So This Is Summer

I feel I should warn you that I'm going to go light on the deep, philosophical statements this time around. With it being the season of fast-paced action and shallow beach reads, it only seems fitting to write something goofy. After all, life as a Reject isn't all hard-core motivational speaking. Sometimes it's building a sasquatch nest out in the woods somewhere. More on that later.

First of all, I've been working quite a bit this week. I'm a lifeguard, which means lots of sunscreen, brutal heat, politely yelling (yes, that is indeed possible) at small children, and more sunscreen. So with all that sun, shouldn't I be working up a pretty good tan soon?

The answer is no. Actually, for several years I've been convinced that I'm immune to tanning. I like to joke that I look like Michelangelo chiseled me from stone--not because of muscle, but because I'm that pale. I'm putting forth effort to change that this year, so by the end of the summer I'll be able to call it one way or the other, but for now all I've got is a single random sunburn patch on one leg.

Nevertheless, all this time in the sun has ushered in the summer spirit, so we decided to go up the canyon for a family cookout. Right now I'll point out that it's really awesome to have a good forest close to home. Not everyone has one. Oh, and also I believe myself to be pretty good at building campfires.

The strangest thing was that a short distance from our picnic table, we found a large bowl shape built out of rocks, easily big enough to fit two or even three people. It was rather shabby and uncomfortable, but nothing a few minutes, a lot of rocks and a wealth of Lego experience couldn't fix.

By the time I was done with it, our little sasquatch nest was amazingly comfortable. I'm not kidding. I put down flat stones like tiles in the bottom, and I honestly felt like I could take a nap right there. Who needs memory foam when you've got good old rocks?

Call us the Rock Ness Monsters.

Just one more thing. I practiced making a s'more variant that involves cooking biscuit dough on a specialized stick to make a cup shape and then filling it with chocolate and marshmallows. I'm still perfecting my technique (It's very tricky, in point of fact), but when I get it right I'll devote a post to it.

That's all I've got right now. No deeper message, no moral, just me and all of my strangeness. Man, I love summer.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Spread Your Wings And... Fall?

Today, I graduated from high school. Graduation means a lot of things to a lot of people, but for me, it's the culmination of thirteen years of exhausting work. After this, I never have another day of public school again, and that's just fine with me.

The ceremony was especially interesting because as a French horn player, I was duty-bound to play in the orchestra onstage. Let me just point out to you that it is very difficult to provide the music at graduation whilst simultaneously graduating. Fortunately, it went smoother than I expected.

Apart from that, I realized that the real beauty of the ceremony lies in how it brings people together. I bumped into a lot of friends from way back in elementary school, most of whom I haven't seen much the last few years, and we picked it up like it was yesterday. It felt natural, that the people we started with should be the people we ended with.

Me and my long-lost crowd of elementary school homies

Plus, I got balloons! And who doesn't like balloons? Okay, maybe I have a strange fascination with them that most others lack, but they're still nice. When they behave, that is.

Balloons!

When balloons refuse to comply with your wishes. Dirty rebels.

Okay, at this point the balloons are winning.

I could go on talking about the ceremony, all the extra honorary things I wore over my gown, the strange mix of emotions associated with the event and all that other graduation junk, but today that's not my focus. I'll likely talk about school withdrawal and post-graduation depression in a week or two, but today I've set about to provide you with a meaty philosophy nugget, and that's what I'm going to do.

One of the speakers at the ceremony (a friend of mine, I might add) made the point that "if you're careful enough, nothing good or bad will ever happen to you." I let that sink in for a moment, then heard another bit that's just as good: be more afraid of mediocrity than failure. Now combine that with the theme for this year's graduation, "fortune favors him who dares," and you've got a pretty nice thesis going. They all encourage us to take risks, because risks lead to greater rewards.

During the speeches, a teacher at my school was quoted, saying "spread your wings and soar." The story behind said teacher's incessant eagle metaphors is deserving of its own post, so I might do that later. But essentially, if you combine all of these, you get go out and try something, because even if you fail, at least you're not mediocre. That appeals to me, because as a Reject I've tried and failed at plenty of things, and I think it's really the only way to get things done in life.

So this is what I leave you with: Go out and fail at something. That seems like a really weird piece of advice, and I'll admit that it is, but growing accustomed to trying things no matter how impossible the odds are will lead you to greater success in the long run. Who knows? If you keep trying, you just might accomplish something amazing.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Housing Misadventures

I am happy to report that I did successfully finish my online classes, so my graduation from high school is no longer under direct threat (refer to previous post if that sentence made no sense to you). I imagine it will be liberating to no longer have to worry about such things, since I have been doing online classes for the last four years. What will I do with the extra time? Frankly, I have no idea. But I'll come up with something pretty quickly, I'm sure. Just you wait.
In the meantime, the gap left by online classes will be filled with studying for AP tests. There's always something else, isn't there? Another three weeks and things should let up; then we'll be into movie-watching season (last year in calculus we watched all of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy after the AP test was over).

But enough of that; on to something that relates to the title of the post!
Now that I know I won't be moving off to Hogwarts--um, I mean, Harvard in the fall, I need to secure housing arrangements at my mid-range school. It all started with finding a room, a process described in several emails I had received from the university. I knew how this was going to work. I logged on to the housing portal at the time and on the day that I was instructed (this was with priority status, mind you) only to find that there were a whopping zero beds available in on-campus housing. None.

Well, that isn't entirely true. There were a few beds available in the sardine-can dormitories where students are required to purchase a meal plan, but zero in the apartments with kitchens (that's where I wanted to live). My reasoning for not wanting a meal plan is simple enough: it costs about twice as much as actual groceries cost, and I don't want to put my hard-earned scholarship money into cafeteria food. So essentially I had the makings of a very serious problem on my hands.
Fortunately for me, the university in question told me when cancellations in the desired facility would be posted so that I could switch into one.
The chase was on.
So there I sat, staring at the computer screen moments before the clocks struck four. As soon as the counter reached 3:59.59, I refreshed the page and saw that the number zero had changed to six. Not a lot of real estate for the hundreds of students who wanted a slot (and likely dozens who were sitting there hoping to catch one), but at least it wasn't zero. I frantically clicked through the first one I could find--only to receive an error that the bed was taken. That was within the first three seconds.
I backed up and clicked on another, and this time it worked. I had a room. The other four were gone within another ten seconds. I count myself lucky to have gotten one, but I want to make it known that I owe my victory entirely to my years of "sniping" classic Lego sets on eBay in the final five seconds of the auction. Fear my nerd powers.
This is far from the end of the road. I may have escaped the overly expensive meal plan, but my new room was on the first floor of the building, and I would much rather have a higher floor to reduce the amount of noise coming from above. I have a chance now, though, and before this I had none. Now that I have a space in the proper building, I can hopefully trade with someone on a higher floor, which should be a much less stressful process than the adrenaline-pumping escapade of getting a room in the first place. Until then, I have more high school to attend to. Those AP exams aren't getting any farther away.

Hic Manebimus Optime!