It'll Never Fly

Happy Bobtoberfest, everyone!

Oh yeah! The Big Three-Oh, beotch! w00t! w00t! and all that nonsense…

You might have been wondering how I was going to fit two grades of school pictures into one day, and the answer is simple: I don’t know where my Grade 11 picture is, so all you get is my Grade 12 picture. Not a great picture to go out on, but beggars can’t be choosers. This one and the last one really showed off how crooked the bridge of my nose is (it drove my optometrist nuts). Can’t really see any sign of the red mark on the cheek anymore, either. Too bad I’m not really smiling.

Hey, I just got an e-mail from Newsarama.com wishing me happy birthday. I already got some early birthday wishes a few days ago which were great, but this is my first official one on this day. Thanks, Newsarama. You looked deep into my soul and assigned me a number based on the order in which I joined. It’s the little personal touches that make it all worthwhile.

Hey, here’s another. Sorry, Kent, Newsarama beat you by 6 minutes. But thanks, I will have a nice “Bobtoberfestalapaloozaweenakah.” Stay tuned for Kentmas festivities coming soon, dear readers, in a couple of weeks over at Kentcer.com.

Back to school… My two favourite classes were Physics and Chemistry, with Calculus a close third. I didn’t count Computer Science because I pretty much knew it all already, so it was kinda boring. I ended up getting the Grade 12 Physics award at my school. Even ended up getting a little plaque, which I might not have been able to keep, I don’t remember. My name’s on a larger plaque hanging in the halls of my school. At least I hope it’s still hanging there. I chose not to take Economics, and I avoided Biology (it seemed kind of messy, and not at all interesting). I got conned into taking Art for all three grades (10, 11, and 12), but I don’t know why. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, or how well I did, or even how poor I did; I’d always get 75. Others might have been quite happy to coast through with a 75, but it was always my lowest mark. Still bothers me that I kept taking that class.

It may (or may not) come as a surprise to you, but I took Home Ec., too, instead of Shop. I could give a real guy-type of reason and say it was to meet girls, or I could give a mature and sophisticated reason and say it’s because I love to cook, but that would just be hiding the truth. The real reason was because, once a week, Shop class became Phys. Ed. class, but Home Ec. was Home Ec. all week long. Yes, I taught myself all the finer intricacies of bias tape, bobbins, and baking crepes, just to get out of an extra fifty minutes of physical activity a week.

It was a Catholic school. Remind me later to tell you some stories about Christian Ethics class… They’re no where near as good as the stories Dad has about his school days being taught by nuns, but c’est la vie.

Today’s the last day of Bobtober, and the first day of the rest of my life… *yecch!* Gag me with a spoon, and gross me out the door…

Holy growth spurt, Batman! My neck looks like I was strapped down and stretched on a Medieval torture device. The red mark on my cheek looks nearly invisible, likely because it blends in well with all the other pimples.

Grade 10 has to be the best time in high school. You’re over the initial shock of Grade 9 and all the baggage that goes with it, and there’s none of the pressure of choosing which classes to take or choosing which university to go to that exists in the later grades. I don’t remember a lot of stories from Grade 10. I do, however, remember getting 100% on my midterm report card for Algebra 10. I ended up getting the math award for my grade that year, which was a bit shocking because there was a girl in our school that usually wiped the floor with all of us, mathematically speaking. Her dad was also a math prof at the university, not that I’m suggesting anything, mind you. Also beat out another guy whose dad was one of the math teachers at our school. But it’s not about the awards, right? It’s all about the betterment of humankind…

Update: It’s Bobtoberfest Eve! Start warming up your birthday e-cards! “Maguire” is spelled M-A-G, not M-C-G, M-A-C-G, M-A-Q-U, M-C-Q-U, nor M-A-C-Q-U. It’s M-A-G…

(Sorry. Better late than never.)

Ah, high school… Back to being a member of the lowest pecking order. The girls you knew in elementary school that were covered in cooties had suddenly become cute and made you say and do stupid things for them in their presence. You found out you’re not the only one that can recite Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail line for line by heart. And there’s a class where they actually let you cut animals open and pull out their guts, all in the name of science!

Young bullies discovered the football team and the weight room and grew into young adult jocks. The troubled kids discovered the science room bunsen burners and blossomed into amateur arsonists. The class clown discovered a larger audience and became the school clown. Little nerds and geekettes discovered the computer lab and became… bigger nerds and geekettes. It’s the cycle of life.

We had frosh week, but luck of the draw paired me with a grade-twelver that was notorious for always skipping school, so me and three other guys (out of the hundred or so froshes that year) with the same luck pretty much just hung out together for most of that week. We missed out on being dressed up in embarrassing costumes. Missed out on being humiliated in frosh court. Missed out on being driven around everywhere in the trunk of a compact car on pot-hole laden Saskatchewan roads. Missed out on frosh slosh. It was a blessing and a curse, really.

I wish I could remember the name of my Grade 9 A English teacher. She was all proud that she had just finished Special Ed. (presumably as a teacher, but we all assumed the other, of course) and was filled with all sorts of new techniques and practices that would shape and mould these young minds into the future’s great thinkers. I particularly remember how two girls looked forward to crushing her hopes every step of the way, and how, every day when they did so, she was completely oblivious to that fact.

I told you the glasses and haircut would be gone. Back to a more respectable nerdy side part and comb over. All I can say is thank God I was friends with the jocks. Red mark on my cheek is still there, too. And go back and look; those are new glasses… honest.

Just a heads up for those of you who subscribe to my feed, or those who access my site through some other means than actually going to http://wqoq.com/. First, I just want to say thanks for subscribing, but you might be missing out on some of the content, like the videos, that I don’t think makes it into the feeds. Also, I’ve added a few different ways to send me feedback and connect with other wqoq.com fans.

Odeo: Send me an Odeo voice message.

Frappr: Place a pin in my Frappr map.

ClustrMap: View a map of visitors to the site (which is pretty boring right now, ’cause none of you guys actually go to it)

I do not like this picture at all. It was Grade 8. I should’ve been acting like the cock of the walk. Instead I was just acting like a, well, you know, not…

The good news is you won’t see those glasses anymore, or that haircut. Have you wondered at all about where that buzzcut came from? I was über-shy as a kid, and was one of those kids that cowers behind their dad’s leg when lined up at the cashier in a fast food joint. Having to talk to an adult of any kind no matter the situation was a terrifying prospect. That included barbers.

So there eventually came a time when my hair got too long to be manageable and my grandmother was unavailable to cut it, that I had to take a trip to the barber. I had no idea what type of haircut I wanted, let alone had any idea how to express it. So as a group, my dad, the stylist, and I, we chose amongst the haircuts that all the other customers were getting, and picked the one I liked the most. Thus, for three years, I kept paying for a haircut that I liked solely because of how it looked on a complete stranger.

I’ll have to talk about my experience with dentists some time.

So that’s it for the 80′s and that’s it for elementary school.