Down the Rabbit Hole...

One of the central requirements of IB is the Extended Essay. Basically, you have to write a 4,000 word essay on a topic of your choice, and you have something under a year to do it in. This has been a major issue for all of us, as we've been floundering for ideas. Thankfully, our simply fabulous school librarian arranged for us IB Diploma victims to head to a nearby university's library. It was awesome because A) I didn't have to go to classes or go to Latin that morning. And B) because the university library has an incredible 3 million volumes on any and every subject you can possibly think of. It was fantastic. They let us loose in the library and like hounds on a hunt we chased after our prey: knowledge. There were so many different areas of interest I chose one at random, and immersed myself in books about the Holocaust and WWII. I wasn't planning on doing my EE in that area (I would love to, but I had other things in mind), but those thick, dark volumes with titles like Double Jeapordy: Gender in the Holocaust were just too tempting to ignore.

Libraries are the best and this one was HUGE. I am of the opinion that this library ought to supply shopping carts, because there were so many books I liked and only so many I could carry. Eventually I began focusing on my potential essay idea: The politics and terrorism in The Dark Knight trilogy. I'm seriously going to write my high school thesis on Batman? Yes, I am at this moment, or unless the muses of IB strike me over the head with a better idea. But think about it. Villains like Ra's al Ghul and Talia al Ghul want to destroy Gotham because they believe it is a broken center of corruption and vice, and think it is the mission of the League of Shadows to do the task. Remind you of anyone? And all that revolutionary, power of the people stuff in The Dark Knight Rises? Do the French and Russian Revolutions ring any bells? What about the fact that Bruce Wayne is filthy rich, and all the good characters are capitalist fat cats? See, it is a good idea. It tackles global issues that are forefront in politics right now, and it gives me a legitimate excuse to watch The Dark Knight movies over and over again.

I spent a great deal of time wandering through the political sections and a friend found me a great book about the philosophy of Batman while she was in the comic sections. Lunch was awesome. We got pizza from cafeteria and ate outside, soaking up some sun after hours bent over dusty tomes. The afternoon was spent on laptops searching the databases. I was successful there too. I think we all got lots of valuable information, and had a fantastic time.

But this is the beginning of a very long and arduous process. We will spend the next several months delving into our topics and becoming experts on minute details. Who knows? I may be sick of Batman by the time it's all said and done. But at least we got one final sunny day out of it.

Friday!!!!

It's Friday!!!! As usual, I will be continuing my Friday tradition of celebrating what makes life worth living. Today, it's this wonderful enterprise called Fat Cat Art.

A Russian artist decided to put her cat in  classic masterpieces. I can think of no better way to honor cats than to do this. The cat actually improves the paintings, because as I have previously stated, cats make everything better. For more pure, undiluted awesomeness, go to Great Artists' Mews

Need I say more?

Cell Studies

I'm studying for a Bio test tomorrow, and I felt a need to share this wonderful gem. Enjoy!

IB Stressed

It was apparent that some event was about to happen at the school. Authoritative adults looked rather frazzled as some set up tables with cheap, plastic table clothes, and simple, fake and rather forlorn looking flowers on them. The only thing worthy of attention was the basket of candy sitting on the table in a most tempting manner, practically gleaming with promise. I walked by the tables one time on my way to a gathering for National Honors Society. I made note of the sugary forbidden fruits, unable to strategize how to lay hands on them without being late to the mandatory meeting. I once again passed by the tables on the way out of the meeting, and made no move for them. I doubted I could get away with it, considering the adults crowding around the tables. It was on the third pass that I steeled myself to do what must be done. I figured that if I looked like I knew exactly what I was doing, no one would look at me twice. Casually, I moseyed on up to the table, cutting several adults in line. I made my stealthy way over to the end of the table that held the sugary delights. My pulse quickened as I came closer to my prize. Constantly on the alert for a stern remark, I was poised to defend myself with a polite, contrite, and above all braces-perfected smile. Calmly, as if this was part of my normal routine, I carefully selected a Kit Kat from the pile, and pranced off under the noses of teachers and PTA looking people alike. It is astonishing how easily many adults disregard teenagers, even when they're stealing chocolate before their very eyes. Once out the door I gave a little whoop and skipped over to a friend who had doubted my ninja skills. It was a sunny afternoon, my homework wasn't too arduous, and I was about to enjoy pure deliciousness. 

Things like this happen every so often. It's little victories like this that make hard days possible. This was my little victory today. I hope you have plenty of them, as well. 

Jesus Haploid Christ!

We had an experiment in Bio today. Big surprise. It involved measuring the rate of diffusion of a salt water solution with these nifty little gadgets that could graph the rate of diffusion over time. I swear, the only difference between those devices and iPhones is the fact that they lack a place to plug in earbuds.

So we have to set up our salt water solution in a piece of dialysis tubing. The drawback is that the dialysis tubing is devilishly stubborn and refuses to cooperate. Only by some miracle was I able to open it for Sample A. While tackling the dialysis for Sample B, which gave me particular trouble and grief, I exclaimed aloud in frustration, "JESUS H. CHRIST!" Of course most of my friends had heard this expression before, except for one. This lead to the question of why the "H" was necessary at all. I guessed it was "Holy," while another hypothesized it was "Hosanna." Thankfully, I had my iPhone at my side (what kind of blogger would I be without it?), and we asked the wisdom of the Mighty Google concerning this issue while waiting for our salt solution to diffuse.

Turns out, the "H" has several possible origins. It's part of the lettering in Jesus's name in Greek, or it comes from a mispronunciation of "hallowed be thy name," as in "Harold be thy name" (Hardy har har). We settled on a different answer. The "H" stands for "Haploid" as in the sex cells, like eggs. Seeing as Jesus was conceived immaculately, his cells only contain half of the normal amount of DNA, as it only came from his mother, Mary. This seemed very fitting considering we were in IB Biology at the time. Normally, Science and Jesus don't really mix (despite our call for His divine intervention in our solution), but you've got to admit, a slip of the tongue can lead to some pretty interesting knowledge.

Teenagers Are the Ultimate Strikers

This week students went back to school after a teachers' strike in the windy city of Chicago. I know the conflict was incredibly important and it was paramount to get kids back into school. I know that it's excellent news that an agreement was reached and students are back in class. But I feel really bad for those kids plodding their way to school. Yes, the strike was a pivotal moment in politics and may even have an impact on the elections later this year. But come on. Think about it from our point of view. You may write my statement off as that of an ignorant, whining teenager. That's because you hear all the news from adults. You're only getting the adult perspective, and therefore only biased information. So listen with an open mind.

The lives of hardworking students like me are consumed by the monstrous cycle of school. Monday through Friday is nothing but rigorous homework and school work. Weekends were once a sacred thing held dear as a time free of homework. That illusion was soon destroyed by a little thing called high school. So that's why we students drag our heels when it comes to coming to school. Think about it, these kids in Chicago got like a week out of school. I hate to imagine what I would do get that kind of free time, or what any student would do to get that kind of free time. Free time is a precious commodity that is gone as quickly as we receive it. I never have enough free time to do all I would like, so I multi-task my chillaxing time. At this exact moment, I am watching My Fair Wedding (Don't judge, it's my guilty pleasure) and furiously writing this blog post. Many students are equally competent masters of this fine art, because we have so little free time. So just imagine what those of us with a black belt in relaxing would do with an entire week. I can barely even begin to comprehend what all I could do (it would include hard-core Netflix binging among other things). So think of how jealous I was getting up at 5:30 every morning while hundreds of students didn't have to go to that pit of despair known as school. Granted, many students didn't have anywhere to go during the day, but at least they weren't going to school. Being anywhere but school is amazing. Even though we were all terrified of taking our AP exams, we were still psyched to get to go and take a test outside of school.

So don't hate me for laughing while listening to NPR while I get ready for school in the morning. All these people are tearing it to shreds and analyzing its causes and possible effects, and all I can think of is how great it must be for the students. Sure, the strike shows how the system is breaking. Sure, this is a head on clash between a strained government and organized labor groups with legitimate concerns. But we students are helpless victims caught up in it. So why not get what fun you can get out of it? Think about it. As for me, I don't have to, because I have a 3 day weekend coming up, and I'm not going to waste a single moment of it...

The Nature of Courage

This has nothing to do with school. This has to do with being human. Today I saw an incredible act of bravery. There's a senior in my chorus class. I've only ever spoken to him maybe once. Recently he has missed school because his brother was in a horrible car wreck. I didn't know much about it, only that the brother was in the ICU and it was serious. But today, the senior came into our chorus class. The teacher stopped our rehearsal to let him speak. The senior began to speak hesitantly, his voice tortured by emotion. He told us that his brother had moved his finger and woken up briefly from his coma. As he spoke, he became choked up, and even cried. The senior stays at the hospital from early in the morning to past midnight, watching over his brother and keeping him company. He said he had come in to put to rest some of the rumors circulating and to let everyone know that he was supposed to make a full recovery. His friends got up and embraced him in solidarity. The rest of us sat in silence, not knowing how to respond appropriately.

I was touched by this. The fact that he was unashamed of showing such deep emotion and just his situation moved me to tears. Fate has dealt him this awful hand, and he has risen to face it with something akin to bravery. Bravery is the only word for it. Even though the weight on his shoulders is immense, he has refused to be crushed. He was so courageous, facing people and talking about his brother. And he is only a high school kid. We are too young to know such sorrow. It was clear that it was no longer a football player standing before us, he was a young man. He was both. We all are. It is only when it is needed that we must put forth our shields of courage. That is the only thing that can make life bearable sometimes. Tragedy is thrust upon us and all we can do is weather its harsh blows. As is often the case, the only thing left to be said can be presented in the form of quotes from that tome of wisdom Harry Potter:

"We must try not to sink beneath our anguish... but battle on."

- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

"It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew- and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world."

- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

The Force is Strong in this IB Student

Again with the IB Inception. But TOK isn't one long existentialist lecture. Turns out we get to do other things besides Orwellian discussions of whether or not adding 2 and 2 equals 4. Obviously we can never really trust our senses to understand the world, because that would be too simple (Duh). So we formed into groups to do research concerning assigned senses (my group got touch). We came back  from the weekend with ideas on what experiment to propose and perform based on the wealth of information the internet had to offer. Our group discussion devolved into performing all the experiments we found on ourselves. With great results, in my personal opinion.

Ok. So your hand is hidden from view and you look at someone else's hand. Some other people stroke both of the hands. It feels like the hand that's not yours is the one being stroked. But when this test subject didn't feel it, we said as one, "The force is strong in this one."

You get someone to close their eyes, then mark their skin with a pen. Next, ask them to mark the same spot, while keeping their eyes closed. It's impossible.

This was a rudimentary simulation of the traditional carnival thing where you touch stuff and try to figure out what it is. It would've been better if we'd had slimy items at hand, but today was the one day I didn't have my usual pond water and putty solution. Oh shucks.

Try some of these experiments out. It's ridiculously awesome if they work. Take heart if they don't, because you're most likely a potential Jedi master. I think that's the ultimate goal of TOK. Really, Yoda sums up the whole point of TOK perfectly-

Mondays...

Since my high school took the idea that Latin is a dead language literally and killed the program, I have been taking IB Latin at 7:00 a.m. over glorified Skype from a teacher at another school. Of course technology will always have some shortcomings. The long-distance learning thing has stopped working 4 times. This means we go to school ridiculously early, only to find that we won't be able to have a real class. Seriously, why can't we keep our technology working? The Romans were the most technically advanced civilization for thousands of years. They built roads that still work today, they had aqueducts that provided water for entire cities, they built loads impressive ampitheaters like the Coliseum, they invented the freaking arch and concrete for goodness' sake! Surely as Latinists we should be able to equal their standards at least in the technology department. It's a little on the pathetic side that we can't keep a handle on our technology quite as well as the Romans could.

Our glorified Skype the Romans would be ashamed of

The lab is alive with the sound of music... Or it would be if my biology experiment had worked. We went out to the creek near our school and collected water samples to do experiments that involved messing around with bacteria. Of course my logical train of thought started with, "If singing is supposed to make plants grow, what about bacteria?" It makes perfect sense, so I walked into the lab today armed with my CD of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" to subject my bacteria to and observe population growth. First off, there were very few microscopes to go around (Public education is a real bummer), and I had to wait over an hour to get a base count of how much bacteria I had. It was all for nothing. I had NO bacteria whatsoever in my samples. At first I thought I had something, but it turned out to be some gunk on the microscope lens. At least it simplifies writing my lab report.

Science!

I had another complete and total fail during lunch. Today I had a thermos of hamburger meat and cheese mixed together. Like a total clutz, I accidentally spilled some on the table. Now, I have a friend religiously averse to anything that involves vomit. Even the word disturbs her. So she asked me to clean it up, because it resembled puke to her. I cleaned it up with a paper towel. Meaning only to tease her, I tossed the balled up paper towel at her, aiming over her head so it wouldn't hit her. The short story is I have terrible aim. It landed in the top of her shirt. Whoops.

My I-don't-know-how-many-greats grandfather

Then came history. This is only a minor fail, but I just find it incredibly ironic. The teacher asked who lead the Virginian opposition to the Stamp Act. Naturally, I thought the answer would be Thomas Jefferson, because he's a pretty good example of a revolutionary Virginian statesman. The answer was Patrick Henry. This is only ironic because I'm descended from Patrick Henry. You know, the guy who said, "Give me liberty, or give me death!" Somehow, deep down, I feel I didn't fulfill some familial obligation, like when you neglect to thank a distant relative for some nice but completely unnecessary birthday present you'll never ever use. But history was improved by the fact that we discussed British taxes on tea. Because, by some happy accident, I had decided to wear my teapot ring today. Always look on the bright side of life!

My revolutionary ring

Today was also Federalism today in the AP Government classes. I'm not in AP Gov, I got a 5 on the exam, thank you very much. But sophomores in AP Gov are assigned to bring in cakes for a grade when discussing federalism, because the classic models of federalism are cake-themed. This is one very good reason for being friends with sophomores (besides the fact that they're super chill in general). After school, they were walking down the halls with their cake projects. As a good friend and supportive upperclassman, I eased them of their burdens by begging off a couple of bites of their delicious projects. I am always willing to help my underclassmen friends like that. 

You know, just your usual Monday stuff.

IB Stressed

Sometimes I just want to sit and wait for life to happen to me. Especially in my 7:00 a.m. class. The Latin test this week was so horrible, I put my head down on my desk and literally just thought, "What am I doing? I obviously can't do this. I only want to be a writer or dolphin trainer or princess unicorn or something! I don't need an IB Diploma. Just forget about this and you'll never have to do math again!"

Once I realized that I had reduced my future career to princess unicorn I snapped out of it (Who wouldn't want to be? But it's so impossible to get employment as that in this economy). I got a hold of myself and forced myself to finish that test. Probably didn't ace it, but I finished it. I can do this. So if you are an IB student or any student finding yourself thinking the same thing (Maybe not the princess unicorn part, but maybe something along the lines of a rock star griffin), you can do this. I know that it may not feel like it, but you can.

So reward yourself for getting through thus far. It's easy to become IB Stressed. So sit back, relax and enjoy stuff that isn't IB related. I know I do. I went to see a movie with some friends on Friday. It was downtown, and outdoors. We picnicked by the fountain, eating pizza and doughnuts after we'd set up lawn chairs in the town square in front of the movie screen. Seriously, it was phenomenal. High school isn't all about school. It's about enjoying the people you're sharing this amazing experience with, and finding out who you really are.

It's so easy to let those two little letters control your life. You should work as hard as possible to get that IB Diploma, but don't let them control EVERY aspect of your life. Go out and do something fun once in a while, as long as it's legal.

Friday!!!!

Sorry about that mix-up that may have confused you. The robot minions of Google thought I was a spam blogger or some other serious threat to the stability of the universe. It's fixed now. Again, many apologies for any inconvenience or disappointment you may have experienced (because everyone's life revolves around my blog).

Back to business. Today is Friday! Because Friday is one of the things that makes life worthwhile, I will continue with my regular Friday celebration of other things that make life worthwhile as well. Today, it's salad dressing. Salad dressing is the only thing that makes eating a salad enjoyable. Honestly, a naked salad is just bland leaves stuck in a bowl. The salad dressing adds another taste that isn't salad, making it a delicious and healthy choice. Give me a cup of ranch dressing and I'm a veritable rabbit. Forget ambrosia (although that is a type of salad), salad dressing is the foodstuff of the gods.

Kicking Some Serious Colonial Butt

First U.S. History test today. History is one of my favorite and best subjects, and I actually enjoy taking the tests and writing the essays. It was a good test, and I wrote a simply fabulous essay on how religion shaped the New England and Chesapeake colonies until 1740.

But, as with every test, I always get one song stuck in my head. It plays OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER in my head. That's not a bad thing in this case, considering what song was going through my head.

Despite being amazingly historically inaccurate, Pocahontas is not entirely useless for IB History. I plan on getting out my VHS copy (Yes, I still have it. You have a problem with that?), popping it into the tv, and treating myself to the magic of Disney at some point when I'm not drowning under piles of homework.

A Moment of Silence

I always forget about it. Not that I forget about it per se. It's more of the sensation of when you catch sight of something out of the corner of your eye. You know subconsciously that it's there, but you don't comprehend it until it is almost upon you.

I am of course referring to the anniversary of 9/11. It always sneaks up on me, even when I know it's there. Growing up in a post 9/11 world has burned that day into my very being. It wasn't until September 10 that it fully hit me what the next day would hold.

Schools always mark 9/11. From the time that frightened teachers turned on classroom tv's to confirm the terrible news all those years ago. Not that I remember it. My school chose to continue with normalcy to shield us from the raging chaos engulfing the world. I can't remember the day that would change everything in mine and others' lives. I have known nothing of a world without 9/11. Whenever a shot of New York City that includes the Twin Towers is shown in an old movie, I have a completely alien feeling, like I've briefly made contact with an alternate reality. It's normal for my parents, bringing to light the stark contrast between our world experiences.

Today, we had the traditional moment of silence dedicated to those who had lost their lives in 9/11 and the loved ones they had left behind. I was walking down the hallway just before they began it. Doors were open, and the usual chatter of teenagers filled the hall. Once the moment of silence began, silence instantly fell. It was the heaviest silence I have ever known. So entrapping, I felt as if it was wrapping every one of us in its crushing weight. This is the one day of the year we students actually observe the daily moment of silence. It's because 9/11 is such an intrinsic part of our lives. That silence was heavier than the falling towers or the rubble of the Pentagon. It was the precise weight of a world. A lost world. We were acknowledging not only the fallen, but we were lamenting the loss of the world we were promised.

The sun rose on a utterly new world on the morning of September 12, 2001. My generation grew up in this world. It was a world born in hate and baptized in blood. But just because this was the world we were given does not mean we have to live by its rules. We have risen from the ashes like a phoenix, a bird of fire and legend. Some stories claim the phoenix to have healing powers. America has healed, but only scar tissue has replaced the original, pure skin. We are whole again, though forever changed.

This post is dedicated not only to the victims of 9/11, but also to those who have grown up in the post 9/11 world. We are a great and fierce phoenix, that shall never be defeated.

Poetry Slam

This weekend's homework included my first ever Ovid translation. We had to translate lines 55-66 of his Metamorphoses, which is the beginning of the tale of the star-crossed lovers Pyramus and Thisbe. If you don't know the story, this is a quick summary of it as performed by the Beatles.

Anyway, after hearing all about the grandeur and timeless wisdom of Roman poetry, I went into this expecting greater meanings of life and such like. Translating it showed me differently. It turns out Ovid is nothing short of hipster. Yes, I said it. Somebody had to. Really, Latin is hard enough without taking it to an artistic and obscure extreme. One word will be at the end of one line, and the word describing it will be really far away from it. Apparently it builds suspense. Oh yeah, and he employs chiasma to "represent the barrier between the two lovers."

I can imagine Ovid chilling around the Forum. No, not the Forum, because that's too mainstream. There was probably some obscure little Roman equivalent of a coffee shop that is only in ruins now. No, it'd be completely gone, because only famous, mainstream things survived and are preserved through the centuries. Ovid probably chilled in there, sipping ancient Fair Trade wine and eating vegan cat brains or something. That's probably why a lot of stories don't involve Romans. Writing about Greeks and Babylonians would be so much more deck. I wonder how he managed to pull off skinny jeans and scarves with his toga...

That's the cruel irony of it. Ovid is now considered a prime example of Classical Literature. He's mainstream. People read his work through the Middle Ages and onward, and hundreds of Latin students like me read him every year. Oh, cruel fate that torments Roman poetry. Destroying the lives of Pyramus and Thisbe just wasn't enough, you had to go and make Ovid the pinnacle of mainstream Classical culture, too. 

Cirque du So-Cell

IB Biology never fails to end up with some blog-worthy anecdote. Yesterday, several people couldn't quite grasp how vesicles are formed in the cell. The teacher started out using clay to demonstrate, when he became possessed by the spirit of Friday and decided a venture out of doors would be better. We lined up in pairs holding hands to represent the Phospholipids that make up the Cell Membrane. One person acted as the protein, and we all folded around her and split off.

It felt like we were spontaneously putting on a Cirque du Soleil show. It would be insanely amazing if Cirque du Soleil put on a science themed show. Science surrounds energy and the movement and bonding of molecules. Just imagine it. Eerie music, dazzling lights, skilled acrobats leaping and interacting the microscopic dance that defines everything. One thing for sure, it would outclass our crude interpretation.

See, interpretative dance does have a place in education, after all.

Friday!!!!

It's Friday! As usual, because Friday is one of the things that makes life worth living, I will dedicate this post to something that really improves going through this thing we call life. This week, it's the Paralympics. Seriously, this is one of the greatest things ever done. It proves that nothing can bring you down, and you can succeed despite difficulties.

Super IB Mario

There is a door in the lobby. Nothing special about it. I'm sure you've encountered a door like this. Every school has one. I've walked by this door for two entire years without ever suspecting it was hiding a secret. It wasn't until yesterday that I actually noticed what was so odd about it. The plaque on it says "Plumbing Chase." I thought that was a bit strange, then I stopped to think about it. I have no idea what a Plumbing Chase could be or why my school would need one. I chewed the words carefully. "Plumbing" of course, but why a "Chase?" Who would want to chase plumbing?

It was at that precise moment that I remembered the greatest hero of all time ever associated with plumbing and chasing: Mario. The only thing that door could be is a portal into a universe that contains a stocky plumber in love with a simpering, ice-sculpture of a princess and a monster obsessed with capturing her. It will be full of castles and Koopas, mushrooms and magic, secret realms and secret treasures.

Curious, I warily approached the door. I couldn't believe that something so innocuous could hide something so incredible. Could this be a gateway from reality to the gamescape? Or was I simply living in a video game and about to leave the exposition and embark on an adventure? This gave me pause. If it was the latter, no problem (though I would be terribly disappointed if I was a fictional clump of pixels on a tv screen). If the former, then it would be disastrous to open the divide. I'd end up going to classes with Goombas and Boos. Bowser would become the harsh, angry gym teacher every school seems required to have. True, I could ride Yoshi, but dodging shells during class change would make it even harder to navigate the halls unscathed and be on time.

No, this door was meant to be overlooked for a reason. I swallowed my curiosity and turned away from my discovery. I've kept this to myself, but every time I go by it and no one is around, I put my ear to the door and listen. I swear, I can faintly hear the cry of "Mario!" and "BWHAHAHAHAHA!" The worlds remain separate. But I still keep an eye out for a portly little fellow in red and overalls. I'll know he isn't a freshman because they can't grow mustaches of Mario's caliber. You never know. Maybe before I graduate I'll take a peek in there and open the mystery box of the Plumbing Chase.

Chillaxosome

I learn something new everyday. For instance, I learned that there is a protein complex in cells called a "Relaxosome." Not entirely sure why it is. Or why I am not terribly relaxed even though I have millions of them. But that's not the main point. If you're going to go as far as to name an integral cell structure something as ridiculous as "Relaxosome," you should go all the way. There's no return after calling it a Relaxosome, so a much better name would be "Chillaxosome." I am putting forth a motion that we should renamed the Relaxosome the Chillaxosome. I am sure biologists all over the world would agree with me.

Besides being a source of bizarre trivia, IB Bio is also a source of comic relief. Nothing is better than sitting in an interesting science class, except when you can find some form of humor in it. Case in point, my artistic and hilarious friends:

"Eukaryote are so eukarycute!"

"I mitochondria come back to your place tonight."

"You're the ribosomes to my rough endoplasmic reticulum."

Latin too had an unexpected surprise in the manner of humorous education. Today, we learned Result clauses, which basically go along the lines of "The city was so beautiful, it was widely praised." A more informal (and preferable) way of terming these clauses is "Yo' Mama" clauses. Like "Yo' mama is so stupid, she tried to alphabetize M&Ms." The Romans were master insulters and fighters, so obviously they had the foresight to make a clause just for one of the greatest insults of all time. It's perfectly conceivable, considering the Babylonians invented the Yo Mama Joke years before the Romans were around. And Romans did like to rip stuff off from other cultures. 

IB does have its little quirks. I guess it's because all knowledge it a little bit quirky.

It's the Little Things in Life...

Normally textbook chapters begin with a brief story to introduce the chapter. Usually they're unbearably dull or unbelievably cheesey. One history textbook I had never failed to impress with anecdotes that bore such titles as "The Cup of Death" and "A Dangerous Baby." When I opened my Psychology textbook to Chapter 15 on Personality, I expected nothing more than the normal drivel along the lines of "You may ask yourself 'Who am I?' Have you ever tried to describe someone by their traits?" I began the first line, and realized the entire intro was about Sam Gamgee's personality in Lord of the Rings. It even went as far as to include a quote from the books. Instantly I grinned and laughed aloud. Nothing is more joy-inducing than a textbook referencing Lord of the Rings. It's not just that I absolutely love the books/movies, it's that the writers chose in their great wisdom to reference the pinnacle of nerd culture. It really is the little things in life that make everything worthwhile.

One intro to rule them all...

This assignment is also in the first class I ever passed a note in. We were discussing the Id, Ego, and Superego. Naturally I thought the Joker was the perfect example of the Id. Then I tried to reason out who were the Ego and Superego. I couldn't pick between Batman and Ra's al Ghul. So I wrote my thoughts on some paper and slid it to my twin. I have never been so troublesome as to pass notes, but I just really needed to know someone else's take on my Freudian interpretation of The Dark Knight. In my opinion it was completely justifiable, as I still paid attention and I wanted to apply Freud's theories to a really fantastic example of human morality and behavior. In the end, I decided the Joker was the Id, Gordan was the Ego, and both Batman and Ra's al Ghul were the Superego. Still not sure about Gordon as the Ego, but he's the best option.

Textbook Id

Psych again was on my mind when I went to see Sweeney Todd. After relaxing in my chair at intermission and chatting with friends, I sat up straight with the force of my epiphany. I realized that Sweeney Todd's murderous rein of terror was Sublimation, a Defense Mechanism used to shield the Id from harm. Sweeney channels his rage of Lucy's murder and Johanna's kidnapping into killing his barbershop clientele.

Freudian Barber

Psychology makes life much more interesting. Not that psychopaths make life more interesting (they do in a bad way), but the lens of Psychology makes everything so much more interesting.

You Know You're an IB Student When...

So we were having a friend over to watch that phenomenal film The Hunger Games. I have been an ardent fan of the books for several years, and I think the movie is the best page-to-screen adaptation I've ever seen (Especially after the disappointment of Harry Potter 4-6). I have always really enjoyed analyzing the books while I read them, and the movie was an English professor's dream. Suzanne Collins is an unadulterated genius. It's got fantastic symbolism, Roman allusions, socioeconomic/political messages, and much, much more. Besides the intellectual qualities of the series, it's a book anyone can enjoy, even if they hate reading. So I have a past of picking apart The Hunger Games and relishing its little nuances and secrets.

We were a couple of minutes into the movie. It was maybe somewhere around the reaping, when I had an epiphany. Subsequently, I jumped off the couch and dashed to my backpack, feverishly extracting a composition book and a pen. I calmly went back to the couch and sat down, armed with my weapons of choice. I spent the rest of the movie furiously taking notes and writing down my ideas concerning them. Yes, the first time I get to see one of my favorite movies in several months, I choose to stick it under the microscopic lens of literary analysis. I can't help it. I see something interesting and the gears start turning in my head. Not that this is a bad thing, it's not. Nor that I hate it, I don't. In fact, I'm perfectly happy that this transpired. It's just that this is the first time I have physically run for paper and pen while casually watching a movie. Normally I just sit and think it out. Not this time. This time, I'm an IB Full Diploma Candidate. THIS IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE!

So watch out. This could happen to you. It may be happening to you and you don't even know it. The first step of IB world domination is complete. Once I earn my diploma (Please, O merciful gods of academia and scholasticism), I will become an agent and minion of IB. I will be intellectual and philosophical, and I will lure others into its embrace of tolerance and knowledge. The world as dominated by IB will be populated by millions of people who know nothing but academic discussion and the pursuit of understanding. There will be no war, a cure for cancer, an age of artistic revelation. This is only the beginning of IB's evil plot. Today, it's taking notes during The Hunger Games. Tomorrow, it's the world.

The CAS Games

Today marks the beginning of a new era. The dawning of an age that will change everything. Yes, today is the start of Creativity, Action, and Service. What is this CAS, you ask? It is IB's way of making sure its students aren't mindless zombies, or robots programmed only to write essays and do homework. It's hobby homework. I have to complete 3-4 hours of doing something creative, exercising, and community service a week. Until next February. Apparently I'll learn all about perseverance, collaboration, organization, ethics, and develop some new skills along the way. Not that I'll be able to fly or manipulate space and time after doing CAS (that would be really, really, really awesome), but I've got a few things in mind.

This week I'll be walking my dog, Sam. He is an incorrigible thing, who can't contain his joy whenever another dog comes within 20 feet, which can turn into quite an embarrassing and unpleasant catastrophe. Training him to be a better walker will not only be a great Action, it will make our little jaunts much easier and enjoyable. And I can finally stop and pet adorable dogs that pass by without having a deranged lab on the end of the leash. It's a win-win situation.

I'm working on a novel for Creativity. My writing is rather lacking in the quality department, and CAS gives me a chance to spend time on improving it. Usually I'm too busy with school work to seriously dedicate myself to writing, but CAS will force me to work on it (in a good way).

I'm sorting my chorus teacher's music for Service. He has all his festival music contained in these massive binders, and his organizational system is out of date. He also has lots of copies of sample music, that may or may not be useful to the chorus program. I'll be organizing all this music into categories and by voicing, and can cull out any just plain terrible or unsuitable pieces of music that we wouldn't even dream of working on in the next decade. Chorus has meant so much to me, and I can help it grow and streamline it. Otherwise my teacher would do it, and he should be focusing on teaching us the music and improving us as a choir.

So let Creativity, Action, and Service begin! And may the odds be ever in my favor! They better be, otherwise my IB career will be a dystopian bloodbath.