MercyTheKitty Rants











{Mon, Jun 1347, '11}   George Washington is a Zombie

Sorry for the delay in updates, my non-existent readers, but yesterday morning, I awoke with a sudden epiphany… George Washington is a zombie! Here’s what I’ve made of the situation:

Little do people realize that George Washington is still animated and among us today. He is, in fact, America’s longest-living zombie. That’s right; George Washington is still here today, as a zombie. He hides in the White House, away from the general public, and resides in the President’s Cabinet, behind the many skeletons. Whenever a new elected official happens to stumble upon his decaying soul, he simply repents by eating his brains. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Advertisements


{Sun, Apr 332, '11}   Amelia Earhart

Sorry for seemingly avoiding my blog as of recent. A lot of updates to report, but I wanted to blog about this topic:

Amelia Earhart, possibly the most famous female American pilot of history, was legally pronounced dead on my birthday (joy) in 1939, after she disappeared during a flight around the world. Naturally, people wonder what happened to her. A study appeared a bit ago, to try to answer the question. Here’s the short version, understandable to both me and some second graders:

Scientists, I guess, found a bone fragment in the part of the world where she is believed to have gone missing. Naturally, they think it’s hers. The idea is to take some really old letters Earhart sent when she was alive, and to collect saliva samples left over from it. They were supposed to compare it with the DNA of her living descendants to ensure a match, then test the bone.

The only problem is that after I heard about this, I never heard anything else. No updates, no results. I attended a lecture yesterday, conducted by someone who pretty much works with spit, so I asked her about it. We’re both stumped.

Do you spammers out there know anything about this?



{Sun, Feb 2724, '11}   Grammar

I think this is my first post of the year… It’s nearly march, huh? Oopsies.

So grammar. Can we use fragments like that?

And can we start sentences with conjunctions?

Or should I use “may” instead of “can?”

Till or ’til?

I’ve had a lot of grammar questions over the years (bless my English teachers for putting up with me), but some recent discussions (with said English teachers) have sparked up some confusion in the basics.

When a character is speaking (dialogue), rules can (may?) often be bent, but how far? In a teenage voice, it’s acceptable to say “it’s okay,” as opposed to “it is alright,” but what about made-up words? “Going to,” or “gonna/gunna?” “I don’t know,” or “dunno?”

I think I’ve been tweeting too much… There’s no way I can write an entire blog post after so many 140-character summaries of my life.



{Mon, Dec 2055, '10}   Open Mic Night

So sorry it took so long to get back online… I found myself a life! :0

So somewhere or another, I posted something once about a Spanish poetry competition I entered… Hmmm…

Well, ever since then, I’ve loved Spanish poetry. I mean, I’ve always loved Spanish and poetry, but never together…

I was recently inspired to write a poem in Spanish of my own, after spending quite a while reading the works of others. This, I preformed at Open Mic Night (last Friday), dedicated to the foreign language teachers (namely one, because the other had left by then).  It’s entitled “Por Qué Cerramos Nuestros Ojos,” or, “Why We Close Our Eyes.”

So Open Mic Night turned out to be a big hit. My friends and I managed to tape most of it, with many technical errors involved, and with any luck, I might have some videos up… Within the next few years…

Anyways, my poem:

Cuando cierras tus ojos 

El mundo es lo que tú deseas

Y no tienes que ver la verdad.

Cuando cierro mis ojos

Estoy feliz

Y finjo que todo se queda bien.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

Nos encerramos

Para que nadie más puede entrar.

El mundo nunca ha sido gran.

No pretendemos que fue.

Imaginamos lo que podía ha ser

Y lo que nunca fue.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

La vida real es demasiado para suportar a veces.

Cerramos nuestros ojos para escondernos

Y para pensar.

Deseamos creer lo que es falso

Y sólo por uno momento

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos.

When you close your eyes 

The world is what you want it to be

And you don’t have to see the truth.

When I close my eyes

I am happy

And I pretend everything will stay fine.

When we close our eyes

We lock ourselves away

So no one else may come in.

The world has never been great.

We do not pretend it was.

We imagine what could have been

And what never was.

When we close our eyes

Real life is too much to bear sometimes.

We close our eyes to hide

And to think.

We want to believe what is fake

If only for a moment

When we close our eyes.

This was my second act, by the way. To start, Cali and I preformed a cover of Davedays’ parody of Feliz Navidad. Must have been interesting to see some kid sing about not knowing Spanish, then appear with original poetry in the language…

Again, very big hit.

Oh, and this year, j’ai français Un aussi, mais j’aime mieux l’espagnol. One of our first French assignments was to write an introduction of ourselves (in French, oui), so I wrote that I like Spanish, poetry, and Spanish poetry. Of course!



{Tue, Oct 521, '10}   I Don’t Pledge Allegiance

Where I live, our public schools recite the Pledge of Allegiance daily. The principal or some other authority says “Please stand” over the intercom, and students in classrooms are expected to stand and recite the Pledge to the nearest flag.

Today in math class, I did neither said a word nor stood. My teacher noticed midway through, and made a waving hand gesture as if to say, “Stand.” I shot her a look that said, “no.” She whispered to me (for I am in the front row, yay), “You don’t have a choice.” Sulking, I stood for the remainder of the recitation.

On the first day of school, this same teacher said she had respect for students who recited the Pledge, since by now, most kids think it’s a boring waste of time.

I have my rights. I shouldn’t be forced to support something I do not want to, and that includes standing and speaking. Why do I even have to stand? Have authority really become so scared of nonconformity and insubordination that they have to force me to at least LOOK like I care?

Here’s the thing: I’m not a terrorist or anything. I’m not out to kill Americans, and yes, I’m a legal citizen. It’s just that when I think of America, I think of corruption. This once-great country has strayed from what it used to be, and what it no longer has the potential to be.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t look down on soldiers or patriots. I have a lot of respect for them, actually, for standing for what they believe in. I just feel that I should have my own say, as well, and I should be allowed to fight for it.

I know I’m not alone in my cause. Over the years, the phrase “Under God” has caused a lot of debate. The only difference is that I have a number of reasons why I refuse to say it besides the obvious religion aspect:

  • Religion: Yes, I am not affiliated with any religion at this time, especially not one with an omnipresent, all-powerful being. For people like me, there is no “God” for “one nation” to be “under.” Whatever happened to “separation from church and state?” I remember in elementary school, when we learned about many religions. Whenever winter rolled around, we discussed not only Christmas, but also Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Ramadan. Once, I was told schoolteachers either had to teach everything or nothing. They were not allowed to be bias. Well, isn’t this the same scenario? As a diverse country, we should be embracing the cultures of everyone, and not just the people who changed the words of the Pledge. That’s right, the original Pledge of Allegiance didn’t even have the words “Under God!”
  • Homosexuality: I know this can apply to more than just the homosexual part of America, but it’s the most obvious example. So the line “with liberty and justice for all” really gets to me. It’s a downright lie. Americans are not equal, and the government knows it. Why can’t homosexual couples marry in most states? Why can’t they adopt children? Why can’t they join the army? NORMAL people can, so why can’t they? Homosexual individuals are living and breathing, too. Why should they not be treated with liberty and justice?
  • Global: There are hundreds of countries of the world, each unique and busting with culture. Is it right just to pledge myself to America? Should I even be allowed to visit a foreign country, in that case? I’ve pledged my allegiance to this one country, so there’s no point in fraternizing with the enemy, right?
  • Legal: There is neither a rule in my school nor a law in the country stating the resuscitation of the Pledge is mandatory. It’s as simple as that.
  • Flag: Even if I wanted to be solely loyal to America, I don’t want to pledge my allegiance to the FLAG of it. Have you realized that? The words are “I pledge allegiance to the flag,” not “I pledge allegiance to America.” I really don’t believe I should be forced to tie myself down to an inanimate object symbolizing an idea. If someone were to point a gun to a flag, should I jump in front of it and save it?
  • Memorization: Even now, as I sit here and tear apart the pledge I have recited every day since kindergarten, I feel no emotional significance to it. Children memorize these words the same way they might memorize lyrics to a song or a jingle. There’s no meaning to what they are saying, it’s simply something to occupy their mouth with. I have had to repeat these phrases for so many years. I’m just sick of it! The sounds coming from the mouths of my peers are barely legible as words– they are simply mouth movements and pauses they have grown accustomed to. These words mean nothing to us. Face it, you can’t force someone to be patriotic.

It feels good to vent onto a blog. These are my ideas, and my ideas solely. What is written on this in no way represents anyone else but me, Mercy. It doesn’t matter if you want to argue with me about it, because, like I said, these are my ideas. If you want to spread your counter-opinions, feel free to create your own blog and ramble about it. Me, well, I prefer to rant to the diverse people out there who can see where I am coming from, and who embrace my being anyways.

Edit: I just realized something else after posting this. I’m in the Diversity Club. Right now, we are working on a project to spread diversity throughout the school. One of the ideas was to get every student to trace their hand and one it, write their name and ethnic background. The only problem was what to do with the hands. I suggested using red, white, and blue paper and making an American flag, but apparently, we’re not allowed to, since some people may not be American. Well, why should non-Americans have to Pledge? According to every authority I’ve talked to on the subject, everyone is “required” to honor the flag and the Pledge. So it’s wrong to use America as a symbol for diversity, but it’s fine to force people to recite it, even if it does not match with their beliefs?



{Mon, Sep 2055, '10}   HARSH

I haven’t blogged in such a long time… Sorry! Thanks go out to all the strange internet people who make my views spike… XD

I can’t believe I haven’t posted this sooner! So over the summer, I wrote a poem entitled HARSH. I wrote it especially to recite at Open Mic Night, which my school’s Writing Club hosts a few times every year. It’s a little bit of a nonsense thing, but it has a good message… I think. It was inspired by my biology class…

Seven miles below the surface of the sea, in the Marianas Trench, an ordinary foraminifer is burrowed in the sand.
Millions of miles into the barren Sahara, a single eragrostis reaches for the sky, atop a common transverse dune.
Directly at 0°, 0°, a lone purple saxifrage bloom stands, contrasting against the plain, white tundra around it.

“They” say life can occur anywhere.
“They” say life is tough enough for anything.
I’m guessing “they” never went to high school.

High school, with it’s unbalanced food chain.
High school, where dog eats dog.
High school, the place I call home.

I don’t feel tough.
And I certainly don’t feel alive.
But I am, aren’t I?

Yesterday, I had a run-in with a gossip.
Today, I was caught in the airless vacuum of the hallway.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably be poisoned by toxic waste on the cafeteria trays.

Maybe I’ve adapted to this environment.
Maybe evolution has something to do with it.
Maybe living here is supposed to be this easy.

Or not.
This could all just be chance.
I’m still at the bottom of the food chain, aren’t I?

But what if “they” are right?
What if I’m really on top?
Does that make me alive?

Inhale, exhale.
Woah, how is this possible?
Am I breathing?

Inhale, exhale.
It works!
I must be breathing!

I can breathe! I can see! I can smell!
Okay, who cut the cheese?
Was it you?

Wait a second…
You’re breathing, too!
Are we the same?

You kind of look like me…
At the same time, you don’t.
What are you?

What kind of creatures are we?
To survive in this harsh place.
How is this possible?

You know what?
Maybe this isn’t so strange.
After all…

Seven miles below the surface of the sea, in the Marianas Trench, an ordinary foraminifer is burrowed in the sand.
Millions of miles into the barren Sahara, a single eragrostis reaches for the sky, atop a common transverse dune.
Directly at 0°, 0°, a lone purple saxifrage bloom stands, contrasting against the plain, white tundra around it.

They say “life” can occur anywhere.
They say “life” is tough enough for anything.
But I’ll let you decide if you’re really alive.

As an afternote, I realize I never once use the word harsh in the poem. Sorry?



{Tue, Aug 1056, '10}   Groups and Pages

Wow, I am SO sick of all these things showing up on my homepage! So-and-so likes so-and-what. Do I care? Most of these things I find totally idiotic, anyways. For starters:

  • “are you mad,” “no,” “ok ur deffinatly mad” ~~Correct spelling, please. Come on, it’s the INTERNET! There’s this magic thing called spell check that costs nothing, takes up no time, and is very easy to use. Besides that, just LOOKING at this “conversation” ticks me off. Why shouldn’t someone be mad, if you’re busy assuming stupid stuff about them?
  • I fake the dates on my papers so it doesn’t look like i did it last minute ~~Or here’s a thought: USE THE DUE DATE INSTEAD. I’ve never fake-dated an assignment, either because it was a one-night assignment or because I used the due date! And by the way? If an assignment is spread over an extended perios of time, your teacher probably doesn’t CARE when you did it. Teachers aren’t blind– they know kids cheat and procrastinate. And what with the 100+ (depending on the class) papers to grade, why should they concern themselves with the date at the top of the page?
  • I bet Chinese people push their eyelids in and say, “Look I’m American!” ~~Shut up. First of all, that’s so stereotypical and raceist to say that Chinese people have stanted eyes, in the first place, not to mention that Americans DON’T. Not every American is an idiot with a caucasian background. America’s been seperated from Europe for over 200 years. GET WITH THE TIMES! Besides, why would any self-respecting, higher-that-America’s-IQ-combined Chinese person even WANT to be compared to an American?
  • On 12/21/2012 im not doing my homework, excuse will be ” i thought id die.” ~~I don’t beleive the world’s going to end, anyways. Wasn’t the world supposed to end about three different times during my lifetime? But using the “end of the world” as an excuse not to do work just proves people are lazy and pathetic.

And these were just ones on my homepage. I’m bitter torwards groups and pages that aren’t real products or services. They waste my time.

And I also hate fads/trends. Have you noticed no one says “biffle”/”bffl” anymore?



{Mon, Aug 909, '10}   Skipper

SO I got bored and logged onto my WordPress, just to check out how things were (ya know). I clicked “My Dashboard” and saw… well, how about this? My “Views Per Day” was flat-lined at 0, and there were no pending comments for me to check out. That’s when I realized I probably should use my blog to blog.

Monday, July 26, 2010, at 5 o’clock, I got a pet kitten!!!!!

Alright, where should I start? Umm… His name’s Skipper, and he’s dark grey and very adorable. 🙂 (See below)

Skipper the cat

I have a bunch of pictured and videos that I’m trying to edit together, but it’s so tedious! Ugh! I promise to upload it if/when I finish it.

I used to have a different cat, but he ran away. His name was Kitty, which is actually a funny story. I was in, maybe third grade when we got him? Well, we were told he was a she, and I was totally intent on having a cat named Kitty, like ti was the most creative name ever or something. Anyways, we went to get her spayed, then learned he had to be neutered instead. Kitty was an outdoor cat, so… He went outdoors, he chased small animals, etc. More Kitty stories later?

So this adorable baby (see above) is named Skipper!

I swear Skippy is a dog in disguise! He scratches his ears with his hind paws (ear mites?), chases his tail, bites his paws (fleas?), etc. He loves company and people, and he’s much nicer than Kitty, who liked to claw and bite. The only problem is that he’s forever throwing up.

The first time he threw up, I think he had eaten too much. I’m not sure about the other… three times. All I know is that I hate cleaning up cat puke.

No, he doesn’t eat grass– He’s an indoor cat this time. He pukes up his wet food. Either there’s something wrong with it, or he has allergies, or whatever. Actually, though, we started microwaving his food and he stopped puking… sort of. I think I catch him gag every once in a while…

That’s it on Skipper, I guess. I’ll blog again soon!… I think…



{Tue, Jul 657, '10}   Summer ’10

Well, I’ve been spending my summer volunteering at the local library, helping children with their summer reading. Friday, a whole group of kids I remember from camp came in and started talking to me about themselves, camp, the counselors, etc. I was so DEVASTATED! I missed camp so much!

Today, I had some free time, so I went to visit camp. From what the kids told me, there’s a new director and only three counselors still there from last year.

The second I walked onto camp grounds, one of the kids yelled out my name, starting a whole flurry of kids greeting me. I kinda liked it. 🙂

When I got inside, I found one of the remaining three counselors, who I’m guessing is now the assistant director. She just sort of said hi…

I was standing at the door looking stupid, gazing around the room for someone to talk to or something to do. At one of the tables, I saw returning counselor #2 and rushed over to him.

When he saw me, here was his joking reaction: “Oh, God, not you!”

I tried talking to him, but then returning counselor #1 came and said I couldn’t stay. She gave me five seconds to talk to returning counselor #2 and admitted she was kicking me out. Way to go.

I reflected on my walk home, and now I’m here, blogging. I really do miss camp; even seeing all the little kids playing games, I didn’t think I had outgrown it at all. I think the counselors could have been a little nicer, though. The three remaining counselors were three of my favorites, so they could have at least allowed me to spend a bit more time chatting and saying hi to my little friends. I never did get to meet up with returning counselor #3…

I feel somewhat shunned. I guess I don’t belong there… I spent so much time imagining conversations and how my day would play out, so I guess it was obvious I’d be let down, huh?

Maybe I should have savored my eight years there?

This even makes me rethink becoming a counselor when I’m old enough… All the counselors there seemed so fake, with fake smiles, pained expressions, you know? In all honesty, if I had to, I would do the job for free, and not just for the money, because that’s just how much I love kids and camp.



{Tue, May 446, '10}   Poetry

Hey there, MTKitty fans (or random passerbyers on the internet. That’s cool.)! This is one of those I-need-to-do-my-homework-but-don’t-wanna-so-I’m-blogging-things. I need to write a paper on the training of astronauts, then do my regular homework. It’s getting late. I went to the library after school, then took a really long nap. Now that I think about it, I should have gotten astronaut books from the library.

So, recently, I entered a poetry competition, but here’s the catch: It was a competition for FOREIGN LANGUAGE poetry. It was really cool, too. Apparently, there are people out there that speak Modern AND Ancient Greek well enough to recite poetry. There was also an ASL chapter, which I thought was interesting.

I had to memorize two poems in Spanish to get in. The first was for the schoolwide competition (which I won), and the second was for the actual, official competition. The first was an anonymous love poem, and the second was “Apegado A Mí by Gabriela Mistral.” I’ll upload them if I get the chance.

The competition was this really long, boring event that somehow took five hours, even though everyone recited at the same time in hour-long groups. My group had the maximum of fifteen kids. It was scary how good some of them were, but others went overboard.

The funny thing is, no one knew how the competition would turn out. Seven students came from my school (including myself), and we were all told different things by our teachers. Mine told me the judges didn’t want weird gestures or theatrical stuff– just plain old recitals. Some others were told minor movements were okay, and others were told to shout and be wild. Same for other schools. The degrees of acting varied a lot.

In the end, I was bored senseless and didn’t win anything.

The weird thing, though, is that out of the seven students from my school, four were for Italian, and three were for Spanish (including me). All four Italians won either first, second, or third, but none of the Spanish kids won anything. Coincidence? I think the system is rigged! Maybe our school should start offering more interesting languages, so we can win by default. Only one kid signed up for Polish, and, naturally, won.

I started memorizing my first poem in December. The competition was in late April. I had to give up one lunch a week (not the food, just the period) to go rehearse with my Spanish teacher. I was so sick of reciting by then, and maybe that’s why I didn’t win.

Here’s the one way this competition may have benefited me in any way: I can now seduce someone with a Spanish love poem!

Whoot! Ciao!

Poem 1
Poem 1
Poem 2

Poem 2

Sorry about the pictures. I just took shots of the poems with my webcam.


et cetera