Paula\’s Palace of Thought

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was very pretty, and if you think I am going to start off my story like this, you are crazy. I am the type of guy who likes to show things how they are. I try to make things simple, especially for Cindy Mae.  I have known Cindy Mae her whole high school career.  We were first acquainted in algebra one.  We were meant to be.  Since that day forward I have been everywhere with that girl. Every math test, simple math, SAT math, science math, and every other type of math out in the world. We were inseparable ever since she laid eyes on my great figure and lively personality. When she touched my keys it was like Mozart playing his piano. She needed me like spaghetti needed sauce.  Every time she turned me “on,” it was a new adventure. I was her Texas Instruments TI-34-II, and she was my handler. I may have been constructed of blue plastic, but in her eyes I was pure gold.

                There is only one day that I can recall that Cindy Mae ever doubted me. It was early May. The trees were a bright green, the flowers were blooming, and birds were chirping. It was the perfect day for the delivery of Girl Scout Cookies. You could smell the scent of mints dancing with chocolate, peanut butter blended with oatmeal, caramel and coconut merged together, and lemon lingering amongst the sweet aroma.  When Cindy Mae saw her fellow Girl Scouts walking up her sidewalk carrying about three hundred and ninety-nine boxes of cookies, she could barely control herself.  She could not just stare out her double hang window, she had to move. She jumped out from her chair and dashed out the front door.  She stood on her front patio face to face with her Girl Scout troop smiling so large that her teeth could be used as satellite receptor.

“The cookies are here! The cookies are here!” yelled Cindy Mae.  The cookies were now piling though the door. They were all being placed in the living room. If you weren’t careful you may get lost in the heap of cookies.  The excitement from the arrival of cookies quickly ended when the girls began to count all of the 12×4 boxes. The whole time they were counting I was left on the kitchen counter. I was just left to observe, and my math duties were left to monotony.

“We have a problem!” one of the girls yelled as if a man with an ax was trying to slice off her head.

All the girls in unison remarked in utter shock, “WHAT!”                         

The one girl stood alone at the end of the room. Her eyes began to swell. Her hands began to shake. It seemed as if a ghost had taken over her body. In a monotone answer she said, “We are missing a box of Tagalongs.” All the girls stood bewildered. Their faces turned the color of dead flesh, and their eyes were popping out so far that you though they would roll onto the hardwood floor. A high pitched whimper from one of the girls broke the deathly silence.

“How could this happen?” asked Cindy Mae. The girl who discovered the missing box widened her eyes and two steps backwards. The other girls seemed to follow.

“You counted wrong! It is your entire fault. We are ruined!” shrieked the girl. Cindy Mae was still in the middle of the room. She was all alone. The eager and betrayed eyes stared at Cindy Mae as if this was her last judgment. A shiver ran up her spine like a rat crawls up a pipe.

“How could this be my fault?” declared Cindy Mae.

 The girl replied, “Simple, we all assumed you were the best at math, and you nominated yourself to be in charge of the cookie account. You collected the money and made sure it was equal to the amount of boxes we sold.” 

Cindy Mae had no one defending her. The tears were building up in her eyes. Her voice was shrinking. When she opened her mouth a squeak seemed to overshadow any words.  “I, I, I know I counted right! I just know it!”

The girls were shunning Cindy Mae. She knew she had to figure this problem by herself.  She scrambled into the kitchen, and looked at me. I could tell she was about to blame me. I knew I had done nothing wrong. I only produced what she conducted. I do not lie. I am not the reason there is one box missing. Deep inside my microchip mind, I knew it was not her fault either.

Cindy Mae screamed at me in such horror, “How could you? I am ruined forever because of this one box!” The she did what I have dreaded ever since my prepackaged days. Her right hand grasped my body; she looked at me with an upset glance. Cindy Mae then chucked me across the kitchen. I crashed on the black and white tile like a bus hits a bike.

Cindy Mae thought her whole world was crashing down. She ran out the back door, hopped the white picket fence, and dashed across the green lawn onto the sidewalk. Cindy Mae stumbled onto the sidewalk and almost face planted the cement. She cautiously looked down and noticed a little red box.

“I found it!” chirped Cindy Mae. “The box is right here!” All the girls dashed out of the house and gathered on the front lawn. It was like the first day of sun in thirty days when the girls assembled. The sacred little red box was brought back and reunited with the three hundred and ninety-eight boxes of cookies. As for me, I forgave Cindy Mae for our little confirmation, and the Girl Scouts were all in harmony again.

I wish we had world peace, why is it so hard to come by? I hate it when people act like they want peace or just flash the peace sign. They do not care about genocide, world hunger, or even about the war. Some people would not even know what peace was if it hit them in the face, not that peace would do that. Peace is much to kind to smack someone.

I find it ironic which two fingers are shown. These two fingers represent everything our world is coming to. The pointer finger is the one that judges, selects who to discriminate against, and single them out. The index finger, well it is a general “have a nice day!” So why is it that the finger that judges and the f*** yourself finger are the ones to represent peace?

(just a thought)

I hate math. I am not a math person, never have been, never will be. I just don’t care much for numbers. They mean nothing to me. They are just lines twisted into odd shapes. I think numbers are the downfall of society. We should blame math for all the problems in the world. I am going to tell you why numbers/math are the reason for corruption!

Wars are brought about by power and money. If you have less power and less money, you want more. y<x.  How society functions is based on numbers. Everyone needs/wants money. Money is a lot of numbers. The more you have, the better off you will be.  0<$1x. When you do not have a lot of money, you are looked down upon. 0=x-y. Everything in life is based on number values. Your age, time, money, amount, you! I think one day a very large number will take over the world!

I do not care y=mx+b or d=r/t or the midpoint formula or the distance formula. A+B=C. WOW! Let me pretend I care and take notes!

I love how math makes us guess what numbers they want us to use. I hate guessing, for Gosh sakes just tell me and save me time. You know how rude math is? It steals letters! They steal letters until we give them the ransom of x! I rather take back my x and let you suffer with no answer. I am sure w and y would like to have their fellow crony back. What did the letters ever do to you math? You are such a bully! You would not waste your time trying to figure out everything about one person. I refuse to waste my time finding the value of x.

I wrote this for English-

“Honey I’m home!” The “m” is dragged out by the loving husband who opens the red front door to a loving wife wearing her apron and pearls. The smell of fresh baked cookies lingers in the air. Rover, the Yellow Labrador licks Mr. Doe on the face. The children, one boy and one girl, are standing on the steps waiting to greet their father who can manage to take off his coat and hat at the same time. Jack is the captain of the football team and president of the student council. Jenny is the captain of the math league and is going to attend Harvard in the fall. The family gathers together hugging and smiling with their perfect smiles, and of course Rover jumps up and gives a big wet kiss on Jack. Which results in more laughing, and the only problem this ideal family has is which college should Jack attend, Princeton or Cornell. Is this the American dream?

                America is the best country in the world. You can go from rags to riches and anything is possible. The American dream is something that is constantly changing. It is an evolutionary process.  The birth of our country, the American dream was life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It was then followed by having land, then having the want product, and having excess money. The American dream is not one that has the blue house, green lawn, the white fence, dog, beautiful wife, and children. There in one thing in the American dream that remains the same, that is power. People will always want more power and think it will bring more satisfaction to their lives. The definition of power has developed into its current state. We see the Donald Trumps, Bill Gates, Oprahs, Derrick Jeters, and Jessica Simpsons, and wish to mimic their lifestyles. The American dream is to have a surplus of want, by owning four homes, seven cars, and still have the desire for more.

                In reality, America has several social classes, and each class thrives to be in the one higher than they are. The most important way to be successful in America is a good education. You need an education to make it in American society. Not everyone has a chance to be exposed to a good education. There is struggle for some people to find money just to support themselves. This is where American reality hits. There is such a diverse population of people, not everyone falls in the status quo.  We are a society of the “haves” and “have nots”.  You see both ends of the spectrum, where people live the luxurious life, and the people who can barely get by.

                There are several people who refuse to give up their goal and wait tables in New York City or California, still waiting for their big break. The people who come to terms with themselves realize they are only destined to be as powerful as a school principal. The average man will go to college in hopes to find his wife, get a 9-5 job. He will sit in a desk all day taking phone calls and making money that only goes back to the government. The American reality is for from the American dream.

Alright, I am really annoyed right now. I was trying to put up music, an avatar and a calender…. Well, I got it on the sidebar, but nothing is showing up. =/ I am also annoyed because I have extreme writer’s block. This whole school year I have lost all my inspiration. I need something. I can’t even say I have writer’s block, I have a concrete wall or a brick. Maybe even a cement factory plant? If anyone can help me with any of my problems, that would be wonderful!

When I Walk Out That Door…

When I trapeze out that portal I feel the pinch to triple on my sloop. Not just any tartan, my own clandestine gondola. My skull stroke a sympathetic chord by the agency of the Caribbean. I entered one’s mind by imbuing myself. Swedish lads force draft upon me and fulfill me. Alice enjoined abutted to me. We debut masters of our seductive bikinis and solar disk specs. In scanting hours we burlesque to a terra cotta carpet VIP junta. Of itinerary, Marc Jacobs mustered me to stimulate and harvest my frock. I feigridto harmonize to drudgery this cockcrow, it transpired to no degree too debauched. I put forth energy in a hasty facsimile with Victoria’s Secret.

                The eye of heaven cropped up so culminating at the jiffy, not a chafe in the inner life. Well, I ensue without restraint smoldering even stipulation the Swedish boys propelling me.  I conjecture I impulse a plunge in the aquatic. I ought to abdicate.  Diddy transpires me in six time units.

I have been working on this whole blogging mess, and I noticed everyone writes poems or song lyrics. Well I do not write either, but I am willing to give it a try. Don’t make fun of me, feel free to laugh!

I do not write poems

I do not write songs

I dislike wearing thongs

I do not write stand-up

I am not depressed

My heart is not compressed

No one listens to me

Have you ever been stung by a bee?

My hair is not straight

I can’t complain about my weight

I have a cat

Although she is very fat

I like to laugh

I drink my tea decaf

Do not mock my poem or make fun of me

If you do I will kick your right knee!

Letters are so complex. They make up our language! Each little line and dot means something. It is quite amazing. But have you ever thought about each letter’s personality? I have. I came to a conclusion that letters are as diverse as people.

Where should I start? I guess A. A is a snot. She is very stuck up and gets perfect grades. She is every teachers’ favorite student. She is student body president, and will be attending Princeton in the fall.

On the other end of the spectrum we have Z. Z is very artistic. It dresses in a single color of black. Instead of taking notes, it writes poems and draws all over its hand.

F is the little sister that tags along just because her older sister is very popular. No one really likes F, but since her older sister is cool, they are forced to invite her. Of course her older sister is E. E has its clique. It consits of T and S. They always seem so perfect and everbody wants to be them.

O, B, J, L, and C are the popular guys. They always have a party to attend or a football game to win. They walk around with their varsity jackets and pretend not to notice you unless they need your homework.

Q, U, W, and Y are the thespians. They are always the leads in the school plays. School means nothing unless it relates to them in someway. We will either see them on the cover of People or waiting our tables.

V stands alone because she is so beautiful. She is so simple, but so pretty. She does not even realize how beautiful she is. She is popular, but she is also a lot more quiet. V likes to take pictures of nature and watch the sun set. Every guy wants her, and every girl wants to be her. Of Course she is dating R. R is the top jock. The captain of football, basketball, and baseball. He is also smart. They are the perfect couple that makes you want to puke in your mouth when you see them holding hand. You mutter nasty comments to yourself about them. Although they are your best friends.

Which letter are you most like? Anyone that reads this let me know. If you have a diffrent opinion let me know!

Love,

Paula

Alright blogging world, I am finally writing a blog. This whole thing is harder than it looks. This is just a test so please let me get used to the whole blogging concept. I promise to entertain you on my blog, but for now I just want to know what the diffrence between “code” and “visual” on the top of this box. I am going to play around with my blog this weekend. Next week I will have an idea of what I am doing. “Blog” is such a funny word. I have massive homework, so I will end on a promise to being a better blogger by next week!