Superlatives

Every year, high schools and some middle schools have a list of superlatives: Best Dressed, Best Smile, Most Likely to Become President, etc. What I want to know is: what the hell? Have people been judging me every time I wore a sweatshirt or something?
Actually, no, unless you’re one of those popular girls who spend fifteen minutes a morning just on their eye makeup, as opposed to, say, their general appearance. Then again, if you’re one of those bitchy, catty, popular girls, a) you’re not reading this, so I don’t have to worry about offending you or you exacting revenge; and b) you, at least, might win one of those meaningless appearance-related superlatives.
What I want is a complete reformation of the superlative system. Each graduating class, instead of voting on a person for a specific superlative, instead nominates people for superlatives they make up, and the most accurate and creative ones go in the yearbook.
Benefits to this system: people have a laugh, superlatives are more likely to fit, and popularity contests are meaningless.
Disadvantages: those bitchy, catty, popular girls who have spent all this time preening might get upset they won’t be able to win Best Hair, which might make them cry, which will definitely (gasp!) make the makeup over which they toiled go to ruin.
Somehow that doesn’t seem like much of a disadvantage.
This is dependent, of course, on a reasonably creative student body and a school government made of people sick of popularity contests. (This may actually be less common then you might think, especially with officers: after all, no one elected them based on merit.)
But say you have these two factors. Who are you going to nominate for what? I can’t exactly help you with the whom, as it’s quite likely I don’t know what’s-his-face, but I can help you with the what.
My list of suggested superlatives (come on, you knew it was coming. Lists rock!):

• Most Likely to Get a Degree in Something Totally Useless and End Up Filthy Rich
• Most Likely to Try Really Hard to Succeed and Fail Miserably
• Most Likely to Win a Darwin Award by Age Thirty
• Most Attractive Left Ear
• Best Facial Hair (this one is also open to girls)
• Best Death Glare
• Most Able to Write a Fantastic Essay on Absolutely Nothing
• Most Likely to Get Away with Murder
• Most Likely to Become a Starving Artist and Self-Amputate an Appendage Just for the Hell of It… and Become Incredibly Famous After Death (a.k.a. the Vincent Van Gogh Award)
• Most Likely to Live Under a Bridge
• Most Interesting Schnozz
• Most Dexterous Eyebrows
• Most Likely to Succeed as a Prostitute/Hooker/Whore
• Most Likely to Assume Everything is about Him, When, in Fact, It’s Not

I don’t know if you’re on any class boards or whatever, or have power over them, or are reading this (by the way, responses from No. 2/ “Lord Perfor”- don’t ask me, because I sure as hell don’t know- do not count as evidence. He, by the way, won that final superlative.), or have a cousin whose best friend’s shift manager is in a student government, but it would rock if schools would stop with lame-ass “Best Hair” and “Most Studious” (winners of that one tend to be notorious for photographic memories and just not giving a shit about grades, for the irony of it).
Even if your class board doesn’t go for it, what about an anti-yearbook yearbook? Get someone who everyone knows, like that guy Bartleby in Accepted, and have him take a bunch of pictures all year, of crazy things too “scandalous” to put in the official school yearbook. Spread it via internet so people don’t have to pay for it, or print it so it looks like a magazine on the outside, so the school can’t get on you for it. Use pseudonyms for the credits, and tips for sleeping in class or passing physics without actually doing any work. And the crowning glory: the superlatives, as decided by the entire class.

Thought for the Day: “I fell asleep every time I tried to read A Tale of Two Cities.”
“Dude, I fell asleep every time I tried to read the Spark Notes for A Tale of Two Cities.”

Signed,
Two of Wands
“Most Likely to Become President”

Is Anybody Out There?

A few days ago I found out that people read this. A friend of mine, we’ll call her GIGO (not her real name. And she’ll probably either not get it or take serious offense at it, won’t you, GIGO?), told me she’s shown people this, and they’ve actually liked it.
So I’ve installed a hit counter to verify this little tidbit of knowledge, and sure enough, the little purple numbers at the bottom of the page keep going up. Apparently people do read this.
You could have fooled me.
When I tell people about this, I try to make it clear I’m just notifying them it exists, not trying to pressure them into telling me they like it. People so over-compliment these days, someone complimenting me makes me squirm. I’d honestly prefer a frank opinion, all the time, than try to guess someone’s true meaning. If it’s positive, that’s fantastic, but what sort of friendship is based solely on niceness? A crappy one, that’s what, but I’ve already ranted on this topic. Twice.
Point is, people are reading it, and I had no idea. I’ve had one comment on each on the first two posts, and they were both from the second person of the four I’ve told so far. (Ironically, I never actually told GIGO. No. 2 did)
Look, when I tell people I made this thing, I say, “Read and spread as you see fit.” People are reading and people are spreading, so perhaps I should create an addendum to my mantra: “Read , spread, and comment as you see fit.” Someone’s gotta see fit, right? Because I (gasp!) sincerely want to know what you really think, and, if I actually know you, know that you’re reading this, just for kicks. I’d also like the numbers and PINs of all your credit cards. (That last sentence was a joke. Feel free to burst into a crazy bout of laughter.)
I started this thing because a friend told me maybe I should, considering I have far more opinions than the average American and am sure as hell not afraid to voice them.
Fact of the matter is, people don’t want me to voice them. Apparently I’m not always quite PC, and they get offended. A lot. So I figure I won’t make people listen to all of them if they don’t want to. But if you do want to listen, perhaps you could respond?
I’ll cover whatever you want (if the subject inspires me), if you ask for it. I’ll take into account your suggestions, as long as they aren’t “Make this thing more PC.” And maybe if you ask real nice, I’ll reestablish my rekick page element to put your website on it. According to my sources, people might actually see it.
So, my dear little chicklings, care to have a go?

Thought for the day: Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional.

Signed,
Two of Wands

Invisibility

What would be worse, I wonder? Being invisible or completely despised? I suppose one would naturally wish for the other, but if you knew both, which is worse?
If you’re despised, people hate you. They attempt to slam you into lockers, purposely attack your religion, sneer at any thought you voice. It’s a miserable existence, and a situation difficult to remedy, requiring several years and a few very loyal friends.
But being invisible? When you’re invisible, it’s like there’s a glass wall separating you from the rest of the world, but while you can see out, no one can see in. You find yourself either hiding behind a book, trying to block out the sounds of chatter and laughter, or staring enviously at the comradely manner in which people are interacting. The realization you don’t belong is no surprise; the longing to get out of your small-time life is amplified. And then you realize even the circus won’t take you, not because you’re not weird enough, but because you simply aren’t there.
So you try to find people you can call, even loosely, “friends”. They’re not people you like, or with whom you have anything in common. They’re people who don’t object if you sit near them. They probably don’t even notice you’re there, but you can pretend they sort of like you. But whatever you do, don’t get involved with them. They don’t care you think their opinion is stupid, their taste in music terrible. As long as your own “friends” don’t even notice you, they won’t object to you. Choosing invisibility, ironically, is the only way you can convince the rest of the world you’re really there.
God forbid you choose to chum up to people you actually like. These are the people with hobbies and the right kind of humor, who can, and will, debate you about absolutely anything for hours. They’re your soul-sisters and –brothers, the people with whom you have a real connection.
But either they don’t realize you’re there, or they ignore you. The ultimate rejection by society. When your own soul-siblings don’t want you, there’s only one thing to do: become despised, and work your way into the accepted, well-known place you covet. It’s difficult and painful, and makes you want to rip your hair out and beat up cheerleaders. (The latter is, admittedly, quite gratifying, but not a good idea if you want to improve your Image.) But in the end, you’re not entirely alone, and you can talk about real light stuff with most people. You’re seen and yet you blend, and when you stand out, it’s in a good way. It might be an utterly boring existence, but at least you can be content.
As for your soul-siblings? The original group forgets you even exist, or they remain the only ones who despise you. Nonetheless, deep down, or not so deep really, you want them to remember you and think, “Hey, what happened to so-and-so? I miss them. I’ll give them a call, and maybe we can hang out sometime.” Speaking from experience, it doesn’t happen.
And yet I still have hope.

Have you ever wanted something
You didn’t really want
Because what you did want
You could never have?

Have you ever tried to fit
Where you could never quite belong
Because where you did belong
You could never fit?

Have you ever tried to be
Someone you’re not
To fit where you didn’t belong
And have what you didn’t want?

Have you ever felt invisible?
Separate? Ignored?
Have you ever made a scene
Just so you could be seen?

Have you ever felt that no one
Was ever on your side?
But the world’s not out to get you,
Because it doesn’t know you’re there?

And just to make the torment worse,
To make the message clearer,
Ever have you been alone
Surrounded by a crowd?

Thought for the day: When everything’s coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.

Signed,
Two of Wands

On Friendship

It seems to me that there are too many types of friends in the world. You can call someone you completely hate a friend, or be hesitant to call someone you do like more than an acquaintance.
The inevitable list, on types of friends:

• Part one: People you don't really like:

1. Someone you can't afford to have on your bad side.

2. Friend of a friend, with whom you simply deal because you both want to hang out with your mutual friend.

3. Someone like 1 or 2 who is a really good source of gossip or useful in some other way.

• Part two: People who are definitely friends:

4. Someone with whom you can have a really good time.

5. Someone in whom you can confide.

6. Someone with whom you can have a really interesting conversation.

7. A combination of 4, 5, and/or 6. And y'all are really close.

8. Someone who began as number 2, but grew on you.

• Part three: That really confusing in-betweenness:

9. Someone who counts as number 7, but only sometimes. This person has never actually called you a friend, and you have reason to believe they don't think the same, and for some reason, either a) you can't bring up the subject, or b) they simply haven't gotten around to answering. Just to complicate, sometimes they really are a number 7, but other times, you wonder if they just put up with you. And you care so much because the little voice inside you is telling you there’s something really important about this person. “After all,” it says, “how many people are really on the same wavelength as you? Not many. But this person is. Don’t lose them.”

• Part four: A few types of people in category number 7, because this list just isn't confusing enough:

10. Someone who starts out as number 1 or 2, becomes number 8, then moves to number 7, and you have no idea how the hell that happened, but you really don't care.

11. Someone you know you'll know only for a short amount of time, and yet you somehow seem to have known them forever, even though you learn something new about them about every second, and might be concealing something. But when the venue where you met them is up, you really, really want to see them again, but don't know them well enough to keep any sort of meaningful online friendship going. So you hope that fate will twist itself in that really weird way and you maybe, just maybe, can reinstate as though you were never apart.

12. BFF. Someone who is always there when you have a problem, who won't try to push you past your limits unless it really is good for you, who will never betray you. Someone who sees you how you are and won't try to change that. And someone to whom you are that friend.

My favorite type of friend on this: number 12.
The most important type: Probably number 9. Someone who could be a number 12, but you almost think you’d prefer they declare undying hatred for you than be so confusing. It gets to be you wish for some sort of definity whenever you see a shooting star. Except you don’t get it. Ever.
Because no matter how lucky you are, there’s always one category in which you have none.
And mine is this.

Thought for the day: It's a dog eat dog world out there. And they're short on napkins.

Signed,
Two of Wands

The Game

So who is Ender and what is his game? I could write an essay on the two subjects in no time flat, I've thought about it so much. (And yes, I think "Who is Ender?" is a perfectly valid question. After all, the obvious isn't always right.)
But that so isn't what I mean when I say "The Game".
I'm talking about how people interact. If you've ever really observed other people's interactions, especially those of the more socially accepted, you might notice a few things:

• People chum up to people they hate.
• "I love you" has no romantic significance whatsoever. It does, in fact, simply mean, "I do not choose to openly hate you at this time."
  
• Girls coo. It's really disturbing, because they can talk about how much they love a Vera Bradley bag for hours.
• Guys brag. How much they can bench, how awesome they are at sports, how many random trivia facts they know about baseball.
• It's impossible to tell who's dating whom. People break up about every other week, they hug everyone, and unless they're blatantly making out with someone in the halls, they could be just friends. Even if they're feeling each other up.
• You absolutely cannot show any above-average ability in an academic subject, not necessarily even in smart classes. If you ever get an A on a test everyone else failed, you better hide it and keep your trap shut. The masses loathe threats. You succeeding where they failed automatically terms you as a threat.
• If you even slightly balk at their crazy, pointlessly rebellious plans, you automatically get branded as a loser. And it's not that they'll say as much, but everything about them, their posture, their tone, just screams, "Condescending!" People younger than you are treat you like you're about eight. All because you don't think it's a very good idea to drink on an old bridge in the middle of the night. And you had the audacity to voice it.
  
• When in doubt, make animal noises, i.e. Girls squeal, guys grunt.

Oh, I'm not saying everyone behaves this way. There are, in fact, people who choose not to enclose themselves in plastic and hide their true selves. These are the people who discuss string theory at lunch, who join Anime Club, who actually show enthusiasm in presentations.
These people are smart.
These people are honest.
These people have opinions they're not afraid to voice.
These people are scorned.
It's the sad, sad truth that those who don't hide behind a facade are hated. Oh, I'm not saying tell everyone exactly what you think of them, but honestly, who the hell cares about the ins and outs of Vera Bradley. Say "nice purse" and move on.
Although, sometimes, it might be nice to hear the cold, hard truth from someone about whom you care a lot to find out just how they feel about you. The mask of the masses has its benefits, but it also hides us from those close to us. Humankind has wrapped itself in a world of politics at nearly every level of communication. Soon, even the most intimate, private confessions will be reserved for crotchety old ladies and six-year-olds playing Barbie.
No wonder this world's going to hell in a hand bucket. We're carrying it there ourselves.
But a message to you fakes out there, from the people with intense souls and shaky faking plastic skills: While we're out there curing cancer, you'll be mopping floors.
And that's the way of the world.

Thought for the day: It's a small world. So you gotta use your elbows a lot.

Signed,
Two of Wands

Toilets

We've all heard, "Bathroom? There's no bath," and "Restroom? It's not like there are cushy pillows in here." So old, it predates yo mama jokes. If that's the most profound thing you've heard, pick up a book or talk to a person with a couple of brain cells to rub together.
Moving on.
Have you ever seriously had to, you know, go, and you sprint into the school toilets, only to find there's someone in the one stall? Not that there's only one stall overall, but once you subtract the ones with no toilet paper, broken locks and/or bloody tampons in the bowl, you're down to about one. If you're lucky.
So we have three problems here. The last one is solved by girls just using their brains, although that's admittedly a bit much to demand of someone feeling bloated and moody. Go ahead and ask, by all means, but from a distance.
The other two problems are hardly our fault, unless there's a ban on actually using the toilet paper for its intended purpose. You'd think, with those enormous rolls, they would think to refill one when it runs out, and before the second runs out itself. Ditto on paper towel rolls. You went to all that effort to wash your hands, singing the ABCs and scrubbing your nails, but it's all for naught because you can't dry them. What are you supposed to do, cover your jeans in water or something?
But the biggest issue is the locks, or lack thereof. It really sucks when you seriously have to pee and run straight into a stall, try to close it, and realize the lock is bent at a funny angle or not there at all. Are you supposed to just hold the door closed with your foot, or would they prefer for you to leave the door hanging open?
With all that money they spend on sports and paper, you'd think they'd find it somewhere in the budget to spend a few dollars on a couple of bolt locks from the hardware store. And if the janitors or the custodians or the sanitation engineers or whatever can't install them, then I'm sure there's a perfectly good shop class somewhere in the building who rather conveniently need to discuss screws.
It's not like we're asking for gold-plated spigots or anything. Just basic privacy. Sure, teachers can't discuss our grades with other students, but other students are allowed to walk in on us doing our business? And by allowed, I mean without intent and with quite a bit of embarrassment and a bit of disgust.
So let's fix this problem! Get those cheapskates in administration to cough up a few bucks for toilet improvement. Or just bitch about it. Whatever.

Thought for the day: As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools.

Signed,
Two of Wands

Inspirational Sayings

Why do people feel the need to write sappy sayings? Do they think reading a single "inspirational" saying is going to make you completely turn you life around, improve your work ethic, and become a better person? That's like saying all a drug addict needs to hear is "Drugs are bad for your health," and they'll quit. Sorry, guys, not gonna happen.
They don't even make sense, sometimes. A lot of the time. Ever, really. Example:

• "When I discover who I am, I’ll be free." (Ralph Ellison)- No, you won't. You'll just be discontent. You might know who you are, but the world still won't care.

• "Don't dismiss your dreams. To be without dreams is to be without hope, to be without hope is to be without purpose." (Nancye Sims)- Without purpose- so, like, the rest of the world?

• “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." (Brian Littrell)- Personal favorite stupid inspirational saying. If you shoot for the moon and miss, you'll land among a bunch of empty space and end up putting "Houston, we have a problem" into infamy. The stars are actually millions of miles away. And pretty far apart. Obviously, this was written by a guy who had no knowledge of basic astronomy.

Thought for the day: When life gives you lemons, make apple juice and let the world wonder how.

Signed,
Two of Wands