Scarborough Grace

I stopped by Scarborough Grace General today. It was the first time since I'd broken my arm 3 summers ago that I've visited the place for myself. This time it wasn't for something nearly as cool or interesting. Without sharing about why I went (cause it's a bit of a weird/gross thing to actually have to talk about), all I can say that I was supposed to have a relatively minor surgical operation done today (not a circumcision or anything like that!). I was actually pretty nervous about the whole thing. I'm not going to act like the idea of having a part of my body sliced open (by someone else!) and having it probed and poked (also by someone else!) didn't get me at least a little anxious. Who was this doctor?! Yes, I was referred to him by my oh so reliable family doctor (with whom I've been since I was a baby) so he must be pretty good (not to mention having 20 years of experience in his field) but still, I didn't know what to expect and that was the part that bugged me the most. I didn't know exactly what he would do, how he would do it, and for how long I might be recovering for. It was a minor operation, but still. A broken arm being casted is one thing. Having someone knifing me on my volition is another.
I found myself asking my mother what this doctor was like and about what some of her friends (who have had the same problem as me treated before) out of my anxiety. To tell the truth, finding out the truth about it all wasn't worth it--ignorance is bliss. It just made me even more fretful. Anyway, I slept surprisingly easily and didn't want to wake this morning.
After dropping off my mom and sister at work and school respectively, and breakfast with my dad at a small Chinese cafe/restaurant (you know, the kind they have all over the place in HK), we headed for Scarborough Grace. We waited for what seemed like--well, not too long, since I was playing Winning Eleven on my PSP--awhile, I got to meet my doc. It turns out the doctor, one Dr. Carlos Alvarez (Spanish), decided I could get away with following a set of much less invasive instructions and I'd be able to fix myself with much less hassle. Obviously, I took the less invasive, self-administered treatment over having some stranger cutting me open to see what the problem was.

Lesson of the Day: Scrubs-pitals and hospit-actuals are totally different. Or maybe that's just Scarborough Grace...

To make things even better on top of my avoided surgery, I get to skip the whole day of school. Win!

So Old Man Usprech Did Follow Through

If you'll recall to awhile back, I posted about having spoken to my IB Coordinator/Guidance Counselor about one Ms. Olsheski's general lack of professionalism and competence. Well, after having pointed out that she was teaching the wrong thing as a commentary for grade 11 IB English--Olsheski, "A commentary is like an analysis essay, a-and an opinion and persuasion essay and a-y'know what I mean? All within the same written piece"--he promised he would correct this. And he did! Today, Ms. Olsheski (Old-chest-key as my man Yun--not in a homo-erotic way of course--calls her) promptly contradicted herself (without admitting to being wrong before, obviously) saying, and I quote, "A commentary is completely different from an essay. They are not the same and should not be thought of as the same." Hmmm. Whatever happened to an analysis essay, an opinion essay, and a persuasion essay all within the same piece of writing? Sure, I'm glad we finally get taught what's right (she even taught off the actual IB rubric and guidelines that we are supposed to be using, surprisingly enough), but I'm going to wait to see whether she actually follows the rubric this time before I start celebrating. The lesson of the day: guidance counselors can be very helpful. Also, I'm a total jerk when you get on my bad side. That's not very kind of me... but sometimes that's okay.

info @ the P.Pole 11.27.06

5 things I wouldn't mind getting this Christmas:

• a Pulsar from WickedLasers
• a bottle of Zippo fluid (I'm running low)
  
• a new music/mp3 player (preferably with significantly upgraded memory) to replace my current Zen whose audio jack is totally whack
• something not too fishy, spicy, and tasty (who can say "No." to Japanese food?)
  
• a life during the winter break

So I was trying to guess what my friend Hanan shipped in for me and it got me thinking about gifts. I've never been the type to give gifts to lots of people (mostly because I've never been the type to have a job and thus, money). Luckily, this holiday season I've got a little bit more money to weigh my pockets and I'm feeling somewhat generous. Of course, I'll only get something for someone else if I know they'll like it. If not, well, I might as well save that money for Longlac or something. I really need to get a job (let's hope that summer job position at Aviva will still be there by the time I get to post-high school and pre-university age).

I'm Coming Clean!

Watch this.

These are my confessions:
Just when I thought I said all I could say,
I came up up with more secrets to tell you today.
These are my confessions:
Slipped my mind the last two times,
Silly me, so now I gotta give you part three of my confessions.

First I told you about the skank that I was cheating with--
Then I mentioned she's having my kid.
That's not all, now I recall more, you see,
So I'll give you part three of my confessions.

Now this is gonna be the hardest thing I ever had to do,
Gonna tell you everything I left out of parts one and two.
Like remember when I told you I knew Paulie Shore (Paulie Shore)?
That's a lie. I don't know what I said that for.

I borrowed your chapstick (from you).
I tried out your nose hair trimmer (too).
And by the way your diamond ring is cubic circonium.
I killed your goldfish accidentally, just replaced it with another one.

I threw up on your dog last time I had too much to drink
There have been times when I've peed in your sink.
Don't know why, but you and I should agree,
That belongs in part three of my confessions.

Baby forgive me I'm still trying to figure out,
Why I used your toothbrush to clean off the bathroom grout.
Oh and sometimes in private, I really like to dress up as Shirley Temple
And spank myself with a hockey stick (hockey stick).

My boss thinks I'm a jerk, I didn't get that raise.
I haven't changed my underwear in twenty-seven days!
And when I'm kissing you I fantasize you as a midget
I'm so sorry Debbi! ...I mean Bridget!

Gave you buttered toast I dropped
And then picked up off the floor.
FYI it was not a cold sore.
Oops my bad, but you'll be madder at me
When I finish part three of my confessions.

You don't know how hard it is for me to tell you this, but remember that shirt that you got me for my birthday? Well, I returned it for store credit. Th-that thing was hideous... What were you thinking?! Oh and by the way, I wasn't really sick last week, I just didn't wanna go to your stupid office picnic. Oh and when I told you at breakfast we were all out of Rice Krispies, what I meant was that there was only enough left for me. Sorry.

Once I blew my nose and wiped it on your cat.
And I lied, yes that dress makes you look fat.
Anyway, I shouldn't say anymore
'til I give you part four of my confessions.

I mean, I'm just getting started here. I'm not even half way down the list. I-this thing could go on for--! H-hey, where are you goin'?! Honey?! What?! Was it something I said? ...Women.

-Weird Al Yankovic, Confessions Part III

This tune totally cracked me up. It was an actual LOL or ROFL moment (as much as I hate to use those) when I first listened to this song. Click link for yummy.

info @ the P.Pole 11.20.06

On Friday November the 17th, at approximately 11:07 am (part way through Philosophy class) I departed for the IB Guidance Office to file a formal complaint about one Ms. Olsheski, teacher of grade 11 IB English. This Olsheski has been working at my current school since the school term of 2004-2005 (having been hired in my first year of high school). Up until September of this year (2006), I haven't had the extremely sickening pleasure of being instructed by this genuinely hypocritical individual. The year started off rough for me, having been sent down to the guidance office to seek "proper correction of attitude issues" within the first 5 periods with her.* Things have not improved at all since then and have worsened quite exponentially.
If you're a new reader of the P.Pole, perhaps now would be a good time to browse back to an earlier post about this teacher.

5 complaints I made about Olsheski to Usprech (IB coordinator):

• She arrives late to class by nearly 10 minutes frequently.
• She hands out rubrics but does not mark accordingly or even use them.
• She acknowledges (in writing!) plagiarism but does nothing about it, even rewarding plagiarized papers with high grades.
• She teaches from materials that are not her own--either taken directly from another teacher's work or as of late, from a wikipedia article--and without a thorough or even just half-decent comprehension thereof.
• She insists that her methods and teachings are correct even though they stand in stark contrast to everything everyone has ever learned in previous courses with far more credible teachers, refusing to accept the fact that she was wrong, thus valuing her own dignity and respect for her (of which I assure you there is naught to be found) over the correctness of knowledge passed from her to her pupils.

Now, after having boasted in doing this to my father during a car ride, my dad asked me "But will she find out that it was you who went to complain about her?" In my opinion, if I'm going to say something, I expect of myself to stand by it. If I say what I mean and mean what I say when it comes to this kind of stuff, then that shouldn't be a problem. Anyway, Usprech asked me, after all this calm and cool ranting, whether I was learning English or not, and I answered--not too quickly to give away my intentions of having her fired/transfered but not too slowly to seem unsure of myself--a firm and pre-decided "No." He became grave and pulled out a piece of paper to note everything I had said. Then he gave me very reassuring advice, to wait for him to deal with this, to come to him again if anything were to go amiss again, and to return in a week and tell him whether I see any difference. Now we play the waiting game. I actually don't want to see her fired--yes, within this cold and slow burning soul there is a hint of compassion--but I do want to see some justice done.

info @ the P.Pole 11.13.06

Today was a good day.

5 things I learned today:

• a reassuring word from one in authority can soothe any fears
• no matter how much you think saying something will sound great and witty at the moment, you'll likely regret it after blurting it out (unless it's about Olsheski)
  
• there's something severely perverse about girls having to literally put on a pretty face to feel good about themselves (to me anyway)
• just the smell of fluoride (the stuff dentists give you to rinse your mouth out after an appointment) can make me want to hurl bad
• it's impossible to accurately/sanely discuss anything in philosophy in earnest without an absolute point of reference to start with

I've recently starting kicking back to Josh Groban again. Man is this guy talented.

Like the sound of silence calling,
I hear Your voice and suddenly
I'm falling, lost in a dream.
Like the echoes of our souls are meeting,
You say those words and my heart stops beating.
I wonder what it means.
What could it be that comes over me?
At times I can't move.
At times I can hardly breath.

When You say You love me,
The world goes still, so still inside and...
When You say You love me,
For a moment, there's no one else alive!

You're the one I've always thought of.
I don't know how, but I feel sheltered in Your love.
You're where I belong.
And when You're with me if I close my eyes,
There are times I swear I feel like I can fly,
For a moment in time!
Somewhere between the Heavens and Earth ,
And frozen in time, Oh when You say those words...

And this journey that we're on,
How far we've come and I celebrate every moment.
And when You say you love me,
That's all You have to say.
I'll always feel this way.

When You say You love me...
When You say You love me...
Do You know how I love You?
-Josh Groban, When You Say You Love Me
Title for tune, you know the drill.

I'm such a n00b.

I was up late last night finishing up physics homework (easiest course I've got this year, hands down) and just as I was in the process of shutting down my computer, I happened to remember to print something. Me being the irrational and hasty individual that I am, decided to press the manual restart button--you know, the little one that's hidden below or around the power button. Well that was an ass of a move, as Windows' "Saving your personal settings" was still on my screen. Essentially, I'd nuked my system files/user settings files something righteous and when I logged back on, lo and behold, my explorer bar was nonexistent along with basically everything else on my GUI except the wallpaper. I handicappedly tried to remedy things with my three finger salute, closing and restarting explorer.exe for example. Didn't work. So, resolving to sleep instead and worry about my computer account--with all its oh so intricate user settings and configurations--tomorrow (today). When I woke up, I found that my dad had already fixed the thing with a simple system restore. Needless to say, I got owned pretty badly and went to school hanging my head in shame.

info @ the P.Pole 11.04.06

Winage.

EDIT: Okay, so I thought my business would have ended with last week. Turns out I suck at math and am in need of a massive overhaul of my presently non-existent study habits. I really doubt this is actually going to occur, but really, I'm way too busy to be blogging. I'll let everyone know how I'm doing in a little while... I'm sounding like I think people reading my blog actually care. Outrageous!