Well, I have nothing to say.

That's basically it. I have nothing to say, so...I'm just going to provide a bunch of links that I think people should go to.

Ecogeek - Run by Hank Green

Sparksflyup - The Website of acclaimed author John Green

Bookshelves of Doom - Another Loverly Blog

Brotherhood 2.0 - The Website of the Brothers Green

Palin's Travels - You can never, EVER, get too much Michael Palin

Maureen Johnson's Blog - The Blog of ANOTHER acclaimed young adult author

The Whatever - John Scalzi's Blog. Amusing man.

A Jaunty Stroll Down Memory Lane

So, essentially I have been taking a jaunty stroll down memory lane with the inimitable companionship of youthful enthusiasm. I've come to two significant conclusions about myself. One, I will never, ever, escape writing. Whilst hopping about in the old documents on this computer I fond what is, quite possibly, the oldest Rebekah Ruth piece on record: Space Man Spiffy. At the time, I didn't realize it, but it was probably innocent and unrealized plagiarism of Calvin and Hobbes. Space man Spiff, Space man Spiffy. Regardless, my story was unique, in that I created worlds and creatures and ... words. Essentially, the story is the exceptionally condensed chronicle of Space Man Spiffy (Spiffy Spifner to you) and his boyhood chum, Levooso. Who had purple hair and purple eyes. They both hate earth, because they both came from rotten families, and so they build a spaceship, with the help of their Rain forest chum Mr. Kano Die Van, and set off to save the universe. On the way, they battle strange monsters(a water monster named Dr. Octoslime) and meet boyhood enemies (namely, Big Billy Bob, Small Samson Tom, and Great Griffen Grill). In the end, it's a great big feel-good theme as Levooso's tragic and untimely death results in Spiffy going and finding himself a lady, who he then takes to their lovely home in space.

I also adapted this into a play. I was going to stage it with my friends from third grade at my birthday party, but, sadly, my dream never came true. Damn you, short third-grade attention span, damn you!

Additionally, I had this whole other world centered around the evil Dr. Hysenstein and his obligatory sidekick Midgen. He turned evil at the ripe age of seven because his parents had created all sorts of gender confusion in his youth by naming him Suzy.

Basically, I started this little expedition into my literary past to find a 64-page poem/story/novella thing that I wrote in seventh grade. It was about a girl and her best friend, who, in the end, commits suicide. Basically, her story is just about how much her life sucks (alcoholic dad, whorish sister, mentally unstable best friend/love interest) and the subsequent misery that comes as her sister becomes pregnant and her best friend continues ogling some other girl. In the end, as stated above, her best friend decides that his life is miserable and takes a gun to his head the same night her sister gives birth. I was very, very proud of it at the time. And now I just wish I could find it again...

This is quite exciting.

Brotherhood 2.0 Mentioned in the Wall Street Journal!

So, basically, the only bad consequence of all these publicity for the Brothers Green is that they've suspended My Pants, which does not bode well for the My-Pants-Addicted... which, quite sadly, includes my merry self.

Nerdfighters!

In other news, this is a Friday, and I should probably be working on homework or studying or both, or otherwise working on something constructive but for the last hour I've just been watching TV and ... eating. Eating is rather fun, though, so no one can blame me for that. So. That's all I have to say about that.

Additionally, I'd like to comment on the Chris Crocker incident that has taken the internet of America by storm. I'm a bit late in jumping on to this particular bandwagon, but mostly I'd like to note that both the video and the subsequent comments bobbing beneath are a sad reflection on humanity.

Hmmm.

I've decided that, God willing, if ever I manage to fall into the deceptive jaws of marriage-pursuing love that my object of mutual affection will be a mix somewhere between John Green, Michael Palin, and Tim Gunn.

I just kind of want to give them all a hug.

Teenage Tangent Time

Okay, well Teenage Tangent time.

Basically, I need to rant about infatuations and being a teenager who has them, as most teenagers do, and there are multiple spawn-off problems of this one central problem, so .. yeah. Basically, 14 is one of the worst ages I can think of, besides 100, or two. Or 39. It's that time when you're poised awkwardly on the threshold of adolescence, but you still have a foot firmly, and reluctantly, anchored in those last horrible throes of childhood. Everyone, EVERYONE is horrible at age 14. I'm horrible, my classmates are horrible, my friends are horrible. We're all just horrible. Compounding the pain of being 14 is that all 14-year-olds, unless they've unlocked a secret way of erasing emotion that I would love to hear, develop infatuations. And infatuations, invariably, suck desperately. Don't deny it. You know they do -- ESPECIALLY for nerds (well, generally ) because, as a general rule, none of us know anything about being a kid. Oh, sure, we know all about advanced mathematics, and English literature, and mythology and world history, and psychology and linguistics and the various cultures and politics of the world but we know NOTHING about being teenagers. At least not the nerds I know. We're all exceptionally awkward socially, even more so than our non-nerd brethren and sistren in puberty, and we know nothing of this huge, pulsating mass of evil that's called "dating." Though we'd like to. Oh, we'd love to. Generally. Mostly, we foster forbidden and impossible infatuations and pretend we can't commute what these strange PDA-mongerers are saying about "emotions" and "love" and "desire" and "all of that." Oh, we can. And sometimes I think that the severe, intense pain of unrequited love is increased tenfold in people who don't have a prayer. Oh, damn Cupid and his malicious arrows of desire.

So, essentially, I have an infatuation (if you hadn't picked that up, I'd think you were a person of dubious intelligence) and it's a sophomore who is in two of my A-day classes. And it's rather...unpleasant. It's unfun. It really is.

Demons in the Bathroom

I now regularly face ridicule, in stark constrast with middle school in which I regularly faced ridicule.

Oh, the joys of childhood. Again, I wouldn't recommed it.

Accursed Adolescence-induced Misery

Well, I fear my central control unit has undergone a rather severe mutiny recently, with sensibility being trampled into the dust of abandonment by those raucous demons of moodiness, leaving me rather acultely embarrassed by my so recent emotional intemperance. Basically, I was a blubbery tub of irrationality all through first and second hours, provoked into a steady stream of tears by my impending academic failure.

But oh well, at least I've got some semblance of intellect still rattling about in my skull, which is more than what many can claim for themselves (stares pointedly at classmates in various classes). Oh, the pain of puff-headedness. Vapidity reigns supreme over the realm of Lexingtonian teenagers, I can assure you that.

Right, also, I had being a hormonal teenager. Oh, accursed adolescence-induced misery. Damn it to the deepest pits of Hell.

A Take on Adolescence - In Poetic Format

O! The Trivialities of youth!
Magnificant in their unhindored splendor
Drama dramatised
Until all sensibility has fled
---
When gossip-mongerers
Meet gas-guzzlers
WorldSuck will never decrease
Again
---
Though nerds may be gawky and awkward
A lot goes on in their heads
So in twenty years,
You non-nerds, I fear
Will be the ones taunted instead

Clocklink.com

Groping Extravaganza!

Well, once again the park proves to be the inimitable hothouse for adolescent love that we all know it to be. Just not for yours truly, or pretty much anyone else.

But the afternoon did turn out to be an extravaganze of groping fun for one young man I happen to know. A slightly awkward young man, stricken with the pangs of unspecified/unrequited love, but all the same, his current infatuation (another socially awkward but wholesome type) turned out to be full of physical tendencies. Ergo, groping fun! (though innocent groping, or, rather, as innocent as any kind of groping could possibly be...)

Though I didn't get included in the mess of physical affection...not that I'm especially eager to be groped by anyone or anything, for that matter... Anyway, today I realized the severity of my general dislike for various individuals and I also learned that standing around in the sun for hours on end can make you rather unpleasantly sweaty. Really. I wouldn't recommend it.

Good God above...

http://www.earthtimes.org/articles/show/news_press_release,146867.shtml <-- This is by no means compliant with the typical definition of recent in these cyber-crazy times (thank you, my dearest internet, for bringing everything to me right as it happens) but I thought it was an interesting story, for various reasons.

My First Thought of Profound Insight:

Two Quotes I'd like to Share:

1. He continues, "I inherited the rare Islamic book from my late wife, Evangeline Johnson Merrill."

2. "Gay Artist Burns Rare $60,000.00 Koran"

Anyone else see the snag here? If he's gay why did he have a wife? Oh, the pondering possibilities of potentially insane folk.

Moving swiftly on:

My Second Thought of Profound Insight:

I think people largely miss the point here. Religious practise and belief is not entirely chiseled in the stone of a static eternity. It shifts, and bends, and evolves to fit the people who practise it and the times in which it is practised. How many stonings have you seen recently (in the Westernized half of our globe)? Yes, there are homophobic Christians and Muslims, but there are also openly gay priests ordained in the Episcopalian church. I can really only speak for the Bible here, but it is not a terrorist manual - it's a book that religion-ram-roders and homophobes alike adopt to suit their own purposes, because they know that the Bible has quite a following and a lot of those people may be religiously unsure and thus impressionable to the (largely incorrect) conviction of the malicious-minded Bible-thumpers.

My Third Thought of Profound Insight:

Of course Mr. Merrill is perfectly welcome to vandalise any kind of text he pleases, but that doesn't mean that he should. As I'm sure he's perfectly aware, these books hold almost unrivaled gravitas, and thus burning or dismembering them would cause more uproar or anger than burning, say, The Very Hungry Caterpillar(though I do love that book, and sincerely hope no one ever brings a match to its child-cheering pages). Though this seems almost gratuitously intolerant to those people who follow them.



In unrelated news, once again my sub-conscious has provided me with a psycho-analytical feast of idiosyncracy.

Oh, the triviliaites of youth

Right, so I have two things of note.

First, in case you didn't notice, if the general 'you' is actually there reading this, otherwise it'll sound like I'm writing to the computer, this is a blog. It's a quite spiffing invention by someone from somewhere where people can write about their thoughts and people can read them. It's right nifty.

Second: wait, no. I just forgot it. Right. Well, marching right along.

Third, I say 'Right' a lot. I figure it's the idiosyncratic interpretation of the ever-popular 'like.'

Again, swiftly galumphing forward.

Teenagers, as a huge shock to everyone involved, can actually be quite cruel. I'll have to sic my garden gnome minions on them soon. And, as another huge surprise to all, most of them are not nerds. This, of course, came as an inordinant shock to me, who so recently was parading about with a horde of eccentric children who proudly waved the "Nerd" banner and trumpeted "White & Nerdy" as their theme song.

God, I miss the nerds. I miss them desperately.