Harry Potter World 1.2: Disney is not JUST for children

It is 12:02 and I am not in bed.  Why?  Because I went to Disney World today.  And we just got home.

Right now, I'm a little grumpy.  As I write and relive the moments today, I'm hoping my grumpy pants will come off and I will enjoy my recap.  I must say, there is one reason behind my grumpiness:

Children

You know, we chose this time to go because we evaluated the following: kids will be in school while we are here.  And they were.  There were several, several Europeans, and 8 times out of 10, we were in line with several of them at a time.  But they were fine.  They were enjoyable.  And they were entertaining, because they dressed extremely impractical.  I wish I could have known what they thought of "it's a small world" because I think it plays into every stereotype possible.

BUT, whereas there were absolutely no children elementary age, there was a mass of children about 4 and under.  I mean, I get it.  It's Disney World.  It's [supposedly] made for children.  But I don't know why on earth you would bring children that young to Disney World.  For the "memories?"  I went when I was four.  Do you know how much I remember?  Nothing.  Literally NOTHING.  I cannot tell you a thing other than something about Micky waffles, crying about not going on the Tower of Terror and something about giant maracas.  And we sent some postcards.

So, as they squalled and were utterly miserable their parents trekked on with their beasts of a stroller.  And of course, the majority have that mindset of that I owe them something because their precious beast is tired and wants to see the show.  I watched the majority of The Magic, The Memories and You through a sea of children on their parents shoulders.

Basically, by the end of the night, after I watched a child throw up next to me in the trolley line, I looked a little like this:

[Actually, that child throwing up was sort of a highlight, but before that, I looked like this.]

Highlights:
1.  Free food at my breakfast and stealing bananas and bagels and eating them for lunch.  My college student ways are bleeding through.
2.  Riding "it's a small world."  I know it's ridiculous, but it's literally my favourite ride.  I threw a penny in at the France section.  Represent, mes amis.
3.  Going on Splash Mountain for the first time, having a fit, the entire time and then finding out that it's like, the easiest thing ever.
4.  Space Mountain.  Enough said.
5.  Tomorrowland in general.  It was my absolute favourite.  I mean, I liked Fantasyland for what it was, for representing classic Disney movies.  But Tomorrowland was like living in the world of Meet the Robinsons.  I adored it.  LOVE.  What I liked about it was that it was like, what the future was supposed to be, and it's so close, but not yet.

6.  CAROUSEL OF PROGRESS

I want to talk more about everything, but right now, I am so tired, and 7 o'clock in looming ever closer.  Perhaps I'll blog tomorrow.

-Me

Sometimes I dream that I'm an ice cave explorer

I keep writing blogs and I keep not posting them because they are very large and I don't really feel like finishing them at the time, but I have so very much to tell the world, mostly boring stuff, but still, it's important.  Because I think my life is interesting.  That's why I even have a blog.  [Speaking of which, I'm thinking of changing the name to 'Cheese in your Raychillie.'  But, it's been 'Rachel is Outrageous' for so long it almost feels like a sin to change it.]

Stupid education majors are in my CMC taking up my computers and talking loudly on the phone and talking to their boyfriends and sharing emails.  I hate when people talk to their significant others in front of you, but only when they become very silly, and speak in goofy voices and call each other 'baby.'  And you feel awkward watching them, and you just sit there feeling awkward, but you're in an elevator so what else can you do?  It's so dumb.  People are dumb.  I hate people.  One day, I'm going to go off and live in a colony of wizards and cats and I'll be so happy.

This girl put all her stuff on my computer table too, and it's like a bag of chips and some notebooks, and I thought the object of having your own computer desk is to put your stuff on.  Education majors; all they do is think about themselves and children.  Why do they even have their own section in the library?  It's literally a whole floor dedicated to children and education majors.  Everyone else's books are downstairs; what makes you so special?

For Susan's class we had to design a costume.  It had 500 different pieces of criteria:  it had to be made out of things either recycled or natural, it had to support a cause and it had to make noise.  I did a pelican suit thing for the birds who die in oil spills or whatever, because it's important.  It's also has an interpretive dance where you dance like a bird and then oil comes down from the celling and the bird dies because it cannot fly, and it's sad.  I would invite children to this piece so the would cry and I would laugh at their tears.

I had to do my bird dance for the class while I was presenting it.  It was very sad.  Not because it was about birds dieing, but because it was me trying to dance like a bird.

But seriously, 5,000 barrels of oil leak into our oceans each day.  This is why I petition that my quest to make algae into fuel will never end until it is made.  And when I say 'my quest' I mean others efforts because I am not contributing at all.

Blast it all, I can't concentrate on anything because of these people talking about lesson plans and stuff.  Just give them some crayons and a place mat.  Gah.  I'm supposed to be writing a paper on photography, and I can hardly even concentrate on this blog because they won't shut up about lessons and babies and ARGH.

What am I even typing, I dunno because my brain is like a ping-pong ball in my head, except my brain is bigger than that and isn't bouncy (that I know of; but possibly.)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm mentally handicapped, and I don't know it.  I know that sounds mean, but how would you know.  I might just have some social disease, or be autistic, but I would never know it.  I had a seizure once, and it lasted for 20 minutes, and it could have been the mentally handicapped part coming out an d playing, and it's frightening.  These are the thoughts that rack my brains.

I wish you could hook up your brain to a printer and then I would print off pictures that I imagine like pictures of turkey's wearing feather boas, and taking this girl's chips and crushing them and pouring them over her head and then I would laugh and then I would write my paper on photography.  Instead, I'm writing this and wasting everyone's time by putting incoherent stuff that no one wants to read, and I'm pretty sure everything is a run-on sentence.

I would also like to print my dreams.  I have really odd dreams.  Once I dreamed that I was visiting the house of polygamist, and I was like, WHOO, I'M A FREE BIRD.  I DANCE AND STUFF.  And the children were all like, "we wear matching pajamas and we love our daddy and mommies, and we all play instruments and have bunk beds."  And I'm like, "rebel," and they're like, "no."  And then the dog starts talking and he talks about how he could talk through this vaccine, but when humans take it they turn into zombies, and then they cursed the house, and the dad was trying to round us all up so he could eat us and he had all sorts of bowls to put our bodies in, and  I was like, "um, bye."  But I couldn't get out because the porch was screened in and he had cut the dogs tongue out, but it was leading me to safety, and Justin Timberlake was there and then he was gone, but somehow I jumped from the porch into the grass and I ran and then I woke up.

I also have dreams where I'm an ice cave explorer.

We had ballet today, and I've finally stopped hitting Chris, but now he won't stop hitting me and it hurts because he flips me.  He had some really nice turn things today, but I didn't because I don't know how to turn.  She keeps telling me to spot; I keep saying, I should probably actually learn the turn first so I have a reason to spot.  Chris can't keep his hips straight and he looks like an idiot because she has to tell him to put his hips straight.  He blames it on his eye, or lack thereof; I blame it on his lack of ability regarding dancing.  We're dance partners as well in our little piece, and we have to hold hands.  (Ewww, cooties.).  Luckily, his aren't gross and sweaty; because I hate sweaty hands.

Our ballet class is really rather amusing.  It's a class of people who are generally bad a ballet, so we've resolved to just have fun with it.  We have all these codes we use in class.  When we have a passe to the side, we say that we're putting it in the pizza pocket.  When it's to the front, it's the pita pocket.  When we're doing our plies we kebab our butt cheeks and pretend like we're in a toaster, and you don't want to burn your sides.  Then there are the songs we sing to remember our barres.  "Coupe and Passe, Coupe, Fonduuuuu..."

This is college, ya'll.

[Pee.Ess.  December 8th, Recital Thing.  Breeze.  6 o'clock.  See us make dance magic.]

After much, much, much persuasion, I have convinced Volpi and Chris to come see Harry Potter with me at midnight.  I'm making us matching shirts; I'm going to guilt them into wearing them.  They don't know it yet.  I also had them sorted into their houses yesterday, because this is one of those things you need to know.  Chris is in Ravenclaw and Volpi is in Slytherin.  I'm a Gryffindor.  Just imagine; if we went to Hogwarts, we may not even be friends.  :(  :(  But maybe we would be.  I'm sure both Volpi and Chris would play Quidditch; and... I wouldn't.  I would probably be apart of some stupid club like Gobstones or Wizards Chess.  Actually, Chris would be in his 5th year of Hogwarts just as I was starting my 1st, and Volpi wouldn't be in Hogwarts until I was in my 2nd year, and Chris his 6th.  And Volpi and I would be enemies because we're in rival houses.

It's thoughts like these that remind me that I'm glad that I don't go to Hogwarts.

I had my dialects test Monday and everyone was impressed with my Cockney and Irish accents, including Claire.  I was told today that Claire would try to break me in Acting II.  I should just go in crying the first day and get it over with.

I need to write about photography now.  Hope your days are bright and a squadron of minks warm you in the middle of the night.

-Me

The Lack of Appeal Regarding: Children

25 minutes before dialects, and blog I shall.  The CMC is filled with Education majors.  Abigail and I have an odd hatred for education majors.  We have reasons; very biased and wrong reasons none the less, but reasons.  It includes women willingly thrusting themselves into their continuous gender roles, taking a job in a society that demands one, but really, it's the exact job society expects.

That and they all look like soccer moms.  And I hate babies/children.  That's possibly the main reason.  Actually that is the main reason.  People are obsessed with babies, and they are just ugly little mini humans in my minds.

Or course, to all the above there is exceptions.  I was an adorable baby. I love all my elementary school educators who didn't see me as an ugly little mini human.  My best friend, bless, is an education major with a baby obsession.  And I love her dearly, despite the fact that we have arguments over which is better; cats or babies.

P.S.  It's cats.

I guess, really, in the baby/child mania of our present society, people oftentimes see only cuteness and this drives the thought of children doing anything bad away from an adults mind.  It's a vicious cycle, really.  Child rubs sandwich on body, people find it funny, but, "don't do it again, okay."  Child thinks, "they find this funny," and they do it again, and again, and then it's not funny anymore, but the negative reaction has been set so they start doing more stuff and it's funny but then it's not, and it's a horrid cycle.

And I know Jesus said to love the little children.  And I do love them; but I don't like them.  At all.  I know other people disagree; and that's your opinion.  I hope you love children until you die.

Jenny, I hope you read this and relish in all of this and hopefully cry because it makes you sad that I dislike children so very much.  I love it when I'm with all your education major friends and I talk about my baby hatred and they gasp and say "But, it's an ickle baby."  And I say, "I don't care.  I'm going to punch it in the face.  Like you."

I don't dislike all children, though.  I adore well behaved, not asking for my attention all the time, quiet children.  Does such a thing exist?  Yes, because I was one.  Basically, I was the peak of perfection as a child.  I was a mini adult.  And I was a genius.

Now, where as I don't like children, I do love teenagers.  Something about the angsty age of not knowing anything but thinking you do appeals to me (perhaps because I'm equally dramatic) and  most people hate the age of teen.  It takes all sorts of people to make up this world though.  So regardless of the education majors invading MY CMC, I thank them and God for what they do because Providence knows that I would rather detach my legs and use them as crutches than look after one child for over 5 minutes.

-Me

...and the frazzles danced in the garden.

...

Week. Over.

Thank. Goodness.

:)

People are about to drive me to the point of insanity. That going beyond myself. *sigh*

And I'm going to the Sunset for some big fancy shindig with my family to eat food and what not. Alas.

And this kid keeps looking at me in the library, and frankly, I wish she would just turn around and quit staring at me because it's getting me rather frazzled.

I wish parents wouldn't try to negotiate with children to get them to behave. Because it doesn't work. Slap their hinny, I say. In fact, I'm about to yell at this kid, because I am currently on the end of my rope.

*deep breath*

I'm starving.

-Me.

Pee.Ess.

Why do people get tattoos. Some can kind of sort of yet at the same time not really be attractive, while the others.... are just plain out trashy and gaudy.

I'm feeling rather closedminded and thrashing today. Methinks I need to rethink some of this madness. But not really. :)

Liberalism is a Mental Disorder.

Zaaah...

Hee..hee.

Abigrail and I were driving down the road and we saw this kid. He was standing on the side of the road, and he must have been about 7 or something. Well, he a big, long, arched stick that he was holding on top of his head and he was licking his lips and staring at us. It was basically... hillarious. Abigail stopped in the road and started laughing and snorting and making noises that are usually only issued when Josh is vacumming her face off, but... whatever. I swear the kid probably had applesauce and stewed tomatoes for brains.

Remember children, don't do drugs.

So, yesterday, these popular (and not very crispy white in nature if you catch my drift) girls wanted our lunch table outside, and they got it Friday, but I definantly marked my terf by pouring water in the hole on the table. (Yeah, I was like "Hai, I need to pour me some water on this hole. Dun know why, just do." And they looked at me like I had told them Hillary was a good choice for president. Basically, like I twas a freak.) So, they come and sit by me with all their cronies, and all my friends were like... whatever.

So, this saw this Wiccan girl and they were like "omg hai, read my fortune." So she told them all this crap, and I'm thinking God knows the future not ye palm...fools.

Dorks.

Signing off..

Me.

For the times, they are a changin'...

My aunt just got done telling me all about the hoodlums she helps teach in kindergarten, and how miss behaved they are. Which brings me to ask, what is up with the way people raise there kids any more. When I have babies, they are going to be the best behaved youngin's you will ever see. They also might have a few stripes on their legs too. All 6 of them.

If I decide to have that many. It depends on how tired I get on birthing them.

Spankings are a must. I got my fair share, and I certainly respect my mother and other adults. Like that one time, when I was four and I told my mom to give me a spanking because I liked them. *note: Being a smart elick gets you no where.

I almost want to say that sin is the cause of this, that 'children will turn from their parents, and parents from there children' or whatever it is, is happening. Rapture anyone?

That reminds me of that creepy dream (I have weird dreams. Each one at least has one of these elements: a. Harry Potter; b. someone; c. Abigail being a butt; or d. the rapture.) where mom was driving through cherry orchards and she looked up in the sky and said "What's that." I look and it's like the bat symbol, but it's Jesus instead (he was flapping his arms like a bird too.) and I yell "Omygod it's Jesus. The rapture momma, the RAPTURE."

Dream ends, my eyes shut. I totally think I'm in heaven. I was all like, hey, I get to see God now. But then I opened my eyes and I was in my bed. No heaven. But bed.

Moral? There is none. Just, be ready if such an event should happen. That way you can be in heaven being sexy and eating pineapples with me instead of on earth having to put up the mark of the bestie and eternal fires and crap.

...and it makes me mad because iTunes won't let me download the "Into the Woods" soundtrack.

Stoopid iTunes. I's hate you.

-Me.

Pee.Ess.
Abigrail is in a better mood today. Just thought everone should know. :)