the blog posts and sidebar move up and down when you scroll, but the "awesome" background doesn't. Yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself.
Anyway, not much else to say. Just wanted to let you know about the new look on the blog. Tell me what you think in the comments if you want!
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Care and Feeding of Little Brothers
As most of you know, I have two little brothers. They're twins, age 10. They have two very different personalities, all bundled in two separate packages that look almost exactly the same.
And if you were wondering, yes, it is hell.
Let me introduce you to Jack and Michael; the world's best, and worst, little brothers.
We'll start with the worst of the two, Mike. Mike is, as Jack and me call him, the youngest sibling, because he was born two minutes after Jack. Everyone knows the youngest sibling ends up being the most immature, and this applies with Mike. I guess being the youngest by just two minutes can still make you the most annoying.
In reality, Michael is the same age as Jack, but we call him the youngest anyway.
Mike is that one child you had in your class in school that had a bad case of ADHD. He's hyper, he's loud, he's obnoxious, and he's always looking for trouble.
Mike loves to pick fights, which can get very annoying. He's always trying to get Jack to fight with him just for the heck of it. No, he's not angry, or upset with Jack. He's usually not even upset with anyone else. He just wants to fight. Even if Jack says he doesn't want to fight, Mike will provoke him by tackling him, pushing him, and putting him in various headlocks. Eventually, Jack has no choice but to fight back, if only to defend himself from serious bruising. This usually ends up with at least one of them crying, and both of them sent up to their rooms.
As you can see, Michael is a very violent child. But when he's not picking fights, he's trying to be as loud and annoying as possible. He'll make obnoxious noises, he'll make weird faces, he'll throw things, he'll run around- he'll do absolutely anything to make you snap. It's like a game to him; pick a target, and try to get on their nerves as much as possible. Let me say this; he's obviously gotten a lot of practice at this game, because he wins every time.
Now, it may seem like Michael is a terrible kid, but he does have his upsides. He likes to play sports with me and Jack. He loves to play catch with me out in the yard, and always plays games of basketball with me out in the street. The best part of all this is after running around outside for a while, Mike is much more calm, and can be a much more enjoyable brother. Him and I always joke around, and play video games with each other. Him and I don't always get along, but when we do, he's a pretty cool brother.
So, Mike is obviously the brawn, which makes Jack the brains. Jack is much more calm than his twin. He loves to read, write, and draw. Him and I get along very well; we always joke around, play games, and just have fun.
Jack's not quite as talented in the athletics department as Michael and me, but I give him lots of pointers on his jump-shot, and his pitching.
Jack and I have a lot in common. We both enjoy reading, we both are quite humorous, and we both love to eat. In fact, Jack has earned himself the title of "The Bottomless Pit," because he never seems to stop eating. If he goes out for dinner he'll order the biggest meal he can find, and then for dessert, his favorite, cheesecake.
Jack is probably the smartest of all of the brothers. He gets straight-A's every year, and always does his homework. If Harvard has a degree in cooking, Jack's gonna go far in life.
As you can see, I have two brothers who have very different personalities. One's aggressive and hyper, while the other is calm, and funny. They can make my life miserable sometimes, but I have to admit, I don't know what I'd do without them.
(But if anyone's willing to trade for a pair of little sisters, let me know ASAP)
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
And if you were wondering, yes, it is hell.
Let me introduce you to Jack and Michael; the world's best, and worst, little brothers.
We'll start with the worst of the two, Mike. Mike is, as Jack and me call him, the youngest sibling, because he was born two minutes after Jack. Everyone knows the youngest sibling ends up being the most immature, and this applies with Mike. I guess being the youngest by just two minutes can still make you the most annoying.
In reality, Michael is the same age as Jack, but we call him the youngest anyway.
Mike is that one child you had in your class in school that had a bad case of ADHD. He's hyper, he's loud, he's obnoxious, and he's always looking for trouble.
Mike loves to pick fights, which can get very annoying. He's always trying to get Jack to fight with him just for the heck of it. No, he's not angry, or upset with Jack. He's usually not even upset with anyone else. He just wants to fight. Even if Jack says he doesn't want to fight, Mike will provoke him by tackling him, pushing him, and putting him in various headlocks. Eventually, Jack has no choice but to fight back, if only to defend himself from serious bruising. This usually ends up with at least one of them crying, and both of them sent up to their rooms.
As you can see, Michael is a very violent child. But when he's not picking fights, he's trying to be as loud and annoying as possible. He'll make obnoxious noises, he'll make weird faces, he'll throw things, he'll run around- he'll do absolutely anything to make you snap. It's like a game to him; pick a target, and try to get on their nerves as much as possible. Let me say this; he's obviously gotten a lot of practice at this game, because he wins every time.
Now, it may seem like Michael is a terrible kid, but he does have his upsides. He likes to play sports with me and Jack. He loves to play catch with me out in the yard, and always plays games of basketball with me out in the street. The best part of all this is after running around outside for a while, Mike is much more calm, and can be a much more enjoyable brother. Him and I always joke around, and play video games with each other. Him and I don't always get along, but when we do, he's a pretty cool brother.
So, Mike is obviously the brawn, which makes Jack the brains. Jack is much more calm than his twin. He loves to read, write, and draw. Him and I get along very well; we always joke around, play games, and just have fun.
Jack's not quite as talented in the athletics department as Michael and me, but I give him lots of pointers on his jump-shot, and his pitching.
Jack and I have a lot in common. We both enjoy reading, we both are quite humorous, and we both love to eat. In fact, Jack has earned himself the title of "The Bottomless Pit," because he never seems to stop eating. If he goes out for dinner he'll order the biggest meal he can find, and then for dessert, his favorite, cheesecake.
Jack is probably the smartest of all of the brothers. He gets straight-A's every year, and always does his homework. If Harvard has a degree in cooking, Jack's gonna go far in life.
As you can see, I have two brothers who have very different personalities. One's aggressive and hyper, while the other is calm, and funny. They can make my life miserable sometimes, but I have to admit, I don't know what I'd do without them.
(But if anyone's willing to trade for a pair of little sisters, let me know ASAP)
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Update
Just wanted to let you all know I've changed the URL address for this blog to shorten it. The new address for this blog is http://yoursinawesomeness.blogspot.com
Please update your favorites lists accordingly (because I just know all of you guys have this blog on your favorites list on your browsers! It's just too awesome to not have it there!)
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
Please update your favorites lists accordingly (because I just know all of you guys have this blog on your favorites list on your browsers! It's just too awesome to not have it there!)
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
July Appreciation
As a teenager, I spend a good chunk of my time on the internet, whether it be on Facebook, another blog, or one of the many video game-related sites I visit. (I am such a geek) Sometimes I'll find some very unusual things while clicking around, and one of those things was a search related to "National Month of...". I was just curious to see what our current month celebrates, and you may be surprised by the list I found.
July is the national month of...
Then, there are the unusual holidays celebrated during the individual weeks, and days in the month of July.
I guess there's more to celebrate during July than just Independence Day. Mark your calendars, and have a happy National Strawberry Sundae Day!
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
***Information on these holidays was found here.
July is the national month of...
- Anti-boredom
- Hot dogs
- Ice cream
- Cell phone courtesy
- Unlucky month for weddings
- Blueberries
Then, there are the unusual holidays celebrated during the individual weeks, and days in the month of July.
- Second week of July- Nude Recreation Week
- July 2- I Forgot Day
- July 3- Compliment Your Mirror Day
- July 10- Teddy Bear Picnic Day
- July 13- Barber Shop Music Appreciation Day
- July 15- Tapioca Pudding Day
- July 15- Cow Appreciation Day
- July 17- Yellow Pig Day
- July 27- Take Your Pants For a Walk Day
I guess there's more to celebrate during July than just Independence Day. Mark your calendars, and have a happy National Strawberry Sundae Day!
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
***Information on these holidays was found here.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Men & Sports- a Theorized Story of How Sports Came to Be
Yesterday while attending my little brothers' basketball game, I began to think about what makes sports so fun. What keeps us practicing to get better at these sports? What keeps half of the country in front of their television sets for two hours straight watching baseball.
I also noticed that guys tend to get worked up a little more over sports than girls. But, then again, I have seen Sarena Williams (or was it Venus?) flip out over a game of tennis before, so I could be wrong. Either way, it's just an opinion. You tend to understand where I'm coming from when you've lived with a guy for fourteen years who talks to the players on TV about their performance even though they can't hear him. (I must admit, this habit of my father's has begun to rub off on me) It doesn't help that my mom barely knows the first thing about sports either. No matter how many times I have to correct her, she'll always say "The score was 5-8," instead of "The score was 8-5."
After thinking about all this, I theorized this story about men and sports.
***
Since the beginning of time, male types of all species of creatures on Earth- whether it be animals, or humans- have been attempting to become the more dominant man of their kind. Birds have different songs they chirp, and different colored feathers; lions, tigers, and other "big cats" try to become the strongest hunter in the pack. The list goes on. But, when you think about it, the main reason all male creatures try to become more dominant than the rest is to attract the females. Male birds try to make themselves more attractive with colorful feathers, and beautiful songs to attract the females. "Big cats", specifically lions, try to become king of the jungle to make themselves look more dominant than the rest. (My facts may be a bit off, but feel free to search this topic online if you please)
But what about humans. Obviously, humans have evolved much more than animals have. Compared to our chimp ancestors, our brains have grown and become smarter, our posture has improved greatly, our muscles have developed much more, and we've developed our own languages unique to each of our races. With all that said, it's obvious that humans are much more complex than animals.
This means that females are looking for more than just pretty colors, cheery songs, and strong hunters. Not only do women want us to prove to them that we are more dominant than the rest, but we want to prove this to ourselves as well. So, back when we were cavemen, us men invented "contests" if you will, that would prove who was better than the other. Some contests were to see who could make a fire the quickest. But most were to prove who carried the bigger stick, or who hauled the biggest rocks. These contests carried through generations, and around the late 1800's were named "sports."
You can probably see how the "bigger-rocks" contest carried on to today. Almost every sport you see on TV today involves a ball of some sort. Basketball, football, golf, tennis, lacrosse- you name it. These sports are contests to see which person handles the ball the best. The "bigger-stick" version eventually evolved into what we call "baseball."
When sports were first being invented, males decided to form "packs" that would compete together against other "packs". The winners of each sport would become the more dominant "pack". Again, evolution took place, and the word "pack" tuned into "team".
Long story short, sports were invented for two main reasons;
- Impress the ladies
- Decide who is more dominant
That's when things like running, swimming, weight-lifting, and boxing became sports. And then, someone else (most likely a woman) wised up even more, and thought, "Hey, women can be dominant too!" So woman's versions of all these sports were invented. (I have also theorized that after men were criticized for not thinking girls could be dominant too, the "wife" was invented, to keep men in there place, and not get carried away trying to outdo one another.)
But what about those who aren't as athletic as others? Well, thanks to the "team" concept I covered earlier, fans of any sport can cheer on their favorite teams, and hope they win. They could even gamble on who will win a competition. This led to bragging rights for the fans of the winning team, thus making them somewhat more dominant than the opposing team's fans.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find some big rocks.
Yours in awesomeness,
~Ry.
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