Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Posts From the Past: A Collection of Tiny Posts

Originally posted in 2006 and 2007. These tiny mini blogs on Xanga were the equivalent of Facebook statuses.

We were informed today in Brit Lit that chimney sweepers had to be very thin because chimneys were so narrow. "Sometimes they were only seven feet by nine feet." I don't know all that many people who are seven feet wide. About three minutes later, my instructor stops and says, "Wait. Maybe I got those numbers wrong."


I forgot to post this when it happened.

I think it was yesterday morning, Micah (who is seven) was playing with the kids and thought Elizabeth was cheating. He accused her of cheating, and she denied it, and it went back and forth. Finally he says, very coldly, "Well, if you want to believe in this fantasy of yours, then you'll have to find someone else to play with," and leaves.

...What seven-year-old says that?!


Just discovered in a paper I'm writing, after spell check marked one of the words as not existing:

"Because of this, he was forced to free Flance."

It didn't think Flance was a word. How silly. Clearly, it's the name of the person Jean-Jacques Rousseau was forced to free. He had kidnapped Flance and kept him locked up in his house, but after Rousseau wrote papers that the government didn't like, they told him that his punishment was to let Flance go. They'd kind of been turning a blind eye to it up to that point, since Rousseau was a highly respected individual.

It's not certain, either, but there are suspicions that Rousseau did not die a natural death, but that Flance actually tracked him down in his old age and murdered him. This would make Flance a key figure in Rousseau's life in yet another way.

Flance is also credited with having inspired Rousseau's ideas. Rousseau was just a quiet, mild-mannered, traditional kidnapper until Flance gave him all sorts of radical ideas. He decided to write some of them up, and when those papers began winning prizes, he decided, "Ah, yes, that works. I guess I should believe in this system if I am to write more," and so he did, and he did, and Flance remained uncredited until Rousseau's autobiography was discovered. People were shocked to learn that much of Rousseau's early work was actually almost taken down from dictation from Flance's ramblings in the locked closet.

......I think this paper would be much more fun to write than the real one.


I woke up this morning with "Let's Misbehave" stuck in my head. Why? Don't know. Didn't bother to really ask, because the bigger question was why my mind insisted on singing these lines:

When you get up to drink a cup of warm ambrosia
Ten days of nausea
Let's misbehave

What? What, what? WHAT?


My art professor this morning was talking about older depictions of the Virgin Mary, and how they often showed her surrounded by angels or apostles, except I thought he said "opposums."


Bethany just found a note that Joel wrote a few months ago when he was planning to run away. It read, "Bye Micah and Seth. Beat the DS game. Love, Joel."


Just so everyone knows, the computer chairs for the computers by the admissions office... are horrible. I sit down in them and the computer desk literally comes up to my neck.


Mom informed me that now that Nathan is 18, he has to register with the Secret Service. This confused me until I realized she meant Selective Service.


Overheard today:

Art teacher: If you're only a few points away from making a specific grade, I'll give you the opportunity to earn it. You won't be able to go from a D to an A, but you can go from a D to a C, or an A to a B.


I just woke up from my "didn't get any sleep last night so slept in the middle of the afternoon" nap. Apparently I'd been sleeping with my arms up behind my head so when I got up, my arms started wildly flailing and going all over the place. It was rather creepy. Heh. They weren't just going up, they were FLAILING.


This afternoon at lunch, the whole extended family is sitting around the table, and my Uncle David starts singing "We Are the Champions" because it came up for some reason. His four-year-old son came up to him and solemnly announced, "I have three Not-Sings. Number one, no singing while I'm eating. Number two, no singing while I'm sleeping. Number three, no singing while I'm watching a movie."


I just saw an ad on MySpace that said, "There may be an active, live infection under your fingernail. Click the wheel to see how it can grow." Oh, boy. Doesn't THAT sound pleasant?


*cracks up*

And THIS is why I do not read romance, Christian or otherwise. I just came across this sentence in a (boring) book I'm reading.

"The clock of love slowed yet more."

...And I died laughing.


This morning/night I was reading a book and was suddenly confronted with the sentence: "Snorting, he lunged a forkful of hay into the stable." It was a frustrated stable boy or something. Now that's a pretty ludicrous sentence, but it becomes a thousand times more ludicrous when you read the verbs backwards and think it says "Lunging, he snorted a forkful of hay into the stable."

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