juniorteepee's Xanga

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 01:29:12 GMT

*pets Xanga* It's over for another four years now. You all know what's coming next!

www.xanga.com/seniorteepeee

Historian Speech

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 05:29:23 GMT

    Before I begin, I believe that there is someone out there who wants to be principal. Is-is the committee lagging behind or something? (searches for help) I mean, the position seems to be open (nervous chuckle) every year. You'd think (lowers head and voice) the committee would do something...

Honored guests, teachers, parents, family members, school board officials, fellow students, and (takes a deep breath) fellow grads, let us all begin the last trek home...

    Now I'm not up here to talk about some principal; I'm up here to historian your four years--what? "Historian" isn't a verb?--I'm up here to document your uh... (strains to read) one-dur-full four years here at No-well high. I'm sorry, Lowell High. It's been four great years, four years that I can safely say you'll never get back, but you have also gained so much... to a certain extent. I mean, think about it, when you're as old as any of these guys behind me, you'd want to gloat about the fact that we had an imaginary swimming pool on our imaginary fourth floor to the youngsters on the twenty-nine bus going to SI because they actually have one. And remember all that stuff you learned in AP World and Euro that you remember but still don't quite understand? You can totally be like all Zheng He and impress everyone with your massive U-boats and astrolabes and square sails knowledge, and everyone will all be like, "Whoa, you be mad Ming Dynastyin'! YO!" or whatever (flails hands).
    It all began on one sweet day in August, days before school actually started. A ceremony for incoming freshmen, and then came the orientation. After the traumatic hazing, we were ushered into a cut-throat atmosphere where friends are friendly enemies and enemies are frenemies. We eventually settled into our niches, our posse, if you will, and school went on even though our rally skit sucked.
    Then came sophomore year, our fun year! We thought about the APs, ACTs, SATs, CIAs, ABCs, FBIs, CAHSEEs, but rarely about social L-I-F-E. I myself took the SATs this year and scored a (enunciating) twenty-four (pause). Hey, I was proud. And then most of us took a foreign language because we know the future of business is outsourcing. dan shi what we aprendido from diese schone institution is gimongaarimasu. wo men zhen shi yao hui shuo ne me duo yu yan ma? ¿Viajaremos realmente nosotros a España? Ich will Hitler Babys nicht treffen! Ano... watashi wa nihongo ga dekimasen. ...Look it up.
    THEN junior year wheeled around and keeled over an old lady, and that sweet old lady is named Intellect. Situations become dire as people invested their blood, sweat, tears, money, and all to none other than THE JUNIOR PROM! I have but a small anecdote for prom or, as I like to call it MORP: It was a big excuse to see who can spend the most money and who can dress up the prettiest in a dress. Considering how our dress codes are (sarcastic) so strict that they don't permit dresses to be worn at school, I guess it was a good way to express one's gaudiness and how well one can twist that to seem more romantic than uh... what's the word? cheap. Was it worth the time and money? I guess not, but will I ever admit it? No. It was a god damn magical night, and generations after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what I convinced myself to see. Morp is a backwards word and world there that I still don't quite understand, but, for the sake of argument, I'm going to say that I do. But junior year wasn't all that bad; most of us got rid of the burden we call Intellect. By this third year, we've been numbed, institutionalized, to the work that is the work for the sake of working, grades for the sake of grades, knowledge for the sake of knowledge. (wags finger to audience and to self) I can point to each and every one of you because you're all victims of such a process. We learn not to improve ourselves as people but ourselves as careers, jobs, money. Was it worth the time and money? I know it's a no, but will I ever admit it? No. It was a god damn wonderful four years, and generations after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what they (points to people on stage) convinced me to see.
    (calmer) Finally, the end comes, and we're all gathered here, in a holy matrimony, to wed ourselves to our diplomas. Senior year has taught us much--mainly how to cope with rejections and failure. The coping mechanisms we gleaned from psychology has helped immensely, but they weren't enough, which is why we're here to make it all better. Class of 2008, hug your diplomas and hold them well. Once we step out that door, it's a whole new world, and you'll be damn glad you can at least graduate from Lowell High.

Lines are crossed, but those are my thoughts put in humorous light.

#10: Tonight's Word: Morp

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 00:52:53 GMT

    Yesterday was junior prom that I, too, guiltily took part in with dearly beloved Stephen Colbert. And as indescribable, uncontainable, placed in the stars in the sky as it was, I have a few words to wrap the once-in-a-lifetime event in a small, describable bubble. And that brings us to tonight's word: Morp.

    Now you wordinistas out there trying to get back at me for correcting your use of the English language somewhere in your lifetime may say, "Hey! That's not a word! You're suffering from schizophrenia." Well, I'll tell you why you're always wrong, and how I'm always not you.
    In the days leading down to this glamorous event, the celebration of camaraderie and shiny stuff, I spent a good portion of my time setting high expectations. Oh, what a magical night this must be, I thought, for I am putting out upwards four hundred dollars! Many have asked me about my dress and whether I would match my date and whether I plan to take pictures. Of course, by social laws, I would then have to buy a new dress that would match what my date shall wear and what he would ultimately have to buy and make sure that a deal is struck between the two of us so that we don't have to spend so much on pictures. Oh, and shoes! Who could forget shoes?! And mannies and peddies and bears, oh, my! Phew! Luckily, I'm a girl, so I don't have to buy the tickets. $250. Done.
    I spent days fretting about how I should do my hair: Do I want it up so that it doesn't get in the way when I take a picture or do I want to keep it down so it doesn't get in the way should I choose to freak-dance? More than once I consulted my close girl friends for their advice. We spent hours talking about the best salons and somehow the conversation leads to boutonnieres and corsages. We never get anywhere. In any case, I ran into the nearest salon on Friday night to get my hair done. $75 w/ corsages + boutonnieres. Done.
    IT'S SATURDAY! THE BIG EVENT! The day I've been working so hard for has finally arrived, and, as I sit on the couch, figuring out which posture would make me look best when Stephen sees me for the first time, I realized that I hadn't picked out my purse! I run back to my room and stuff the ridiculously small bag with my iPod, cell phone, ridiculously large wallet (Those designers should either make smaller wallets or bigger purses!), and tissues. By the time I get back to the couch, I found Stephen already patiently waiting. Phooey.
    We go to dinner and spend a large portion of our time idly talking and conversing, trying our hardest to avoid the elephant in the room. APs, SATs, homework, tests, and such. Damn Stephen for rambling on and on about his loss to Sean Penn.
    Dinner ended on a sour note, but the dance floor was SWEEEET! I didn't get to stay there for long because the social bylaws state that you shouldn't be the first one to get to a prom, so I didn't get there until 10 PM. Unfortunately, the party ended at 12 AM. Stephen refused to dance out of shyness. My eyes were marred by the sight of people freakdancing. I lost my cell phone. The DJ was insufferable with his rap songs. I did no more there than I normally do in the cafeteria.
    In the end, it was all just a big excuse to see who can spend the most money and who can dress up the prettiest in a dress. Considering how our dress codes are so strict that they don't permit dresses to be worn at school, I guess it was a good way to express one's whorishness and how well she can twist that to seem more romantic than sluttish. Was it worth the time and money? I guess not, but will I ever admit it? No. It was a god damn magical night, and generations after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what I convinced myself to see. Emotion first, rationale follows. It's a backwards wor(l)d there that I still don't quite understand, but, for the sake of argument, I'm going to say that I do.
    And that's the word.

EAT IT, PROM ATTENDEES!

Sweeps Week

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 03:07:41 GMT

"Sweeps Week," it's a TV term for the time period during which the Nielsen Media Research assess shows' ratings. It's the time when the professionals behind the tubes churn out their best and finest to boost ratings. Lowell teenagers also have sweeps weeks. Like the Nielsen Media Research, we have then four times a (school) year, excluding Finals Week. It's the time when teachers churn out their tests and deliberately bunch them together to get the best of a student's attention.

Disabling comments because I don't give a f__k about how many tests you'll have on one day or how many tests you'll have overall or how hard the tests will be because the teachers suck or how much you'll have to study or how little you'll sleep. Oh, and by the way, May SATs are coming soon. After that, APs. And after that, June SATs. Oh, and don't forget that after the short fleeting summer, there's college apps. There's no reason to complain so soon.

#9: Tonight's W0rd: Music (What Stephen Really Would've Said)

Sun, 04 Feb 2007 04:35:40 GMT

Nonsense BS!Tiffy speak
Ironic counterpoint!Tiffy speak

    I guess you'd Say... What can make me feel this way? YouTube (YouTube, YouTube), talking 'bout YouTube (YouTube!) I've got so much anger the bitches envy me. I've got a sweeter swear than the turds in the trees.

    Didn't you know The Temptations had a new song? And that brings us to tonight's word: Music.

    Today begins the Viacom-YouTube Great Purge of '07!
    AKA Viacom PMS Day
    YouTube is removing as many clips copyrighted to Viacom as it can, and this includes clips owned by Comedy Central.
    Vigilant corporate overlords are finally getting out of bed.
    Well, folks, the music industry must be taking a pounding by this!
    Let me tell you why. The music industry has been attacking mass Internet downloads since 2000.
    Turn of millennium made them insecure
    The percentage of illegal music downloads has significantly decreased since then. Thereafter, the music industry's overall revenues have plummeted.
    Kind of like Britney's chest
    Now Viacom is taking those very tactics to destroy their shows' ratings and viewer numbers.
    You mean that was her stomach?
    Hurrah, Viacom.
    Viacong
    Avid Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert fans are reacting violently to the latest purge. One under the name of Puddly went so far as to say, "Fuck you, Viacom."
    Viacom said, "No."
    In reality, they're all overreacting.
    Reacting to reality
    Think about it, if Viacom takes off ALL Daily Show and Colbert Report clips, the respective fanbases will move onto Viacom's next best thing, which just so happens to be... nothing.
    Or The OC
    What more do you want folks?
    Those clips back on YouTube?
    Viacom has already nicely implied through vaguely arbitrary means that it wants viewers to watch those clips on Comedy Central's Motherload, where its corporate supporters can implant bugs to replay their advertisements over and over again before viewers can watch the actual video! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT!
    Viacom on Notice?
    Just because you're poor and don't have cable doesn't mean you can freeload off YouTube.
    YouTooPoor
    Wait.. if Viacom owns nearly everything on TV, doesn't that mean it owns itself?
    Pwnage!
    Well, I just can't wait until Viacom takes itself off the air because that'll be music to my ears. And that's the word.

Bite me, Viacom. The wikiality has spoken.

The "Epaincipation" Proclamation

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 04:40:14 GMT

    You are now free! Free from the shackles that bind your feet, free from the chains that drag you through dreary nights, free from the labor that has made your shoulders slump, free from the bonds that has made you think that the pain varies directly to your future. Free, I say, free!
    It's a sad day when one of your friends is protesting against homework and its after effects, but to realize that six of your friends are also experiencing the same thing is a depressing day. I think it was Jo who I told in freshman year that life is to work, work, work, then die. It was the understatement of the century. Please, I really should have said, "Life is to play as a child, but once you get to the dreaded age six, you get lynched into the school system and begin your seemingly long, monotonous, endless trudge through your adolescent years and well into your early twenties. Afterwards, school leaves and gives you the leeway of about ten or twenty years to work and then to experience your mid-life crisis, which is when you realize that so much of your life has been wasted, yet dedicated to learning things that made you you. Give or take half a year later, you're still struggling with mortgage, so you and your spouse take up an extra job to compensate for the coming child. When the child comes, you run yourself into debts and overdue bills. When you turn on the TV to escape such reality, advertisements reminding you of your bills and debts shackle you into reality, and you enter stages of depression and grief. It'll take you about five more years to finally get that house you wanted, to finally get that car you wanted, to finally repay all your dues, when you realize you've hit the big 5-0. Wrinkles begin to appear, and you wonder whether you have really gotten over that mid-life crisis you had ten or twenty years ago. Have you really improved over the course of ten or twenty years or have you expended no work and have been working on a flat plane? In any case, you choose to ignore such things for another ten or fifteen years in hopes that your children and grandchildren will solve such problems for you. However, you find that social security has been eradicated because the country has no money. Because of the Iraq war forty years ago and World War III twenty years ago (in which your husband spent two of his years), the United States has successfully plummeted into the gazillions digit in debt. You rely on your family for support, but, oh, your spouse has passed on. So young, too young. You're now a widow in your seventies with your three children and six grandchildren. You have thirty more years to celebrate your golden years, but the places you've always wanted to go and the things you've always wanted to experience as an adult are too far away from your wrinkled hands to reach. You're starting to figure out the meaning of life when--Oh, darn, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, try again next time."
    See? It doesn't matter what college you get into; you follow relatively the same path. You're not going to be the next Donald Trump, you're not going to be the next Bill Gates, you're not going to be the next (your idol here). So don't worry now because you can do that when you're eighty-five, living with only your memories, lost dreams, and past aspirations, too weak and feeble to make new ones. Enjoy it while you can, folks, because, as you're reading this, it's au revoir carpe diem and bonjour misérables.

Good luck (trying to accept this as the most fundamental truth)! You are now free.

On a lighter note:

The Real Deal

Sat, 27 Jan 2007 06:07:50 GMT

Happy birthday, Linda. This is my other birthday present, though I really wanted to burn you a CD of all the Colbert episodes that I have. Regretfully, I had no time.

Hansengate

Fri, 12 Jan 2007 05:10:11 GMT

(Disclaimer: I, in no way, think of myself as a journalist of any kind; I leave that job to the writers of The Lowell. So disregard the headline and just read what I have to say about it. And I know from experience that rumors do not constitute as facts, so please think before you judge.)
    PUCK HER! SHE SHOULD GO RUT!
    (Not a good beginning...)
    Upon receiving her Monday Bulletin on... Monday, Elaine S. shrieked in joy, pointing frantically at the little box that encased the numbers "1/2.... 10:00." Ah yes, it was to be a Special Schedule Friday, the day most Lowellites hold dear because it means more sleep. To teachers, it is also a relaxing way to spend one and a half hours in a room without students. For students, it is the sacred day for them to arrive to school an hour early to play badminton, to reinvigorate their youthful moxies, to sit idly on a bench with a girl/boy friend, to sloppily and publicly make out with said girl/boy friend only to incite mental repressions of passer-bys. Ah, yes, Special Schedule Friday. I don't have to tell you how you feel about these great shortened days.
    However, all good things must come to an end with a crushing blow whose other hand coddles Satan's horns. I'm talking about Amy Hansen. I mentioned in my other post that Amy Hansen is (not) not a terrorist, but now she is. Rumors from an unknown source (Jennifer K. who heard from Ms. Pang) have identified Amy Hansen as the Dolores Umbridge of Lowell School of Nerdidry. Said unknown source has also pointed out that Amy Hansen wants to cancel all Special Fridays because she "thinks the staff is too hostile towards her" at the meetings.
    (Yes, laugh, that was the punchline.)
    I think the one thing that this illustrates is two things:
    1.) Dolores Umbridge Amy Hansen's position as principal is currently being threatened, leaving Hansen insecure. Not only has she brought hate upon herself from the students, but she's also managed to make the teachers hate her. I'm not afraid to voice my teachers' silent dissent because I, like them, hate her.
    She should not jeopardize and overthrow an entire system established to give students a break from the tyranny and hypocrisy of all that's Lowell simply because she herself cannot handle it. This signals the fact that she is unfit to be a principal of a school that entails so much stress and pressure.
    Furthermore, her actions are self-interested. Just imagine her bringing this case to the table with her florid language and jargon. "We must extend and use the time we have efficiently..." Should she even think about passing this, I ask you not to accept it blindly.
    2.) Amy Hansen simply has no place here. She does not garner respect like Mr. Cheng does. She enters a room, and she exudes an aura of awkwardness and bitterness. Students may have unjustified opinions and often make jokes about her, but they're not far from the truth. Teachers, who know Hansen better than students, say similar things. (Things that I would rather not say or I would have to give this entry a very high age rating.)
    Ever since she's been here, she's been trying to change and rewrite traditions at Lowell as--and I'm not hyperbolizing--publicity stunts to make a name of herself. "Oh, a rebel who is here to liberate us from the mundane!" Well, here's news for you, Hansen: We don't need a hero. We need a principal who will cater to the students' and (sometimes) the teachers' best interests. We need a principal who will not change things for the sake of change. We need a principal who can run Lowell without causing controversy every two months. We need a better principal.

(Until further notice, treat this as a rumor. But whatever the facts are, my opinions of Hansen will never change. And that's the truthiness of it all.)

Your insight please...
Factiness: By the way, Hansen responded to this ad:

Okay, now comment!

Sentimentality is Dead: An Analysis to Why "American Civilization" is a Paradox

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 06:16:39 GMT

    "You're a girly-man" are words immortalized by California's governor and former celebrity, Arnold Schwarzenneggar. In the face of growing criticism, Schwarzenneggar uttered what would normally be considered a childish response. However, it is the epitome of how intelligent and adept our government truly is. "Put food on our family" and other Bushisms are also symbols and omens indicating the death of one of civilization's treasures--coherent language. We, the people of the last superpower in the world, are represented by hicks who have but a drop of American intellect. We, the people of the last superpower in the world, are condemned by Middle Easterners who actually believe Bush embodies the American people. We, the people of the last superpower in the world, are witnessing a slide into the past, back into the world when people thought blacks were fascinating creatures, when the Chinese were persecuted, when the whites were higher than everyone else no matter what their social standings were, when civilization's un-achievements ruled the land.
    [to be continued]

#8: Tonight's W0rd: Terrorist Wanna-bes

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 04:54:04 GMT

    Amy Hansen is a terrorist. I'm (not) kidding, but it is tonight's word.
    Terrorist wanna-bes. What are they really? Personally, I don't see enough of them. The news says they're hiding in caves and countries in the middle of the east.
    Terrorists are monochric (see Hitler), beard-wielding (see Osama), monkey-like (see Bush) people. Nowadays, there's only three, and it's a lot like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (Crotching Hitler, Hidden Laden, Hiding-Behind-a-Dick Bush). And due to the lack of terrorists (No terrorist attack in nearly five years? What?!), terrorist-wannabes have filled the shoes that entail so much destruction.
    Two days ago, the school issued a lockdown (The best part was when we got to close the windows... during class!). Mr. Van Court let slip that it was a drill when it wasn't. Thanks, Mr. Van Court, but we're not GDP (God Damn Pure). I think we are all old enough to understand danger and guns (Except Linda). Hansen issued a purple (Because we're all gay and happy that a lockdown happened) notice, stating that Lowell received a call from an anonymous caller that there were two gangstuhs wielding guns near the school.
    Here's a note for you, anonymous caller and terrorist-wannabe: TRY AGAIN! Not only are you an insult to the pros, you're an insult to Bush. (You didn't do the "heh-heh-heh" chuckle.) OKAY!? First of all, plan your threats carefully! Who calls the school first? You pretend that you have notified the police first, then contact the school. And next time, don't hide your phone number; that makes it even less credible. Be traceable, so the next time the world needs a terrorist, we know who to call. (Ghostbusters?) And when you call, breathe hard and deep into the phone. It would make you sound like a pervert, which clearly separates you from the normal people, so people wouldn't actually mistaken you for a nice person. (Mark Foley did that electronically.) Don't mess up again, so you wouldn't have to look like a terrorist-wannabe. And that's the word.

The Obligatory Ethnic Friend Update
    I've been on an arduous journey across the hall to search for another ethnic friend. I came across one unfortunate fellow gal, who just happened to be wandering as aimlessly as I was. He too is a victim of LaAPDoA (Linda and Aaron Public Displays of Affection). But before I introduce him, let me point out some facts:
    Henry enjoys masticating and that other thing that starts with an "m" and ends with a "asturbating." In fact, he enjoys masticating so much that he has been reportedly misusing the word "masturbating" while referring to the act of that other word. An anonymous source (Carmen) tipped us (me) off when she said that on Winterball day, Henry wanted to "masturbate so much at dinner that he wouldn't be able to walk afterwards."
    Many refer to him as "the hobo." I found this name to be quite silly, for I know that he has a home. Unfortunately, I learned it the hard way when a nostril-killing scent invaded my bubble when I sat behind him on the first day of Psychology class. I was later informed (by ethnic friend number three, Joanne) that Henry does not take showers.
    He is amused by shiny objects. Three double-blind and significant experiments have shown that 99.9% of all shiny objects--and this was an algorithm--amuse him. The .1% includes Paris Hilton and Aaron Wen's long, fat pencil.

Christ Crossed!
    I didn't pick up a bible today because the church was three blocks away. Instead, I began on Nietzsche. I got bored after the collaborator's foreword, so I looked for something to settle my insatiable thirst for anything that bashes Christianity. I stumbled onto an anime that did the job.
    It's called Yami no Matsuei, and it's perfect. Why? Because it goes against every mainstream Christian doctrine on the news today. Firstly, it's yaoi. Secondly, the punitive antagonist is an angelic mess that operates under the guise of a miracle worker. The protagonist, though slowly seduced into demonic influences, has purple eyes. Thirdly, the antagonist appears in a scene in which a shadow of a cross overlaps him in such a way that the intersection of the cross falls directly on his torso.
    Unfortunately, it was overly angsty, but it's the perfect chest clencher for the hopelessly blind who feel that sacrifice is a show of love.

(@ Hathwell kids: Holy fuck, the sexy characters are in suits. Mr. Hathwell was right!)

To Jeffrey, last I checked, gelding... still not a verb. Sorry.

The Obligatory Clarification of Linda Wei Wen (DAMN IT!) Lei and Aaron Len Wen
    Aaron and Linda are not--I repeat, NOT--going out. It is a joke. I thought people wouldn't take me seriously, but people would apparently go for any and all gossip at Lowell. (It's a hard-knock life for us. It's a boring life for us!) They are merely friends who enjoy each other's company to the point that they want to spend the rest of their lives together. <--joke.
    If they don't want to make it official that they had sex have a relationship, they shouldn't have to. Besides, Linda is too young to do it legally. <--joke, but it's true too.
    Coming from the lover's horse's mouth,
             I totally just ignored your last entry about Lindsay Lohan. I didn't know you like her. That's surprising.

Correction!! Everyone, please do not listen to TP!! Aaron did NOT touch my butt and I did not not want to leave his side. And we did NOT do any weird things!!

TP!! You're dead meat!!

Posted 1/6/2007 9:02 PM by Linda Wen-Lei - delete - block user
Well then, don't not not not read my entries about Lindsay Lohan again!

Moment of Zen

In A.D. 2101
War was beginning.
Captain: What happen?
Mechanic: Somebody set up us the bomb.
Operator: We get signal.
Captain: What!!
Operator: Main screen turn on.
Captain: It's you!!
Cats: How are you gentlemen!!
Cats: All your base are belong to us.
Cats: You are on the way to destruction.
Captain: What you say!!
Cats: You have no chance to survive make your time.
Cats: Ha ha ha ha...
Operator: Captain!!
Captain: Take off every 'Zig'!!
Captain: You know what you doing.
Captain: Move 'Zig'.
Captain: For great justice.
--Transcribed from Japanese video game, Zero Wing.

This is obviously an omen, a prophecy, if you will. In 2101, we lose whatever's left of our literacy.

[EDIT--for Carmen]

Because you can't spell "Daniel" without "Laden."