I watched this amazing video today. It is too good not to share.
Sherlock is stuck in 221b. He's bored. Of course.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9CbS6gaO9g&feature=related
The video uses footage from the BBC Sherlock Series and music from Tangled (specifically "When Will My Life Begin.")
I love him 'painting' the walls. I love him reading the books. I love him taking a climb.
I think I'm becoming obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch's character.
However, I don't think Sherlock would ever be that interested in anything vaguely related to the solar system.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Antagonizing others
On that day that I almost told my teacher a secret that wasn't mine to tell, I think I antagonized someone whom I should love and probably do love very much. I feel very guilty about it now, but I don't want to bring it up with the teacher and blabber about how great this person is because then I might come close to telling the secret again, which would antagonize him even further. I wonder if I'd have acted differently if I were braver.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Being myself
I am really enjoying trolling on Omegle. All I have to do is be myself and add a pinch more sass. It is surprisingly quite fun.
Conflicts between Colleges
As stated in this wonderful article from The New Yorker, there seems to be two major types of college education.
The first is the small, liberal-arts college in which students learn for the sake of learning. They develop a broad foundation in a variety of mostly humanities-based subjects, and they graduate with changed minds and changed viewpoints about the world around them and themselves.
The second is the more utilitarian college degree. I include the word 'degree' in this second description and not in the first because I want to emphasize that the learning that goes on in this second college is learning towards a product: a degree, a job, and success. Of course, I don't mean to say that the learning in this second college is less valuable or less sincere than the learning of the first college. I only mean to say that the second college is more practical, more rational.
I don't know which one is more worthwhile.
For the actual article, please follow the link below!
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/04/30/120430fa_fact_auletta
The first is the small, liberal-arts college in which students learn for the sake of learning. They develop a broad foundation in a variety of mostly humanities-based subjects, and they graduate with changed minds and changed viewpoints about the world around them and themselves.
The second is the more utilitarian college degree. I include the word 'degree' in this second description and not in the first because I want to emphasize that the learning that goes on in this second college is learning towards a product: a degree, a job, and success. Of course, I don't mean to say that the learning in this second college is less valuable or less sincere than the learning of the first college. I only mean to say that the second college is more practical, more rational.
I don't know which one is more worthwhile.
For the actual article, please follow the link below!
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/04/30/120430fa_fact_auletta
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Another strange dream
Since I shared one of my strange dreams, I thought I would share another one, here.
Last Wednesday night, I had an odd nightmare. I believe I was in fifth grade, so that would mean I was probably about nine or ten years old. I was at some sort of camp, but it wasn't summer, and it wasn't winter, either. It reminded me of a place where we took a grade five trip, once. It was a sort of leadership camp. I remember it being a strange combination of that leadership camp and this other camp that we go to for our music retreats in high school and the basement of the music department building at Dalhousie University. A bunch of stuff happened that I can't really remember, but I know that the dream ended with me in a wooden cabin of sorts. It wasn't the basement of the Dalhousie music building. I was playing an upright black piano. Probably a Petrof, like the one we have at school where I have my lessons. And then I stopped playing. There was an oil lamp attached to the wall. I don't remember if my friends lit it up, or if I did, but for some reason or another I somehow managed to set the building on fire, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I tried. I swear, I tried, but the fire spread so quickly. I remember trying to get out, but struggling. My friends were in there too, I think. I'm not sure if they got out alright.
I think I woke up before I managed to get out. I think I remember seeing a gravely road ahead of me, with fire along the curbs, but I don't think I ever managed to make it out of the cabin into the road. I'm not sure.
What a strange dream. I didn't like it. I woke up feeling an awful lot like the opposite of a hero.
Last Wednesday night, I had an odd nightmare. I believe I was in fifth grade, so that would mean I was probably about nine or ten years old. I was at some sort of camp, but it wasn't summer, and it wasn't winter, either. It reminded me of a place where we took a grade five trip, once. It was a sort of leadership camp. I remember it being a strange combination of that leadership camp and this other camp that we go to for our music retreats in high school and the basement of the music department building at Dalhousie University. A bunch of stuff happened that I can't really remember, but I know that the dream ended with me in a wooden cabin of sorts. It wasn't the basement of the Dalhousie music building. I was playing an upright black piano. Probably a Petrof, like the one we have at school where I have my lessons. And then I stopped playing. There was an oil lamp attached to the wall. I don't remember if my friends lit it up, or if I did, but for some reason or another I somehow managed to set the building on fire, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I tried. I swear, I tried, but the fire spread so quickly. I remember trying to get out, but struggling. My friends were in there too, I think. I'm not sure if they got out alright.
I think I woke up before I managed to get out. I think I remember seeing a gravely road ahead of me, with fire along the curbs, but I don't think I ever managed to make it out of the cabin into the road. I'm not sure.
What a strange dream. I didn't like it. I woke up feeling an awful lot like the opposite of a hero.
Almost telling
Yesterday, I came ridiculously close to telling a teacher a secret that I've never told to anyone (other than anonymously to KHP, but I don't think that really counts). I was very upset about something that is probably stupid. She was very kind, as she always is. The words were in my head. They were on my lips. The opportunity to speak was right there. I'm pretty sure I opened my mouth to say them, but instead I said something like "I suppose so" or "I guess you're right" or some other noncommittal response like "Hmm."
That was terrifying. I have to be more careful.
It's not really my secret to tell, anyways.
That was terrifying. I have to be more careful.
It's not really my secret to tell, anyways.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)