The Good Ol' Days

I've decided to do something new. Instead of doing the usual, and making witty comments on events I've recently participated in, I'm going to recount past experiences and make witty comments about them. You may not like it, but that doesn't matter. When you have a blog, you can make the decisions.

It was the end of the 6th grade school year, the first year we had a substantial class trip. Overnight, and several days long, it was finally time to go to Nature's Classroom. Looking back, that sounds not only lame but educational. However, it was a big deal to is 12-year-olds, and I'll admit, even the scheduled activities during the day turned out to be a lot of fun. But I'm not here to talk about the day. I'm going to tell you about what happened after hours- when the wolves howled, the hockey players left, and the real pranksters came out of the woodwork.


I'll go ahead and use different last names. This is the internet, after all.

On our left, Mr. Pachter, our art teacher at the time, and Mr. Golden, our Math teacher. On our right, Mrs. O'Cooper, teaching History and English. There were other chaperones, but they don't matter.

On multiple occasions, feeble attempts were made by not only Mrs. O'Cooper, but her female minions as well, to prank the guy cabin. Such attempts included tying our shoes together and throwing them in the shower, and, my personal favorite, asking a couple guys to plant a rubber frog in Mr. Golden's bed, assuming the would defect and become double agents. Of course, they showed our math teacher the frog, and informed him of the attempt on his bed. It was at that moment, looking at Mr. Golden, I could see the cogs beginning to turn. Majestic, mischievous cogs.

At lunch that day, both our art and math teachers were nowhere to be seen. They went out to lunch, or so they said. It was our final day at Nature's Classroom, and needless to say, we were antsy. We had no clue that Golden and Pachter hadn't just gone out for a burger; the thought that they would be the masterminds behind the greatest prank of 6th grade evidently never crossed our minds. How naïve we were.

It wasn't until that night that the ball started to roll...although our bros Mac and Jonny left to go to a hockey tryout, and missed the festivities. Yet, soon after they took off, our teacher chaperones unveiled three fateful white bags. In 2 of them, XXXL, whitey-tightie brand whitey-tighties. In the 3rd? At least a dozen Hershey's chocolate bars. Use your imagination.


We spent the next 20 minutes, each with our very own pair, artfully, tastefully, and with the utmost care, skid marking them. Yes, with the chocolate bars. The next 10-15 minutes were devoted to planning our attack- this was no run n' gun sudicide mission. This was a well-thought-out tactical strike, with precision rivaling that of a heist spearheaded by Danny Ocean. There were two levels, connected only by an outdoor staircase, strategically perfect for undie-throwing. We split into two task forces, synchronized our watches, and all 14 of us silently snuck out of our cabin and up the camp hill.

When we got to the girls accommodations, Pachter and Delta Squad headed up the stairs. Golden, Alpha Squad and I lined up in front of the ground floor door, shortest to tallest for optimal firing position. After we counted to 10, we opened the door with a war cry at the same time Delta did on the 2nd floor, and all Hell broke loose. Underwear rained upon the opposing gender in a its soiled glory. Some used the slingshot technique, stretching the waistband with the thumb and flinging them as high-speed cotton projectiles. As Tim later recalled; "Hasn't Captain Underpants taught us anything?" I myself went with a cannonball effect, throwing my pair balled up. The last thing I saw before power-walking back to our base was opening up like a parachute and landing gently and peacefully on someone's face.

The rest of the night went predictably, mostly consisting of us being nervous, expecting retaliation. This manifested itself in our setting up booby traps in and around the stairwell to alert us of an attack. You can imagine our fear and near-pants-wettedness when we heard brooms and ironing boards being carelessly knocked over, closer and closer to our position, as well as our relief as Mac and Jonny triumphantly returned from hockey. The next morning at breakfast the girls presented to Mr. Golden a very pink, very decorated pair of the very same underwear used against them last night. Their creative-but-weak comeback further cemented our legacy- we had got 'em. We had got 'em good.


-Will



"Swimmers go out! The waves go up, not down!"

Cry of the Nazgul

My bedroom is at the end of the hallway on the second floor. I have my own bathroom, which JD, my cat, sleeps in when I'm in bed. The only way to see JD is to go through my bedroom and visit him in his bathroom.

It's 10:15 a.m. I wake up groggily to the sound of 6-8 immensely cheerful, and noisily so, 8 year old girls down the hallway. Deciding to lie in bed and snooze a few more minutes, I suddenly hear one of them scream "Let's go see JD!" and the pitter-patter of several pairs of feet booking it towards my door. Heart beating out of my chest, and obviously not in attire fit for a meet-and-greet, I throw myself under my blankets and assume the fetal position. As the doorknob turns and the door opens a sliver, barely containing all the children bent on petting a cat, Anna screams "No! Don't go in there!" God bless you, Anna.

Just a few minutes later they're all out on the trampoline, jumping, and continuing to stagger-scream so that there is not one discernible moment of silence. I need to go to the bathroom, and foolishly choose the water closet closest to the front door to do my business. I am actively going to the bathroom when they all come in and the light switch clicks to what someone assumed to be on. The door opens even farther than before (but not far enough) and stops as I yell "I'm in here! I'm in here! I'm in here!"

All of this to say one thing- A lot of people thought that when I'd go to Africa, I'd be living in a mud hut, getting malaria every other week, and fighting lions off to get to school. While I don't mind the assumption (none of those are true, by the way,) two of the most traumatic experiences of my life in Africa so far have been Anna's 7th and 8th birthday parties.


-Will


"How 'bout some many spray?!"

Who You Gonna Call?

I just sat through the movie Eagle Eye. It was pretty awesome... I think. It wasn't one to hold any punches... I think. I say this because I don't currently consider myself as one who has actually watched Eagle Eye. Why? Because the freshman running the movie night had a Cussbuster, or as my not-from-the-South-or-Midwest-like-everyone-else-here dialect would put it, a Swearbuster. Let me explain.

To those who have never even heard of a swearbuster before, prepare to be initiated in the ways of hyperconservative movie going. In theory, a swearbuster connect to a DVD player and cuts out the audio when it detects a naughty word. Depending on who you ask, it's either unnecessary censorship or the completely necessary protection of fragile, warpable little minds. I lie in the "happy medium" camp, and think they're very annoying, but understand that some people sue and withdraw their kids from schools over this kind of crap.

The box of the Swearbuster boasts the number it censors in several major movies, for instance, "Spiderman- 13." Aside from the fact I counted roughly 4 a-words in Spiderman, what the packaging conveniently neglects to mention is that it also censors half of the rest of the movie.

This little box reads the subtitles of the movie (even when they're not on,) and when it finds a swear of any kind, it shuts out audio for several seconds before and after the point it thinks that swear is. So we don't get "What the...is going on here?!" We get 7 seconds of the lead detective yelling silently, possibly about some major event, although who knows? Maybe he's yelling "These pretzels are making me thirsty!" in a way that some could be offended by.

The thing sees a bad word and just shotguns it, knocking out lines, scenes, heck, depending on the movie, entire plot lines could cease to exist. So you could imagine my chagrin when the movie had started, several behind-the-scenes shots of some important military operation had passed, a man with many medals asked "What do we do?!" over the phone, and I was greeted with silence as a man walking down a hallway mouthed, presumably, WHAT THEY SHOULD DO.

So I would love to tell you what I thought about Eagle Eye, I can't. I only heard half of it.

-Will


"If you're . Because if I don't get some good leads soon, "

Memory Lane

So I have this DS case. Originally a menacing silver metal mini-suitcase, since then lightened up with Guitar Hero and Mario sticker, this case does more than your average DS case. Though it does contain the usual multicolored styli, various small pieces of technology I don’t trust myself to store anywhere else, and DS games (no, the DS doesn’t fit anymore,) this cases upper, concealed compartment is where the real treasure lies. For about 4 years now, I’ve kept every mostly-flat piece of memorabilia in the top flap of this case.

Every 8 months or so I get the urge to rummage through this wonderful mesh pocket, and since the entire case was bulging from the extra it recently gained (it’s not the only one,) I felt it was high time to go through it again. Maybe it’s the fact that I have homework to put off, or that we haven’t had power for 6 hours and I have nothing better to do, but this time I felt compelled to write some of the experience down. And what better place to document some of my most private and cherished thought, feelings, and memories than the internet.

Here’s an (incomplete) list of what I found, in no order:

1. Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess trading cards
-I am the only person I know geeky enough to spend money on these.

2. Laser tag score cards
-These are from Bond’s birthday party 3 years ago. My name on one of them is “Fat Elvis.” Well-played, technology.

3. A taped-up, unmarked white envelope
-I was initially confused by this until I looked at it through the light and saw two words: “Hair Expressions.” Then it hit me. It was part of my mane. Yes, indeed, my Fabio-like locks of the most gorgeous hair this side of the Atlantic. I said then I would keep some, and keep it I shall.

4. a Pink Floyd sticker
-From Tim, years ago. If I’m not mistaken, it’s from their 1st American tour. Thanks man.

5. An Isabella’s Subs menu
-Just thinking about a steak and cheese makes my mouth water, and the rest of my body is currently watering enough as it is, so I’ll leave you all with that pleasant thought and try not to remember the heavenly deliciousness that is Isabella’s Subs.

6. A Meldiva’s menu
-a ghost of downtown Franklin’s past. RIP.

7. Quebec bus schedules
-For the 86, 12, and 60 buses, just in case you were wondering. I can’t say “good times,” per ce, but there were definitely some…quirky ones.

8. 2 songs, written (and illustrated) for me
-by David and Tim, presented at my awesome going-away party. I don’t know if I ever thanked you guys for that, but it was more than I could ever ask for. Thank you.

9. A business card for “Stump Busters”
On the card: “Is your stump a pain in the grass?
So who ya gonna call
STUMP BUSTERS
‘I ain’t afraid of no stump’”
I you saw one of these on a gas station bulletin board in upstate New York, could you look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t take it??

10. A business card to Mohawk Ambulance Service
-I just have this mental image of an ambulance full of ‘hawk-totin’ doctors. Same deal as #9.

11. Ticket to Gamerfest
-This was an amazing night. Hourmazd, Will, spectacular idea. A 24-hour energy drink and video game-filled all-nighter at the high school gym. Only at QHS, ladies and gentlemen.

12. Countless tickets
-Mostly from movies, also to various Sea Dogs games, the random coach bus ride, even on to an AC/DC concert.

13. Notes
-From everyone from Grandma to Edie, Casey to Mrs. Stepleton

14. Instructions to a “Video Game”
-From Amanda’s party in Quebec. Good times.

15. Goodbye speech from Isabel
-Even with all the weird Canadian word equivalents (Joe Louis??) reading this again made me sad. Isabel, if you’re reading this, I miss you, sorry I’m terrible at keeping in touch.

And most recently added:
Menu from Big G’s
Napkin from Gifford’s
Super Mario Galaxy Trading Cards (see #1)
5 Guys menu
Multiple mini golf score cards
Program from a piano recital
Even if you didn’t know what I was talking about half the time, I hope you’ve enjoyed reminiscing much as I have.

-Will


“Is everything the same as when I left, or has something catastrophic happened?”

If I had a Twitter and an iPhone...

...This is what the posts would look like from August 10th- August 11th. I decided to write some of my thoughts down anyway, just for posterity. Go crazy.


2:55- Made it through checking and security by the skin of my teeth- questioned at checking, just made the 70.0 lb absolute limit, then my carry-on was checked by some guy there, but he liked my Mr. Incredible shirt so it's all good.

2:56-Watching the news

2:57- 2 beached whales in Florida...they said they'd "keep us posted." Place your bets!

3:00- Cops are handing out Target gift certificates in exchange for guns in Fresno. Of course, I don't think there were many drive-bys happening with that bolt-action WWII rifle he's inspecting...

3:05- The mother whale died, and the baby's being euthanized. Someone owes me 5 bucks.

3:25- Target! I get it!!

3:30- A flight to Chicago was seriously delayed. An employee had an impromptu PSA which included the phrase "And I will be on the plane, pushing and shoving if you don't go fast enough." Woo me, Delta.

4:24- Some congressman got mad at a doctor who made a health care comment during a meeting about a highway. The verb used has gone from "argues" to "yells" to screams." Oddly, this reminds me of when Dad gets mad at the Gamestop employees.

4:30- Just watched someone talk about a plane/helicopter crash in Newark, New Jersey. Thank God I'm not going there anytime soon...

5:00- Boarded plane, couldn't fit carry-on into overhead compartment for 5 minutes, had to empty outside pockets, mean old lady next to me scolded me for not checking it.

5:15- Old lady turns down offered ice water and ordered one without any ice.

5:17- Old lady turns receives said iceless water, takes two tiny sips, then throws it away. Takes all my willpower not to comment.

7:32- Hear alarm outside…so the questions are; are there car alarms on planes, and if so, was one just set off? Someone trying to hijack a plane while it was on the ground?


8:15- Just lugged 77.6 pounds of crap halfway across Newark airport (and back) to pick up my last McDonald’s meal- a double quarter pounder with cheese, a Dr. Pepper, and a large fry. Here’s to you, America.


9:21- Sitting on the plane, just got handed those funny headphones. Cabin door’s about to close…no turning back after that. At least no one’s playing “How to Save a Life” or “I Wanna Know Your Plans,” because then I’m not sure if I could take it.


10:15- Supposed to leave an hour ago, but we’ve just been hangin’ out on the ground…although I did find this intriguing except in SkyMall, concerning Sudoku. And I quote; “No maths required.” I’m no English teacher, but that doesn’t sound right.


10:30- Looking through the in-flight shopping magazine. One of the things I love about air travel is the arrangement of products they attempt to sell. I don’t care if it is duty-free, I just can’t see anyone buying an 80 dollar ballpoint pen during a flight.


10:35- Finally taxiing. Don’t even get me started on the stuff in the

actual airport…I could get "I heart NY" t-shirts at 4 for 10$ in the city, or 2 for $25 at Liberty Int'l. I also have no idea how all those "$100+ And Nothing Else" kiosks stay in business.


10:40- Took off, smells strongly of urine. I can already tell I’ve left the States. Zing!


11:00- I could sleep, or I could watch Star Trek. Responsible decision, or Star Trek. I don’t even need to say anything else.


12:10- I just love airplane censors. “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!”


1:30- Star Trek was amazing, watching Scrubs… I’ll get to sleep at some point.


(Aaaaaand…Time change!)


11:45- Jostled awake on the ground in Paris, I probably got about 30 minutes of sleep. Oops.


12:00- Told I don’t have to reclaim my checked luggage! W00t!


12:10- I have to go through the incredibly long security line again, even though I haven’t left the airport. Good stuff, France.


12:30- I’ve been in the line for, honestly, 30 seconds, and about 10 people have cut me off. I hate Paris.


12:40- Of all the airports I’ve been to, and there have been quite a few, Charles De Gaulle is the only one that makes you empty all electronics (including chargers, and in this particular case, a VHS tape) from the bags going through security. My man purse has never gone from so full, to so empty, and back again, in so short a time.


3:30- Meet British 8th grader from DA. He got a pen with a camera hidden on it. ‘Nuff said.


7:33- Just watched a whole bunch of Friends episodes. Tried to watch House but it made me sick to my stomach. He’s wicked funny and all, but the girls’ skin was falling off. Who decided that, “yeah, this is entertaining and fun to watch.”


7:35- We’re flying through coulds, I wish I could take a picture of this view. A red sunset, clouds above and below us, and a serene ocean. A fitting end to an incredible summer.


7:40- Just touched down in Dakar. A huge “Thank You” to everyone who made this past couple of months possible.


7:41- And so begins the next 2 years in Africa.


-Will



“You know, I love chocolate, but whenever I get a bag of these, it just turns into a game of ‘Find the Krackles’”

Dave & Buster's

Let me tell you about a magical place. It's arguably the pinnacle of American entertaiment, perfectly combining a resturant, a bar, and video games into a wonderful, majestic land. It's a place where people gather. It's a place where people eat, drink, and be merry. It's a place where you can have all the tootsie rolls you could ever desire-with the right amount of tickets. It's a place where you can find a businessman in a suit playing Guitar Hero with an acne-riddled, t-shirt wearing teenager. I'm talking, of course, about Dave & Buster's.

For the uninitiated, Dave & Buster's is a nationwide, yet few-and-far-between chain of arcade-esque businesses. I say "esque" because, as much as I love arcades, D&B's possesses a bit more class than the average quarter-sucker. It's not only a giant arcade, but also a resturant and a sports bar, complete with a billiards room. Instead of the normal "pocket full of change" system, they have credit cards you can charge, then swipe at each game. Not only does it make the process much easier, it makes the 2 dollars games less painful to play. And, like any self-respecting arcade does, there's a whole room where you can spend your hard-earned tickets on anything from giant gummy bears to an Xbox 360 to Dave & Buster's boxers (and yes, I own a pair.)

Me and Dave (and Buster) go way back. I've only been there a handful of times, since it is in Providence, and I do live in Africa, but every time has been amazing in its own, special way. In 6th grade, I went there for my birthday party with 3 guys who are my bros to this day. Last summer I went once more. There have been other, still awesome, yet less memorable visits. But tonight was a trip I definitely won't forget.

Last week, Drew, Sean and I attempted to pay a visit to this haven of delight, but alas, someone had rented the entire joint out for a party. When we came in and were handed a power card, then offered some hor d'oeuvres on a platter, the little red light went on. The place's got class, but not that much. We asked the guy at the counter to charge the "empty" cards, and he replied "Oh, that's more than you're ever gonna need." Now, looking back at it from his perspective, telling 3 teenage guys that they hold in their hand more credit than they could spend from 7-12 p.m. makes me incredibly curious as to how much was on the cards, but we handed them back and sheepishly walked out when they realized we had no idea what was going on.

Tonight, however, luck was on our side. We also called beforehand to make sure they were open, so I'm sure that helped too. We entered the premises, smelling burgers, fries, and over used buttons. How I love that smell. It may be because I know I'm sentenced to 2 years of "feces and sand" smell, but I paused and took it in for a few seconds. Marvelous. Needless to say though, we soon got our freshly-charged power cards (thank you, Mrs. Latham!) and headed into the wilderness of flashing lights and loud noises.

It was even better than I remembered. With additions like "Guitar Hero Arcade" and "Rambo," combined with old classics like "Tower of Power" and "Time Crisis 3," we had more than enough contenders to spend our night on. After about an hour of the fun shoot-em-ups and racing games, we felt it was time to get down to business and start bringing home the bacon with some ticket-spitters. Our old favorite, "Tower of Power" was up and running as always, with some "Cyclone" and even a round of "Deal or No Deal" to mix things up, but it wasn't until we saw the "Spin n' Win" that things really got crazy. An average jackpot for "Tower" Is a little higher than 250, with 10 tickets if you're just a wee bit off. "Spin n' Win," however, though it was 3 times the cost, had a max put out of a whopping 1000 tickets, with 20 if you miss by one measly lightbulb. "It can't be beaten," we thought, "No one must ever get the big one." We literally chuckled the first time we saw it. But after dispersing for a few minutes, and a few rounds of Guitar Hero with an awesome employee, I saw Drew run over from his throne on "Tower of Power." Sure enough, after but two tries, Sean had done it. It puked papery gold for five minutes straight. For the rest of the night, we rotated between the three, gladly spending the outgrageous 9.8 credits for a chance to hit that green lightbulb.

In the end, Drew won twice. I won twice. Sean won 4 times. Fists were pounded, highs were fived, chests were bumped, and manly yells were yelled manlyly. We walked, victorious, into that big glass room to spend our 11,202 tickets, more enough to buy an Xbox 360 game, and we walked out with some mighty fine loot. Mine alone were as follows:

-A giant Dave & Buster's novelty pen (to replace the one that broke this year)
-A Dave & Buster's shot glass
-A Dave & Buster's miniature glass mug
-A Dave & Buster's glass cup
-A Dave & Buster's pair of flip flops- now I have incentive to wear flip flops
-A Red Sox deck of cards
-2 big cups of Tootsie Rolls
-and 4 or 5 things that are going to be gifts* if I don't decide I want to eat them/like them too much to part with them/not eat them by the time I give them away.

So, all in all, a fantastic night. If you ever get a chance, make sure to drop by this one of a kind (excluding the others in the chain,) magical place.

-Will


*If you know me, don't get too excited. Even if you're a chosen one, they're not amazing gifts. Except that they're from Dave & Buster's.



"Tigers love pepper... they hate cinnamon."

The Motherland

I have had a spectacular week. So many things have happened, so many little stories could be told, so much awesome has occured, that I won't even try to blog about much of it. I do have one story from today, however, that puncuates just one reason that I love this place.

In Corning, New York, my current place of residence with my aunt and uncle, there is a fountain. This is not your avergae, everyday, ordinary fountain, oh no- this is an interactive fountain. Picture the theme song from Friends with swimsuits and without the clapping every time(clapclapclapclap!). It's basically a metal cylinder about 4 feet high, shooting water up 15 feet high, and space around it for merriment, dancing to The Rembrandts, or, in some cases, bathing. Yes indeed, right as Uncle David, my 3 cousins and I were about to leave, a man walked up, swimsuit on, and stuck his arm up right over the upward-flowing water. Sure enough, he then washed the other armpit, plugged his nose to wash his face, and rolled around a bit in the standing water. 5 minutes later, we saw him emerge from behind a group of bushes with a different colored pair of shorts on.

Later that day, we saw a guy wielding some kind of arm-attached staff, practicing in an empty lot against thin air. He was winning. Earlier, a kid peed on the wall close to the fountain, overlooking a scenic river. What I love about this is that this is not considered normal. Any one of these activities have been frequently overlooked by me and many (especially the public urinaton,) yet here they constitute an anecdote. I missed home. It's good to be back.


-Will



"Shower makes noise."

Year In Review

I write you from terminal E42 in Charles DeGaul Airport in Paris, on my way home for the summer. On the first flight, and indian guy 2 seats next to me took all 3 of the rows' assigned pillows. A lady just announced that "any luggage left behind will be destroyed by the police" in broken English. But I'm not going to talk about this current trip; there'll be lots of time for that. I am, however, going to look back on the one I just ended- the year long... let's say "experience" in Dakar, Senegal.

I'm not going to lie- it's been a long year. Filled with new faces, disappointments, and power outages, my first year in Dakar, and more importantly at Dakar Academy, has been, well, pretty much what I expected. I knew there would be culture shock in the new country (there always is,) and I like to think I had a pretty shrewd guess that there would be even more in the new school. In a subtle way, Dakar Academy, to me, is much more different from charter than America is from Senegal. The culture is completely different, and maybe it's a Minnesotan thing, but it took a long time to get used to. Honestly, that process is just beginning. I'm positive that in my senior year, something will happen or someone (or ones) will do something at some point that I completely will not understand. The incident with the rat, which I mentioned earlier this year, when someone called "rat!" and every other dude simultaneously jumped up, heaviest object within arm length in hand, and chased it. These things just don't cross my mind. By the way, that rat was like 1 1/2 feet from nose to butt.

Yet therein lies the problem. All this past year, especially during first semester, I've tried to define DA as a group, as a school, as some kind of entity stamping out public displays of affection and anyone who wasn't constantly happy. To an extent, I do think this is entirely the case, with many members of the school teaming up and informing the authorities if they catch any 2 people staring into each others' eyes for too long. The main problem, though, is that I was paying attention to the forest and not the trees. DA is a group of people more than a school, and I don't mean that in a "we're one big family here" kind of way. I'm talking about the DA I was talking about. If there's a whole bunch of people who drive me up the wall and about 5 who dont, it's not fair of me to cast the 5 in a bad light because of their bland, annoying classmates. It's not fair to do that to anyone, really. Except freshman. They probably deserve it.

-Will



"Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway. We're the best of friends, insisting that the world keep turning our way, and our way, is on the road again."

The Importance of BroHood

No. Not brotherhood. That's the bad guys in X-Men. I'm here to talk to you about broHood, which is a group of high-fiving, chest-bumping men. Proud to fit the stereotype, and generally inseparable. Wayne and Garth. Seth and Evan. Frodo and Sam. Will and Tim. Danny and Rusty. Jake and Elwood. Mario and Luigi, for heaven's sakes. While often under-appreciated, broHoods are the basis of our society. If the world were based on the relationships girls have with each other, trust me, we would be in a much worse place.

It's a simpler sort of thing. There's not any smoke and mirrors, and if we're tired, we say we're tired. If we're annoyed, we say we're annoyed. If there's a dispute, broHoods have the ability to look past it, move on, not carry grudges. There's no pressure to entertain a bro, because if you stop keeping them constantly occupied with something interesting to do or talk about, they'll stick around. Bros don't ditch to find more interesting bros. That's just not how it works. Belonging to a broHood is even better than belonging to the Isabella's Subs frequent buyer club, and I'm not just saying that.

The reason is say this is twofold. One is obvious, I'll be back home in less than 2 weeks (it's crazy, I know,) and will finally be reunited with my bro. Like, the bro. The purest form of broHood the world has ever seen. And I cannot wait. It's been a long year, and having someone I know I can trust with anything will probably be one of, if not my absolute favorite parts of the trip. It's something I knew I wouldn't have here, and it's something that takes a long time (and the right dude) to develop. But the 2nd reason is less... good. I recently learned my main dude over here, John, is graduating after his junior year, negating an entire year of broHood. This, coupled with previous knowledge that he would be in America for the 1st semester of nextyear has me less than ecstatic for the 2nd half of high school. He's a gamer, he's funny, and he's leaving. My other dude friends are awesome, but they're in the dorm, and that's just not the same. They know that. John was gone for one week with dingy fever, and that was weird enough.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm bummed. Without thinking of this summer, and just next school year, it looks more, well, bleak. I can count on John to not ditch, and even the dorm guys have their...pursuits. I just naively assumed that after this past year, I'd be mostly done with big sad goodbyes, which will never be the case. There will always be people coming and going, especially in a missionary school environment, and that's just something I'm going to have to get used to. I just really wish I didn't.


-Will



"You smell like a bodybuilder."

I'm No Superman

This past week marked the finale of one of my most beloved TV shows: Scrubs. So I'm going to take this time to reflect on it, whether you like it or not.

I have to give credit to my main man Tim for introducing the show to me, pretty late in it's lifetime. The episode "My Musical" caught his attention, and after getting a strong recommendation, I decided to go ahead and pay the 2 bucks on iTunes to give it a look. What I saw, I must say, was quite unlike any show I'd seen before. Of course, not every episode is in musical form, but the format of that particular episode grabbed the attention of an impatient 13-year-old that an ordinary episode might not have been able to do.

This isn't to say, however, that the normal format of an episode is dull. Every episode I've seen, I've loved, and whether it's the music at the end, JD's awesome daydreams, or the sometimes cheesy way that every episode wraps up, tying various plots together with one overarching moral, they usually have me smiling at the end. Because, what started off as a parody of the multitude of dramas in hospitals took off into a genre of it's own, different from most TV shows on now. all the characters are ridiculous and nigh-unbelieveable, except for the experiences they have. Take JD and the Janitor and put them anywhere else but a hospital and that relationship is impossible, but on TV, in such a dreary environment (if you don't mind me saying,) you can almost believe that a support staff would hold a vendetta against a doctor. Even for something as simple as a penny on the first day of work.

I have to say, though, I started watching at a bad time. Season 7, supposedly the last, began when the writer's strike was at it's strikiest, and lasted just a little more than 10 episodes. While this was a great time to catch up on the 6 seasons I had missed, Season 7 lacked a certain quality that the others had. It was funny, sure, but at times too much so, and while I enjoyed watching Turk and JD throw water balloons at the annoying interns, and Elliot's bizarre relationship with Keith, it seemed out of place. The show, while always a comedy, wasn't taking itself seriously enough. Still a decent portion of TV, but season 7's downfall's gave way into season 8's perfection.
The turnaround was evident from the first 2 episodes last year. Focusing Dr. Cox's troubles with his new position, and the hospital bromance duo talking to a terminal patient in his final hours, it was clear that the show would go out with a bang, and not just another half-decent season before puttering out. The season's had sad moments, crazy ones, touching ones, hilarious ones, and it's fair share of daydreams, but most of all, it was Scrubs again. People say that finales are often a letdown, yet I had high hopes for Scrubs, and, as always, it did not let me down. I'm just manly enough to admit that the end had me sniffling, and not just because I have a cold.

Scrubs has little to no followers at DA and not a ton at QHS (high five, Erin.) Of course, here, things like that are often rated by their inappropriate content, not their quality level, but that's beside the point. The point is, whether you liked it or not, is that it's over. It went out stronger than most, and even its harshest critics can't say no to the fact that it brought something new and fresh to the table. Goodbye Scrubs, and thanks for everything.

-Will


"I can't do this all on my own, no I know; I'm no superman."

Seussical the Musical

Let me tell you a story of my recent free time,
but to make it more fun I will tell it in rhyme.
In the spirit of the play, and like Dr. Seuss
I'll give it a shot. Don't you snicker. Moose.

It all started out in mid-late December,
When the auditions were held, I still can't remember
But as I recall, I showed up and acted
for the part of the general, and the teacher reacted
better than expected, for I got the part
of the Mayor of Who, which gave me a start.

'Twas a bigger role than expected, yes,
yet not such as big as Horton, I guess
But I loved it and looked forward to begin
and that's about where thing's gave right on in.

It had been a while since I had last sung,
and I didn't think I'd be perfect, but it stung
When I realized how much I had since then forgotten
basic musical terms, plus my voice sounded rotten

I was "married" to someone else in the BGC,
and was the "father" of her brother, which was strange to me.
The first couple weeks, surrounded by singers,
were hard and embarrassing, and put me through the ringer
yet after the start, I began to have fun
with the other performers, including my "son"

I became more comfortable with each passing day,
so, by the time we had to put on the play,
I knew all my lines, I could sing all my songs,
and all of the cast members just got along
Which made it much better, and easy to do
I could be both happy and Mayor of who

On the opening night, I forgot 'bout my mic
I fussed with it some, yet it was on mute
For most of Act 1, so the point was moot

Come Saturday night, we did much much better,
still, I kicked part of the set, almost forgot a letter
Then yesterday night, It really came together,
even though I was feeling quite under the weather

Tonight was alright, overall very good,
but I didn't do well, didn't think I would
My throat was sore, my nose was runny,
even more than last night's, but still, it was funny
My lines were alright, yet my singing was off,
I still had my cold, plus a pretty bad cough

The whole thing was tiring, yet worth all the work
And the suit that I wore was but just one perk
But it was a blast, I had fun on Who,
Yet it's all over now. And the Mayor's? We're through.

-Will



"When the news is all bad,
when you're sour and blue,
when you start to get sad, you should do what I do:
tell yourself how lucky you are!"

School-Approved Mud Wrestling

Now, as far as school sanctioned events at DA, I have pretty low expectations. Not to say they were through the roof anywhere else, or that I haven't enjoyed previous events, but it's usually not the event itself that is the primary fun factor. Tonight, however, had me surprised, to say the least.

Late last week, a large brown piece of paper, reading "Grimy Slimy Sludge Night," appeared on the school bulletin board. Against my baser instincts, I let a friend from school sign me up. I thought to myself "You know? I could use some more grimy and slimy sludge in my life." So tonight, at 7:30, I showed up with a white t-shirt, jeans, and no belt (bad idea) at DA and was soon pronounced member of team "Stinky." At least I wasn't on "Vile," right?

The first activity was my 2nd least favorite, dubbed the egg blow. As appealing as that name was, I was reluctant to participate, but decided to take the plunge. With the aid of a raw egg and a bendy white tube, the task was to blow the egg into the opposing person's face, while they try the same to you. Unfortunately, all the egg-blowing exercises I've been training with at home were to no avail, and I got half a raw egg in the back of my throat. I don't even like cooked eggs. But, with the promise of mud-wrestling, I rinsed, spat, and trudged on.

Next had to be my favorite game of the evening. The student senate had constructed a 10' by 20' patch of pure mud at the back of the soccer field, with a tire in the middle. I assure you, it was tempting to not jump in right then and there, but I got my chance. Playing tug of war with another team, we won the majority of the rounds and moved onto find-the-fish. A variation on that game where each person on both teams is assigned a number and a number is called, then each with the a number from each team runs in and gets something and brings it back over their line (why no, there is not a more eloquent way to say that,) except with a raw fish. About halfway through, the head came off, which lead to one of the more bizarre conversations I've heard in a long time. Since one team got the head and one team got the body, the argument was what piece was better. The brain, or the majority of the body? It's a judgment call, but I'll let you decide.

Then came the next batch of trials. First off, the Poo....something. Chute, trench, pool, kazoo, I forget, but it was basically a military crawl, under benches, through a crevasse of a the most appalling mixture of matter I've ever crawled through. I don't know any specifics (not that I asked,) but olives, spaghetti, milk, and vinegar were mentioned, and multiple diapers were visible- for effect, I suppose. The stench of it will haunt me until the end of my days, and the entire team had to crawl through the 15 foot long abomination- twice. Never thought I'd roll around in a mud pit to cleanse myself. After that was the slip and slide (no explanation needed,) an egg throw, and a shot of some gross cup of something, we played a banana game. Sitting and using our feet, each team member passed a slightly-peeled banana down the line with their feet, and the last person had to peel one side with their muddy feet, then peel the rest and eat half of it. I must say, my team did a great job, and the banana was surprisingly tasty.

The finale took place back at the mud pit, with a line for each team, a place to get mud, and a bucket at the end of each team's lane. We nearly filled ours, but fell short and came in 2nd out of 8 overall. Not bad, I'd say. Walking home, barefoot, and plastered with mud, though, had to be one of the nights plentiful highlights.

And this is after 5 minutes of hosing down. At least a minute and a half were devoted to being able to read the letters. Yes, this was originally a white shirt.

All in all, a pretty awesome night.


-Will



"That's the second biggest slingshot I've ever seen, but I guess it'll have to do."

Birthday

It seems like, almost every gift-giving occasion, I ask for something preposterous. Not necessarily monetarily preposterous (but usually it is,) but always either impossible to find, or impossible to figure out, or whatever. The Wii, which my mom camped out at Target all night to get. The little white boxes have just now, two years later, started to be easy to find. Guitar Hero III, after looking for months was found by not only my mom and dad, by my grandparents as well. Then again, here in Africa, with the next iteration of Guitar Hero. This time, though, not only with a guitar, but with a drum set, a mic, and a guitar (all fake, of course.) So, they call some random pastor of a church in Colorado, have him pick it up miles away at the only store that has it, have him give it to the previous resident of our house, who was coming back. It had gotten to the point that I wondered what the limit was.

So, again, I pushed for something seemingly impossible. Tickets to the states for the summer. In every way, a ridiculous proposition. Where to stay, when to go, how to get there, the cost of airline tickets. All factors preventing me from my dream trip. Honestly, if I could go to anywhere in the world for the summer, and this might seem stupid, but I would choose Franklin, Massachusetts. And I am.

I opened my present (a bit early) and there it was. Flight schedules to and from Logan airport. In a way, I don't even think it's hit me. I mean, I know I'm going home for the summer, but it still seems like a dream. In just a few short months, I'll be in a place with green grass, root beer, central air conditioning, hardly any power outages, and fast food. Glorious, glorious fast food. I think it won't ever really hit me, actually, until about 2 days after I get back. So, Mom and Dad, I'd like to give you a both late and in-advance thank you. This one tops even Guitar Hero.

-Will


"If you're sweating while you're bowling, you're out of shape. And if you're out of shape and you're bowling, you're probably a professional bowler."

I Found This Under My Bed...

...ran it though Google translator, and here's what I got. I don't think the little fella really gets calendars and dates yet, though.

-I found a piece of paper in the big one's closet, and took ones of those "pencils" the humans think I'm so interested in, so I thought I might record some of my life in a journal.

-The big one, Will, seems to be pretty cool. He was much more attentive during my initial days, but he's still pretty awesome, even though he thinks I like tummy rubs.

-Watched the boys play Guitar Hero World Tour for 3 hours, napped through most of it. There's just something about hearing "Livin' On a Prayer" belted, clicked, and smashed through at top volume that puts me to sleep.

-The small girl...Anna, I think, had some cult gathering of fellow small girls. They made this big light on the wall, and watched a movie, but that was the only time that they were anything near to quiet. I thought Anna was loud, but at least there's only one of her. She's pretty nice and I can run away from her if I want. Apparently, when multiple human girls get together, their accumulative sound level is increased exponentially. This was evident during most of the evening, and it was one of the times that I cherished the safety of Will's room.

-Will's mom keeps talking about someone being declawed, and it's stressing Will out nearly as much as it is me. I'm pretty sure they're talking about someone else, though, so no worries.

-I believe Will has some musical event at some point, because he keeps walking into the door repeating the same, strange things about Grinches and clovers. There's also some songs about them, which he unfortunately tests on me. The poor guy just isn't much of a tenor.

-I snuck the paper in the bathroom before Will shut me in here again. I just wanna get out there and jump on his face while he's sleeping. Who is he to deny me that right? I have, however, learned how to jump onto the shower edge, and I saw this other cat in a window across from it. He looks pretty classy, but he's not paying me much attention.

-Been feeling strange, and took the chance to define the term "explosive diarrhea." Walls, outside of the litter box, everywhere. But then I felt really bad that I made such a mess (in the middle of some phone call with a church known as "Emmanuel") and, after rubbing my paws in it and walking a round for a moment, went into the bathroom. There Will found me, partially covered in my own excrement, and had the bright idea to give me a bath (with the help of his mom, of course.) But, if I look at it from his angle, it was probably as unpleasant for him as it was for me, so no harm done.

-Anyways, now I'm napping, and have been for a long time. Will's really worried about me, so they're taking me to the vet tomorrow before headin' off to some game reserve. Sounds pretty cool, though I don't really remember what a vet is. I'll just play it by ear.


Until I find another piece of paper,
Jazz Danger Root Beer Martin



P.S.- I watched this moving picture about these people in an office, and there was a line that I found pretty funny, so I'm gonna throw it in the end here.

"This a dream that I have had since lunch, and I am not giving up on it now."
"

A Day in the Life

Well, sorry for the dry spell in posts, but it's been pretty boring recently and I try to stay away from writing anything when I'm in a bad mood. It's like shopping when you're hungry- not a good idea. But today was an up and down day. I was initially appalled by today's schedule (95% of my waking hours spent on school grounds,) somehow it all worked out in the end. While you wouldn't think such would occur when you add youth group, 3 hour play practice, and an insane English teacher, I guess sometimes life surprises you.

First off, my english teacher. I've neglected to write about this woman for a long time (even though the urge existed multiple times,) yet today I just have to mention her. She's such a character I just have to write this down so I can link to this when I'm old and prove to all my friends in the holo-nursery home that I didn't make her up. She apparently has very keen ears, and absolutely can't stand anyone tapping or making noise of any kind. Clearly this is not a good pair of traits for any person. Yet I can understand that. Although it's a wee bit neurotic on the Richter scale of insanity, since people tend to do that (absentmindedly and with no ill intent.) So every so often, someone will be tapping without noticing, and she'll kind of freak out. Alright, whatever. But today, as the teacher was reading annoucements, the girl sitting next to me was getting a pen out of her binder. Of course, a malicious act. Now I'll just write it out as a dialogue, because I think you'll get the gist of it without me making snyde comments every sentence.

(teacher- exasperated, yet forcedly smiling thoughout) "Are you ever going to be done making that noise?"

"What? Oh, sorry"

(teacher continues to read daily annoucements, while girl pokes at white eraser with pencil, making no noise)

"Maybe if I hold the paper in front of my face, I won't be able to see you moving so much"

"Ummm, what? Oh....sorry"

"Just don't move...don't breathe....just kidding.....not really"


And then after everyone was quiet for a few seconds, she scolded two other people down the row of chairs, who must have been blinking hard or something. Not making any noise, of course. Think David Brent's (from the British version of "The Office") level of awkwardness, except it's in real life. Just had to get that out there.

And then, after a tiring day, I had play practice. My experiences with play practice here have been...humbling, to say the least. I don't know whether it's the fact I haven't sung on a formal level in a year, or if it's I wasn't that great to begin with, or if the Who's whom I'm ruling with an iron fist (yeah, I'm the Mayor of Whoville- and I wasn't elected, either,) but most of the time it's been pretty bad. Yet, maybe it is just my boring kinsfolk, because whenever all the leads get together to do blocking, it is a heck of a good time. I've always believed that even the crappiest experience could be made amazing with the right people beside you. You could watch all the "Insert vague movie genre here Movie" (e.g. Date Movie, Epic Movie etc.) in a row, but if it was with the right bunch of bunnies, then that could be one memorable experience.

And finally, after said day at school, I trudged home, had dinner, banana cake, and headed off to youth group. I usually hate this weekly event, but a group of factors contributed to this week's being, dare I say, awesome. There's a football team from Wheaton here, but the fact that they hang out with either the little kids or the dorm guys/girls ensures that I have little to no reaction with them. They did, however, both attend and speak at youth group, marking my favorite sermon of all time. Long story short, it was 15 minutes long, and contained the word "awesome" at least half a dozen times. Yet the best was still to come.

After youth group, me and a dude named Joe managed (with help) to dogpile 2 memebers of the team, one of whom was an alumni and has played in the NFL. And, after the largest game of knockout I've ever seen played, aforementioned dude named Joe, two others named Jon and Lee, and I went back into the woods and sat on the new treehouse the Wheaton guys made for a while, just to test it out. Of course, sitting in the woods gets boring after a while, so we decided to go back and jump off of stuff. Luckily, there were some gym mats (thick ones) laying around, so we took it upon ourselves to jump off a second story balcony. Which we did. Many times. Seeing us, our awesome history teacher comes over, and instead of punishing us, jumps off herself. After getting too tired to run back to the top and jump off, we decided to play king of the hill of a balance beam. Needless to say, I came home tired and sweaty. So that was my awesome day. We'll see how tomorrow goes.



-Will


"What would think do if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, and I'll try not to sing out of key."

Your Getting Your Pet in My Softball Tournament!!

I usually try not to blog unless something a little interesting has happened to me (yet I frequently break the rule,) and now TWO THINGS DID.

Before I say anything else, though, just let me get this off my chest:

Above: THAT'S MY KITTY

But before I get even more ahead of myself, I'm going to try to explain in words what this weekend was like. Dakar's main event from February 14-16 was W.A.I.S.T. That's the West African Invitational Softball Tournament, and just pronounced "waist." Now, if I had more time (you know how frightfully busy my schedule is,) and if the whole thing wasn't eclipsed by what I got after the tournament, AND if I had some pictures, then I could really portray this event better.

Just picture this: 20ish year old Americans living all over West Africa converging together in 3 days, in the only West African country that drinking is allowed. Now picture an entire softball team in uniforms of ties, button-up shirts, and blazers- and short-shorts. And extend that amount of crazy across 6 teams and about 15 hours of play time, and you can start to grasp the gist of W.A.I.S.T. It was loud, it was smelly, and it was the most fun I've had (socially) in a long, long time. Now, I can't even really describe DA's environment (though I've tried for 6 months,) but just know that however crazy such a tourney seems to you know, that after being at DA for half a year, it was ten times more jarring. And I mean that in such a good way.

Yet we haven't even gotten to the best part. On the last day, someone brought over 3 kitties for people to adopt. Judging by the fact that someone did the same thing with puppies on Saturday,* this seemed normal. But I am a cat person, and when someone brought over the cutest, chubbiest kitty with the most forlorn eyes I've seen on any living creature, well, long story short, it's currently napping in my room. And now, for pictures (more on my facebook.)

Above: my face, since I saw that kitty. Well, that, and my "Aaaaawwww" face.

Above: Say hello to the world, Jazz Danger Root Beer Martin (fine, he's already 2 months old)

-Will


"Danger? Danger's my middle name."


P.S. Thank you SO MUCH Mom and Dad!!!


*A kid in my class adopted 2, totally out of the blue. If you were wondering, their names are Pepsi and King Julian, and they've already started fighting.


P.S.S. Is this after-blog space getting overcrowded or what? Quote of the Post was here first!

Ocean's Fourteen

Aaaaaaaand I'm back. Miss me?

Well, I'm sure that many of you reading have locked yourselves out of something at some point or another, but did you ever have to break back in....Mission Impossible style?



Above: Maybe you see a ladder on a table, but that sure looks like the manifestation of an elaborate breaking-and-entering scheme to me.

So we went to watch a softball game this morning. As we left, Mom said we had locked ourselves out of the house. Yet we had the key...? Of course, 2 hours, half a Mars bar, and a softball game later, this didn't seem like much of a problem. There are like 3 or 4 doors to our house, one of them must be open, right? Back door? Locked and double deadbolted. Side doors? Two layers of unbridled lockedness. Front door? There was a key in the other side. Of course.

There we were, like many before, locked out of our own house. Yet, here in our new place, we had something not many do. We had a balcony. Multiple balconies, even. So what's a tired, Sly-Cooper-playing, heist-movie-watching family to do but conquer the balcony with lawn furniture. Long story short, I climbed up, ripped some screen door, broke into my parents room, walked downstairs, and removed the key from the door.

And that, my friends, is the true story of Will's first felony.



-Will


"I suddenly remembered my Charlemagne. Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds in the sky."