Created half to rise

alex_pope @ 2006-10-11T22:40:00

2006-10-12T03:43:14Z

Well this is...uncomfortable. I guess you can never come home again. Why is this? When did things sneak out of my ideal stasis? What is going on? Who am I?

I love stress. I love stress so much.

alex_pope @ 2006-09-23T01:02:00

2006-09-23T06:18:02Z

An important thing for me to note, before I continue with this entry, is that in my relatively brief absence, my room has accumulated an appalling amount of empty Cuervo bottles and dead flies. What the hell, kids.

You're probably wondering why I wasn't there to keep tequila from my floor and flies from my...extended vicinity. I transferred to a prep school about two hours south (Plataia). It was less eccentric, more people wrote for the paper, and professors were appreciative of good work ethic without being patently creepy. Also it's slightly more urban, so I spent considerably less time lost in the wilderness and considerably more time being a productive human being.
And therein lies the problem: if one attends a perfect school, it's impossible to be happy. I mean, it's impossible to achieve any sort of eudaimonia, or virtue through struggle. In effect, succeeding among things I like (civilization, normalcy, few if any kittens) is less fulfilling than achieving anything at all here at Eupheme.

Don't for a minute think that I love you for your faults. On the contrary, I probably despise your individual and collective flaws and wish that you would change them. This is only an attempt to indulge my masochistic desire to live out the remainder of my pre-college career in...minimal comfort and happiness.

That aside, it's good to be back.

What did I miss?

alex_pope @ 2006-05-15T23:10:00

2006-05-16T04:12:37Z

Would someone please explain why I am so cripplingly boring? I like to think it's because I'm partially sane, but am probably lying to myself.

alex_pope @ 2006-04-12T21:43:00

2006-04-13T02:57:28Z

Sometimes I wonder exactly how the collective (and presumably, therefore, whole) mind of Our Administration works. Three-person groups to create a presentation on anything at all? Obviously this is not about public speaking. Or our ability to prepare Powerpoint slides, but our ability to work well with people we hate. Which is a good idea in and of itself, but the process of creating these groups is a little more worrisome. Are the Deans now spying on us to carefully map our nonsensical social dynamics? Do they honestly have nothing better to do?

Also, a mandatory retreat? What is this?

Speaking of The Administration (or rather, too The Administration) I would like to apologize for all the libel painted liberally throughout this entry, but...honestly. Have a look at the doctrine of substantial truth. Or do something productive, like order the school's finances!

alex_pope @ 2006-02-23T20:48:00

2006-02-24T01:50:21Z

Assuming that I am compulsively unfolding and refolding a letter of acceptance to a presumably less unique prep school...

What exactly is it (if anything) you like about Eupheme?

Aside from the newspaper.

alex_pope @ 2006-02-09T22:53:00

2006-02-10T04:00:55Z

I'm fairly certain that most of you are fairly broken up that I'm not going to Jane/Chaucer's party. I'm sorry, parties are for losers. Or, to be fair, I suppose, parties aren't for losers. I fully regret that my Friday will be spent lifting incredibly heavy barbells (dumbells?) which, I am sure, weigh more than any given four of you; followed by the vigorous felling of trees, a rousing barfight, and nothing whatsoever to do with the newspaper.

Really.

Well, have fun without me.

alex_pope @ 2006-01-16T22:01:00

2006-01-17T03:07:43Z

...I think Blake's mother hates me. Not that it's exceptionally important that she adore me, but it's rather traumatic.

Also traumatic is Blake's bedroom. Actually, I think several people could benefit from the following bit of free advice:

Differences between floors and shelves: Floors are large, and have one or several large fixtures on them. Frequently they are also carpeted. Shelves, conversely, are small and elevated, unable to support things as substantial as beds. Shelves are never carpeted.

And finally: Neddy, are you alright?

That's it. Back to my usual regime of illegal drugs and the odd prostitute.

alex_pope @ 2005-09-22T21:41:00

2005-09-23T02:42:20Z

Wow, I forgot I had one of these.

Anyway, no time to type, no time to sleep, for always were are given less time than we can use...

So send newspaper submissions.

alex_pope @ 2005-08-29T21:10:00

2005-08-30T02:26:12Z

Look at me, I have a life! You see: I haven't been posting here because I've been terrifically busy having a social life, and doing things like drugs, and carousing.

Or maybe I've just been applying to nearby prep schools (just in case). But who's to know.

I have, however, had some rather scathing interviews, á la:

INTERVIEWER: Mr...Popé,

ME: Pope, please. As in "Alexander VI".

INTERVIEWER, oblivious to the hilarity: Oh. Yes. Mr. Pope, in what extracurricular activities have you involved yourself?

ME: I'm the editor and active advocate of the school newspaper.

INTEVIEWER, looking at his CLIPBOARD as if it hold INCRIMINATING EVIDENCE: And this newspaper, how many issues have been published?

ME: Ehrm. One. Sir.

INTERVIEWER, SMUGLY: I see. Any other activities?

ME: I also do homework. And sometimes I indulge in time-consuming asthma attacks.

INTERVIEWER, still unamused: I see.

There, you see, classmates? Your reticence has cut off my options of escape. If something terrible happens to Eupheme, I will be forced to become an uneducated hermit in the adjacent woods.

alex_pope @ 2005-07-20T22:50:00

2005-07-21T03:57:24Z

Obviously I have not updated in a while, and this is because I have been studying madly for midterm exams. I do not know what to do about the newspaper. Apparently the school nurse, who thinks herself Damned Clever, called my house to express her worry to my parents that I would die while immersed in a Latin or Math textbook, and suggested that I "stop taking things so seriously".

Obviously she never took medicinal learning seriously, because she is working at Eupheme. And I lived. So she's bad at it, too.

Blake has finished the set; let's all applaud him. At least someone here is getting things done.

alex_pope @ 2005-07-05T00:48:00

2005-07-05T05:02:45Z

Today, I'd like to talk to you all about the concept of ten minutes. In ten minutes, one can commit murder, asphyxiate an otter (probably), type an unjustifiably rude journal entry, or even write an article for the paper. I know you all lead terribly busy lives, do homework, hold jobs, smoke grass, whatever, but the point remains that somewhere in these riveting, action-filled, driven lives of yours, you can spare ten minutes to complain about the school.

I'm being deadly serious. Ten minutes. Five, even. You all read this paper, and fail APPARENTLY to grasp that it runs on a basis of mutual contribution. Salon-style learning. You attend Eupheme, you have complaints, you interests, you have things you want to share with your peers, so you write an article for the paper. I'm not asking too much, I promise. Even from my own perspective, having woken up more times than I can count with my face in a keyboard in the newsroom, or just watching the sun rise behind proofs: you have the time.

On another note: Although I sometimes do unforgivably heinous things, like ask for newspaper submissions, I'm not a blatant asshole. If I've made any of you, say, cry repeatedly, it's only through being fastidiously polite. However this is obviously not enough.

In sum: I won't beg for appreciation for All My Hard Work & Lost Sleep, and certainly not for Angering People. But really. I don't know to what ideal everyone is holding me.

(Look! No Bad Language!)

alex_pope @ 2005-06-22T18:12:00

2005-06-22T23:26:04Z

Okay, kids. You may or may not have noticed that no extraneous issue of the paper has been printed. You may also have noticed that Jane is trying to sell a crushed rosebush. You may also notice that I have not slept in two, going on three days. You may have not noticed the fact that I am whining about this fact without pride or shame.

Upcoming submission deadline is planned for July first. If you have any objections, hunt me down on your own time.

What's been going on in your own (hopefully less frivolous and depressing) lives?

alex_pope @ 2005-06-11T18:15:00

2005-06-11T22:18:15Z

I'll just ask:

Is there some reason that almost everyone, upon meeting me, sees fit to threaten me with immediate or future bodily harm?

Is there?

alex_pope @ 2005-06-10T15:38:00

2005-06-10T20:11:24Z

It took a day for the police to finally process their desire to speak with me further. But they did, and they did, and this is how it went:

First, I was called out of first period (to those of you who found that something Very Worthy of Giggling at: I hate you). I was then escorted by the police to a conference room, which is, I promise, not how I usually leave classes. We all sat down, one of the officers did something to his radio to show me how professional and exciting he was, and then started The Old Interrogation, with which I assume many of you are already familiar.

First, we talked about The Incident. They were terrifically condescending ("Now, Mr. Pope, I know this sounds ridiculous, but do you think you would be able to swing a cannonball? No? Or even--*giggle*--lift one? NO?") and if I ever need to guarantee my own murder, I will look to their example. Then they asked me about my thoughts of Mr. Roberts, how I was getting along with my peers at Eupheme, if I had any past arrests, and--most notably--if I, say, edited a school newspaper or something of the like.

Surprisingly Enough, I did!

They whipped out a copy of The Dear Times, and told me how unethical and libelous it is to allow disparaging comments about teachers to be made in a school newspaper. They eventually made their way to the fact that I was lurking around the newsroom after midnight on Thursday. They acted very innocent and surprised about the whole thing ("what could you have been doing?") and at one point, I believe, even tattooed "please smack me" on their foreheads.

In conclusion, they've locked the newsroom and taken my key "until things calm down". I am no longer allowed to lurk suspiciously with a legitimate reason, and any subsequent sightings of myself lurking suspiciously will be interpreted as real suspicious lurkings.

Did I mention that they've taken my key?

Because they have.

Then they offered me some friendly advice about the differences in what is appropriate to print in A School Newspaper vs. A Real Newspaper, smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and sent me on my way.

In response to this, I am collecting students with printers. Preferrably fast printers. There is going to be an unscheduled issue, and it is going to be inappropriate by the standards given to me.

And really, if I had any means by which to obstruct justice in this case, I would be obstructing with all my might.

Random Addendum:

To all appearances, Charlotte is avoiding me.

alex_pope @ 2005-06-08T18:08:00

2005-06-08T22:09:14Z

It’s happened to most of you already, but I had my first encounter with the police last night. I’ve been setting up templates in the (vain) hope that I can print an unscheduled edition of the newspaper, and therefore have resumed living in the newspaper office. I left around one last night, turned off the computers, locked the room, and went on my merry way across the Darkened and Frightening Campus.

But, apparently, the police are camping outside the office, or something. I wouldn't put it past them to set up little government-logo-emblazoned tents outside the pressroom, waiting to leap on unsuspecting students. Which they did. Enthusiastically, and with flashlights. Admittedly, the pressroom is near the Scene of the Incident, and I was lurking there in the dead of night. They quickly checked for any cannonballs concealed on my person. The rest of the exchange was approximately:

The Venerable Police Force: What the hell are you doing here, you dirty hoodlum?

Alex Pope: Printing a dirty, hoodlumly school newspaper.

VPF: It's hard to answer our questions with this million-watt flashlight in your eyes, isn't it?

AP: Very.

VPF: Where are you going?

AP: The boy's dormitory.

VPF: Where are you coming from?

AP: The newsroom. The place connected to the door I just emerged from.

VPF: And you have a key to this weapons closet?

AP: Yes, I do.

VPF: And you just so happen to be there well after midnight?

AP: Yes.

VPF: Did you just so happen to be there on Saturday, well after midnight?

AP: No.

VPF: Where were you, then? Lighting dumpsters on fire? Drawing anarchy symbols on public property? Stealing the underwear of female students?

AP: I was at the school dance.

beat

VPF: As you probably know by now, we've been questioning all of the students about an interesting mishap regarding one of your teachers.

AP: I heard.

VPF: How do you like our intimidation tactics?

AP: You're very adept with the flashlight, and with the manhandling.

VPF: Thank you. Now, do you know anything about this mishap?

AP: Not first-hand, no.

VPF: Indulge us. Just as we indulge our flashlight and wrist-breaking fetishes.

AP: Okay. Apparently my English teacher was mugged.

VPF: Mugged, you say! How do you know he was mugged? Is it because you yourself are an experienced mugger?

AP: Not as such. I actually only know what gossip filters through newspaper articles and hallways.

There is some static from one of their crotches

VPF: We have something really important to do, right now. What is your name?

AP: Alexander Pope.

VPF: What is your first block class?

AP: Social Studies.

VPF: We'll be in touch, Mr. Pope. IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME. You can have your wrist back, now. BUT NOT FOR LONG.

Apparently they hired a few eager policemen to stroll around the school a few times before they run off it monitor traffic. Who in first block Social Studies would be willing to take notes for me?

alex_pope @ 2005-06-06T19:41:00

2005-06-06T23:55:38Z

It's no real use introducing the Unfortunate Incident of Mr. Roberts in the Night, as I'm sure you all know and have already contacted lawyers, sources of bail, and other potentially useful parties.

But there are some things about the nature of this "investigation" that are peculiar. And I say this in an intellectual, speculative way only. Because I understand that these journals are probably being watched by several precinct janitors for an admission or intimation of guilt. The students are not being questioned as witnesses, we are apparently being interrogated.

An adult was assaulted (I use the term loosely) on a school campus. His money was stolen. When all or most of the students were contained in a separate wing of the school.

And suspicion falls on the students? The only cohesive group on campus with a self-sustained alibi? To my experience such a group would be valuable in the location of whoever actually attacked Roberts. It is remarkable than anyone would leap to this conclusion first. So remarkable, in fact, that it goes slightly beyond the realm of serendipity.

I am slightly embarrassed to call my father asking to borrow a lawyer or two (to consult as per the above), but he's probably heard of this already.

Anyone interested in writing about this? I would be inclined to explore The Unfortunate Incident in both a factual account, and a speculative editorial.
<p<(And, Charlotte, thank you for your company. It was wonderful.)

Service announcement

2005-06-01T04:09:28Z

If I catch anyone so much as dog-earing a corner of the paper, I will BEAT YOU UP. That's a promise.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-31T19:27:00

2005-05-31T23:39:59Z

It's up.

Finished printing at five-thirty in the morning, distributed by six. I only had time to scan it after school, but hopefully you've all had a chance to read it.

I know everyone has heard my complain about The Paper for Almost Three Weeks, but if you'll stand a little more I assure you there will be less bravado. Frankly, I expected more of myself. After weeks of living in the pressroom, at least.

Thank you to all of the authors. But don't rest on your laurels.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-26T17:33:00

2005-05-26T21:34:11Z

Business:

If I ever promised to shut up about the newspaper, I obviously lied. It is now Thursday, and the deadline for submission is Friday (and will remain Friday). I have, of yet, very few newspaper submissions in my inbox.

There need to be more.

There will be more by Friday at midnight.

Thank you.

Other:

Actually I have very little else to say, other than that I vaguely miss sleeping and promise that none of you will attend the dance if articles are not submitted by Friday at midnight.

... FRIDAY AT MIDNIGHT.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-24T19:32:00

2005-05-24T23:32:34Z

Last night, I brought a physics book, some Greek exercises, and what submissions there already are, and locked myself in the pressroom. While the night was for the most part productive, I’m sure no one wants to hear about it, and far more interesting things happened in these journals.

I spoke to Lovecraft, with whom I share a Social Studies class first hour (but never again the same five-foot radius) about my inexcusable breeches of propriety in soliciting the newspaper. Then the whole thing degenerated into being simply threatening until, and you will only see this once, Jane Austen rescued me.

I will not go so far as to say anything vaguely offensive about just how embarrassing this may or may not be, but now you know. Further in this vein, I don’t think I’m secretly attracted to Lovecraft, I was genuinely drafting a living will.

I think I now realize that I was never in any immediate danger, and am now off to redeem myself with a feat both exceptional and manly, like working on the paper or doing some translations.

(In brief, to Charlotte: what time should I meet you, about?)

alex_pope @ 2005-05-20T23:19:00

2005-05-21T03:27:17Z

Some brief orders of business:

Has anyone been slated yet as production editor?

Has anyone, for any reason which I promise not to pursue. drawn up any sort of masthead for this thing?

Has anyone seen Shakespeare?

The answers to those questions pending, the coming deadline for submission is tentatively next Friday. Does this sound good for all interested parties?

And now, Physics. To be followed by Greek. All the cool kids do Physics and Greek on Friday nights, if you haven't noticed.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-18T18:20:00

2005-05-18T22:34:59Z

Although I usually have time allotted every other day for updating the journal, I've skipped a bit because I have nothing interesting to say.

Now, however, I do.

I somehow find myself an editor of the school newspaper, along with everyone's best friend, Shakespeare. We can only hope that his contributions will add much-needed incest to our otherwise boring news.

If any of you are hoping for me to come out of the experience alive, you can help! By writing articles. I have a suspicion that, due to the size of this school and the relatively deadening amounts of work we have, there will be very few submissions.

I don't care what you write about. I will start caring when I start editing, and stop shortly after I am finished.

Write about the athletics program, write about the school play, write about imagery in Ulysses, or the hardcover's potential as a weapon. Write about whatever asshole dented your new silver car outside the auditorium.

Just write.

Not only because you are provided with a unique and fairly uncensored forum within which to express yourself, but because my life and sanity depend upon what ten or fifteen minutes you may take to dash out an article.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-13T18:13:00

2005-05-14T01:25:28Z

Despite everything, it is Friday, and I am still alive, if dressed in tasteful chinos, an eventuality which I like to think sneaks up upon the best of us. Also, I am somewhat late in posting my schedule, but if anyone wants to track me down at any point:

Block one: Social Studies

Block two: Greek

Block three: Physics

(Lunch)

Block four: English

Block five:Latin

Block six: Math

Does anyone have any interesting plans for the weekend? As it is Friday night already, and I will continue to work on Physics until my hand twists off from the wrist if I am not rescued. This was an unecessarily graphic description, but hopefully serves to illustrate the absolute fury of my scribbling (I don't know how I am writing this entry, either.)

There are stirrings of a school play and newspaper afoot.

This is all.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-10T17:42:00

2005-05-10T22:14:01Z

Tuesdays are, generally, stiflingly boring. If any of you are prepared to be stiflingly bored, (by which I mean, drunk enough for this to be amusing) I will now recount some significant events.

The first part of the day concluded vaguely, punctuated only by my being informed by my mother that denim in any form--that is, pants--is inappropriate for school, and also by the almost tragic loss of a working pen.

After school, I practiced A Bit of Driving, by which I mean A Bit of Parrallel Parking, by which I mean Someone's Silver Car Was Parked Beside the Auditorium and Is Only Slightly Damaged.

I assumed it was an administrator's, so I rectified the error immediately by scrawling a cheeky sonnet about the Dean of Students' wife on a sticky note and putting it on the windshield. But if I was mistaken, I'm sure everything can be fixed with a little silver nail polish, or a genie.

This is all.

alex_pope @ 2005-05-05T18:00:00

2005-05-05T22:05:56Z

To the best of my knowledge, Jon Swift is still awaiting a punishment for criticizing our dear school’s allocation of finances. Apparently it is spending money on athletics. Money, I may add, hard earned by the nocturnal efforts of the Dean of Students’ wife. This leaves me to tackle several issues:

First, we have an athletics program? I was—and still remain—unaware of the existence of an athletic program. Beyond Swift’s apparent discovery of it, the higher-ups seem to be going to great lengths to cover up the presence of athletic students and athletics programs. I dare not suspect anything more sinister than shot-putters practicing in the dead of night and under the cafeteria.

Second, the school can censor students who say uncomplimentary things? Had I that right, I have a list of classmates who would already be struggling to remove the duct tape from their mouths and wrists, while attempting to extract themselves from pits and gutters. This calls into question larger moral and constitutional issues, which I have neither the experience or inclination to confront. In the interest, however, of letting no wrong go unpunished, I have sent the Dean of Students the following anonymous message:

One can think of no cause much more noble

Within our school or on scales more global

Than the discipline of wayward youth

An office which requires, in all truth,

A man of integrity and upstanding moral,

One with whom no mere student or peon dare quarrel.

A man of integrity and conviction

In whose thoughts there exists no contradiction

One much like yourself; of endurance and might

(Though your wife told it quite differently last night.)

My condolences to Mr. Swift, may his punishment be brief and the tar come off with soap.