Plus...
Wed Feb 09, 2005 19:20 EST (UTC -5)
Yesterday I took FCAT Writing+, the state standardized writing test. It's only given in fourth, eighth, and tenth grade, so this was the first and last time. It's called Writing+ (note the plus sign) because it includes not only an essay, but also some painfully easy multiple choice questions to see whether you know basic grammar and how to write an outline and things like that. I didn't have much of a problem with that.
Hmm... Valentine's Day (that's St. Valentine to you!) is fast approaching. It makes me sick. The day (I wouldn't call it a holiday) means nothing to anyone except almost no one. Little kids are obligated to buy cheap paper things, each with a blank for a person's name, and give them to everyone. What's with that, huh? And then there was this massacre or something. I don't know. Oh, right, I'm a confused teenager. And something about something or other like that.
I'm actually quite content right now. I just don't like the watering down of love -- the very thing for which the human race lives -- to perforated sheets of paper with cartoon characters on them.
One of my hobbies, as you may know, is Where's George?, a site that allows you to track where your money goes after you spend it. Yesterday I posted the following message to the Main Public Forum under the subject "Oh dear...":
How do you know when you've been a bit obsessive about a hobby? Is it when you've spent 32.1% of your life at it and you're not old enough to drive yet?
I remember it well... actually, I don't. But I do remember it. It was February 8, 2000: I was in the fifth grade, and my teacher told me about a dollar bill she had received with a web site address stamped on it. She told me she found where it had been: "New York and some other places." The site was www.wheresgeorge.com. I decided to check it out that night.
So, yeah, that means today is my fifth Georgeaversary [anniversary of the date one registered at Where's George]. Yikes. Has it really been that long? It sure does feel like it. And I've come a long way. WG was my first (and pretty much my only) online community. Besides having fun tracking my bills, I sort of "came of age" within these green frames [the forum windows are split into a top frame with a list of messages and a bottom frame where you read and post messages]. While others flamed each other and called each other 10-year-olds (some things never change, do they?), I could kind of get away with it because I was 10 years old. I've grown up a bit, and I quickly learned to appreciate all the great people who post here. You all are great (well, most of you, anyway).
It's just now dawning on me: five years! Half a decade! One-twentieth of a century! Has it been five years well spent? Yes, without a doubt. Will I be gone anytime soon? No. I may lurk a bit more, mainly because after five years you often don't have a whole lot to say. Also, I'm being driven into the ground by schoolwork (I've often used this as an excuse for things, but for the first time it's actually true). But I'll still be here, just so you all know. I'm not going anywhere, even though this whole production of a post might make it seem that way.
Thank you Hank [creator and webmaster], my fellow Team Aqua [administrative group with forum moderation privileges, etc.] members, and everyone for making Where's George what it is and making me what I am today. Love, peace, etc. to you all.
Happy Georging,
Jordon ("Slowpoke") [Slowpoke has been my moniker on the site since shortly after I got hooked five years ago.]
P.S. By the way, on May 22 I will have spent a third of my life as a WG user. [I made an Excel spreadsheet to figure that one out. J-Walk would be proud.]
The idea of cameramail is simple. Send a camera through the mail. Ask everyone who comes across it to take some pictures. In some cases, your recipient may end up with some great pictures of, well, mostly postal workers and stuff. I guess it just goes to prove that they're not all nuts, and that this might be something fun to try. Only I would use a disposable digital camera rather than a film one (my scanner is not the best in the world). The site includes tips on sending your own cameramail as well.
One day down... how many to go?
Mon Jan 10, 2005 21:28 EST (UTC -5)
Today was the first day of the new semester, so I got all new teachers and classes. Fate has smiled upon me like a little boy when he burns ants to death with magnifying glass. I don't think anyone -- and I mean anyone -- gets as nervous as I do on the first day of the semester. I felt flushed and sick to my stomach throughout much of the day. I stopped jittering during third hour though.
But I had reason to be nervous. There were two teachers I did not want to get. Naturally, I got those very two teachers back to back, first thing in the morning! (Did you know that ants give off smoke when you burn them?) One seems to be a cranky loudmouth who can't leave her political opinions at the door (which isn't very good for a history teacher; even though I agree with her, I'd complain if I had more guts). And if I don't develop a deep-seated fear of writing essays by the end of the semester, then my name isn't Jordon Kalilich. My Spanish teacher likewise wants to dive into work, work, work and blows up if you get out of your seat. The only reason I'm not still ill over just these two teachers is that the day has been so long.
Next I had Algebra II, which I switched into largely at my geometry teacher's urging. The teacher is new this semester and seems very laid back, which I found to be so very relaxing that I stopped shaking. She didn't talk much except to read the entire text of the syllabus, which is usually so full of "fluff and bull" (a catchphrase picked up from my freshman English teacher) that teachers who want to get things done just skim it. Then she gave us a test to see how much we knew. I didn't get as far as I'd hoped because (a) I didn't know some of the stuff, and (b) I didn't have
Dang. I forgot to buy a calculator after school.
a calculator. Hopefully I won't really need one, but I probably will. I'll have to get one this weekend, because I don't think I'll need it before then.
This semester I have B lunch, which is during third hour. That is, you go to third hour, then you go to lunch, then you come back and finish the class. It's a crazy idea to me, but I've never had that lunch period before. It does seem to make third hour go by faster. And it's a lot of fun because I get to eat with an all-star cast of friends and friends of friends from previous semesters' lunch periods.
Though he didn't mean to do it, my last English teacher made me hate English. In particular, he made me hate writing essays (but I wouldn't say that the fear is deep-seated yet). When I walked into the English room (right next door to my algebra room), I almost cried tears of joy at the sight of the young teacher and her friendly handwriting on the board. I then sat and watched as a motley crew of friends -- well, mostly acquaintances -- took their seats and talked with each other. It turns out that the teacher doesn't stink, and it should be an easy class. I would liken this turn of events to the little boy's sister who wants to be a vet when she grows up coming out into the yard and asking the little boy what does he think he's doing torturing one of God's creatures and then saving the poor little ant just before he is to be a crispy critter.
Oh, and I'm taking health class (Life Management Skills, actually) online. It should be pretty easy.
So that was my first day of the semester. It shouldn't be that horrendously horrible. I just have to get used to the quirks of each teacher and all the work I'll have to do. I just have one more complaint.
How teachers should be consistent with one another! One is always telling you to do something that another teacher says you shouldn't do in their class, and so on. Case in point: my Spanish teacher doesn't "believe in" extra credit, and yet my English teacher gave an assignment today to help us "start off the semester with some extra credit points." I'd pay to see them defending their ideologies in the teachers' lounge. Sheesh.
Easy come, easy go
Thu Jan 06, 2005 20:38 EST (UTC -5)
For those not in the know, I have a part-time office job on Fridays for a company that makes and sells suits. I was told before Christmas that the office would be reopening this week. I usually call my boss, Mr. Rose, around Wednesday to confirm that I can get a ride to work. Good guy, my boss. His family used to live next door. That connection, plus this blog and a lucky coincidence, is how I got this job in the first place. His daughter, who's a little older than me, works in the office too.
But when I called my boss this week, his answering machine message said that everyone was out of town for the week. This wasn't unusual in itself and had happened before. They have their business meetings and conferences and such to go to. So I called his cell phone and left a message, and he called me back and left a message, and I called him back just now.
He confirmed that I wouldn't need to come in tomorrow and told me to call him back for "the scoop." I didn't know about this scoop of which he was speaking, so I called. He explained in the nicest way possible that, well, "three of the guys just moved to another office, and Elaine, who you mostly worked under -- wait, you know she quit, right? Oh, I didn't tell you? Well, yeah, it was just before Christmas. So anyway, we won't be needing you right now, but we'll be ready to call you when we need your expertise, etc., etc...."
We all know what that means. I got fired.
Of course, I didn't really get fired, because that would mean I did something to deserve this. I didn't. It just happened. And that was pretty much how it first hit me. All I thought at first was no more job. I finished up being polite to my boss ("Thank you," "Happy New Year") and hung up. Then, as I was calling my grandmother to tell her I didn't need a ride to work tomorrow or ever again, it hit me hard.
No more job = no more money. I'm now poor!, I thought. And I still have to do my taxes! Rage was the next emotion. How could they do this to me? Things seemed to be going so well. I had just gone to the office Christmas party and was looking forward to the next one. I had asked for polo shirts for Christmas expressly for the purpose of wearing them to work. Now I have at least three of them, and what am I going to do? Wear them to school? I think I can still exchange them for store credit -- the ones I didn't wear yet, anyway.
It only seems reasonable at this point to think of other career options. I never really liked what I did there anyway. I managed contacts, checked to see if fabrics were in stock, hung up ties, and other things that everyone else was too busy to do. Elaine's computer was infested with spyware and other junk like that, and she was about as computer literate as a sock (sorry, it was the first inanimate object that came to mind). She was nice, but I seem to have been hired for mainly that reason: my understanding of computers.
I never really toyed with the idea of making web sites for other people until my friend Chad said that he likes to offer his services for small businesses with lousy web sites. He says they're usually glad and willing to pay him $100 to redesign their site. It's certainly something to think about, if only because probably everyone in my family would suggest it as an option. I'll consider it.
Semi-random thought: maybe I could get away with writing "October 2003 - January 2005" on my as-yet-unwritten resume. They probably officially killed me off before the end of the year, but I didn't find out about it till this year. Putting January 2005 as the end date makes it sound longer than if I put December 2004.
I wonder if old Mr. Rose -- or, shall I say, Steve -- dismissed his daughter too.
I could have used the verb "had" in the opening sentence of this post, but then you wouldn't have needed a reason to read all this.
It's the end of an era for music recording. Slashdot is reporting that Quantegy Professional Media, the world's last manufacturer of professional-quality reel-to-reel analog audio tape, has closed its manufacturing plant without notice. A local news story details the reactions of the 250-some workers when they came back after their holiday break to find "No Trespassing" signs. It also reviews the long history of the company, including the embarrassing incident during World War II that led to its creation.
And when very large chain stores move out of small towns, causing hundreds to lose their jobs, what becomes of the enormous buildings that are left behind? Big Box Reuse shows that some of them are put to good use as libraries, churches, schools, and even apartment complexes.
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