School + my opinion of YOLO + stuff

Get this: the track where Roger Bannister was the first to break the 4 minute mile is five minutes walk from my house. Reflect on that. If you are a runner, marvel. If you are uneducated in the ways of running, just think, “Oh, that’s nice,” and read on.

I momentarily considered writing a post on my British boyfriend. Although it would be more work for me, I’m sure you would all love to hear about him. However, I decided he was too fictional for this blog. I write non-fiction and poetry. No myths or tales. It would have been entertaining to be bombarded with emails, though. And to be yelled at via Skype by the parental units. Ok, now the post begins. Got you hooked didn’t I?

The grading system is odd here. A B is considered as good as, say, an A-. I have a 3C in my Religion and Ethics class, meaning I give 3/5 effort and have been doing B- level work. I’m not exactly sure how my teacher knows this, as she has never graded any of my work. . . . . but I don’t blame her for giving me a mediocre grade (I, um, um. . . . . . Well, it’s a useless class anyway! It doesn’t teach me anything!) If a teacher or parent is reading this, do not freak out. I repeat: Do not freak out. I am getting good grades in the classes that matter. Anyway – sorry about the tangent – tests are graded so that an 80-89 is an A and 90 and above is an A*. I got a 78% on a Physics test, and I’m pretty sure it was the top grade. I tell you now, that was a bizarre experience; otherworldly as a matter of fact.

Last Sunday, I met up with a friend from six years ago. Her dad is a screenwriter who is working on a TV series called Indian Summer. I trust all of you will therefore watch it when it comes out. Apparently, he had labeled us as “soulmates” when we were young. I think he was right, to some extent.                 <————-{I feel like that should have been written like,

‘One year, spent joyously in a friendship that should have lasted forever – one year they had. Then the American girl left and they parted with tears and promises to write, never expecting to meet ever again. They did write. But over time, the letters became few and far between. They could not stalk each other on Facebook because the American did not have one. After 6 years, the American returned to England, the world of her dreams. The two friends met, and immediately it seemed as if those 6 years  had never been.’

but that makes me sound stupidly overdramatic. Although I suppose, come to think of it, I am stupidly overdramatic. I must not indulge myself too much.}

L—– and I have been saturated with the relationship between Juliet and Lady Capulet for 7 weeks, and it’s finally over. We wrote our controlled assessment essays this past week and are moving on to greater stuff.

Anomalous Outburst of the Day: England is so socialist.

Do I have any teachers similar to those in the US? No. For the most part, Rye teachers are no competition for LCA teachers, anyway. But there are a few good ones. My Canadian English teacher is a talented writer and has honed my skills with piercing criticism. She is suspiciously pro-lesbian, but a very cool person. I have a bald Chemistry teacher who does problems like 936.375 x 23.098 in his head faster than anyone can get out a calculator and also possesses a sharp sense of humor. There is a music teacher who is good-natured, has us play 4-bar blues while he sings, and teaches us to compose songs. Oh, and of course there’s my Physics teacher. He is short and old with wispy, white hair and a face of cardboard. He never changes his facial expression. Ever. He makes many “American jokes” and puts you on the spot a lot.

Let us segue. Where shall we segue to? How about McDonald’s? After all, it’s everywhere including England. But while it is drive-through, roadtrip food in the USA, here it is a hip place to eat with trendy interior decor and lots of business. I am not a conspiracy theorist on principle, but sometimes I wonder. . . . McDonald’s. What if it is owned and run by aliens or members of a bizarre and well-organized cult who are slowly and cautiously inching towards their goal of world domination? These are questions of life and death. Join me today in the signing of a petition for the UN investigation of McDonald’s. I mean, better safe than sorry!

But some people live by the maxim “YOLO.” It is a phrase used by someone before doing something like driving drunk at 120 mph (e.g. Twitter post by rapper Ervin McKinness just prior to his death: “Drunk af going 120 drifting corners #YOLO.”) It’s existence is pure idiocy. If we only are given one life, shouldn’t we be trying to preserve  and prolong it instead of ending it in a drug-overdose at age 16? This newfangled idea just doesn’t sound practical to me.  Besides, although YOLO is meant to be a lighthearted phrase, it depresses the person you say it to with the solemn reminder that they will die. Seriously man, everyone knows everyone’s going to die! Do not state the obvious (haha, just stated the obvious, haha did it again, haha and again, etc.). Because of YOLO’s inanity, I propose to combat it with DALAF (Don’t Act Like A Fool). So if someone tells you,”Like, totally, YOLO!” say “DALAF, my dear, DALAF.” Hopefully, this will have a positive impact on the number of brains at work in your community. If not, at least you can say you tried.

OK. I think I should stop here. This is getting out of control. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m being cynical or myself.

Farewell! DALAF! Farewell!

PS – It’s Friday.