In Physics121, the nerds win. Not so on the weekends.

Today I jokingly suggested that we watch an episode of Doctor Who in physics, and my teacher whipped out a hard drive, skeptically asked me if I'd actually seen an episode (all 6 seasons since 2005, BA BAM) and picked the episode "Victory of the Daleks." My physics class actually seemed to like it. 

I hope that I today I helped defy nerd stereotypes and misunderstandings about the wonderful show that is Doctor Who.

I'm now celebrating by beginning March break, a Friday night spent at home, fangirling about Benedict Cumberbatch. Which kind of does absolutely nothing for nerd stereotypes.  

However, I think myself in a better situation in life than the guy with a massive bag of weed on the bus. By massive, I mean it was like a sandwich bag full, being passed around a few guys with great pride. These guys have been on my bus for at least two years I'm yet to hear them have an intelligent conversation.

 Love,
-J-

Choir and unorthadox bowling FTW.

Today was a choir workshop thing for all the choirs from nearby districts who so chose to come. Some schools were really into it and brought the majority of their choirs, but others, like mine, only brought those who felt like it. We ended up with no tenors, and were ready to perform and let everybody believe we are not nearly as kickass as we actually are. Through a series of events, we teleported three tenors to the workshop and regained our sense of self worth. But regaining our sense of self worth wasn't hard after one choir used tracks for all their songs.

A lot of the music we worked on as a huge group was painfully unexciting, especially because one of the choir directors was, to put it kindly, a pompous ass. The conclusions that I have come to is that I managed to go to the one school nearby with a choir that's fun, plays games, jokes often, doesn't take itself too seriously and whose songs do not all revolve around death or Latin.

This was further shown by when we went bowling in the evening. They herded about 200 choir kids into a empty bowling alley rather unchanged since the 60's. About ten of us began the rather unorthodox practice of all throwing balls at the pins until they had all fallen down. However, this was accompanied by us cheering on the ball ("FUTZ! FUTZ! FUTZ"- long story), dancing, yelling, the occassional spontaneous game of Kung-fu and just generally causing a scene. Normal bowling is too mainstream for us?

I love choir people so much. The choir trip to Boston in April is going to be so much fun. And speaking of the Boston trip, I'm getting my income tax back right before that, about $300 in total. I have spending money for Boston, which is awesome because I legitimately had no idea where I was going to get it. 

March break next week, yes. 
Love,
-J-

Musical

 Musical is getting to the point of being fun, the point where everybody realizes,"Oh, yeah, this is what I signed up for." We all have a pretty good idea of the lyrics, the choreography and each other, so we can finally relax and enjoy ourselves. This also happens to be the time that our entire afternoon practices roll around. I have taken part in so many backstage games of Kung-fu today.

It also helps that we're getting attached to the musical. At first, it was a little hard to handle that we were in a musical about a prostitute that gets knocked up, but we've moved beyond that: it actually is a good storyline and musical in general. But seriously, we didn't know what to expect because it kind of launches off with this number:

Yeah. We aren't that crazy. But this managed to terrify a lot of people away from joining musical this year. It has so many good songs. In other news, it ends *spoiler* with the lead's suicide so that her son can go to America with his father.

Here's a less bawdy song, that Moriah made me watch like three times because, I quote, "You could grate cheese on those abs!":

 Love,
-J-

Past and future: another thought explosion.

Sometimes, I miss Kenya.

• The distinct smell of vegetation and diesel smoke, an overwhelming mixture that hits you at the airport and I see inseparable from Nairobi.
• The crisp mornings, waking up to birds, their sounds brighter and more exotic than anything that is heard around here.
• Passion fruit juice, strong coffee and tea with lots of milk and cane sugar, which gives it a distinct flavor.
• Everything coming to a halt for tea time in the morning and afternoon. 
• Time being a fluid concept. Everything is always late and people are so laid back they don't notice.
• Ridiculously dusty roads that get in your lungs.
• The beautiful gardens. To create more jobs, most people who can afford it hire a gardener and well kept tropical plants are fantastic. 
• Meeting so many interesting, inspirational people. At the guesthouse, everybody had a vastly different story that they would tell you over a meal.
• The adorable dusty little dukas (shops) with blaring music and selling everything you can imagine in a miniscule space.
• Soda in glass bottles.
• So many picture worthy opportunities.
• So much joy in the little things. An ecstatic little kid with a bouncy ball or someone cautiously eating jello for the first time.
• The definitely not safe playground equipment. Some genius designed that playground equipment and didn't not take safety into account. But it was so fun. 
• My personal favorite, rain on a metal roof. 

Despite that I only spent two of my seventeen years there, it still feels like a home to me. I never had a permanent house there but that doesn't stop me from feeling like I belong there.

I can't help but feel that I don't belong here for the rest of my life.  Everything whizzes past in a flurry of chaos, people never relax and often feel discontent with their lives without reason. In Kenya, so many people have so little but are happy, despite what terrible cards life has dealt them. I want to live a simple life, content with what I have and in a place I want to be, doing things I want to do. I want to focus my life on things that matter to me.

If this involves me living in a grass hut with few clothes, no stove and always looking disheveled, I don't care. Bold statement? I willing to give up a lot to live my dream because it's worth it.

Is this too much to ask? A bit of a fairy tale? I don't think so. I've seen a lot of people live their crazy dreams so why can't I be one of them?
Love,
-J-

Toto - Africa

Johnny Clegg - Africa Sky Blue