As you can see, I usually spend about 19.5 hours awake and working per day. In total, I had 2 hours and twenty minutes of free time. And believe me, that’s not a lot at all. In that time, I accomplished pretty much nothing. I made six icons for my bootloader, listened to four or five songs played on the piano by my friend, and discussed something important with my roommate. THAT WAS IT. Everything else was related to school.
So, what does this have to do with Project365? Well, on average, it takes me thirty minutes to get my picture for the day. I know it can take only a few minutes, but interrupting what I am doing is very counter productive, so I tend not to do it. Also, it’s a hassle to carry my camera with me every where I go, so I frequently have to walk to my dorm to even get my camera (Hey, carrying around a bulky DSLR isn’t that easy). Writing my blog posts take about an hour to conceive, write, and post.
With all that said, it is my official decision to end my participation in Project365, and to, instead, partake in Challenge52 (Which I totally made up). Instead of taking a picture and writing a blog post a day, I’ll take all the pictures I want and choose one that I like most at the end of the week. Then, I’ll summarize what happened during that week in a blog post. This gives me something to write, and the time to actually write it.
So, I hope this doesn’t upset anyone. It shouldn’t, seeing as I’m the only one really caring about this.
And goodbye my friends, see you next week!

Put them there and leave them behind.

But words just cant capture the rage,

The rage that seems to ensnare my mind.

There are many points in the day in which I wish I could yell my secrets out to the world. Like Postsecret, I yearn for someone to know my inner most thoughts and not hate me for them. I want someone who understands me. But, doesn’t everyone? Isn’t that what people look for in love? I wouldn’t say I’m looking for love, but I would say that I’m looking for that intimate connection that comes with knowing someone on such a deep level, that it feels as if you’re connected by some other force. But, I guess it’s also the basic human instinct to share your pain with someone else. I mean, when someone hurts me, I want to hurt them back. But, I’ve realized that doing so achieves nothing. It just introduces more hate and pain into an already painful and hurting world. What we need to do is for every act of violence, rudeness, and meanness introduce an act of kindness, sympathy, and love. Maybe then, we can counteract the force of evil in our world. I know it’s probably just wishful thinking, but I believe that if just a few people follow this philosophy, then it can better their lives and the lives of those around us.

This is something I’m going to call the A Good for an Evil philosophy.

1. Junior Repertory Theatre

Junior Repertory Theatre is basically my schools largest spring theater performance. This semester, we are performing Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Our cast is HUGE, totaling well over 30 or so people. It’s going to be hard, especially what has been officially named as “Hell Week,” a period in which I will be rehearsing for 8 hours on Saturday and Sunday, and from 6-10pm on Monday-Friday night. It’s going to be downright tiresome, but I hope that the outcome, putting on a spectacular theater performance, will be well worth the work.

2. Speech and Debate

Also this semester, I am actively participating in my school’s Speech and Debate team. Initially, I wanted nothing to do with the intellectually challenging Debate aspect, preferring to spend my time working on speeches. But, all this changed when I went to my first debate tournament. For someone who went in with practically NO knowledge of what was going on, I was amazed that I managed to tie for first place! At each round, it was nerve-wracking. I was shaking, but thankfully, no one else noticed. Next weekend, I will be participating in another tournament right here on campus. I still have some preparation to do before the tournament, though.

3. Poetry Out Loud (also known as English class, Studies in Poetry class, and my work service)

After my amazing special project involving working with the oral presentation of poetry, I fell in love. I fell in love with the poetry, and the teacher. Dr. Cagle, my english professor, is one of the most wackiest teachers at this school. Quite frequently, she talks about how the teachers here “refuse to do anything they haven’t been doing for twenty-five years.” She’s one of those teachers that hates the education system, and that’s what makes her great. Sadly, I do not believe she will be teaching here next year, which is incredibly sad.

Anyway, after my special project, I decided to take Dr. Cagle’s Studies in Poetry class. Come to find out, the first few weeks of Studies in Poetry is exactly like the first few weeks of Composition and Literature, my current English course taught by none other than Dr. Cagle. The main focus of these first few weeks is on a competition called Poetry Out Loud, which is a poetry recitation contest. She’s also pulled me into her work service so that I can help organize the competition.

4. NCPTT Internship

As of this moment, I still don’t have much knowledge on what my internship actually entails. I know it’s working with social media and integrating it into preservation. You can have a look at my main project at preservation.com. I’ll be working with a few other students on examining the usability of the site, and hopefully, engineering the site to be a lot more community friendly.

And that’s all of my special projects going on right now. I am still doing Project 365, but I’ve explained that in detail in previous posts.

I am white.

I come from an upper-middle class family.

I don’t really know where I’m from.

I’ve lived in Louisiana all my life.

I don’t have my license.

I spend way too much time on the computer.

I love acting.

I never have time to do the things I love.

I frequently seek out challenges.

I love organizing things.

I love to create.

I love to write.

I love to learn.

I hate school.

I own more than three iPods.

I have a MacBook and an iPhone.

I don’t know what color my eyes are.

I love food.

I don’t eat enough food.

I am a tea fanatic.

I’ve brewed full-leaf tea several times.

I made a teddy bear.

I’ve written two novels.

I am addicted to my tripod.

I like to eat granny smith apples with Smucker’s Natural Creamy Peanut Butter.

I buy a certain scent of deodorant (Phoenix by AXE).

I wear Polo Blue cologne.

I love to wear jeans.

I will spend all day in regular clothes.

I’ve slept in jeans more than five times.

My favorite chips are Wheat Thins.

I prefer Cheese Nips to Cheese-Its.

I prefer Kashi Cheddar TLC’s to Cheese Nips.

I love V8.

I can find beauty in almost anything.

I prefer to make my tea with bottled water.

I am a very indecisive person.

I am a very sentimental person.

I become obsessed very easily.

I think sleeping all day is a waste.

I think that education is vastly overrated.

I love to get mail.

New clothing makes me feel good.

I’ve had my appendix removed.

I’ve had major nasal reconstructive surgery.

I breathe really heavily.

I want to keep all my textbooks except Chemistry.

And I want sleep.

8AM: French Immersion II

I have a love hate relationship with this class. It’s mostly just doing exercises in French. There isn’t really a method of learning other than mindless repetition.

10AM: Accelerated Chemistry III

Everyday, I wonder why the hell I chose to take this class when I didn’t even need it. I find it incredibly pointless and stupid, and a waste of my time. This is also the only class I have less than an A in.

11AM: Composition and Literature

This class is impossible to not like. It’s taught by one of my favorite English instructors, Dr. Cagle. Unfortunately, she’s only going to be here for one year, which is incredibly disappointing.

3PM: Junior Repertory Theatre

It’s a bit too early to tell about this class. It’s a TON of people, though. We’re going to be putting on a performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in early April.

Tuesday

8AM: French Immersion II

See above.

9:25AM: Trigonometry

This class is taught by my favorite math teacher, Mrs. Mangum. She’s bat shit crazy, and knows her shit. She frequently teaches the theory of mathematics, which makes it a hell of a lot more interesting.

10:50AM: NCPTT Internship

Haven’t started this class yet.

1:40PM: Studies in Poetry

This is probably going to be my favorite class this semester. It’s about working with poetry as an oral art form, and analyzing some of our favorite poets.

3:05PM: Accelerated Chemistry III Lab

This is my hell at this school. I hate doing experiments, mainly because I always manage to fuck something up.

Thursday

9:25AM: Trigonometry

See above.

10:50AM: NCPTT Internship

See above.

1:40PM: Studies in Poetry

See above.

A few days ago, I met someone who, I hope, will teach me to be as blessed as they are. Born two months premature, this person was pronounced dead three times. The doctors told his parents that he would be a vegetable: mute, deaf, and dumb.

And he’s going to one of the top schools in the state.

He grew up with ten siblings, the youngest of them all. He’s been through a lot: abusive fathers, and hard times. But yet, he is still one of the nicest people I know. Every time I found out more about him, I am more amazed with him, his life, and the world. It may be to early to say, but I think that he has taught me a lot about how beautiful life can be. I just hope that he remains in my life long enough to teach me what he has to teach me.

The goal of this project was to develop myself as a writer. But, I can’t develop anything if I’m just writing to write. Sometimes, that is okay, but reading back through what I have written it seems forced and unreal. I guess we will see come the end of the month.

In a way, I can understand where they are coming from. Not because it’s Tetris, because that game is annoying as all hell, but because the game requires intense mental concentration. It’s been proven that by prevent yourself from thinking about a traumatic experience, your brain just doesn’t remember it, thus reducing the trauma.

I’ve found that involving myself with something else really helps to soften the blow of a traumatic experience. It helps to have something to keep your mind occupied. But sometimes, the very act of suppression is what brings one thing to the surface with full force.

Poetry is this thing, you know?

This representation of the poets soul.

An unadulterated, unmolested, pure and untouched glimpse

Into the mind and body of the poet.

A poet will gather these pieces of their soul,

Collecting,

Categorizing,

And storing them for future use,

With the hope that one day these feelings, emotions, and thoughts

Will be released through written or spoken word,

And like a small white dove this window into the poet’s soul flies into the skies

Only to be shot by some drunk-ass redneck hunter with a brand new twelve gage shotgun.

See, that bird be confused as hell. ‘Bout as confused as Michael Jackson about his age,

A blind man about his sight,

And OJ Simpson on where the hell he was that night.

You can’t just pour yourself out onto the paper and expect someone to understand you?

Nah fool you dumb as hell!

See, we all be some confused ass people, we don’t need no more metaphors,

No more meters, themes, beats and rhyme schemes, nah.

What you need to do is write poetry for yourself, and don’t let no body else read that shit.

‘Cause it may be good to you. But I can guarantee you that there is some drunk-ass redneck hunter with a brand new twelve gage shotgun ready to shoot that damn bird down.

These thoughts and emotions you are trying to convey to us are already confusing enough,

You don’t need to confuse us anymore.

You just want us to feel you? Then sit down right here and let me tell you how to do it.

You listenin’?

Just take a slip of paper and write down the emotion you feelin’.

I don’t care if you confused just write down “Confusion.”

That a way, when you tell someone yo poetry, they can feel you.

They can think of all the things that made them mad,

When they husband or wife cheated on them,

When they boss fired them for no reason,

When that asshole at McDonalds didn’t give you no fries,

And when that drunk-ass hunter shot your poem out of the skies.

When did Education become a replica of

The already sick, twisted, mangled American culture?

When did it become about GPA’s and reports,

Degrees and qualifications?

When did it become about money, distinction, and prosperity?

Why is education refused to those who can’t afford it?

Those who can’t afford to put more money into a bloated system?

Those who work, those who live their lives, those are the educated ones,

Not the book readers, the paper writers,

The ones who solve math problems.

Because these people are the real problem solvers,

The ones who solve life’s problems.

Who is more educated? The Doctor who is twenty thousand in debt?

Or the single mother raising two kids, ain’t got no college degree but

Still in debt?

Tell me, who is the more educated one?

Yeah, those degree carryin’ fools may be smart,

But they ain’t the intelligent ones.

They the ones who need to be taught!

Not of chemistry, geometry, and other senseless subjects,

But of life, the real world.

See the real world ain’t gonna care if you got a PhD,

The real world ain’t gonna care about that shit ‘cause when you die,

We’ll be the smart ones.

We’ll be the ones who are wiser.

You can talk all day ‘bout how you built a computer,

But Old Man John can talk about how he built a house for his family

Out of scraps from the junkyard.

What?

What’s that you say?

Disagree with me all you want, I beg you.

But I’ll still tell you you wrong, son.

See, if you look at this world education is all whack,

Why don’t you just step and take a look back?

We look at schools as the source of all knowledge,

If you wanna know somethin’, you gotta go to college.

Wanna be successful in life? You gotta get a degree,

in chemistry, psychology or sociology.

We look at schooling as the only way to get ahead in life

But you gotta understand, education can get you places

It can get you a job, some money.

But money can’t buy happiness, and neither can education.

It’s knowledge, that gets you far. And what our schools give ain’t knowledge,

It’s data. Information. Shit that’s in books around the nation.

Knowledge isn’t somethin’ you can get from a book,

It’s something that comes from livin’ in this world,

Not somethin’ from a classroom. What’s that teach ya?

How to be dependent on the system? It’s independence that teaches ya somethin’!

I’m sorry if you don’t think this way,

See you’ve been taught that education is the solution.

I’ll tell you, I know their shit.

I can speak in fully correct grammatical english all day.

But why don’t I? Why is this poem full of “ain’t”s and “somethin’”s?

That’s cause you don’t expect that shit from me. You don’t expect this

All-A, white student to talk like this. But who’s to say this ain’t me?

That I’m not made of “ain’t”s and “somethin’”s?

You see, you’re wrong again. You think that ‘cause I am who I am

I have a responsibility to be somebody. I have the obligation to tell you this

In the only way you will listen. You ain’t gonna listen to me if I got my college degree

The same way you be listenin’ to me right now.

you’re critizing, critiquing, thinkin’ what I should say

But I’m tellin’ you today that life ain’t that way.

I can stand up here all I want and give you what you want to hear,

But what’s the fun in that? I give you what you don’t normally hear,

I’m gonna sit here and yell in yo ears

What you need to hear. I’ma tell you a radical idea in a revolutionary way,

Somethin’ you don’t normally hear today.

See, I can analyze literature, I can easily get my degree,

But what’s that gonna get me? A few dollars and a nice car?

I’ve told you before that don’t matter no more.

Wait, what’s that you say?

You gonna inherit the earth one day?

Nah man, you got it all wrong.

See, you may rule your world, but the real world belongs to us.

The smart ones.

The wise ones.

The real educated ones.