The High School on a Swamp

September 11, 2008

Here we have another creative writing assignment. The assignment was to focus on setting, picking something from our home towns that represents a certain truth about the place.

My high school was built on a swamp. Not a ‘swampy’ swamp. Not the sort of swamp where you might find the creature from the Black Lagoon. No, just the sort of swamp that sinks a half inch every year when it has to bear the load of of a thousand teenagers.

A forest once surrounded my high school. Any direction you looked, there was a grove of trees between you and the ‘real’ world. In a way, that protected the high school from all the roads and highways surrounding it. Now all those trees are gone. Which doesn’t do a thing for the flooding around my high school. The flooding from being built on a swamp.

The forest of trees has been replaced by a forest of security cameras. They stare down with their unblinking eye, passing judgement on those who walk beneath them. The principal, in his office, has a giant, hi-tech monitor where he watches all the video feeds at once. I could have sworn when I walked by that office I heard cackling.

My high school, Chichester, was almost named Sun Valley, after nearby Sunoco Oil. If the board of trustees has decided to sell out to the oil companies, the school would not have been built on a swamp. But the town decided to keep our name. I have to remind myself of this. Remind myself every time I pass through a field where trees once grew. Every time I note a new crack in the wall, where the ceiling is now a half-inch lower. Every time I look up, expecting a blank ceiling to rest my gaze, and instead meet the stare of an eye in the sky. I remind myself that the school and I have more in common than sinking half an inch every year. Once, a long time ago, we both had a purpose.


I just have to love the internet sometimes.

I wonder if she knows what ‘superman that …’ means. ;)

Regardless, Ms. Zeigler was an awesome Spanish teacher. One of the best. I wish her great luck in West Chester.

More random nostalgic binging

September 10, 2007

If there’s one good thing coming from compiling a book of blog posts, it’s all the random events that I forgot happened but now rediscover.

Like this one. No one that reads this blog will get it. But trust me, it was funny.

Wow, tonight’s marching band practice was the awesomest ever. And by awesome, I don’t mean it went well. On the contrary, it probably went the poorest I’ve ever seen a practice go. But the fun had. Oh, the fun had.

It’s amazing that acting crazy / being crazy can be so much fun. I mean, randomly shouting at people / counting in Spanish / being chased around by “crazed” drummers can make for quite a night. Quite a night indeed.

Especially when you “left everything on the field” last Saturday.

Oh well, only the rest of this month to go.

“Do you know what Saturday?! It’s Championships! Freakin’ Cavalcade Championships!”

Oh, marching band.

Summer Rock(et)s!

August 26, 2007

Here’s a little video I put together of Dave’s two rocket launches, and the adventures that surrounded them. Good times.

Well, hello there. I haven’t seen you in a while. But then again, the blog works two ways, now doesn’t it? You can’t receive if you never give!

I just wanted to hop on here and give a shout out to the class of 2007. A great group of kids, all. Well, by all, I mean the 10+ kids that I actually know well from that class. I was thinking, and if I had to choose any high school class to be in [other than ’06, of course], I’d choose the class of ’07. So many great kids. Smart kids. Nice kids. Inspiring kids.

[What would it have been like to move with them throughout the years? I don’t imagine that train of thought will lead anywhere very useful. But maybe some day I’ll go down that track for fun.]

So, here’s to you, class of 2007! Welcome to the ‘real world’ of college. Not so real. And not so worldly. But it’s good to have you with us.


Hm. Well. I don’t know where to begin exactly. I haven’t written anything in a while [make that blog cliché count number 1 billion]. But I feel the urge to write right now, so I guess I will.

I have a lot of things to talk about. And I could talk about them all at once [that is, after all, how they appear in my consciousness. I mean, I sometimes wish that my mind would just nicely segregate all my thoughts into different compartments, so that maybe I could focus on the task at hand. But it seems more like the mind works through montage and mixture. Which, to be honest, makes for a much more interesting time than any other solution].

So I’m sitting here cross-legged on a towel, typing on a labtop on a futon [not to be confused with a zabuton, nor to be confused with a zafu, which I would really like to get but don’t currently have the money for because of a lack of a job [the lack of which I can thank to minimal effort on my part and maximal ignoring on the part of those that I would like to employ me]]. Typing words that will eventually be read [though it won’t seem as if it’s an eventuality to you, it’ll just seem like something that’s happening] by you. [more…]

A Mosey Down Memory Lane

April 10, 2007

So, we were talking about different ways that cells can be connected in Cell Bio today, and I had a total flashback to 10th grade health class. The Abstinence Lady.

And I’m not even talking about the dirty tape part. Yeah, okay, that’s pretty gross. And totally exaggerated. I mean, all the women I’ve had sex with haven’t caused me any emotional harm. Wait. That’s because… Oh yeah, never mind.

Anyway, the part that I’m talking about was the hand holding exercise. In Cell Bio, two girls had to “hug” each other to demonstrate what adhesive junctions are like in cells. And they looked so uncomfortable doing it. But all I could think about was in health class when the lady person talked about how girls and girls might love each other as friends, but guys and guys would never admit to it. And then Kenny said, “Dave, I love you” [to Dave M.]. Man, I don’t really know where that memory came from. It had nothing to do with anything. But damn if that class, and that moment, wasn’t hilarious.

Just thought I’d share.

Memory is like a pool. Sometimes it’s fun to dive in the deep end.


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Ever want to know how to solve a crime? Well here it is!

Just disregard all the educational material: the fun stuff is all at the beginning and end!

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Yes, THAT movie from THAT class.

Nipples. Hehehe.

Aw man. Good times. Enjoy!

(Happy Birthday, Dave!)