Homecoming Or Homestaying

Lately, I've been getting a lot of accusations of being antisocial. Because I feel a need to defend myself, I will do it on a blog, so I don't need to talk to any of those people.

I didn't go to Homecoming. I did, however go to the football game, and I even wore my spirit shirt. Anyone who actually knows me knows that that is the most school spirit I have ever displayed in my life. We pummeled the Springville Red Devils. "And thus we see that the devil will not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell." (Alma 30:60)

I'm glad I went to Homestaying instead. Here are some reasons why:

- Every time someone said that there was a girl crying at home because of me, I would just think of the wallet not crying in my pocket.

- I don't plan on going to UVSC (It will never be UVU for me). Not even a dance there.

- George Bush doesn't have Homecoming, he has a Homestead. What's good enough for W is good enough for me.

- I see enough of those people on the weekdays, I don't need to see them on the weekends too.

So there you have it. Four perfectly good reasons for being antisocial and staying home. Oh, and the fifth. Razzleberry Pie. I bet my little brother is sad he missed out on that. Sucker.

The Number Game

The other day I walked into swim practice and was confronted with a vision of Orem High's JV Swim Team. There was a kid there who was in my sixth grade class, only I didn't remember his name. All I remembered was his number in the numerical system that was set up in that class. #30.

I began to realize what was done to me in that class has twisted and scarred me. I remember many of the students in that class's faces, but not many of their names. Not one of their numbers has been forgotten. It's sick how these people, the memories, and the personalities, have all been erased by numbers. They no longer hold any more value to me than an integer like 18 (Jake Mortensen).

This summer, I was assigned a number at work to clock in and clock out of. I memorized it in a day, and now it comes without any thought. My subconscious sees me as this number. I can't help but think that numbers are erasing our identities. Each time I open my math book, I am confronted with numbers. Are all the problems in the book people who lost their identities, remembered only in math books? What if one of the problems I did today and hated was actually my great great grandfather? Are my pretend friends from childhood only remembered as imaginary numbers (23i)?

The number business must stop. We need to stop chanting "We're number one," at sporting events. We're just losing our identities when we do. Take back your name! Write off those numbers! At least spell them out! Vote for the presidential candidate that supports abolishing numbers. Let's get rid of the numbers once and for all. This is 26, over and out.

School Spirit Salad

This week at school we had "Hi Week." As if the questionable name was not enough, we were also supposed to dress up to show our "spirit." The theme was Salad, which deceptively enough, did not require us to make Adam and Eve clothes out of lettuce leaves. Thankfully, we just had to dress up like a different type of salad each day, even though salad technically has nothing to do with our school; the Mountain View Lettucehead would not be a good mascot (though Lettucehead would be a good name for a band).

Monday: Italian Salad Day. The problem with this day was that most people had never had an Italian Salad in their lives, and had no idea how to dress up. For some reason, most people thought pizza and pasta were Italian, not salad.

Tuesday: Ranch Salad Day. No one drenched themselves in ranch dressing. Most people just dressed up as cowboys, showing how little our student body actually pays attention in US History. The cowboys were pretty much wiped out by the ranches in the Ranch Wars. Whoops. If spikes weren't against the dress code, I would have worn a belt of barbed wire.

Wednesday: Thousand Island Salad Day. No one dressed up as an island by standing in a pool, let alone a thousand islands. For some reason they wore grass skirts. Guess we should have called it Inhabitants Of A Thousand Islands Salad Day.

Thursday: Caesar Salad Day. This one was really the only one that really made sense. It seemed simple, just dressing up as Caesar. However, there was a problem. Aren't togas against the dress code?

And so there you have it. The sad story of "Hi Week," culminating in a sophomore who overdosed. Wait... that wasn't right. Friday was Spirit day, which is just basically a contest to see who can find the biggest objects that are red or gold and then wear them (the winner wore a fire truck). I personally did not dress up any of those days. Quite frankly, I think it's a scheme by the Student Council who would just love to feel so cool and powerful because they could get people to wear fire trucks. I refuse to give them anymore power than the power to cut class on "Student Council Business." And the power to get "Hi."