Alright so here it is.  While I regularly refrain from correcting the grammar of the unfortunate miscreants who show up on my news feed, for some reason tonight I was just looking to teach the difference between who and that.  You should never say "He is the man that went to the supermarket", you should say "He is the man who went to the supermarket" because who refers to a person.  While this rule is actually unnecessary because grammar is only meant to facilitate communication and make it more efficient, and therefore the purpose of grammar is slaughtered when it is corrected and an argument is had over it, because you know what they mean anyway, it is still a grammatical rule and when you're 18 years old AKA you have just spent 13 years NONSTOP in school, YOU SHOULD JUST KIND OF KNOW THIS SORT OF SHIT.

My run-on sentences were a rhetorical choice.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  Speaking of rhetorical choices, if you ever want to cover up the fact that you're dumb and make grammatical mistakes, call it a rhetorical choice and no one will argue with you because no one except AP Lang students has any idea what a rhetorical choice might be.  Now you know.  I have let you in on a secret.

Classic.

Well hello there blog.  Great news!  I have been taking note of things that I hate lately just so that I could write a post about them and, while my original plan was to do this for far longer than 1 week, I just hate all of these things so much that I can't even wait to tell you.

And a small disclaimer, as I have said in the past, most of the things I complain about are entirely ridiculous things and I could definitely be spending my time in more constructive ways but still, I had a crap weekend and I find this to be cathartic.

In order of when I noticed them:
1.  That shit cliche in books and movies in which a brunette female has a job working for a high-end fashion magazine but still claims that she wants to be a "REAL writer."  What exactly defines being a REAL writer?  Writing about something that "matters"? my ass.

2.  That shit cliche in movies (mainly, but sometimes books) in which the protagonist is rude to everybody because her life is far too busy and she is far too important to give people the time of day, yet EVERYONE is nice to her anyway and sympathizes with her struggle against the man anyways.  If a real woman were half as rude as most female protagonists in romantic comedies, she would not get laid ever and everyone knows it.

3.  When people rhyme passion with fashion.  Come up with something new DAMN

4.  When people (ahem, Luke Blazevic*, in math class, every damn day) say "flip flop" instead of saying switch or replace or something that makes any sense at all

5.  When math teachers tell you to plug and chug.  And, if you do not attend Westlake High School, that phrase probably means nothing to you because what the hell does it mean anyway?  How does the word "chug" make sense in that context? Huh?

6.  In a very George Orwell kind of a way, I hate when people use unclear wording and non sequitur-ish terms to describe serious things.  Or not serious things, but especially when it's serious.  A lame and unserious example would be instead of answering the question of Where is Karen? with Karen went to the supermarket, an ass who doesn't want you to know exactly what Karen is up to might say:  Karen is not at home.  While the second statement is just as true as the first, it is unspecific and does not at all answer the question.  And it pisses me the hell fucking off.**

7. The phrase "i would never kiss someone who smokes- it would taste like an ashtray!"  Honestly- when licking an ashtray, my first concern would not be the taste but rather the germs from trillions of little ashes sitting on there for probably months and the texture of those ashes.  Blech.  All I'm saying is that the taste of an ashtray is not the gross part about licking an ashtray.


*yeah I'm naming names.
**If this is the type of business-adult-speak I have to look forward to, I want no damn part of it.  Ever.

I GOT INTO COLLEGE OH MY GOD FINALLY!

A High School Graduate Nose Best

When the board of education first sent me a letter asking me to blast my verbal excellence on the class of 2012 at our commencement ceremony, I thought hey, it’s our commencement; yes they should have the privilege of hearing my brilliance.  And because it is only in movies that the speaker condemns her entire class to a life in the fast food industry, I decided I wanted to not insult anyone to the point that I get uninvited from grad parties. 

I began my thought process by asking myself the most basic question:  What has high school meant to me?

And after two and a half weeks of agonizing thought, trying every method I could to extract some deep, beautiful metaphor or idea or analogy about which to write my speech, I finally came up with this.

High school is the life equivalent to the nose.  It is a nose.  It is a part of life, and in most cases -- especially in Westlake, Ohio—it will be an unavoidable part of life.  The things pertaining to noses are typically only enjoyable about one quarter of the time.  Think of all the winters you have been sniffling, all of the disgusting smells you have endured, all of the painful zits you have gotten right on the tip of your own shnozz making you resemble everyone’s favorite reindeer.  You can imagine the real-life parallels to these nasal troubles: long nights of homework, the parking lot suddenly turning into a lake when it rains, the evil boys in gym class who play dodgeball as if their very lives depended on this game.

But, like I said, 25% of the time, a nose is a lovely thing.  Playing got-your-nose with little kids, smelling fresh flowers in the spring time, sniffing warm bread on the table.  These are the times when you catch yourself thinking, yeah, having a nose is wonderful.  These are the Friday night football games, the cute boy in your French class, Bosco-stick day in the cafeteria.

The truth of it all is that high school had its moments, and though I am not sad that the end is near, I will look back on those moments fondly in the future. And for that, I would like to thank the class of 2012.  May none of you end up in the fast food industry.

titles are hard

Hello!  Well I haven't posted in a week or so but I feel like I should write something (a feeling that I rarely get when there isn't something specific or ever vaguely specific I feel like writing about) so this will probably be sort of a clusterfuck.

I have been considering lately my future in different ways than I have been for awhile, which is normal, I shift my outlook pretty often.  I still want to study Arabic and the like but I also just kind of want to study language as a study itself, like alphabets and history of communication and such and I have been considering maybe studying journalism.  I'm not sure if journalism is something I could actually do because of my complete tendency to procrastinate and not do anything and because of my generally irritated perception of many of the human beings I have encountered.

But see then I go and write lengthy, verbose yet clear sentences like the previous one and I can't help but think that that is the type of thing I would like to do forever.

Something really awesome happened to me!

I was driving from OSU back to Capital University (a ten minute drive- if that) with three friends when my back left tire blew out on a highway.  Definitely the scariest thing that has ever happened to me, but the crazy part is that not one, but two men pulled over to help us.  This awesome guy Mark put my spare tire on my car, which promptly shredded as soon as we started driving and then he drove us to the nearest Goodyear so that I could buy a brand new tire and then he put that on my car too.

The kindness of strangers is so inspirational.  As horrendous as many people are, it's people like Mark (and Charlie- who didn't really help us so much as kept an eye on Mark, who kept an eye on Charlie.  Checks and balances when dealing with strangers.)  who put me in a far better mood to deal with humanity.  They are also, conversely, the type of people who make me pissed off at selfish bimbos/douchebags who fail to consider that someone has it far worse than they do and complain about the fact that they didn't get the right color iPhone for Christmas, for example.

So I made Mark cookies and got him a visa gift card, all of which I will be mailing to him post haste.

I have learned so much about kindness and love and sharing this weekend that I can hardly contain my current positive outlook towards everything.  Also I had really good dreams last night.  I can only remember specifics or the first one but the second one I remember thinking during it, wow, this is a really good night to have dreams.

Also! I promise to post the actual commencement speech that I wrote and read out loud to my English class which, SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH got literal lolz (they ACTUALLY laughed out loud!) and no one openly hated/asked if they could burn, and personally, I consider that a win in the speech-giving field.

The full essay

This is exactly what I plan to turn in.  It is not quite two pages.  Just read the first two paragraphs and then the last one, or if you're in for all the lolz and the information (of which there is little) feel free to read the whole damn thing.  The last paragraph makes it look like I blatantly plagiarized buttttt I didn't.  I'm just a sarcastic asshole.  

Sheppard v. Maxwell

            Sam Sheppard was a fantastic high school student, competing for Cleveland Heights High School in Football, Basketball and Track as well as serving as the class president for three years.  He went on to attend Hanover College in Indiana to major in pre-med and finally became a doctor in 1942.  The 40’s being a great decade for Sheppard, he also married his wife Marilyn who bore his first child, also named Sam.

            Sheppard’s story is one of typical, you-never-thought-it-would-be-him caliber.  He was a class president and athlete to all who knew him as an adolescent, a doctor to those who knew him in his adulthood, and most importantly, a father to Sam and a husband to Marilyn. Despite his seemingly happy lifestyle, he went on to become one of the most famous murderers in the history of Ohio.  In the early morning of July 4^th, 1954, Sam Sheppard Sr. murdered pregnant Marilyn for what seems to be no good reason at all. 

            But the truly shocking aspect of the case was the trial, and more specifically, the way that print media affected the outcome of the trial.  Because no one likes to see a double-murder in the form of a murder of a pregnant woman, the press and the public assisted each other in going berserk.  They fed off of each other, demonizing Sheppard in every way, and condemning him to be found guilty.

            Sheppard made the claim that his civil right listed in the 5^th amendment granting him due process of law had been violated during his trial due to the widespread, prejudicial glare blinding him during his trial, and after he had already served 10 years of his sentence, the Supreme Court reviewed his case and on an 8 to 1 vote, agreed with him. The court concluded that the judge should have postponed proceedings or changed the venue, and ordered that Sheppard be released from prison or granted a retrial.

            It was decided that Sheppard’s 5^th and 6^th amendment rights were the specific ones which were lost in his trial; due process of law from the 5^th and that he was not granted an impartial jury from the 6^th.  His jury was decided to have been biased because of the layout of the courtroom, in which the prosecution and the press were juxtaposed in a way such that they could play off of each other, which made it appear to the jury that Sheppard could be nothing but guilty.  As an effect of this trial, juries on popular trials like this one are almost always sequestered, and media is no longer permitted to impede the result of a trial.

            Two wives and a liver failure later, Sheppard died in 1970.  His legacy lived on through his son, Sam Sheppard Jr., who, in 2000 sued Ohio for wrongful imprisonment of his father for 10 years.  Sam Jr. lost, which really does not made any sense at all considering that Sam Sr.’s trial was overturned by the supreme court and whatnot, but that is government for you.

            In order to prove that his father was wrongly imprisoned, Sam Jr. was forced to dig up his father’s body from the cemetery it was buried in in Columbus.  After the trial, Sam Sr.’s body was cremated with that of his first wife Marilyn, which is a real testament to true love.  True love always finds its way.  

I am Jon Stewart

Any teachers of mine who are not English teachers probably think I'm in 9th grade English still.  I do it a little bit on purpose though because if the only requirement is "must be 2 pages" then why shouldn't I include the sentence "In the early morning of July 4^th, 1954, Sam Sheppard Sr. murdered pregnant Marilyn for what seems to be no good reason at all." 

it adds space.  Makes me feel like a news anchor.  Whatevs.

My Commencement Speech by Hayley Hartman

I have to write a commencement speech for my English class, but I have a problem and it is that I do not believe anyone is less suited to write a commencement speech than me ever.  For reasons:

a.  For the amount of studying/class-attending/club-joining I actually did at WHS, it's like I didn't even go there.
b.  Thoughts of how I have been in high school for three and a half years both make me feel like a champion for surviving but also induce nausea
c.  I like to write about writing which makes me poorly suited to write.  Like I would like to start off my speech with something along the lines of "When I was asked to write this speech, I was like no way!"  or something and that is just nottttt something you can do.  The thing about 500 word anythings is that you don't have many words for an introduction so a sentence being like "I hate high school and it is totes uncharacteristic of me to write this" just takes up words and really doesn't say anything pertaining to my purpose
d.  I hate high school
e.  Having just written a bunch of shitty college essays, I can tell you that 500 words is not enough words to actually get across a point.
f.  On paper, you can at least pretend that my writing has some sort of natural flow to it but when I am speaking words you will notice that I tend to jump from topic to topic for no obvious reason (in the middle of that sentence, I picked up my phone and texted him DID YOU LOOK AT THE VIDEO I SENT YOU OF MAO?, thus proving that I am not particularly good at staying on topic ever) but now we know that the reason is because my mind is always in 14 different places.

I could honestly write a down-with-high-school speech if I wanted to and my English teacher would be okay with it as long as I used tropes (which are what exactly?  no fucking clue) but I would have to write it really well because that's kind of a difficult stance to take and

I stopped in the middle of that sentence because actually, if I wrote a semi-decent down-with-high-school speech, and made only like 2 good points about why it's a horrid disgusting system, a solid 98% of my audience would probably agree with me and we could revolt and set the school ablaze.

But the reason (this is an example of how I am obsessed with writing about writing) I am writing a blog post instead right now is because I decided that I could just write down all of my thoughts of high school as a blog post because it will probably be fairly amusing considering my stance of hostility towards the entire institution and that is why we are here today.  Anddddd start.

I am going to start with a lullaby, because I would like to soothe all of the sleeping people with music before I wake them up with Lewis Black style ranting and yelling.

(to the tune of rock-a-bye baby)

Rock a bye grandma,
in the upper deck
when the grad speaks,
you are so bor-ed
When the baby squeals,
you will wake up
Annoyed will be grandma
Because commencement speeches succcccckkkk

*pause for lolz*

Did the gratuitous amounts of laughter from the entire audience wake you up?  Oh good.

But in all seriousness, what a long strange trip it has been.  In Eric Forman's basement.  See I, probably unlike many of your lovely, motivated children, watched gratuitous amounts of TV in my high school years instead of doing other things that are school related, like clubs and studying and homework.  Which makes me an awful candidate for writing a nostalgic speech about high school.

But other than the fact that I lived my high school years vicariously through the cast of That 70's Show, I will also probably never feel nostalgic for high school.  Because really, what do you, parents, miss about high school?  Probably things along the lines of suckin' on chili dogs outside the tastee freeze, and sittin' on Jacky's lap with his hand between your knees?  Well I think chili dogs are disgusting and haven't had a real boyfriend since I was 14, and even then, I probably wouldn't count him as a real boyfriend anyways.

What I am saying is that high school is just what you make it.  And when you make it about education or grades, you're nostalgic because you probably succeeded.  And when you make it about having a social life, you're nostalgic because you had fun times.  But when you hate school and most people, you end up with nothing more than or less than four years of your life you will never get back.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter, I'm just observational.  I know that society tried it's best to make me educated and pleasant to be around but alas, I am neither.

What I have found in high school, is that although my teachers have been likable and kind people, and although it is no fault of their own, are missing the point.  The point of high school is to get an education.  The point of high school is not to receive grades.  That is why, I believe, that

Ew this is turning into my education essay (which I got a C+ on, far more than what I should have gotten if I am being honest).  I just found high school to be intensely lame and underwhelming.  And I am very happy it's nearly over.

I'm really trying to get my most honest thoughts out about it all.

anddd twenty minutes on tumblr later

I DON'T HAVE ANY.  NO COMMENT.  HIGH SCHOOL WAS NOT TOO TERRIBLE BUT NOT SOMETHING I WOULD DO OVER AT ALL EVER.  I'M GLAD IT'S OVER.  I WAS MISERABLE LIKE 69% OF THE TIME, BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE, SOME ASSHOLE KID WOULD TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT ANYTHING EVER AND THE TRUTH ITSELF WOULD MAKE ME LAUGH AND EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY FOR ABOUT 3 MINUTES, AND THEN I WOULD BE MISERABLE AGAIN.

And now, you have been speeched.  Thank you, class of 2012, you have been mediocre.  Best of luck to you, but only because luck isn't real.

If I were to write a chapter in Is everyone hanging out without me? This would be it.

So I just finished reading Mindy Kaling's book Is everyone hanging out without me?  so you can go ahead and recognize right now that my writing style may sound a little more Kelly Kapoor-ish than usual.

Today I worked out.  Twice.  I also remembered deodorant.  Once.

I gymnastics worked out for about an hour and a half, I was thirty minutes late because my car doors were iced shut*, a hilarious twist in my life courteous of mother nature.  Gymnastics work-outs though are... not that hard most of the time.  Granted, doing 15 tumbling passes or vault passes in a row is basically the equivalent of running 5 miles (which to me is like a huge horrible mysterious thing and that is not hyperbolic in anyway I swear) only you finish in 30 minutes or less instead of in an hour.  So when you do stuff like that, gymnastics is really good exercise.  But then there is also excessive amounts of standing around and waiting in line, which could be avoided if I was more motivated and less in pain all the time, but alas, it is not avoided.

After gymnastics, I drank a redbull which was definitely the reason why I was in the mood for a rec-center workout as well.  I always go around 8 or 8:30, because there are usually only 2 or 3 people from my school there rather than at 4 when literally every person I have ever met just so happens to be at the rec center.  That, and at 8 or 8:30 is also when other out of shape people go to work out, so we all can bond in our lack of fitness abilities.

Well, that's actually being modest to the point of lying for me.  I am pretty athletically capable but in less practical things.  Like I am really fantastic at stretching, but that's because it enables me to sit on the floor.  I am also good at weight lifting with legs because I have huge quads and hamstrings.  Where I lack athletic ability is in like, things that are really good for you, like running.  I couldn't run a mile in under 10 minutes unless there was a gun to my head, and even then I would probably start retching halfway through.  I can use the elliptical for days, but that's because I never actually feel like I am getting a workout from it.

So anyways, I went to the rec with my mom's iPod (because mine is dead and I can't find the charger**) and Mindy's book and I went to town on the elliptical.  I decided I would run until I finished the book, because I only had 20 pages left.  Let me tell you: I am a really really good elliptical-multi-tasker.  You know how when you work out, you listen to upbeat tunes to keep you going fast in cardio?  You know what I was listening to while keeping a steady pace of an 8 minute mile?  John freakin Mayer.  And reading a book.  And putting down the book to take sips out of my water bottle every so often.  I felt like spiderman.

So I was feeling all confident and I "ran" two and a half miles in twenty minutes.  I walked over to the arm weights because I want to be able to do pull-ups (and chin-ups for that matter) and I did a few sets of 16 on 65 lbs.  Which I admit, is definitely not the best weight I've ever been able to lift at that many reps in three sets, but I'm working on it, and then I did a different arm machine and then I went back to the first one and then the second one again.

And then, I saw it.  The three and a half or so foot tall red shiny platform used for jumping on top of.  I assume this strengthens leg muscles and such, and we do a lot of jumping in gymnastics, and I had done things like that on four foot platforms before so I was like fuck yeah, Hartman, you go do ten of those jumps and see how it goes.  Let me tell you, 1-8 went really really well.  But um, 9...  It hurt like a bitch.  Somehow I miscalculated my jump and I went wonky in a way such that I hit, and then landed on, my left mild-shin-splinty-shin.  It was the kind of bruise that comes so fast that it practically came before the injury even happened.  I'm sure it will be black tomorrow and will hurt for the next two weeks sooooo awesome.

But I did finish the set.  After some mild profanity.  Just kidding, it was pretty profane profanity.

After that I dipped out.  As you can imagine, I had pretty much had my full share of work out Hayley for the night.  And of course my less affectionate of my two cats, Mao, has decided that tonight is a great night to lay on top of my leg.  But now he's licking himself in a really hilarious way as if he knows I needed some lolz.  Thanks cat!

So that is my terrible workout story.  Also, today I got an English paper back that said I would be a good writer if I would spend more time on it.  Yeah, I know Mrs. Thomas.  Story of my life.

*Also I had to eat a sandwich
**Typical