<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557</id><updated>2012-01-30T11:41:40.264-05:00</updated><category term='School (Usually Band)'/><category term='Story'/><category term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><category term='Poem'/><category term='Asperger&apos;s and AutLabs'/><category term='Fact of the Day'/><category term='Introspective/Psychology'/><category term='Physics'/><title type='text'>Strong Thoughts From a Fragile Mind</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-8209495141669067582</id><published>2009-04-06T13:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T13:49:06.920-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Asperger&apos;s and AutLabs'/><title type='text'>Autelligent Laboratories</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  white-space: pre-wrap; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Now, all of you have probably heard about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://smolderingremains.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;smolderingremains&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; before, but I've got something new to tell you guys. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got this awesome new project in order to help create jobs for those in the Autistic and Asperger's communities. Here are people who are underrepresented in occupational communities even though they are as driven to succeed, as competent, and as intelligent as everybody else. So Ike has created &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.autlabs.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Autelligent Laboratories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; (more information &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=6290858527960823557"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;) in order to create jobs for those with Autism and Asperger's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, see, the cool thing is that whether you have either of these conditions or know someone who does or not, you can still help out. Believe me when I say that he appreciates all of the help he can get in getting the word out to as many people as possible. So create a blog, tell your friends, let people know that there is a project right here to extend jobs to those in the Autistic and Asperger's communities! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can read about it in Ike's own journal &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://smolderingremains.deviantart.com/journal/23456310/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; (though the name poll is now over) and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://smolderingremains.deviantart.com/journal/24085679/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! And for a good source of information about both Autism and his AutLabs project, I'd suggest going &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ontap.riaforge.org/blog/index.cfm/2009/4/2/AprilAutism"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-8209495141669067582?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/8209495141669067582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=8209495141669067582' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/8209495141669067582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/8209495141669067582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2009/04/autelligent-laboratories.html' title='Autelligent Laboratories'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-2132141712915614901</id><published>2009-01-11T00:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T00:29:18.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year (How Unoriginal of a Title)</title><content type='html'>Okay, so it's officially been forever and a day since I've posted anything here. There's no excuse for it, there really isn't. I have been busy, though. Not that any of you lot care (since "you lot" is pretty much, er, nobody). God, I feel like I'm talking to myself. Oh well, there might be more readers now that this is hooked up to my &lt;a href="http://www.wrongplanet.net"&gt;www.wrongplanet.net&lt;/a&gt; profile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what the heck have I been up to? I don't know. Just kidding. Life's been crazy since my last post on here. In the last, oh, seven months, we've managed to figure out Kaytlin's issues (if not solve them), gotten a new puppy, rearranged my room at least once (and probably twice), and schoolwork has been kicking my butt. I've reached my one year anniversary for reenacting (and have been promoted to Corporal) and my three year anniversary for playing the sax. I've also gotten in better touch with a few family members, thanks to a combination of my mom and Facebook (don't ask).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And other things happened, things I'd prefer not to get into on here, but that made 2008 helluva lot crazier than 2007. But better than it too, in most cases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping to start getting on this again, but knowing me, I won't. I'm trying since this is available through the family blog and has a link on my wrongplanet profile (where I am also StarDragger, in case you ever have the urge to look for me and spy on what I've been up to).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope my few (if any) readers are doing well, and I'll catch y'all later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S:....Don't forget about Ike! (See previous post.) I've gotten to know him a lot better recently and he's taught me a lot about myself. Thank him for me by either buying from him or becoming an advertiser for him. &lt;a href="http://woohooligan.com/?a=481dbe1adc65a"&gt;http://woohooligan.com/?a=481dbe1adc65a&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-2132141712915614901?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/2132141712915614901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=2132141712915614901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2132141712915614901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2132141712915614901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-year-how-unoriginal-of-title.html' title='New Year (How Unoriginal of a Title)'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-7300679206578101819</id><published>2008-05-04T09:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T17:42:36.481-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><title type='text'>My Friend, Ike</title><content type='html'>&lt;a title="Are you a HooLigAN?" href="http://woohooligan.com/?a=481dbe1adc65a"&gt;&lt;img alt="Are you a HooLigAN?" src="http://www.woohooligan.com/img/affiliate/progress.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (&lt;---Click here to buy some of Ike's work or become an advertiser for him.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'd like all of my...uh, readers (if I have any)...to meet my friend Ike. I met him over at &lt;a href="http://deviantart.com"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;DeviantART&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; a while ago. We recently started talking in depth about a lot of things and I found out that we quite possibly have a lot in common. *clears throat* But that's not why I want you to meet him (though it's as good a reason as any other).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't call him Ike (truthfully, I don't really call him anything, names aren't really a big issue at dA), I moreso know him as *&lt;a href="http://smolderingremains.deviantart.com/"&gt;smolderingremains&lt;/a&gt;. You should check out his art (by clicking on the link). Prepare to fall in love with his stuff, especially if you're a big fan of the Far Side comics by Gary Larson. Ike's comic strips are Far Side -esque without being copies. He's a very creative man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, on to the reason I want you to meet him. (Other than the fact that he's an awesome guy and his artwork absolutely rocks.) He's having some money issues (once again, something I don't get, but it probably has to do with the fact that he doesn't get enough exposure, it has nothing to do with the art) and needs more people to buy his stuff. That's where I come in. He didn't ask me to do a full profile on him and such, but I figured it was the best I could do. This is his shop: &lt;a href="http://www.cafepress.com/anupwardspiral"&gt;CafePress&lt;/a&gt;. Go over and buy some stuff. The prices are pretty good and I would have gladly relieved him of a good amount of stock, if I had a credit card to do so. CafePress does not accept payment from PayPal but I'm currently trying to work something out with Ike because he does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-7300679206578101819?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/7300679206578101819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=7300679206578101819' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7300679206578101819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7300679206578101819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-friend-ike.html' title='My Friend, Ike'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-5985711352996188711</id><published>2008-03-28T23:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T18:49:51.299-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><title type='text'>Spring Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Over Spring Break, I went to Illinois to visit family. I'm not going to give a full, detailed list of all the activities we did since that'd take up about a week's worth of blogs &lt;/span&gt;;) :P&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, but a day-by-day list of who we got to see and some of the more interesting days ought to be enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Thursday night to Friday morning was the drive out there (approximately a 14- to 16-hour drive with pit stops). I didn't sleep much since it was my job to keep my mom awake. I slept for two hours when we stopped to rest and maybe another hour more altogether, but that's it. Friday afternoon was okay, mostly calling people to tell them we made it out alright and running some errands with my grandma. We also saw my Aunt Krystal for a short visit while we were out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Saturday, Uncle Steve and Aunt Vickie took us out to the Rainforest Cafe in Gurnee, and then we all went to Rocky's House of Fun and Mini Golf and spent the afternoon/early evening mini golfing. Really, Saturday deserves its own journal, but that's okay. Adam was feeling sick at lunch so he didn't eat his mac and cheese, but I enjoyed my steak. We all caught up and enjoyed the decorations in the Cafe. Adam perked up for mini golf and Kaytlin insisted on trading golf balls with Uncle every few holes. The place itself is cool because it's dark and everything is painted in paint that glows in the black lights that are hanging in there. All the painting and things are carnival-themed so there is a bearded lady plywood cutout and various glowing mock carnival rides. We took our time, letting other groups pass us if they were faster. Kaytlin took turns between having Uncle or Mom help her and hitting the golf ball herself. She did surprisingly well for her usual lack of control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sunday was Easter, but the fun that day started before anybody got to Grandma Bonnie's house. My mother gave my brother and sister a bath in the jacuzzi but my grandma didn't specify not to put too much bubble stuff into the jacuzzi and bubbles were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;everywhere&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;. When we started scooping them out of he tub, we piled them into the separate shower to pop. Surprisingly, neither Grandma or Papa Ron were angry about it. In fact, Grandma said that the bathroom smelled nice after it was all said and done. The rest of Sunday was rather tame, even though everybody was at Grandma Bonnie's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;On Monday, we went down to Oswego to visit Uncle Matt and Aunt Tracy. I can't say it was nothing special since it's always fun with Uncle Matt around, but very little would be interesting to you guys. Cousin Richie also came over so I got to see him for the first time in probably a few years. We all talked about various things and had a really good dinner, and then we went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to get a gift for my Uncle Brian's wedding and then to Culver's to get dessert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tuesday was spent going down to Aurora to visit my dad's side of the family. We wanted to go out there because Grandma Nebel was recently in the hospital for kidney problems but when we finally got out there, she was doing better than she has for a while. Personally, I was glad to hear it, especially since my dad was mad that he wasn't able to come out and see her yet. After we visited her and brought her up to speed on how Kaytlin was doing, we went to Aunt Ze and Cousin Cris' house. I was finally able to get online and that's when I responded to the first batch of comments on dA. I didn't get to see the one cousin I wanted to (he's still in the military and somewhere else), but Kaytlin became good friends with our second cousin, Natalie Rose (who chewed out my mom for not visiting often enough &lt;/span&gt;:P&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;). We had tacos for dinner and I did get to talk to my cousin, even if I didn't actually get to see him. We didn't get back to Grandma's house until 12:15 am (Oops...).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We spent half of Wednesday at Grandma's house before we went out to visit Aunt Tracy and Cousins Abby, Max, and Jake. After we spent a few hours there (and I attempted to read my comments on dA but didn't get very far because the computer was being a pain), we watched Max and Jake's karate class, which meant going back to Grandma's house since she teaches the class and the school is right next door to her house. After class, we went out to dinner with Aunt Tracy and Uncle Tommy, the cousins (Tom and Tracy's children, anyway), Papa Ron and Grandma Bonnie, and then Auntie Amber and her kids caught up with us while we were still there, but didn't eat dinner with us. Adam was finally feeling better so he ate a good amount of pizza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;On Thursday, we started packing up our stuff and Aunt Krystal, Grandma Betty, and a friend of my mom's from school all came over to visit. We spent some time relaxing but left to go to Uncle Steve's house early in the evening. We said happy birthday to Cousin Kim (not Uncle and Aunt's kid, Richie's sister) and Adam later gave her her 25 spankings and a pinch to grow an inch. &lt;/span&gt;:D&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; We had spaghetti for dinner and Oreo cheesecake for dessert. Uncle taught Adam table hockey with pennies and sent him on a scavenger hunt, with money as the prize for each find. Adam was a pain most of the night, but in normal Uncle Steve fashion, he didn't really get mad. I think he got a little annoyed, but as my mom said, he's a quiet discipliner, very unlike my dad. He's also surprisingly fast, which I expected but which apparently caught Adam completely off-guard. That's what he gets for continuing to misbehave when even Uncle tells him to stop. &lt;/span&gt;:D&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; Other than Adam's behavior, the night went very well for our last night before setting off on the road again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-5985711352996188711?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/5985711352996188711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=5985711352996188711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/5985711352996188711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/5985711352996188711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2008/04/spring-break.html' title='Spring Break'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-1233318348057835832</id><published>2007-10-18T15:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T16:26:16.670-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day: English</title><content type='html'>Please excuse me while I hammer a few rhetorical terms into my head for AP English :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chiasmus:&lt;/span&gt; Arrangement of repeated thoughts in the pattern of X Y Y X. Chiasmus is often short and summarizes a main idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Example:&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;i&gt;Who&lt;/i&gt; dotes&lt;i&gt;, yet&lt;/i&gt; doubts&lt;i&gt;;&lt;/i&gt; suspects&lt;i&gt;, yet&lt;/i&gt; strongly loves&lt;i&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;" —Shakespeare, Othello 3.3 ("Dotes" means the same as "strongly loves" and "doubts" means the same as "suspects")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Concrete Language:&lt;/span&gt; Language that describes specific, observable things, people or places, rather than ideas or qualities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Connotation:&lt;/span&gt; Rather than the dictionary definition, the associations suggested by a word. Implied meaning rather than literal meaning or denotation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Consonance:&lt;/span&gt; Repetition of a consonant sound within two or more words in close proximity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Conventional:&lt;/span&gt; Following certain conventions or traditional techniques of writing. An overreliance on conventions may result in a lack of originality. The five-paragraph theme is considered conventional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cumulative:&lt;/span&gt; Sentence which begins with the main idea and  then expands on that idea with a series of details or other particulars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Deconstruction:&lt;/span&gt; A critical approach that debunks single definitions of meaning based on the instability of language. The deconstructionist re-examines literary conventions in light of a belief that deconstruction "is not dismantling of the structure of a text, but a demonstration that it has already dismantled itself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Didactic:&lt;/span&gt; A term used to describe fiction or nonfiction that teaches a specific lesson or moral or provides a model of correct behavior or thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-1233318348057835832?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/1233318348057835832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=1233318348057835832' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1233318348057835832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1233318348057835832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/10/fact-of-day-english.html' title='Fact of the Day: English'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-2983827187548717896</id><published>2007-10-17T22:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T16:14:11.002-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Physics'/><title type='text'>Physics 1: Friction and Football</title><content type='html'>I figured the best way to augment my growing Physics education was to do a journal that shows real life applications (as in the hows and whys) of Physics. Today's is okay, but Physics can be a messy study and so it should be said that you're reading this at your own risk. Remember to duck if told to and beware of science content. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are probably innumerable applications of Physics to any sport, but the one that I've gotten is an example that concerns friction and football (and to some extent, basketball). Let's say you've got two football players--&gt; one has the ball and is running for a touchdown, but he's bigger than the guy who's trying to tackle him. How can the defender stop him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, though, do you know why it's so difficult to stop him? It's not just weight, it also has to do with the friction between the player and the ground. In fact, if there was some way to negate that friction, the defender would be able to stop him, almost no matter the difference in size and strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What football coaches instruct their defenders is to push &lt;em&gt;up&lt;/em&gt; from under the shoulder pads of the other player. Technically, it doesn't really lift him off the ground (normally), but it reduces that friction enough to be able to keep him from getting past the defender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who aren't so sports-oriented, consider the example we were actually shown in class: let's say that two people who are very different in strength play tug-of-war in the classroom (i.e. tile floors). Tug-of-war doesn't allow a person to put their hands on the other player so how can they negate friction? Ever slipped on a piece of paper in a messy room? Exactly. There is enough friction to keep the person on the paper, but there is very little friction (or less, anyways) between the paper and the floor. The person who is not standing on the paper (even if they are the one with much less strength) has a very immediate advantage and could probably drag the other along the floor for some distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any questions, comments, or additions, feel free to communicate with me (comments, email, dA, etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Physics Post: Mass, Acceleration, and Karate Boards (and Certain Body Parts)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-2983827187548717896?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/2983827187548717896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=2983827187548717896' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2983827187548717896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2983827187548717896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/10/physics-1-friction-and-football.html' title='Physics 1: Friction and Football'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-7513430047670619462</id><published>2007-04-03T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T19:46:23.242-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introspective/Psychology'/><title type='text'>Me and Friendliness (or Friendliness and I For You Grammar People)</title><content type='html'>If there is such a thing as too friendly, I'm the person who is. I'm not someone who can be pushed around but I believe in making sure other people are not inadvertently insulted or somehow uncomfortable because of me. I'm happy when other people are happy and I hate seeing people looking sad or dejected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the too friendly thing, though. I'm someone who enjoys my quiet time, my "by myself" time. And yet, I tend to acquire the friends that can be a tad annoying or...immature. Most of the time, I don't mind because I can be the same way (though not usually to a physical extent unless I'm particularly giddy or if the person...nevermind) but at 7:30 in the morning, I'm still slightly tired. I'm not complaining about anybody, even though nobody'll probably read this, but I need somewhere to rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have only a couple declared enemies and I only have them because they declared me an enemy first or because they just repulsed me too dang much. One of the big things in my repulsion is a mote of unfairness, a tendency some teachers seem to have. I won't name names but my enemies among teachers are those who have an extreme imbalance in that fairness part of their brains. Even so, I give a lot of respect and therefore leniency to most teachers. When a teacher shows an injustice with no joke, no reason, and a whole heck of a lot of other injustices (of actual value) under their belt, then I have a problem with it. When that person is my friend, well, that teacher's in for the long haul of dealing with an annoyed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind you, I'm careful about who I consider a friend because, for some reason, people get a little uptight when you assume they're a friend, especially when you have little social standing. Maybe I only have these experiences because of a &lt;em&gt;certain&lt;/em&gt; person who can be a little creepy when he assumes someone is his friend. Anyway, here's a little chunk of myself for you all to enjoy if you want to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-7513430047670619462?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/7513430047670619462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=7513430047670619462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7513430047670619462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7513430047670619462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/04/me-and-friendliness-or-friendliness-and.html' title='Me and Friendliness (or Friendliness and I For You Grammar People)'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-1276462820910868020</id><published>2007-03-24T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T23:48:59.096-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><title type='text'>Update on Life</title><content type='html'>Life is good. Fridays and Saturdays are still the best days of the week. Softball is starting soon and a good friend of mine from band invited me to play on his coed team so I'm on two leagues this year. On the other hand, Stewie isn't playing this year :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new crush and I think he likes me back but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed. Even so, I won't be too disappointed if he says no. I love him but I'm not desperately looking for a relationship right now, I just like him and I don't want to lose him to some other lucky girl :-P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been doing a lot with college stuff lately, including using a PSAT Practice book my English teacher gave me. My grandfather thought enough to give me advice about choosing colleges and tried to put it nicer than when my mom told me what he said. He succeeded when he told me himself instead of it going through processing (AKA my mom) first. I love her but she tends to put things...blunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's everything. Oh, I've got a specific date for when Sara's moving, though I don't remember it now (the pain, you know). I'm happy to say that she's got a boyfriend now and they love each other A LOT. I'm happy for her especially after some of the guys she's gotten close to dating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-1276462820910868020?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/1276462820910868020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=1276462820910868020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1276462820910868020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1276462820910868020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/03/update-on-life.html' title='Update on Life'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-7546016791901015815</id><published>2007-03-24T21:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T23:52:48.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Week: My Dad</title><content type='html'>Yeah, that's right, my dad. I've officially found out this week that he says more when he's half-asleep. Not drunk (if you knew my dad, you'd doubt his ability to get drunk), just half-asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here, I'll set up the scene: Thursday night (Friday morning), my dad went to bed at approximately 1:30am. This is generally normal for him, especially on Thursday nights, because he doesn't usually work on Fridays. Usually. Well, this last Friday, the guy who usually works early Friday mornings got in an accident (he's fine) and so called my dad at 4am. Do all the math and he got 2 and a half hours of sleep. Needless to say, he was tired by about 2:30pm when he picked me up at school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first words before he told me one of the oddest jokes I've heard out of his mouth? "Now, if I wasn't so tired, I probably wouldn't be telling you this." I won't tell you the joke for fear of offending anybody but I will tell you it was in its own way a sexual joke that I never thought I'd hear out of his mouth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-7546016791901015815?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/7546016791901015815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=7546016791901015815' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7546016791901015815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7546016791901015815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/03/fact-of-week-my-dad.html' title='Fact of the Week: My Dad'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-690059624982742810</id><published>2007-01-25T22:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T23:48:59.097-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><title type='text'>Too Long</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been a while since I've been on here. In fact, for once, a lot has happened in my life in a short amount of time. My boyfriend and I recently broke up, but we are, of course, still on friendly terms. I've made numerous New Years' Resolutions and haven't kept a single one. :-P Such is my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...I've finally realized that me getting straight A's is nigh impossible, but I'll try my hardest. Next year will only be worse. I've shared my experiences in Band with all of the Band students in 8th grade at HMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Sara is moving away to Texas for sure this summer. :'( Uhhh...I know I'm missing something... I think my Art teacher was about to smack me earlier. I almost killed one of my friends by making them laugh too hard yesterday and my head got Starfish-raped today. :-D Don't ask, you don't want to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hehehe. Hope y'all are doing well and feel free to leave comments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-690059624982742810?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/690059624982742810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=690059624982742810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/690059624982742810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/690059624982742810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2007/01/too-long_25.html' title='Too Long'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-1897020869545167979</id><published>2006-12-25T21:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T23:48:59.098-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life (When Nothing Else Applies)'/><title type='text'>Holiday Haul</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hopefully, you can tell from the title what this particular blog is about. If not, well, you've got an issue or three. Just kidding. Anyway...enjoy! Any questions, just ask, though I don't see why there'd be questions.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;What I got: Who I got it from&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Motorcycle Stamp Bear: Mom&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;$15 Amazon Gift Card: Auntie Pam and Family&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Big (Faux?) Sapphire Earrings: Grandpa Egan and Grandma Christy &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Navy (color) Monogrammed Lean Back Chair: Mom and Dad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Key to Life Guided Journal: Grandma Christy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Larry the Cable Guy, Blue Collar Christmas, Bill Engvall, and Trent Willmon CDs: "Santa"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dragon Statue: "Santa"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Here Comes Treble shirt: Cece&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Artemis Fowl The Lost Colony: The Berlins&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;u&gt;My Firstborn, There's No One Like You&lt;/u&gt;: Mom and Dad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gloves: Grandma Nebel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dragon T-Shirt: Grandma Nebel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Black Snow Boots: Dad/Grandma Barish&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Grandpa Egan and Grandma Christy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cell Phone Holder: "TracFone" (Mom and Dad)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Square Diamond Studs: Grandma Bonnie and Papa Ron&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gold and Silver Dolphin Stud Earrings: Grandma Bonnie and Papa Ron&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Elvis Guitar Bag: Sandi&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Truffles: "Santa"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nanny McPhee DVD: "The TV" (Mom and Dad)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Photo Paper: "The Ink" (Mom and Dad)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;National Geographic Concise History of the World, An Illustrated Timeline: Grandma Barish&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Panda Decorated House Key: "Santa"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Far Side Desk Calendar: Grandpa Egan and Grandma Christy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snowflake Bracelet: Mom and Dad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Blue Topaz Stud Earrings: Mom and Dad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-1897020869545167979?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/1897020869545167979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=1897020869545167979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1897020869545167979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1897020869545167979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/holiday-haul.html' title='Holiday Haul'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-6401684815670497611</id><published>2006-12-13T14:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T15:11:23.919-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day-Chemistry</title><content type='html'>I try to choose between a variety of my classes each day, but today was kind of an odd day. Due to our performance tonight, we had band practice 5th period today. I already had band 1st period. Leaving out Owl Period, of course, that left me with only PreCalc and Chemistry. I did PreCalc last time, so I figured I'd do Chemistry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;differences in naming covalent and ionic bonds&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ionic bonds are between metals and non-metals and have names like Sodium chloride (NaCl)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;covalent bonds are between two non-metals and have names like Carbon monoxide (CO)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The difference is that there are prefixes in covalent bonds that tell you how many atoms there are of an element. The only exception is if there is only one of the first element, in which case mono (the prefix for one) is not used.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ex: Carbon tetrachloride (1 carbon, 4 chlorines)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ex: Carbon monoxide (1 carbon, 1 oxygen)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ex: Dinitrogen pentoxide (2 nitrogen, 5 oxygens)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-6401684815670497611?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/6401684815670497611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=6401684815670497611' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/6401684815670497611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/6401684815670497611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/fact-of-day-chemistry_13.html' title='Fact of the Day-Chemistry'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-7134588660485323581</id><published>2006-12-12T14:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T14:58:34.159-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day-World History</title><content type='html'>I learned about the structure (hierarchy, class system, etc) of people in relation to the castle in Medieval Europe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;King hires knights to protect himself&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gives them fiefs in return for their fealty&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;These knights may later become nobles and hire their own knights, give them land in exchange for fealty&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The knights hire (enslave) serfs to work the land&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;serfs are tied to the land are property of the knight&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-7134588660485323581?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/7134588660485323581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=7134588660485323581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7134588660485323581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/7134588660485323581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/fact-of-day-world-history.html' title='Fact of the Day-World History'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-2860158229934397461</id><published>2006-12-11T15:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T14:54:18.539-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day-PreCalculus</title><content type='html'>Math, as I'm sure you've guessed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;that translating (moving) exponential functions is basically the same as translating any other function ((x-2) would denote a movement of x right two units)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-2860158229934397461?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/2860158229934397461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=2860158229934397461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2860158229934397461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/2860158229934397461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/fact-of-day-precalculus.html' title='Fact of the Day-PreCalculus'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-9114816312783944734</id><published>2006-12-08T19:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T19:05:38.785-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day-Art</title><content type='html'>I won't give specifics because that would be tedious and probably uninteresting to you. I will, however, say that I learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt; How to (Professionally) criticize artwork&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;That my art teacher is in reality a pretty good painter (I wouldn't have guessed, she could have been a sculptor like my last art teacher)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Either way, I don't normally get to see my art teacher's own personal artwork.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-9114816312783944734?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/9114816312783944734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=9114816312783944734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/9114816312783944734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/9114816312783944734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/fact-of-day-art.html' title='Fact of the Day-Art'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-4008544754153898707</id><published>2006-12-07T21:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T15:15:00.684-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fact of the Day'/><title type='text'>Fact of the Day-Chemistry</title><content type='html'>My dad's always getting on me about not remembering what I learn (if I learn anything that day) so I figured I'd do something about it. From here on in, I will write at least one fact I learn everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's Fact of the Day pertains to Chemistry, just as the title suggests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;how suffixes of Ionic Compounds are determined&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;-ate, -ite, -ide&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ex: Sodium Chloride is what's called a binary ionic compound because it's made of two different elements: (NaCl) Sodium and Chlorine. All binary ionic compounds end in -ide, no matter the number of atoms of one of the two elements.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's it for today. Come back for more tomorrow!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-4008544754153898707?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/4008544754153898707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=4008544754153898707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4008544754153898707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4008544754153898707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/fact-of-day-chemistry.html' title='Fact of the Day-Chemistry'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-1024872472486094341</id><published>2006-12-06T17:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T19:37:52.462-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><title type='text'>Continuation of Who Knew? (11/28/06)</title><content type='html'>If you haven't read the first part of &lt;u&gt;Who Knew?&lt;/u&gt; or need a refresher, I suggest that you go to  &lt;a href="http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/11/story-who-knew-not-finished.html"&gt;http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/11/story-who-knew-not-finished.html&lt;/a&gt; before you read this post. With that said and done, I hope you enjoy this! (By the way, it's still not finished, so don't get your hopes up too high!)&lt;br /&gt;________________&lt;br /&gt;I heard the slammed door I’d been listening for and yelled up to my dad, “What are we having for dinner and can you make sure we have enough food for an extra person tomorrow night?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Food!” He responded to my first question. I had expected that answer and was already on my way up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Very funny, Dad. You know what I mean.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he took the top off of the pan for me to see what he was cooking, he asked, “So, who’s the visitor for tomorrow and why do you always insist on telling me, the cook, on such short notice?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Because I’m mean like that, Dad. What kind of food that you eat are we having for dinner tomorrow?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He frowned playfully, trying to think of another way to trip me up. I had already used his normal arsenal of true, but unhelpful, responses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay, fine. Does homemade pizza sound good?” I nodded, happily contemplating tomorrow night’s dinner. “What time is he coming? That is, unless you want to subject him to our chicken-barbecue sauce combo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “I’m pretty sure he’ll survive. It’s not like it’s your Shrimp Creole.” He smiled at this. I was sure that even he could barely stand the spiciness of his favorite shrimp dish, despite his tolerance for spicy foods. “He’s supposed to be coming at seven. Is that all you need?” I asked as I started to descend the stairs. I’d been working on my newest Dean Koontz book when I was interrupted by Mr. Slick and would have liked very much to continue reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, set the table, please.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kaytlin, do you want to help me set the table?”&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________&lt;br /&gt;The next afternoon finally rolled around and found me trying to do my homework and clean the living room at the same time. It wasn’t too hard since there wasn’t much on the floor and I was reading a book for my English class. I would have waited until I was done cleaning because I’m a fast reader but when you’re dealing with three AP classes, you can’t wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry about the table. Kaytlin and I will handle it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“In the meantime, get ready. Your friend’s supposed to be here in an hour,” my dad continued as he eyed my school outfit of frayed jeans and a Robotics Competition shirt with spots all over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okey dokey.” I stomped downstairs and put on my nice jeans he’d given me a couple weeks ago and my navy blue “Overeducated and underemployed” shirt. I finished off my “look” by putting on my whale tail necklace, rolling the cuffs of my jeans and putting my hair in its usual double ponytail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way back upstairs to grab my backpack, I passed my mom on her way down the stairs with her arms full of laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, I must say that I’m a little surprised. Since when do you do the laundry?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Since today because your dad’s making dinner and you need your uniform for softball tomorrow.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, that’s right! I never remember anymore because I don’t get to look forward to seeing Mr. Mark or Mr. Charlie.” My mother rolled her eyes. She knew I still held a grudge for not being able to play for Harundale the last couple seasons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-1024872472486094341?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/1024872472486094341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=1024872472486094341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1024872472486094341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1024872472486094341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/continuation-of-who-knew-112806.html' title='Continuation of Who Knew? (11/28/06)'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-8793781347793456079</id><published>2006-12-06T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T16:04:37.436-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><title type='text'>A Story: Jam Session *Not Finished*</title><content type='html'>“Hey, Patterson, I’m going to Glen Burnie to visit my old orchestra teacher. I know you’ve been anxious to meet him. Last time we talked, he said that he couldn’t wait to finally meet you either.” Amanda was excited. She had been waiting since she got to know Mr. Patterson for him and Mr. Wade to meet each other. They were so alike that she knew they’d get along. “Would you like to join me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t see why not, Amanda. Today is okay, right? I hope it’s not any inconvenience but today is the best day for a while.” Mr. Patterson’s whole face was lit up. He had already been let down when he lost his chance to meet Mr. Wade at the Morgan State University performances in Amanda’s ninth and tenth grade years. “So, is there anything I should bring?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmmm, bring your saxophone and some music that I know well. Oh, and please make sure you get a trumpet part for Mr. Wade and a French horn part for Andrew as well. Mr. Wade hasn’t heard him play yet.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whoa, relax. You may be the band president but you still can’t order me around like your boyfriend.” He smirked; he was only joking. His jibe about her boyfriend wasn’t far off, but it was more that she could keep him in line well than the fact that she controlled him. Whatever the situation, Patterson couldn’t complain. Amanda was the reason he had a saxophone player that could play almost as well as him and a French horn player at all. Because of her, Andrew had come up from North Carolina after he graduated high school. In dire times, Andrew wasn’t a bad backup percussionist either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll try to keep that in mind, &lt;em&gt;sir&lt;/em&gt;. By the way, Andrew’s giving me a ride and you can ride with us if you want. That way, you don’t have to follow Andrew’s erratic driving.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sounds good. Anything else that I should make sure I have before Drew gets here?” Mr. Patterson said his name with the sort of respect a good teacher has for his students. He respected Amanda in the same way and so was glad that she and Andrew had been able to find each other. They both reminded him of himself and it felt good to be able to teach them directly from his own mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Just your personality, my friend, just bring your personality.” Amanda patted her teacher’s shoulder and went back to gathering her stuff so it was ready to go.&lt;br /&gt; _____________________________&lt;br /&gt;When Andrew arrived, there was a hailstorm of “hello’s” and “how are you’s”. Andrew only played with the band. If someone were to go to school records, he or she would never find him because he never went to Dundalk High.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrew hugged Amanda and kissed her on her forehead. “So, are you ready to go?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, so long as you don’t mind if Mr. Patterson rides with us. He wanted to come, but he did not want to attempt to follow your erratic driving.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“&lt;em&gt;My&lt;/em&gt; erratic driving? I think you’re imagining things.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re too smart for your own good. Then again, why do you think I love you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Are you two lovebirds coming or do I have to drag you out at drumstick-point?” Andrew smiled again and Amanda giggled as she picked up some of her stuff and followed her teacher out the back door of the classroom. Andrew had come in empty-handed so he got the rest of her stuff (like she knew he would) and followed them into the bright sunlight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-8793781347793456079?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/8793781347793456079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=8793781347793456079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/8793781347793456079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/8793781347793456079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/story-jam-session-not-finished.html' title='A Story: Jam Session *Not Finished*'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-4784774827892311988</id><published>2006-12-05T17:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T17:42:24.626-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School (Usually Band)'/><title type='text'>Chair Test</title><content type='html'>While I'm not one to brag (or at least mention that I feel bad if I start bragging), I do have to say that I'm looking forward to Chair Test results for Band. I basically KNOW which chair I have already since Mr. Patterson was &lt;em&gt;muy&lt;/em&gt; impressed with how well I did today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I've been playing for a little over a year (sometime in November), the fact that I can do as well as I did impresses me as well. I've always had issues with nerves, but that was my only true downfall. This time, however, I was able to quell my nerves long enough to finish and listen to one of my best friends and the current 2nd Chair attempt his chair test. Mind you, he's not a bad player, he just doesn't try when it comes to chair tests and practices exactly zero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In past times, he was able to keep up because let's just say the other Tenth grader isn't the best in the world (no offense and I'm truly truly sorry). However, the Ninth grader we gained this year has true skills. While he didn't do the best, he struggled his way through the Etude when the 2nd Chair didn't even attempt it. (Gosh darn it, Rob, it's your own fault!!) Anyway, we shall see how this year goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2nd Chair, the person that he is, pretended to leave after I finished. The Bari Sax player (who used to play Alto Sax) even said, "I quit." (Chair Test, not Band) All in humor of course, but I thought it was rather flattering. Maybe I've found my true artistic calling in life. Now, all I have to do is work on my Tone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a slightly different note (:-P...okay, bad joke), I was playing football earlier with the Band President and one of the Trumpet players. First of all, the Prez was surprised at how well I could catch and throw a ball. I was just surprised how well I was throwing it. Apparently, I'm not too bad (or I'm terrible, depending on whose perspective you're reading this from) at blocking the ball. The Prez threw it between the Trumpeter and me and I blocked the ball, inadvertently sending it between the Trumpet player's legs (OW!!). Oops. I don't think he'll ever forgive me, not that I require his forgiveness. It was an accident, after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, that was all in one day, amazing! So, how was your day??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-4784774827892311988?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/4784774827892311988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=4784774827892311988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4784774827892311988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4784774827892311988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/chair-test.html' title='Chair Test'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-4010727530820608377</id><published>2006-12-04T17:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T17:45:39.952-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><title type='text'>A Story: Four *Not Finished*</title><content type='html'>As I woke up, flashes of the night before rushed through my head and almost gave me a headache. Or a worse one, I should say. My head was throbbing like crazy and I could feel the pressure of a bandage wound tightly around it. Short flashes of me getting picked up by the ambulance and being wheeled into this room assured my assumption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consciousness finally stuck and I became aware of the feeling that someone was watching me. That sixth sense had always either kept my siblings out of my room or scared the heck out of me. I slowly opened my eyes and, noticing the extreme brightness of the room, shut them tightly again. I heard a familiar voice say, “She’s waking up. Turn off one of the lights and go get her visitors.” It was my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who was she talking to? I didn’t think she’d talk to my dad like that, but considering the circumstances, I was in no shape to be thinking deep thoughts. Who were my visitors? Family, if they came at all, wouldn’t have flown out this soon. When I finally did open my eyes, my mom was standing over me with a look on her face I’d never seen before. I attempted to squeak out a “Hi, Mom” but not much came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She leaned over and hugged me really hard. As she stood up, she whispered, “I love you but I have to go pee really bad. I wanted to be here when you woke up.” I smiled weakly. &lt;br /&gt;“Besides, there are a few people here that you’d probably prefer a private conversation with.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thanks,” I finally whispered as I thought of who the visitors might be. There wasn’t really anyone I’d expect to be here that didn’t have to travel far and didn’t need a ride.&lt;br /&gt;~~~*~~~*~~~&lt;br /&gt;            I closed my eyes for just a second and reopened them when I heard a hesitant voice say, “Amanda? Are you still awake?” What, or more so who, I saw surprised me to no end. Standing by my bed were three of my teachers: Mr. Wade, Mr. Bullerman, and Mr. Patterson.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;All three wore a mixed look of worry and thankfulness that I was okay. Mr. Wade leaned close and asked, “Do you mind if I hug you? In front of them, I mean.”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Not at all.”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;He hugged me tightly and as he straightened back up, I sat up a bit more in the bed. It felt weird, lying there with them standing all around me. Not only was it the most vulnerable I had felt around them, but lying in bed with only this papery nightgown and a blanket on me didn’t seem like the right situation to be surrounded by teachers. It would’ve been the stuff of nightmares for most kids, but I took it at the fact they cared about me and I didn’t mind.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“I appreciate the fact that you’re here and I understand what it means, but how did you get time to come here? Don’t you have work to do?”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bullerman stepped forward to explain. “We’ve all taken at least a small risk in coming here today, especially without much notice. We are the ones who were most motivated to come and we are here to represent those who couldn’t make it but still send their wishes of good health.” He turned to Mr. Wade and Mr. Patterson for a second. “You don’t mind if I refer to you two by your first names in front of her, right?” As they shook their heads, he turned back to me.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“I know all of your first names, so I’ll follow just fine.”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Good. Obviously, Tony represents all of Corkran, or at least those who know. He’d probably tell anyone else you’d like to know as well. Ken and I represent different parts of Dundalk High. By the way, is there anyone you’d personally like to be informed of…your condition?” His eyes glistened and it nearly made me cry too.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Anyone I say, only tell them I’m in the hospital, not why particularly. If they ask, tell them I asked you not to say so that I could do it myself. Okey dokey?”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Deal,” all three said simultaneously.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Thank you.” I turned to Mr. Wade. “Who knows at Corkran?”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Your mom sent out a mass email to basically anyone in your address book, so anybody in there I guess. Mr. Palazzo knows, at least.”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“There’s only one other person, then. Please talk to Mr. Keegan, Mr. Muha, all three gym teachers, and anybody else that you know that I know well.” I took a breath and was about to continue, but Mr. Patterson spoke up. He had been uncharacteristically quiet so I was worried about how he was taking all of this.&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt; “By the way, we were talking earlier and there’s something we’d like you to know. It may have been your head that got hurt, but that’s not what we’re really worried about. As long as-”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“Oh, Amanda, I’m so sorry about what happened to you. Is there anything I can do to help you?”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;Patterson wasn’t as infuriated at being interrupted as he was surprised about who was leaning down to hug me. As Phil stood back up, I could see the looks on the other two’s faces. Here was a very well-known country artist, personally coming to say a ‘Get Well’ to one of their students.&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;Finally, Mr. Wade was able to get something past his lips. “Phil…Vassar?”&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;“It’s not your fault. You know, you didn’t have to come all the way out here. I would’ve understood if you just sent a card. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere in Illinois?”   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I couldn’t let down my biggest fan or my best non-family helper with my music.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-4010727530820608377?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/4010727530820608377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=4010727530820608377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4010727530820608377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/4010727530820608377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/12/story-four-not-finished.html' title='A Story: Four *Not Finished*'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-1163287162900295387</id><published>2006-11-28T17:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T17:39:09.363-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><title type='text'>A Story: Who Knew? *Not Finished*</title><content type='html'>“They say you’ve got a lot of influence around here.” The young man confronting me was someone of a higher position than a messenger and obviously not happy about being forced to do such menial work. He looked slightly familiar, but I couldn’t place him. His hair was dark brown and slicked back with so much gel that it was obvious he was trying to look important. He was trying too hard, however. He wore a crisp blue suit with no tie and the top button of his white shirt undone. The TV hero look just didn’t work for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t work for him either. “Why are you coming to a sixteen year old for matters that are obviously not school-related? You know very well that my only influence is among teachers and the kids I tutor. With the kids, they are more of owed favors than true affiliations. I’m a smart outcast, not a sly gang leader.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s more of a personal favor than something school-related. My boss is pretty sure that you know a really good friend of his that lives around here. He can’t find her and he thought you could help him.” He smoothed his hair back as if he was the smartest and sexiest guy in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘God, you’d think he’s been hanging around Kevin,’ I thought to myself, but as the messenger in front of me pulled out a mirror and combed his hair even though every strand was in place, I changed my original assumption. ‘Even Kevin isn’t THAT arrogant.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I decided not to mess with his pride and instead poked and prodded my own. “I’m not some tour guide, my friend. That’s my mom’s job when she wishes to do it. Tell your boss that if he really wants my help, he needs to come here himself. At the very least, I need a name so I can put him on a waiting list.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“A waiting list?! How dare you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had pushed just the button I wanted to. “Then get him in here! I don’t like dealing with middle men. When will you be back?” I’d had some bad experiences with middle men and them asking me if I like the people they’re supposedly asking for. I discouraged them, though, and most of them stayed off my back after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Tomorrow, 7:00 pm.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ooh, that’s dinner time. Can you squeeze me in a bit earlier?” I smiled as he stomped out. I loved annoying people that think they’re higher on the food chain than me. Most of them fell for it and I got the satisfaction of getting rid of the extremely arrogant and not-so-determined clients.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-1163287162900295387?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/1163287162900295387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=1163287162900295387' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1163287162900295387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/1163287162900295387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/11/story-who-knew-not-finished.html' title='A Story: Who Knew? *Not Finished*'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-5365459327385788210</id><published>2006-11-26T01:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T01:24:03.237-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poem'/><title type='text'>A Poem: "Teachers"</title><content type='html'>There’s something that I don’t get&lt;br /&gt;and probably never will.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you can help me solve this problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When kids say “teachers” and “friends”&lt;br /&gt;they say them as two different things&lt;br /&gt;but I don’t see why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve met plenty of teachers&lt;br /&gt;who don’t fit into “friends”&lt;br /&gt;and many more that do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it a teacher’s personality&lt;br /&gt;or the way that they teach&lt;br /&gt;that decides why we like them or don’t&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it the observer themself&lt;br /&gt;that decides whether they like&lt;br /&gt;that particular teacher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If so, then why do people criticize you?&lt;br /&gt;People say they’ll respect what you think&lt;br /&gt;but when it comes to teachers, they never do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times, I’ve been told that I’m crazy&lt;br /&gt;for liking a teacher that’s an outcast&lt;br /&gt;or not liking one that everyone else does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I try so hard to fit in&lt;br /&gt;and yet I don’t&lt;br /&gt;when I try to defend a teacher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are biased because of a name or a look&lt;br /&gt;or the pitch of one’s voice&lt;br /&gt;and automatically don’t like them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the problem.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;Can you help me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-5365459327385788210?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/5365459327385788210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=5365459327385788210' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/5365459327385788210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/5365459327385788210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/11/poem-teachers.html' title='A Poem: &quot;Teachers&quot;'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290858527960823557.post-6107457141753131883</id><published>2006-11-25T01:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T01:42:36.146-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School (Usually Band)'/><title type='text'>Pep Rally and Homecoming '06</title><content type='html'>Okay, let's start this off right (or wrong, depending on who you ask).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pep Rally was awesome. Just plain awesome. My only qualms were the fact we were pressed on time and almost didn't get to do our (or MSU's, the jury's still out on that) Owl Chant. Those of you at DHS know what I'm talking about. Yes, we did get to do it, but we worried for a while. Just about everybody I talked to (outside of performers) enjoyed the Pep Rally a lot.&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________&lt;br /&gt;Before I move onto Homecoming, I have a few questions to prepare you for what I'm about to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Just this once, Do you get offended easily? Leave right now if you do, I'd rather not have complaints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) There IS a specific time during a football game when the band is supposed to, expected to, play, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Am I correct in assuming that when the team isn't the best in the world (no offense), there are people who come just to listen to and see the band?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Which is more important in school:&lt;br /&gt;(a)music (and academics)&lt;br /&gt;(b)sports and athletics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I forget, my apologies to Mr. Patterson: I know you said to leave Friday, November 10th, 2006 behind us, but there is no way that day will be forgotten and forgiven by anyone in the band. I'm sure you've figured that out by now. It's our 9-11 basically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes something...&lt;br /&gt;________________________________&lt;br /&gt;This is going to come out like a rant, but I'll tie up and explain everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We, the Marching/Pep Band, did not get to play during halftime at the Homecoming Game. No, we were not scheduled to perfrom at that time, BUT nothing was going on, nothing being done (like announcing the Homecoming Court, for example), nothing. However, when Mr. P. brought us onto the field to perform a couple of songs (nothing really really long, or taking up much time), the NEW athletic dirctor told us to go back into the stands. We wouldn't have even been in the way. Our band isn't yet big enough to be able to stand on the center of the field.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, parents were FURIOUS. Or, at least those parents who came just to see the band because they don't care a lick about the football team. From what I hear, the athletic director got "ripped a new one" if you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Injustice to the band is intolerable and revenge is sweet to anyone in the band.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not even getting into the fight between PHS and DHS...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) No offense, I've never been a big fan of the cheerleaders anywhere so I jumped to conclusions when everybody believed it was the cheerleaders' faults. You have my sincerest apologies but I'm still not a big fan. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) By the way, my point on the emphasis on NEW athletic director is the fact that Mr. Patterson was "tight" with the old one. The old one made us comfortable and gave us free food in an effort to get us to come back more often. The new one's a..... Sorry, I have to get a hold of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) You know how some places (or people) have their priorities wrong? DHS is, for the most part, one of those places. Most of the students care little for academics and waaaayyy too much about athletics. True, there's nothing innately wrong with athletics, but....Well, more than likely, anyone who'd read my blog knows exactly what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) What the heck ever happened to school spirit????______________________________________&lt;br /&gt;If you go to or work at DHS, feel free to join in the fight to get the school's priorities straight. Anyone else, PLEASE tell me what you think so I can submit ideas to the people who actually care about the school and what goes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6290858527960823557-6107457141753131883?l=stardragger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/feeds/6107457141753131883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6290858527960823557&amp;postID=6107457141753131883' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/6107457141753131883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6290858527960823557/posts/default/6107457141753131883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stardragger.blogspot.com/2006/11/pep-rally-and-homecoming-06.html' title='Pep Rally and Homecoming &apos;06'/><author><name>StarDragger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03738298112077944549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvTGJgtx-p0/TaSOIPjGLEI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xBXpBvuLoUc/s220/AKNDDJHD.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
