Act IV, Scene I Summary

This scene opens with Bottom being endlessly pampered and attended to by Titania's servant fairies. Oberon and Robin watch nearby, and Oberon tells Robin that he has recieved the Indian slave boy so Robin can now undo the spell of the flower. After Titania loves Oberon once more, Bottom's ass-head is taken off and he plus the four lovers are put to sleep. Theseus, Hippolyta, and Egeus come along as they hunt with hunting dogs. They come across the lovers, Demetrius with Helena and Lysander with Hermia. They explain their love for each other, and Egeus pleads with Theseus to punish them. Theseus, however, sees what is happening and refuses him, planning a wedding for all the couples, including himself and Hippolyta. All exit, discussing their now dreamlike experience, excited about their upcoming future. As they exit Bottom awakes from a seemingly elaborate and wonderful dream.

Act III, Scene II Summary

After carrying out (wrongly, of course) his master’s plans, Puck returns to Oberon to report the results. After explaining Titania’s love of the ass-head Bottom, Oberon is extremely pleased with Puck. However, after Demetrius and Hermia walk onto the scene and Puck says he anointed the eyes of a different Athenian, Oberon becomes angry because Puck failed his job. Hermia yells at Demetrius, accusing him of murder of Lysander. After Hermia finally leaves, Demetrius falls asleep, and, trying to fix the mess they made, Oberon anoints his eyes with the magic nectar. Then, Lysander and Helena walk into Demetrius’ place, Lysander lusting after Helena and Helena believing she is being mocked. Demetrius is woken up and falls immediately in love with Helena, which makes her think she is being mocked still. Lysander and Demetrius argue endlessly for Helena when Hermia finds them and grabs Lysander, asking him what’s going on. He rudely shakes her off and she is very confused. When she realizes he has left her for Helena, she threatens Helena violently and Helena accuses her fo being part of the pranking conspiracy. At this point Lysander and Demetrius actually prepare to duel each other, but then Oberon orders Puck to impersonate the two men, leading the other of track until both Lysander and Demetrius are exhausted and fall asleep. Helena and Hermia quickly follow suit. After all of this, Puck anoints the eyes of Lysander again to try to undo the love of Helena and restore his love of Hermia.

Act III, Scene I Summary

The acting company (Quince, Starveling, Snout, Snug, and Bottom) meet at the Duke’s Oak in the forest, coincidentally near the fairy queen Titania. At first they discuss how to keep from frightening ladies in their prospective audiences. Bottom comes up with a plan to use a prologue explaining that the characters are just actors, and nothing more. While they rehearse, Bottom leaves to investigate a strange noise he heard. It turns out to be Puck, invisible and watching them practice! He plays a dirty trick on Bottom, making it seem as if he has an ass-head to everyone but him. When Puck and him return to the practice area, everyone else in the acting company runs from Bottom, thinking he is cursed. He is confused and thinks they are making fun of him, so he sings to show them he is unafraid. His singing wakes up the sleeping Titania, and she sees Bottom. Because of the magic flowers given to her by Oberon just before, she falls in love with Bottom at first sight. He is then treated to the best hospitality that Titania and her fairies can offer.

Act II, Scene II Summary

The scene begins with Oberon, King of the Fairies, and his queen Titania in a quarrel. Titania has acquired a young Indian servant boy from an Indian King, which quickly made Oberon jealous. The two fairies argue endlessly until Titania leaves the scene. Once she is gone, Oberon reveals his plan to his faithful sprite Puck (also called Robin). His plot is to use a magic flower which, when rubbed into the eyes of a person, causes them to love the first creature they see. He tells Puck to find him some of the flower so he can use it on Titania to make her love some hideous beast, and while she is distracted he will take the boy. Afterwards he will use the flower again to return her love to him. Puck goes off to find this flower, and while Oberon is alone Demetrius runs by him with Helena pathetically following him. Helena bugs him about her love for him while he attempts to run away and scorns her. After they poass Puck comes back with the flower, and Oberon gives him some instructions: first of all, use the flower on Titania as planned, and second, give some to Demetrius (who he describes as "the man dressed like an Athenian") so he will love Helena. This is because Oberon sympathizes with Helena.

Act II, Scene I Summary

The scene begins with Oberon, King of the Fairies, and his queen Titania in a quarrel. Titania has acquired a young Indian servant boy from an Indian King, which quickly made Oberon jealous. The two fairies argue endlessly until Titania leaves the scene. Once she is gone, Oberon reveals his plan to his faithful sprite Puck (also called Robin). His plot is to use a magic flower which, when rubbed into the eyes of a person, causes them to love the first creature they see. He tells Puck to find him some of the flower so he can use it on Titania to make her love some hideous beast, and while she is distracted he will take the boy. Afterwards he will use the flower again to return her love to him. Puck goes off to find this flower, and while Oberon is alone Demetrius runs by him with Helena pathetically following him. Helena bugs him about her love for him while he attempts to run away and scorns her. After they poass Puck comes back with the flower, and Oberon gives him some instructions: first of all, use the flower on Titania as planned, and second, give some to Demetrius (who he describes as "the man dressed like an Athenian") so he will love Helena. This is because Oberon sympathizes with Helena.

Act I, Scene II Summary

Quince, Bottom, Snug, Starveling, Snout and Flute are members of an acting company. Quince is telling them their roles for their newest play, "Pyramus and Thisbe". Bottom is Pyramus, the male lover, which he is enthusiastic about, Flute, Thisbe the lady of Pyramus, which he is very angry about, Starveling, Thisbe's mother, Snout, Pyramus' Father, and Snug, the lion. Snug is confused about the lines for the lion, and Bottom expresses his desire to have all the parts. They all discuss what they'll need for the parts and then Quince adjourns the meeting and asks them all to meet next time at the Duke' Oak.

Act I, Scene I Summary

At first, Theseus and Hippolyta are talking about their upcoming wedding. Unfortunately they do not have long to talk about their plans because Egeus, Hermia, Demetrius and Lysander burst into the scene. Egeus is coming to Theseus in search of advice and help with his daughter. He explains that his daughter, Hermia, has been meeting with Lysander, who she says is her true love, which is against his rules because she is supposed to marry Demetrius. Hermia argues that Lysander is just as good of a man as Demetrius, and Lysander backs up this claim himself. In the end of this, Theseus and Egeus draw up three conclusions: Hermia marries Demetrius, Egeus executes Hermia, or Hermia becomes a nun. Then all but Lysander and Hermia exit the scene. They discuss in secret their plans to get secretly married at Hermia's rural manor house. Helena walks into them and tells of her desire to be as beautiful as Hermia so she can catch the eye of Demetrius. Hermia and Lysander soon give out their plan to Helena, but this soon turns out to be a bad idea after they leave because Helena plans on telling their secret to Demetrius.

The Green Lantern Man

It was pitch black, and lowly private Miller was standing in a daze outside of one of the countless concrete bunkers built for the War. He had long since lost track of the time. It could be one in the morning or three. His head nodded down and then shot back up as he fought the irresistible urge to doze. The only things keeping him going now was the shimmering, almost spectral glow of his standard-issue green lantern, and the stories. He talked about them in the barracks with his fellow soldiers – after all, there wasn’t much to do with their time. Most had expected to be fighting heroically in the battles they had once heard over the tinny sound of the radio, but in reality they had been guarding these useless bunkers in some dejected hole on the deserted leeward side of Oahu. So they passed time telling stories, and one the private had heard so many times before was the sleeping soldier. Apparently, another recruit just like him had been caught by an upper officer and had been subjected to the draconian army punishment – death. These tales were what pushed Miller to stay conscious during the endless, monotonous nights. But this night was particularly dreadful. The silence was suffocating, and it seemed like he was being taunted by receiving this job. He had signed up to and kill some people, not waste away the night here. What the hell, he thought, and he walked into the bunker, where no guard was ever supposed to go. He reassured himself that no officer in his right mind would be walking around a half mile from camp. Little did he know what the implications of his actions would be that night. The recruit walked into the cramped bunker, feeling refreshed by the slow breeze. He saw the mounted machine gun, amused. Why would the Japanese fly over here? Then he spotted some officer’s uniforms collecting dust on a rack mounted on the wall. He put on the jacket and laughed. How angry the sergeant would be if he found him wearing his very own uniform! But his attention was soon wooed by something far more interesting. In the corner rested a medium sized, nondescript beige canister. He sized it up, wondering what could possibly be inside. Gas? Kerosene? Well then, he thought aloud, what harm could it cause if I opened it just a bit? So he firmly gripped the metal gasket on top and popped it off. Instantly, yellowish gas spurted out of the canister at astonishing speed. He had barely registered what was going on when it seemed like somebody had pressed a red-hot iron directly on his face. His hands, neck, any patch of skin not covered by clothing blistered immediately. Some part of his mind that was still thinking muttered, mustard gas… But he couldn’t focus. Every cell of his body was in its own private hell. His hand squeezed the handle of the lantern until it cracked. But far worse than what was happening to his skin was what was happening to his mind. He lost all control, became mad with fear and anger. Who had caused this to happen!? He stumbled, raging out of the bunker and hobbled off into the woods.

The next morning no one saw private Miller. No one even gave it more than five seconds thought, desertions were increasingly common these days. But in the weeks, months, and years to follow nobody denied the ghastly green glow that emanated through the forest, or the haggard looking monster wearing the officers’ jacket that was the source of it all. To this day, when night falls in the forests of the leeward side, some say they can still see the green lantern man trudging away while they lay down to sleep.

Personal Essential Question #5: Response to Harold and Kumar

I believe that having a goal is important. It's not what the goal is that matters - that much is up t you. What matters is if you are up to the task of completing the goal. If you can ignore the people that try to stop you, battle through the hardships of the journey, and have the courage to pursue whatever it is you want. A good example of all of these traits I just discussed was the hilarious movie Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. In Harold and Kumar's case, their goal was to get some white castle. Yes, it seems trivial, but throughout the movie Harold and Kumar have to struggle with crazy cops, escaped cheetahs, a rival group of posers that try to ruin their lives, hateful businessman that have no acknowledgement of Harold's life, and even singing hillbillies. But Harold and Kumar find he drive to go on. Harold's quote sums it up: "I don't care about all of that stuff in the past now. I want to feel what it's like when a man gets exactly what he wants." Along the way, Harold and Kumar learn a lot about themselves and each other. Harold even summons up the courage to go after his next goal: asking out the woman across from his apartment. To sum it all up, goals are vital and you should find the courage it takes t pursue them.

Personal Essential Question #4: Response to 300

Forgive me for staying so shallow, but this response is all about the movie 300. I know it seems like such a trivial action movie, but upon watching it I thought it actually concealed a great message. Fortunately this noble cause is packaged in an assortment of blood-spraying, limb-flying, beast-slaying gore and naked women. Apart from the 300 being an awesome, visually stunning movie that reached the blood quota and filled up the immense American appetite for gore, it broadcasted a message of freedom. That freedom wasn’t free (pardon my cliché), and that freedom was the one thing truly worth fighting for. The movie told us the story of how 300 free men killed thousands of slaves, not only due to their ridiculously good fighting but due to motivation. They knew that democracy and free people rested on their shoulders. But how is this of use to us today? Of course, we can’t run around stabbing and ripping Persians in seriously crazy-nuts slow mo. That would probably be what you might call murder, not to mention impossible. But it shows us just how important freedom and liberty are, conveniently without the usage of a thick, dull textbook. King Leonidas had to inspire the rest of the Greeks to rally against the Persian slave army, or else the last remaining place of advancement be squashed under Xerxes’ fist.
Aside from all of this, 300 was one of the coolest movies I have seen. Period. It is worth your time and money to go see. It is without a doubt a spectacular combo of hilarious bloody slow mo fights and serious tones. (I also must recommend Beerfest and Harold and Kumar).

Personal Essential Question #3: What do People Worry About?

It seems like all the technological advancements of our age have brought with them needless worry and superstition along with the advantages of high-tech products. I haven't got a clue why people worry about all the wrong things. Articles in magazines like Time and other news sources have recently been run addressing this strange problem. Why is it that bird flu gets painstakingly covered on all our major news networks (and it has indeed killed zero Americans) while the common flu (death count: 36,000 this year) can't get a spot on CNN? How come E coli, airplanes, mad cow disease, and kidnappings are all feared by many Americans for some strange reason? Airplanes are a great example of these ridiculous ideas. Airplanes are the fastest and most safe form of travel around. Last year 789 people died on commercial airliners – all on small foreign airlines, most due to pilot error or airline maintenance error. Planes themselves are highly advanced, safe vehicles capable of crossing oceans and carrying hundreds. The DC-10 was the most advanced aircraft of its time, but due to one bad crash (which was actually due to faulty maintenance, not plane problems. Maintenance workers did not take off an engine correctly.) the plane folded. The sensationalistic American media inflated the problem, ignoring facts in the never-ending quest for higher ratings. Then look at the estimate for automobile deaths in 2005 – 46,800 deaths. Many of these were in respectably made and operated cars. One of my parents friends' opted to drive rather than fly across America after 9/11. Why couldn't he see that driving was far more dangerous than flying? It never ceases to confuse me that so many people are deluded in this society of crazy news shows, antibacterial soap, and needless, stupid warnings.

Free Post #2: Ko Olina Race Part 2

A perfect start slingshotted us upwind. The wind was as perfect as you
could ask for - we could reach, the fastest way to sail, right up to
the buoy. A few adjustments and we were blasting through the large
swells off of Diamond Head at a quick 18 knots. Soon me and another
friend needed to go up to the bow (the front of the boat) to get an
ideal weight distribution for sailing. We quickly got up on the rocking
trampoline between the two hulls and hopped over the crossbeam between
them before we reached the sharply angled bow of the hulls. We
rocketed up the swells coming up to meet us, 10, 15 feet in the air, a
brief moment of weightlessness and we smashed back down into the trough
between swells. Gallons of water flew into us, copious amounts of
liquid sprayed up by the hulls. Again and again we flew into the
oncoming swells, burying the bow into the walls of water before rushing
upwards. Ahead of us the rest of the fleet was rounding the mark and
rushing downwind in a tight pack, their massive spinnakers flying.
Spinnakers are huge sails used for downwind sailing. They usually more than double the sail area, and are vital for fast downwind sailing. Their huge expanse and colorful designs make for picture-perfect moments, and in the higher levels of sailing, huge advertising space. Soon enough we rounded the mark, switching the sail over and powering up to speed. We unfurled the aptly named “screacher”, a large sail that had massive area but wasn’t a spinnaker. We began, in one sailor’s words, to “reel ‘em in” – to catch up very fast to the fleet. This whole time we had the mainsail reefed, or furled some to reduce sail area in strong winds. We turned away from the wind for a brief moment to unleash the full mainsail, which was a hindrance, but in the long run it would help greatly. We gybed, or turned downwind, over and crossed behind the fleet to get better wind. Then we all got what we wanted – we furled the screacher and raised the huge, lime green spinnaker. We flew past the fleet, third place, second, then finally first. The fleet disappeared behind us and the coastline rushed up to meet us. In 2 hours and 11 minutes, a remarkably fast time, we finished the race in first by a long shot.

Free Post #1: Ko Olina Race Part 1

Sailing is one of the most exciting and fast sports you can
participate in. The faster you go, the more fun it is. That‘s why I
jumped at the opportunity to go sailing on my friend’s boat. It’s a
Reynolds R33 catamaran, 33 feet long, capable of reaching 25 knots (a
measure of speed slightly higher than MPH) and up. It can slice through
the water with its massive sail area (from 703 square feet to 1859
square feet), which produces an exciting ride. I had sailed on the
boat, named “Manju”, a few times previously, but this time would be the
first I could participate in one of the various races held over the
year. This particular race was the Waikiki Yacht Club to Ko Olina
Marina regatta. The course would take us up to Diamond Head and then
down to Ko Olina. It was open to boats of all shapes and sizes, and the
start was staggered to allow for fair competition between classes. I
arrived at the yacht club soon before the start and excitement was
already starting to build. The wind was forecasted for 20 - 25 knots -
perfect windspeed for racing. Boats from across the island were
congregrating for the start. As we sailed out to the starting line, we
got a great view of the competition. The seafaring craft ranged from
the small but deceptively fast Siesta, to the race winning machine
Boomerang, to the immaculate, 57 foot cruiser Vanessa. An old fashioned
ketch made a showing, and familiar faces were all around. Soon enough
the first starts were underway, the smaller and slower boats jockeying
for position on the imaginary line between a motorboat and a large
buoy. A horn blasted a clear signal: countdown is up, go! 10 minutes
later the middle-of-the-road boats turned up and crossed the line.
Another 10 and the largest, fastest, and sleekest boats rocketed up the
course. But we were on the only multihull in the race. Multihulls, with
less surface area, lighter weight, and no keel (a heavy bulb affixed to
the bottom of monohulls to prevent heeling, or tipping of the boat when
the force of the sails pushed the boat over) were inherently faster
then multihulls. So 15 minutes after the last monohull start, we set up
a ways from the line, tacked (turned upwind) over and zoomed to the
start. 10 seconds. We quickly approached the buoy. 5. We had to lose
some speed to time it correctly. 4, 3, 2, 1....and then the horn. We
powered upwind and took off.

Personal Essential Question #2: Why am I here?

Answer: Who cares?

I would rather not spend my time worrying about such matters. I would rather spend my time doing what I can while I have the time to do it. Sometimes people spend their entire lives in silent contemplation of the meaning of life. I just do not understand that mentality. In my opinion, if you get caught up in thinking about the meaning of life, you are missing out on life itself. My ultimate dream is to spend the rest of my life doing all the things I've ever wanted to do. Unfortunately, this is impossible, due to little things like taxes, money, and laws, so I suggest being a little more realistic and merely attempting to have all the good times that you can, within the boundaries of taxes, laws, and money. Because I go by this sort of code, it sort of explains the way I act. You can often see my friends and I doing things loudly, stupidly, and hyperactively, and that is because we aren't worried about little things like what people think about us. My advice to everyone is to do what you want to do, what you have to, and what you know is right, but nothing else. Don't do something just because it's the "cool" thing to do or because someone told you to, do it because you actually feel like doing it.

Personal Essential Question #1: What do I (not) like? (EDITED FOR CONTENT)

I could write a response to a wholesome, clean, and unimaginably dull topic like "What is my life goal" or "What do I care about most?". But I think it would be much more enjoyable to write about all the things I can't stand. If you know me, you probably know that I have an extremely short attention span (sort of like a goldfish) and I need something fun to do if I'm going to do it for a long period of time. Right now I am seriously hoping this will be fun. So here I go:
First off, I'd just like to let anyone listening (technically it's reading I suppose, unless you are some kind of insane person who uses the Apple voice to read things on your computer) know about my thoughts on things and people that are way too "PC", or politically correct. Political correctness is, according to Wikipedia, "a term used to describe language or behavior which is intended, or said to be intended, to provide a minimum of offense, particularly to racial, cultural, or other identity groups." I think this is all well and good (seriously, because some things actually do go too far), but only up to a point. After it hits a certain level of ridiculousness, it is beyond my level of tolerability. People in the world have become way, way too serious about all the little things that shouldn't make anyone care. Those kind of people are slowly but surely sucking all the joy out of the world. Making a joke about anything including something even close to being offensive is instantly considered "too far" and "insensitive". When was the last time you laughed at a clean, wholesome, completely non-dirty joke? I think Stephen Hawking jokes are hilarious (even though Stephen Hawking is truly amazing man). I laugh at dirty jokes and pranks. I think Carlos Mencia and Chris Rock are astoundingly funny, even though they've dropped more F-bombs than McDonalds has sold hamburgers. And yes, I thing Jackass 2 was one of the most disgusting (really, too disgusting) and [expletive]-ing funny movies of all time. But nowadays, when I try to crack a sick and wrong joke or use a not-serious jibe against someone, unless they are one of my closer friends I always have to "be on the lookout" and make sure they understand me and why I do not think seriously about nearly everything. This seems utterly ridicolous to me.
A good example of how I feel towards boring, lame, and prude-ish PC ideas is why I can't stand the comic Family Circus. I almost never read comics, but on the few occasions that I flip through the paper, Family Circus is always there, just waiting to ruin your morning. Its drawn in a circle, so it draws you in because it's so unique. After reading it (which is unavoidable) it makes me want to throw up (figuratively of course). It's simple: Family Circus just isn't funny. I don't know who would actually laugh upon gazing at the demonic works of Bil Keane (author of Family Circus). Whenever I think of people laughing at Family Circus (a rare thought indeed) images of amused serial killers pop into my head for some reason. The type of clean, peaceful, christian, warm, fuzzy and happy family like the one in Family Circus does not exist. If I was forced to live with that family for one whole week, somebody would end up on fire. Preferably not me. Just answer me this: Do you find this funny at all? I'm guessing not. Why does Bil Keane insist on wasting up valuable newspaper space that could be used for things like obituaries and Long's coupons? Does he feed upon happiness? Him and Jeff (his son who draws the cartoons) probably lead sickening, funless (i know, it's not a word), and boring lives. This is probably an average day at the Keane workshop:

Bil: "Gee Son, what a clean and fulfilling day this has been."
Jeff: "Golly Dad, you're right, I really liked your newest idea where Jenny says to Kittycat 'I wish you could talk just like Jeffy'. That made me laugh and feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
Bil: "With luck, nobody will notice that we've actually been running the same 4 cartoons over and over again for the past 25 years."
Jeff: "You're such a great Dad."



Now this right here is a rare serious moment for me. What I'm trying to say is this: people are starting to become so serious and grim nowadays that they frown upon anything remotely offensive, even up to the point that nobody really even gets offended. They make all of these ridiculous rules on what we can say or do that is completely against freedom of speech, and, more importantly, common sense. Make a joke about me. I'll probably laugh at it. I'm willing to laugh at myself. Are you?

Digging up Dead Dogs (and Other Great Family Stories)

Everyone has a few family stories that they love to tell anyone who will give up 5 minutes of their life to listen. A good family story must include some sort of gruesome injury, disgusting incident or embarrassing occurrence. If it does not include one of these requirements, it is most likely mind-crushingly boring and probably comes from a dull family that has no fun. Hopefully my stories will include some of this in them.
For my first story, I was very young, perhaps 6 or 7, and a rather foolish little gremlin. Me and my cousins were at the pearl city home of my great aunt and uncle (aka grandma and grandpa). Their backyard was (and still is) basically a jungle. It has trees that completely block out the sky, an unkempt undergrowth and a run down, rusted out hulk of a shed that nobody had entered since the Jurassic. This environment caused my cousins and I to think that it would be so totally cool to dig a big hole and find a new kind of dinosaur. Imagine how excited I was to discover the very first seanosaurus. Anyway, we somehow found some dirty old shovels, and after fighting each other to get the best shovel, we started our very first dino expedition. We had dug for what seemed like years when grandpa hobbled down the path to the backyard waving a stick at us and yelling for us to stop ruining his property. Naturally, we waited for him to go away and we continued with our little project. A few more pounds of dirt and a couple of plants later, and I hit something hard with my shovel. I lowered myself next to the object and dusted the excess dirt off. I was astonished - what I had found was a genuine bone! From my dinosaur books I had learned that after finding a bone, you had to make it look all nice, give it to a museum, put on glasses and get a bazillion dollars and a free sports car while a ton of people took pictures of you for the news. My cousins and I ran up to the house, probably making half the neighborhood deaf along the way, and, making sure no one else could see the bone and steal our find, we showed it to our parents. That's when I found out a little something I didn't know before. The backyard was where grandma and grandpa buried dead pets. The bone was from the dead dog Bobo. Oops.
We had to put the bone back in the hole and cover it up. Our grandpa waved his stick at us some more, and hid the shovels.
Next week we got the shovels and started over again.

Another day, back at home, I was around the same age and my grandpa on my mother's side was visiting. Grandpa Manuel was just plain awesome. He was a tennis fanatic, a fierce fan of Pete Sampras and he absolutely hated Andre Agassi. He called me Plum Plum and my sister Hasmeen. Why he did that escapes me, but he always did. He was just about the crustiest, eccentric, most Filipino and coolest person you could find. On that particular day my mom had to go to work, so me and my sister were left at home with Grandpa, which was a recipe for disaster. My sister and I were sitting around the TV watching yet another tennis game, when we decided to bug him about how hungry we were. he relented, and asked us what we wanted to eat. "Chicken noodle soup!!!" I shouted. "Saimin!!!!!!!!" my sister yelled. After thinking this over, Grandpa hatched an ingenious plan. Making both saimin and chicken noodle would take too long. Why not mix them together and cook them at the same time? Brilliant!
Needless to say this was completely disgusting. So Grandpa thought up another gem.
My mom came home to us sitting in the living room, watching tennis and eating - what else - marshmallows for lunch.

Here is another great Grandpa story. It takes place much more recently, a few years ago. He was visiting again from Manila and was left at home for a day while my mom was shopping. (I'm sensing a theme here). My sister and I were at our dad's house and were not there at the moment. My mom told Grandpa to call her every once in a while, so he did. "I cut my foot." he said. "It's bleeding everywhere, so don't be surprised when you come home." (Imagine all this in a thick Filipino accent). He was calm but my mom was not, and she rushed home. When she opened the door, it looked like a murder scene. Blood was all over the floor, carpet, everywhere. My Grandpa was sitting on the couch, completely normal looking. Of course, he hadn't just left his wound open and bleeding. No, he had duct-taped a slipper and dishtowel to his foot. Genius! It turns out he had dropped a knife through his foot. Typical Grandpa. My mom had rushed him to the hospital, and he promptly told the nurses that it was all my mom's fault. I started to look forward even more to Grandpa's visits.

Ok, that's all for now. I'm tired of typing, I'll post some other fun things (mainly centering on things I can't stand) later. Now I have to do my Bio homework. I think I'd rather find a sharp, rusty object and jam it in my eye, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Purpose of Blog

In an ideal world, I could truthfully say that the noble purpose of this blog is to broadcast all of my various thoughts to anyone who wanted to take a look, to connect my thoughts with those of people across the street or across the Atlantic. But, unfortunately, this isn't an ideal world and the truth is a rather different story. The real, unglamorous truth is this: the purpose of this blog is to fulfill the requirements for my English class. Before today I had no idea that a website called www.blogger.com even existed. Before today the thought of making a "serious" and "revealing" blog wasn't even a nagging spark in the back of my head.
But maybe it is an ideal world. Against my previous inclinations I found myself taking a gander at the "blog tour" and thinking much too long about what my template was going to look like. This blog has already started to take precedence over my other homework (Not a good sign. I've barely started). I can already feel the urge to post my many thoughts on issues, conflicts, even simple everyday stuff. Of course, about half of these posting plans in my head have no place in a blog for an English class. (Imagine my teacher's surprise at a 3-paragraph tirade on how Family Circus is the work of the devil himself. Thanks Bil Keane, but those little kids just aren't funny. Best to quit while ahead, in my opinion.)
Seriously though, after debating with myself for the better part of 30 minutes I have come to this conclusion: the purpose of this blog extends past getting a good grade for an English class. It is about showing what I think regardless of who is looking. It is about letting everyone who cares (or doesn't) what my opinion on anything is, from the somber and sincere to the mundane and trivial. This is the first blog I've ever done, whether or not it's the last is going to be decided by my experiences with this testing of my writing. I can only hope for a good time while I'm here.