Momma Mia - Abba

Hello Bryan, lovely poetry yesterday!

Bryan, on this thirteenth day of August, it is with gratitude that I say happy birthday to my mother!

You may have seen my Facebook status yesterday about my printer being dead so I had to draw, with crayons, my mother’s birthday card.

Bryan, I may have gotten an A in art, but I cannot draw with crayons.  I am a pastels guy.

I only have one thing left to do before tonight's deadline -- my last German blog -- and I've already planned it all out, so I'm giving myself a little break right now. Also, I'm pretty sure I just opened a lot of doors for Max to brag about how he's been finished for a few days, now. Oops.

Bryan, I found this funny.  We both know that I do not need you to open the door for me to brag about how I did something better than you.  Yes, Bryan, I am relating the speed of completion with the quality of work.

Time to go all-nostalgic on you Bryan.

In about two and a half months, we will return to school as seniors. I actually have one final proposal in this blog post -- that as seniors, rather than taking the easy route of glorifying ourselves, we focus instead on being welcoming leaders and role models at Roncalli. Maybe I’ll devote a future post to this topic.

Bryan, this is from the first ever post on TPA.  You know, the one where “TPA” became a legal initialism?

Yes, Bryan, the day we have been awaiting for three glorious years is already upon us.  The time has flown far too fast, but I have enjoyed every step of the way.  I found that sentence quite humorous.  If time has flown, then how was I stepping?

This is our moment, Bryan, to lead the school.  Okay, so probably not the school, but the German club for sure.  Then you of course have the band to co-lead, while I have the newspaper to co-edit.

It will feel odd driving into the Roncalli parking lot for the first time as a senior, then walking down the illustrious middle hallway, knowing that my locker is there, but not actually remembering my combination.

Speaking of being a senior, guess who got a Whoopee Cushion yesterday?  This kid.

Bryan, throughout our senior year, we should make it our goal to not look forward to the weeks ahead, but rather embrace the time we have at Roncalli.  We only have one hundred and eighty, or so, days left at that school, and many of those will most certainly be spent outside of class or thinking about college.

I suppose I should get to the poll results Bryan.

Beyond any comprehension of the mind, Bryan, the poll was  split ten to ten in terms of cheese to chocolate respectively.

Bryan, I look forward to knowing your answer, but we all know I am a cheesy person.

Until Monday, Bryan,

Enjoy your time without summer work.

Edit:  Cheese got an eleventh vote before I changed the poll.

A Few Poems of Mine

Today is Friday, which is an important day to a lot of people at Roncalli. It's not only the last weekday before school starts, but it's also the day a lot of summer homework is due. I like to imagine that right now, there are a couple hundred kids sitting in front of their computers across the south side of Indianapolis and frantically turning pages of novels and textbooks, blogging, journaling, outlining, and writing essays.

I only have one thing left to do before tonight's deadline -- my last German blog -- and I've already planned it all out, so I'm giving myself a little break right now. Also, I'm pretty sure I just opened a lot of doors for Max to brag about how he's been finished for a few days, now. Oops.

Max, I'm glad you brought up the topic of poetry. It's a beautiful way we can peer into the soul of mankind. Your poems were wonderful (but not particularly flattering). Last year, for instance, I explored the heart of an old man complaining about the kids on his lawn in a terzanelle I wrote in English class. But I'm not going to share that poem -- it's extremely emotionally draining to read. Instead, I'm going to tell you the story of how I became interested in poetry.

During my freshmen year at Roncalli, after a band concert, Rebecca Flanigan sent me this note:

Trumpets are brass,

Clarinets are wood;

That oboe solo

Sure was good!

And I was very flattered and wanted to write a poem back to her, so I did:

Percussion is loud,

My favorite color is ochre;

Your clarinet playing

Was also good.

Before I compose a few poems for Max, I'm going to share a snippet of a poem I wrote last year in German class. If you were in my fourth period class, you know that this eventually turned into a song:

Wir haben manchmal Feten,

Aber zuerst müssen wir beten,

Und wir trinken . . . nie Bier.

Wir studieren -- nein! -- wir lernen,

Wir griefen nach den Sternen;

Meine Lieblingsklasse ist Stunde Vier!¹

Now, since Max composed some lovely poems for me, I'm going to return the favor. I'll start with an acrostic, and then I'll move to my specialty, the limerick:

MAX BROWNING

Mirthful

Adamant

Xenophobic

Beige

Rectangular

Ovate

Witty

Nerdy

Inventive

Nervy

Good

There once was a mortal named Max,

Refusing to pay income tax.

He felt like a lout,

When Obama found out,

And Max paid his tax with the axe.

That was more gruesome than I originally intended.

Until Sunday, Max,

Never let me go in your pants.

¹Sometimes, we have parties, but first we have to pray, and we never drink beer. We study (college) -- no! -- we study (high school), we reach for the stars; my favorite class is period four!

All Summer Long - Kid Rock

Dear Bryan,

Having finished all of my AP Summer work, I have decided that today deserves a poem.

Here goes nothing:

There once was a lad from Indiana.

He never wore a bandana.

He did all his work.

It made him smirk.

Then he went and ate a banana.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

Most poems rhyme,

But this one doesn’t.

Here goes a haiku:

My name is Bryan.

I am not intellectual.

This has six syllables.

And an acrostic:

B :  Backwards

R :  Rebellious

Y :  Youthful

A :  Analytical

N :  Nonsensical

R :  Reliable-ish

A :  Annoying

I :  Incompetent

N :  Nonagon

E :  Exasperating

Y :  Yellow

Yes, Bryan, I did just call you Jaundiced and a bunch of other big words to prove I have a vocabulary beyond “awesome.”

...and a page break?