Board Meeting Comment

Mom and I were driving back from math class when we took a detour to the District Office. Mom'd been following the development of the school's safety plan, and she wanted to see if the meeting discussing it was tonight or in January. The secretary, a friend of Mom's, gave her the agenda. On it were two items: One discussing a maintenance report, the one after it was an announcement of positions that would be cut from the school's budget. Both Mom and the secretary were annoyed because the Director of Maintenance was a man who wasn't liked very much by the board. The board had taken to, every time he came up with a report, nitpicking the document for up to an hour and a half. The next item on the agenda was the announcement that the man's position was cut from the school's budget. I thought this was awful, and asked Mom what she was going to do about it. She said that she didn't really want to die on this particular hill, and that she was going to talk to him in private. I thought she should go down and comment on it, she thought not. But she did say that anyone, even a minor, can comment. So I wrote this in case she didn't buck up and say something.

Hello, I'm Neo Archeo, I live on 1617 Nighting Gale Court with my parents, whose phone number is 607-924-6674. I am thirteen years old. I'm here to comment on the treatment of the Director of Maintenance, Mr. Jonestan. I heard today that because of your personal opinions of Mr. Jonestan, you are going to nitpick his work for an hour and a half, and then do away with his position. How dare you? I think it's great that you want to look at your agenda items in detail, good for you. If you think that cutting staff will help with a budget deficet, then fine, full steam ahead. But to use the public meetings to so obviously to thumb your nose at a person, that's just embarrassing. I'm currently in a charter school because the Public Middle School is not meeting my needs. How about, instead of wasting your breath on a stupid little prank that just enhances your obviously flawed personalities, you work on the bullying problems Mytown has, and the dropout rates that our high schoolers have. The school board was built to meet the needs of the children, MY needs, not to be a place to exibit juvenile behavior. You help the kids, not act like them. Stop taunting, start working.

I know I'm thirteen. I get it. I don't know everything. There may be a secret message that all board members get that tells you that the meetings designed for the good of minors are really for testing out your favorite coffeeshop blather. But I haven't gotten that memo. From what I, an under eighteen year old, citizen of the city of Mytown, can see, you're taking up time in a meeting made to help with MY PROBLEMS with your stupid little distractions. You're not doing anything for the children by being rude to Mr. Jonestan, don't you dare say that you are. Instead of helping my little brother and sister, instead of helping my friends, you're combing through a maintenance report, desperately trying to make a man THAT YOU HIRED look like the bad guy. I can't believe that grown adults would be so selfish as to do this. It's humiliating. I hope you're proud. If you are, congradulations. You're the only ones.

Emma

I overheard Mom talking on the phone about the racism in the treatment of disabled children. Basically, if the kid's drooling and can't walk, sure! We'd love him/her! Look Normal Children, look how nice we're being to This Poor Weird Person! If, however, the child looks, but does not act, normal, than s/he must be just playing with us. How dare they say no to us!

Emma is an Autistic child in my art class. There, now I'm doing it. Child. I would say 'kid' or 'girl' to anyone else, wouldn't I? I don't know. But Emma is definitely Autistic. Can't hold a marker- God forbid she use pencils, sharp little devils, aren't they?- correctly, can only repeat what was just spoken to her. And Ms. Penine loves Emma. She'll talk to Emma as much as she can. "Wow, Emma, look at that! What a great dog you just drew!" "Dog!" Emma says. "Wow, Emma, look at that! What a great stamper you are!" "Are!" Emma says.

When she's taking role call, Ms. Penine will read, "... and Nevada and Stephanie and John. Oh! And Emma too, I guess, but there's no bubble there for her. Maybe she'll come in later."

When Emma does eventually appear, Ms. Penine is all smiles. "Why hello Emma! How are you today?" "You!" Emma says.

Ms. Penine will talk for half the period to Emma's aid, collecting all the information she can. "So, can Emma talk?" she asks. "No, not really," says the aid, "she more repeats whatever you said to her."

Before Ms. Penine plays music, she will gesture to Emma's aid. "Is Emma ready? I know she's kind of close to the speakers..." "Yes, almost." The aid bends down to whisper something in Emma's ear. "There, she's good." The music plays.

There is another child, a boy, in my PE class. His name is Matt. "Come on Matt," Mr. Rame calls, "sit up." Matt was lying down during directions, don't you know.

When Matt is arguing with his horrendous aid -who is actually a yard duty, but apparently is the only adult that can be spared in all of Benica- that he really wants to stay on the field, his aid refuses to bend, resulting in a tantrum, something very normal for me to see. This time, however, forty kids who are not accustomed to this behavior are watching. Whispers abound as Matt squeals to be allowed to run about on the grass. He sits down and starts to cry near the path up a small hill to the locker room

"Ok," Mr. Rame says, "great job today, time to head up and get dressed. Um, and go around Matt, we seem to be having an issue right now."

We are presenting our group projects to the class today. "Ok, and will Mathew, Stephen, AJ, and Henry's group go up please... And now Marshal, Katie, Rachel, and Alex... And, Matt's turn! Come on up here Matt!" When Matt is finished parroting what his aid tells him to say, he recieves thunderous applause. "Good job, Matt," Mr. Rame says.

It makes me very sad inside.

Guys, Listen To This One

A guy came up to me this Friday and whispered, "Hey, Brandon likes you!" He then walked off.

My question is, what do I do with this information? Being told that a random guy likes you is about as helpful as a store clerk who, when asked what his recommended candy brand is, rattles off the contents of the last bag of M&Ms he ate. You can tell that his answer's in there somewhere, but this really doesn't help you make a decision, it only tells you that that particular clerk is an idiot, or at least not good at his job. Come to think of it, I like SweetTarts more anyway.

Whatever. Oh, and I've revamped the blog. Felt it needed a change.

Ugh

A while ago, Elf had a tantrum at school. Nothing really different about this one, only that it was Dad who went to go calm him down. Elf, characteristically, decides that Dad is EVIL and BAD and MEAN and tells Dad that he hates him, as he got a bloody nose when they were fighting. (Elf decided to leave the house, Dad didn't want him to. Dad restricts Elf, and Elf gets a bloody nose. It wasn't because they were fighting, it was just a normal thing that happened during a fight.)

A teacher overheard and thought that Dad regularly hit Elf, and called the County to report possible child abuse.

So today I got pulled out of class to talk to a social worker.

"What are the disciplinary methods at home?"

"Are either of your parents doing drugs of any kind?"

Ugh. Not fun. Especially since they both just decided that it would be perfectly fine to start smoking again, nothing bad could possibly happen. Oi. I'll talk about that later.

So, anyway, it turns out that Ms. Social Worker also talked to Midget and Elf separately beforehand, and she said she would call Mom and Dad next, but Mom says that she hasn't gotten anything.

Sigh.

Mah Life and Mah Rant: Band St00f

I've been having numerous problems with a particular group of friends about a band that they want to set up. It's been going on for about five months now. Here are our main characters:

Me: Cynical person who wants nothing to do with anything. She only puts up with this sh*t because Twyt WAS a decent person and a friend. Is Best Friend with Nikki.

Nikki: Fellow cynical person who wants nothing to do with anything. She puts up with it because Twyt and I were friends.

Twyt (pronounced 'twit'): The strange girl who decided that it would be a Good Idea and a Cool Thing to start a band in the first place. She has serious issues with admitting she's wrong, not good at something, and cannot change topics or be tactful if her life depended on it. All other Charries are friends of her (or, started out to be). Not the brightest bulb on the tree.

Apple: Hyper, artistic weirdo who is an excellent friend of Twyt's and at least knows every Charrie, if not has all of their phone numbers, the ultimate deciding factor in whether or not you are a 'Best Friend' or just a 'friend'. Is just as little tact as Twyt, and is goofy and hyper to the X-Treme. One sandwich short of a picnic.

Nevada: Bitch. Stuffy, whiny, piggy, a general brat. Convinced that she is good at everything. Incredibly self defensive when told she is wrong, or has to do something for the Greater Good.

Nightmare: Twyt's Best Friend. Is physical, loud, annoying, hyper, and stupid.

Lemur: Relatively new charrie, one that I've just met. As of now is considered funny, sane, artistic, quirky, and of abovet average intelligence. Starting to be very good friends with.

We got those all down? Refer back to this list for reference, this can get confusing.

It started about a month into school, in September. I had been carpooling Twyt to her house for a year now, so we were pretty good friends. Nikki had really started talking to her a while ago, so they new each other quite well.Twyt sat with us at out lunch table and ate with us, very clique-y.

Our table was three down from the B-Wing door, at the far end of the lunch room away from the lunch lines that sold bad hamburgers, nasty sandwiches, cookies, brownies, and pizza. Nikki and I had been sitting here since the second day of Sixth Grade (aka 'The Dark Ages'), so this was Our Table. I sat on the very end with my back to the door, Nikki sat across from me. These were seen as Our Seats. Anyone who took Our Seats were treated with heavy glares until they moved. This is what is was like at all of the tables. You sit here, I sit there. Newcomers are not tolerated. (Twyt, when she came, usually sat next to Nikki, diagonal from me.) The excuse "I got here first," does not apply.

Twyt told Nikki and me about her band idea. We nodded, but said no, thank you, we don't really want to join.

Couple days later, Apple and Nightmare show up. Huh. That's weird. Turns out Twyt had invited them to come sit with us so they could discuss Band St00f.

Twyt: "Ok. I'm the lead singer. Now. Who's playing guitar?"

Apple: "I am I am!"

Twyt: "Can you play guitar?"

*watch me fall off my chair*

Apple: "I'm going to be taking classes this summer!"

This goes on for a while. Arguments about the band's name, genre, colors, music videos (That's right. Music videos.), and member roles fly as Nikki and I try our hardest to ignore it all. All of this when there are no practices and no one can sing OR play.

Ugh. Whatever. I sometimes inject a snarky comment, but see no harm in it. After all, how bad could it be?

***************************

Then, Nevada came.

*plays Jaws music*

She stole My Seat, MY SEAT!!!!!, and claimed it as her own. I had been sitting there for over a year! She picked fights with the other "members." She called Nightmare a bitch. She begged for money. She demanded that songs, genre, colors, and member roles be switched to suit her needs.

In response, Twyt decides to be an idiot. She writes up a contract for Nevada to sign. By signing it, Nevada says that she will never whine, call others names, miss a practice, argue, or inject input of any kind.

Nevada is the only person who has to agree to these terms.

Ok, that's enough. As much as I hate her, as bitchy as she is, that's not fair or legal in any shape or form. Nikki agrees.

So we tell Twyt, Apple, and Nightmare this. How your signature isn't viable until you're eighteen. How unfair and mean it is to ask Nevada to sign this. How much of a hate letter this is.

And what does Nevada do?

She starts repeating everything we say. "Yeah!" she sneered, "This is sooo mean! I can't believe you would do this to me! Ugh!"

The bitch was going to SIGN IT until we told her not to do it! She made us sound like we were on her side, but really, I personally was just against Twyt and the rest of the Trio of Terror. Nikki and I got up to leave, but Nevada came with us, still agreeing with everything we said, forcing the Trio to follow us outside to continue to try (and fail) to defend themselves.

Twyt stayed annoyed with me for days afterward. Nevada took to thanking us repeatedly for "defending her rights". The Band St00f became more and more heated, and the girls started yelling their opinions across the table. They tried to goad Nikki and me into arguing their points, of which no one had any.

Lunch was no longer anything to look forward to, so Nikki and I did the unthinkable:

We moved... to the Games Tables.

The Games Tables are across the MP room, opposite the B-Wing doors, directly in front of the Lunch Line door. The School collected games like Trouble, Connect 4, Pictionary, and Guess Who, and set them out on a large desk-like fold-out table. To sit there, you must be playing a game from the table.

These tables are not chic. These tables are not stylish. These are the last-resort tables, an entirely different clique. They are as separate as the different grades.

They are so separate, they don't have the same unwritten laws.

These tables are so strange, they don't know the Lunch Room Code of Conduct.

These tables are so odd, anyone can sit there, whether or not that seat is someone else's or not. If your seat is taken, you merely sit at a different Game Table.

It was the perfect plan.

No Twyt, Nightmare, Apple, or Nevada. No no one.

So Nikki and I moved.

We played Pictionary according to our rules. And it was fun. So we came back.

Meanwhile, more and more people were being added to the band. Since Nikki and I had invoked a rule saying that if we were not at The Table (as our past Seats were called), no Band St00f was to be discussed around us.

Ever.

So we were blissfully unaware of the growing storm across the MP room.

***************************

Eventually, Twyt came over to the Games Tables to ask us to come back. She said that she had evicted everyone from the Table. When we refused anyway, she sat down and joined in playing Guess Who. (gasp!) No band talk, just games.

Two weeks later, Apple joined us. Band St00f was hinted at, but never openly discussed. From the hints we gleaned that Nightmare was becoming more and more irritating, and the a girl named Lemur was being unfair.

Then Nightmare herself came. She only stayed long enough to angrily inquire as to what Twyt and Apple were doing, leaving the band and ignoring her.

Whaaat?

Turns out, Twyt and Apple had gotten annoyed at Lemur, saying that she was being unfair and separated, creating a new band of--- TWO PEOPLE!!! One can't sing, and one can't play! This is even more ridiculous than usual!!

***************************

I first met Lemur before all of this at the local church, where most of the kids who didn't walk home were picked up by their parents, as the church had for some reason let the school use their parking lot.

Mom was late, and it is a habit of mine, when I am bored, to chat with random people. Since Twyt drove home in Mom's car, she often chatted up random people with me.

So the victim this time was Lemur. We had a relatively short conversation, but long enough for me to notice that she was a) not an idiot, b) funny, and c) quirky. Twyt had apparently known her for a while, and they seemed pretty good friends. Since Nikki's mom wasn't usually late, she wasn't there when she talked.

The one vital piece of information that I didn't get from our conversation was that Lemur was in the Band!!!

So I go on for about a week and a half, cheerfully ignorant of all the chaos.

Then Lemur comes to me again at the church (before Twyt came) and started ranting about how awful Twyt was. How DARE she insult her friends like that!

Incidentally, Twyt had told me at lunch that she didn't know why Lemur wasn't speaking to her or Apple.

Apparently, Twyt had said something and accidentally insulted one of Lemur's friends without realizing it. So now Lemur was angry at Twyt, Twyt was confused, and I was to be the go-between.

ARRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!


(Insert drama)

Eventually, everything was sorted out. Lemur and Twyt are still annoyed at each other, but the band idea has been postponed until High School, when the ENTIRE THING will be done over again. Ah well. That gives me a year and a half to cement my new friendship with Lemur, spend some more time with Nikki, break off all ties with Twyt, Apple, Nightmare, and Nevada, and get good grades.

*sobb* I'm doomed...

My Alarm Clock Got a D-

Remember my missing alarm clock that I lost? It turns out that Dad threw it.

Sometimes I forget to turn off my alarm before going into the shower. I don't try to, I just do. Well, this time Dad was the one to turn it off, but he couldn't find the off button in the dark (he didn't want to turn on the lights and wake up more). So he fiddled with a few dials and threw it across the room.

So my alarm clock got a D- in the helpfulness department.

I however, got my progress report back. A, A-, A-, A-, B, B-.

I was near tears.

I usually get all A's. This time I only got one, the A in PE. PE!!!! That doesn't even count!

To top it all off, I was convinced that I was going to get KILLED when I came home. That I would have to 'take a walk' with dad, one of those that started out innocent but always strayed to the topics that I was either a) not comfortable with or b) didn't have an opinion on.

Then Mom was late picking me up by *cough* 40 minutes *cough*. A lovely way to spend 40 minutes, really it is.

So by the time I get in the car I'm miserable. Then of course I had to tell Mom my grades, and I did, as quickly as I could. When Mom cought on to how dismal my mood was, she reassured me that I wasn't in trouble, and I believe her.

Sigh.

Still wasn't fun though.

EDIT: ARGH!!! I can't get the font sizes to match. It looks weird. Grr.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Omfg, this will never work.

Take a look at that link. A good, long look.

Now tell me: who would you say buys the most clothing-small children, teenagers, or adults?

Teenagers, of course. Now tell me, what sane teen would EVER buy ANYTHING like that? (Note, I said sane teens, not high-and-all-mighty-servants-of-the-lord teens, because I've seen those ones and they scare me.)

Whoever made these products is clearly an idiot. The largest clientel (I dunno how that's spelled), teenagers, wouldn't go within two miles of those. Those suits look unattractive and uncomfortable. They are ugly. They are hideous.

And they're the one thing I don't think of when I think 'swimming'--formal. They're the church outfits of the ocean, the Quaker costumes of the pool. Nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty things.

And, unfortunately for the kids who were forced to model, they scream, "EVANGELICAL, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED"

Not the message you want to give for that end-of-year pool party with all of the bullies there, is it? Think, asking for it? Bringing it on? Entry #1 in 'How To Get Teased For the Rest of Your Natural Life'?

Bleargh. Hate those suits. Hatehatehatehatehate.

In other news:

Generally I got a good reaction about the clothing switch. Those who told me it looked horrible never liked me in the first place, so that doesn't count.

Chelsea started loaning me Shojo manga, or girl comics. I didn't think I'd like them, but they are addicting-- my personal favorites are Punch! and Vampire Knight. Yumm. Hot guys. And I don't even like guys- they leave a lot to be desired. I'm fine with how some (SOME!!) of them look, but ye gods tact and manners are not in their vocabulary.

If insulting me is a male's way of saying 'I'm interested in you', males need some new tactics. NOW. As in, overnight change kind of right now. Strangle them all!

ANYWAY-

I love the style of the Shojo artists. They use more chibi's and 'super expressions' than Shonen artists, manga artists aimed at male audiences. The plot lines, to me, seem to vary more also. There aren't any repetitive 'I'm going to hurt you bad!' fightfightfightfightfight 'Damn, that was hard! Now to go rescue that girl wearing the short skirt that tripped over the carpet in ch.3!' fall in love, kiss scene, luurrvve scene in R rated comics. Females are usually limited to 'Watch out ____!' roles, and aren't very intelligent. All girls have big boobs and tiny waists. All people are 1-30 years old.

Now, obviously Shojo artists have repetitions too. There seems to be one 'attractive male' look, and most artists just borrow from this style, with only hair and clothing details separating male characters. Females seem to have a bit more flexible design, usually with HUGE eyes and a lot shorter than the corresponding hero/date/lover. Also, for some reson all guys have big hands with long fingers. Strange.

The panel construction trophy, however, goes directly to Shojo. The setups are more dramatic, and the camera angles more varied. Diagonal panels are actually used. It is unusual to see an overcrowded panel as there is no extra 'EEEEEERRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!' speeches to clutter things up. The suspense is actually suspenseful, no 'But how?!?!?!?!' here.

In conclusion, we likey! I am really happy with my makeover and am reading some really interesting stuff.

That's all, folks!

Saul

Mom has posted much on my little brother Saul, who was student-teacher bullied in school.

I am going to swear here, those of faint heart do not read this post.

Read my mom's posts about Saul to understand my anger better, they're under 'Kidlets'. Link to the blog's at the bottom of page.

For those who haven't her posts read yet, you will not understand.

To arms then.




The bitch who hurt my brother is to die by burning in Neo's Paradise at 11:00 pm tonight. In the real world nothing will be done about it, though they will try, because they tried with the student-student bullying and that didn't work either. She will be held possibly in contempt but very likely not because Mom will not be able to talk the the idiots and reason with them and start crying in the car and I will say she'll get through it while silently agreeing.

Seriously, I'm not feeling too happy now. Those of faint hearts STOP, and since the faint-hearted usually are the ones who flame excellent works of art because they have no other line of defense.


That bitch is giving my little brother nightmares. She is to die. The best I can hope for in the real world is Her to be Fired, but then she will get the retirement benefits.


She will die.

Photoshop's DA BOMB!!!!

I got Photoshop Elements and a tablet (a penpad that connects to the computer) about a month ago, but only now can I show the picture I've been working on. That's it up there, if you haven't already figured it out. No I did not trace or copy ANYTHING!!!! I don't know why people always think that. Why am I not allowed to just be a talented 12 year old? Is that so hard? That's my pose, my coloring, my backgrounds, my outlining, my 6-8 hours of work.

School ended (thank god), and now I have the rather daunting task of breaching the subject of home schooling (again, already discussed and on haitus in fall of past 9 1/2 monthes of hell called 6th grade). I know Mom can teach me more than the Ms. Dodini's of Middle School. (Not that Ms. Dodini hated me of course. I was one of the class favorites, and therefore the enemy of every sixth grader on campus as she kept on giving them summer school as she gave me 'A+'s on everything whether I did it or not.

Being asked by complete strangers if I liked Ms. Dodini, usually by kids originally from a different school (as all five 5th grade populations from the five different elementary schools attended the same Middle *cough*HELL*cough* School) or by 7th or 8th graders that had siblings in 6th grade and came to bug me about the fact that not only was I bored in English-Dodini, but I was bored and I was getting A's in English-Dodini.

I really don't like being bullied by people of the opposite gender, wearing faux leather with faux silver spikes and a neon green mohawk, I really don't. I don't like being teased because I don't need or even WANT to about the latest slang. I want to learn about the Chinese Han Dynasty, damn it, and that's IT.

I still like the picture though. :)