After my .015 minutes of almost-fame the other day (not to be confused with actual fame), I noticed that I had also been getting some slack for that video of my Humorous Interp. In fact, one website dedicated to making fun of Christians (at least that was my impression) even posted about me and my nerdiness. Lots of people left comments. Here are some that stood out:
"You just got homeschooled." (I'm gonna use that and make it a catchphrase.)
"That is a severe case of homeschooling right there."
and
"nothing about her that screams 'saving my first kiss for marriage.' nope. not a thing."
At first I was very puzzled. Why would they make fun of me? I'm not famous. What did I do to them? Did they think I wasn't the gifted Googler that I am who was bound to find out about it? Apparently. Or they just didn't care.
The weird thing about these comments are that they are sooo unoriginal. I mean, really. Anyone who has a least one eye can spot a homeschooler a mile away. And the last one is, well, a compliment. I was actually pretty elated when I realized he was being sarcastic. In fact, having a severe case of homeschooling is a good thing, too. But I still couldn't answer one question: what did I do to them?
Then it hit me. I'm a Christian. I'm homeschooled. I'm a nerd. And they were jealous of my bright red suit.
Okay, probably not the last one. Actually someone made fun of that too. I told you they were unoriginal.
Obviously, when it comes to teasing, it's not just me. We all get grief for being antisocial homeschoolers with no friends (except siblings!) and no social skills, and though we may be geniuses, we don't know how to socialize or talk to people in a social environment. Because homeschooling=bubbleschooling.
Actually that would be really fun. A school of bubbles. My bubbles. But anyway. It's kind of awesome that being homechooled means you get to be a nerd and that's fine. Hey, it's better than the alternative(s). (Not being homeschooled, not being a nerd, it not being ok, not being allowed to uses parenthesis, ect.) And here's the thing: most homeschooled kids don't care that they're dorks. Especially the speech and debate type. Folks, it doesn't get much nerdier than us. My sister once said that speech and debate is the nerdiest club besides chess. I disagree. I think Math Club is also slightly less cool. But even though we're dorks, we're ok with that, so ha.
Maybe someday, everyone will be debating and speaking publicly, but we'll say we did it before it was cool. That will be awesome.
What about you? What's your best teasing story?
You're homeschooled, and you just got homeschooled!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
[Oh, thaat's why I've been getting so many views...]
This spiffy little chart shows how many views this blog has been getting in the last 7 days. The astute observer may notice a series of rather unusual spikes, one in particular, on the 27th of October. Why is that there? Why did I get more views on October 27th than any other day since I've started the blog? I've been wondering that for two days.
Then I noticed something else. My video on YouTube of my Humorous Interp on a book titled Stuff Christians Like by Jon Acuff started getting lots of views right around that same time:
See? Weirdness. The A, B, C, and D refer to things like "First referral from jonacuff.com" and "First embedded on Google Reader," and I thought, what??
I clicked some more buttons and found and followed one of the links that had been directing people to this video and later to this blog.
It was this link, from the official Stuff Christians Like blog upon which this one is based.
This post was posted on October 27th.
Ooooohhhhh....
This isn't a normal SCHSADKL, but I thought you all should know. See you tomorrow. :)
Friday, October 28, 2011
Asking People What Events They're Doing
It's a classic conversation. Whether you're at a tournament, summer camp, English Country Line Dance, or catching up on Gmail or Facebook, if you're talking to a fellow CHSADK, someone may/may not be contractually bound to ask:
"So, what events are you doing this year?"
"Well, I'm working on this OO, but it might make a better Persuasive. I'm not sure yet. Or it could be an expos if I can come up with something good to put on boards. And then I have this duo, but I don't have anyone to do it with yet, so I may end up doing it as an OI if I can. I'm looking at this other piece that could either be an HI or a DI. I haven't decided. I'll either do apologetics or extemp, but not both, because both of them involve boxes and the thought of doing two events which require the use of a box hurts my brain. And I'll do impromptu, and I was thinking I would do regular impromptu so I had a better chance of qualifying, but I may do novice because the competition is easier. I'll do TP if I find someone to do it with or LD if not or if I change my mind and I'm thinking about doing Parli too. So yea. What about you?"
If you read all of that, I commend you. When people ask you what events you're doing and it's still early in the season, it can be hard to give a concrete answer, and hard to listen to a non-concrete one. It may be hard to give any answer, but especially a short one. You've been contemplating what speeches and debate stuff you may end up doing, and the only way to explain it without sounding (too) weird is to say exactly what's on your mind. Or risk saying something like:
"So, what events are competing in this year?"
"Oh, you know... the usual."
"...okay."
Or maybe you did decide a long time ago, and can't wait to tell people about your speeches and cases and future plans. That could take a long time too. You could just say something like what I say whenever someone asks me what I'm doing:
"DIHIDUOPERSUASIVEIMPROMPTUTP."
That kind of works.
Sometimes, asking peole about their speeches and stuff is just a way to have a conversation. Sometimes, people actually do care and are genuinely interested in what you have to say. It's hard to tell how you're being asked, so you have to have a good answer either way.
You're homeschooled. What's your plan?
"So, what events are you doing this year?"
"Well, I'm working on this OO, but it might make a better Persuasive. I'm not sure yet. Or it could be an expos if I can come up with something good to put on boards. And then I have this duo, but I don't have anyone to do it with yet, so I may end up doing it as an OI if I can. I'm looking at this other piece that could either be an HI or a DI. I haven't decided. I'll either do apologetics or extemp, but not both, because both of them involve boxes and the thought of doing two events which require the use of a box hurts my brain. And I'll do impromptu, and I was thinking I would do regular impromptu so I had a better chance of qualifying, but I may do novice because the competition is easier. I'll do TP if I find someone to do it with or LD if not or if I change my mind and I'm thinking about doing Parli too. So yea. What about you?"
If you read all of that, I commend you. When people ask you what events you're doing and it's still early in the season, it can be hard to give a concrete answer, and hard to listen to a non-concrete one. It may be hard to give any answer, but especially a short one. You've been contemplating what speeches and debate stuff you may end up doing, and the only way to explain it without sounding (too) weird is to say exactly what's on your mind. Or risk saying something like:
"So, what events are competing in this year?"
"Oh, you know... the usual."
"...okay."
Or maybe you did decide a long time ago, and can't wait to tell people about your speeches and cases and future plans. That could take a long time too. You could just say something like what I say whenever someone asks me what I'm doing:
"DIHIDUOPERSUASIVEIMPROMPTUTP."
That kind of works.
Sometimes, asking peole about their speeches and stuff is just a way to have a conversation. Sometimes, people actually do care and are genuinely interested in what you have to say. It's hard to tell how you're being asked, so you have to have a good answer either way.
You're homeschooled. What's your plan?
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tournament Nightmares
I have weird dreams. I had a dream once that I had put myself on a waiting list to do LD at a tournament just for fun. Twenty-minutes before the round started, I found out I was competing. I sat down to write an aff case, but then I drove somewhere and the car caught on fire so I couldn't go back and debate. I had a dream once that I could not remember if I broke at all in the entire tournament, and they were about to announce finals. I had a dream once that a competition was being held in the Haunted Mansion and Jack Sparrow was there. Even though my dreams may be a little out of the ordinary, speech and debate dreams are not uncommon. The worst of these are the tournament nightmares.
You forget your lines. You forget your suit. You forget your evidence. You forget your expos boards. You forget your shoes. You forget your apologetics box. You forget your script submission and you're at a tournament 10 billion miles away from your house. You get lost. You oversleep and miss the tournament. You show up for a debate round barefoot and in pajamas. You give a speech in the wrong room. Your debate partner cancels at the last second and you have to debate in Policy by yourself. You take last place in all of your events. The list goes on.These are the nightmares you could be having. And now, you probably will. Hahahahaha. Sorry.
Now you may be thinking, invisible reader, "Chandler, why would we LIKE tournament nightmares? This is not SCHSADKH, Stuff Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kids Hate!"
True. But I'll tell you why we should like tournament nightmares:
BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT REAL.
They don't really happen!
Sure, things can go wrong at a competition from time to time. But nothing like a tournament nightmare.
You're homeschooled. Sweet dreams.
You forget your lines. You forget your suit. You forget your evidence. You forget your expos boards. You forget your shoes. You forget your apologetics box. You forget your script submission and you're at a tournament 10 billion miles away from your house. You get lost. You oversleep and miss the tournament. You show up for a debate round barefoot and in pajamas. You give a speech in the wrong room. Your debate partner cancels at the last second and you have to debate in Policy by yourself. You take last place in all of your events. The list goes on.These are the nightmares you could be having. And now, you probably will. Hahahahaha. Sorry.
Now you may be thinking, invisible reader, "Chandler, why would we LIKE tournament nightmares? This is not SCHSADKH, Stuff Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kids Hate!"
True. But I'll tell you why we should like tournament nightmares:
BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT REAL.
They don't really happen!
Sure, things can go wrong at a competition from time to time. But nothing like a tournament nightmare.
You're homeschooled. Sweet dreams.
Monday, October 24, 2011
When People Go Along With Your Crazy Ideas
Christian homeschooled speech and debate kids like a lot of crazy things. Like interps. Those are crazy. And debate rounds. Why would anybody argue for fun while other people are watching? It's weird. And limited-prep? You'd have to be insane. And the way speech and debate takes over your entire life? That's kind of crazy.
But you know what else is crazy: when you have a crazy idea and other people go along with it. Like a really wacky speech idea. You think it's brilliant, but you suspect no one else will. Then they do. It happens. It's wonderful. Or it could happen with a debate case that seems crazy, but it works.
Or it could happen with an obscure blog called Stuff Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kids Like. Someone might, hypothetically speaking, write said blog wondering if anyone will like or even read it. Then it becomes official and that someone starts posting nearish to every-other-day during the school year and frequently in the summer as well. Then she might notice one day that she's coming up on 100 blog posts, and that her blog is being read by more than one person a day (a lot more than one), by grown-ups and kids, people she didn't mention the blog to, people she doesn't even know, people looking up Julian Smith to see if he is a Christian or was homeschooled, and even by people from places like Malaysia who probably found it by accident and don't understand any of it.
A blog like this is a crazy idea, but this is the 100th post. People are still reading. More and more people. In fact, as of earlier today, the blog has already received more views this month than any other month. That's exciting in a blogger-nerd-obsessed-with-stats kind of way.
You're homeschooled. Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you.
But you know what else is crazy: when you have a crazy idea and other people go along with it. Like a really wacky speech idea. You think it's brilliant, but you suspect no one else will. Then they do. It happens. It's wonderful. Or it could happen with a debate case that seems crazy, but it works.
Or it could happen with an obscure blog called Stuff Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kids Like. Someone might, hypothetically speaking, write said blog wondering if anyone will like or even read it. Then it becomes official and that someone starts posting nearish to every-other-day during the school year and frequently in the summer as well. Then she might notice one day that she's coming up on 100 blog posts, and that her blog is being read by more than one person a day (a lot more than one), by grown-ups and kids, people she didn't mention the blog to, people she doesn't even know, people looking up Julian Smith to see if he is a Christian or was homeschooled, and even by people from places like Malaysia who probably found it by accident and don't understand any of it.
A blog like this is a crazy idea, but this is the 100th post. People are still reading. More and more people. In fact, as of earlier today, the blog has already received more views this month than any other month. That's exciting in a blogger-nerd-obsessed-with-stats kind of way.
You're homeschooled. Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Your Second Year
I've talked a lot about novices and the first year of speech and/or debate. If you don't believe me, search for it on that little bar on the right side of the page. Frankly, there's a lot of material in novice-ness. But there is something I have yet to adequately explore: the second year.
The thing about the novice year is that it's confusing. Maybe you've had a ton of siblings do speech and debate before you, so you kind of had a head start, but it's different to actually do it yourself. The novice year is a learning year. Yea, people win events at their first tournaments, it does happen. But not that often, and not to most of us. Most of us spend the first year learning the ropes so we can be fantastic in the second.
That's what's so great about your second year: You've got the hang of it. You know what you're doing. You got this. You learned stuff and now you can win stuff. Or at least do your best knowing that your best is better than it was prior to your second year. That was probably confusing... you can win stuff. Like, trophies. You can also pretend that your novice year was forever ago and now you're skilled in speech, an expert on extemp, a professional platform speaker, doubly-dextrous in debate, accomplished in apologetics, ingenious at interps, and good at other stuff too.
I know for me, my second year was great. If I got my feet wet my first year, I dove in head-first my second. And there was no going back, man. No going back. I'm not really sure of a water-related analogy for my third year, but I'm excited nonetheless.
Very excited.
You're homeschooled. That's exciting.
The thing about the novice year is that it's confusing. Maybe you've had a ton of siblings do speech and debate before you, so you kind of had a head start, but it's different to actually do it yourself. The novice year is a learning year. Yea, people win events at their first tournaments, it does happen. But not that often, and not to most of us. Most of us spend the first year learning the ropes so we can be fantastic in the second.
That's what's so great about your second year: You've got the hang of it. You know what you're doing. You got this. You learned stuff and now you can win stuff. Or at least do your best knowing that your best is better than it was prior to your second year. That was probably confusing... you can win stuff. Like, trophies. You can also pretend that your novice year was forever ago and now you're skilled in speech, an expert on extemp, a professional platform speaker, doubly-dextrous in debate, accomplished in apologetics, ingenious at interps, and good at other stuff too.
I know for me, my second year was great. If I got my feet wet my first year, I dove in head-first my second. And there was no going back, man. No going back. I'm not really sure of a water-related analogy for my third year, but I'm excited nonetheless.
Very excited.
You're homeschooled. That's exciting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)