Well, it's finally happened.

Yup, CC (Classical Consortium) now has an unofficial blog. Yeah, unexpected, I know. Anyway, this is where you can share any CC memories and stories, talk with friends, whatever. If you attend CC, you're more than welcome. Don't feel obliged to join, but don't let me or RB stop you. Don't even feel obliged to talk to either of us- we're kinda scary anyway ;) If you just want to connect with some friends, or see what others have to say, you've got free rein. Welcome to the unofficial CC blog.

P.S. This is a blog for YOU, CC students. Want to see something added to the blog? Just ask. Want to post? Just ask. I could continue, but this intro thingy is too long, anyway. ;) Enjoy!

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Inside the Insane yet Insignificant Life of an L2- Profiling, Part 1

Well, lets hope no one gets offended here. ;) The people at CC are awesome (and no, this isn’t flattery…), so awesome in fact, that I felt compelled to write about you all. Trust me, so many things happen at CC that I don’t want to forget. Now of course, I can’t cover EVERYONE, so these are just a handful of people I probably encounter the most during my CC day. Plus, this is just part 1. And, RB is gonna profile some to- I guess its only fair that he gets to profile me… That should be interesting to see. ;)
Anyway, this is a recount of a CC day that actually happened- I’m just glossing over events and focusing on people. Because, you know, RB and I (plus any of you!) will be posting weekly (hopefully), telling about ridiculous, bizarre, or favorite CC memories. But we gotta introduce our characters first- at least how we see them. Again- hope no one gets offended. ;)
(Oh, one last note, parts of this were originally written for people unfamiliar with CC, hence the explanations of things that should be obvious to you all.)
So, without further ado, I present Role Call,
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Last you left me, I believe I was half-asleep in a Buick with the sun in my eyes. Well, as deeply touching and strangely satisfying as that ending was (learn to recognize sarcasm my friends. If you can't, don't read the writings of an 8th grader.), the story is only beginning.


So me and my loving pater are making the long voyage to CC. In a way, this time on the road is a sort of twilight zone in my day. Neither fully dark, nor fully light, and pretty much detached from everything else. And it’s always over before I know it. So I just have enough time to remind myself to start narrating this day in the first person before I'm thrown into the halls. Then all else is forgotten as I struggle through masses of loitering kids (Oh, I could say so much about that hall...).


Gasping for breath, I'm thrown from the great mass of humanity, and into the relative quiet of the gym. It also subs as a place for lockers and a lunchroom. Considering the fact that I'm still recovering from motion sickness, kind courtesy of the hall, I'm here for the lockers. Throwing my backpack down (My shoulder was just starting to heal, too =/), I turn in my homework, grab my oxygen tank, and brave the hall once more. I'm hoping I'll end up in the Chapel Room.


Several long seconds later, I find myself standing in that very room. Huh. Guess I got lucky. Anyway, the Chapel Room, is well, the room where we start the day with a chapel service (shocker)- including devotionals, worship, and a pep talk- and is generally the preferred place to catch up with friends. Trying not to look too beat up, I walk over to the seats, and collapse next to RB. You guessed it, profiling time.

Really, his name is Ryan Burns. But that just sounds too formal. I call em RB. Come to think of it, he's called many things including Root Beer, Rooty (long story on that one), and of course RB- anything but Ryan. His skin is pale, his eyes blue (turquoise maybe), and he generally looks nothing like a chilled mug of Barque's. But his hair is by far his most distinctive feature. It’s as if somewhere along the way to CC, his scalp had some serious mishap with an electric fence, car battery, or generally anything else containing dangerous amounts of electricity. Combine this with his blond hair color, and you have a guy that's pretty easy to spot. Other than a victim of voltage, RB is also an aspiring writer, has a fetish for quotes, and will likely one day be President of the United States. He's smart for sure, if not a bit random, and essentially my right hand man. He's gonna protest that by the way. Maybe I'm at his left hand instead.


He's currently humming "Over My Head" by The Fray- one of his favorite songs (Yet another topic to revisit). He’s a keyboardist, guitarist, and generally a wannabe rock star. What can I say; the boy’s a Renaissance man. He pauses briefly, giving me one of his signature "Hey Ben"s, then resumes singing. Before long, I'm singing too. Hey, it’s contagious. Together, we produce something that vaguely resembles harmony. Music is a wonderful thing. =)

Before we completely finish our melodious croaking, someone else enters the chapel. Profile Numero Dos. He's wearing khakis around four sizes too big for his anemic legs, a clip-on tie, and a suit coat. Brown hair, tan skin, hands in pockets. Whipping a lime green yo-yo out of his pocket, he proceeds to stroll toward us, throwing out a casual greeting of "Hello froobizoids." Classy? Maybe. Insane? Of course. Meet Jacob. My left hand man, I guess. And you've probably got him to thank for the existence of this series of stories. It wouldn't be CC without him. He’s also good on a guitar, deadly with pressure points, and sure to have some gadget (the yo-yo being the example of the day) up his sleeve. Also, feeding him anything that contains higher than 2% sugar content is flat out dangerous (again, a topic for another time). Just be warned.


During worship, Jacob yodels, I try to figure out just what octave I should be singing in with my cracking voice, and Ryan out does us both. By the way people, the amazing thing is that God heard all three of us out. =)

After chapel, chaos ensues. This chaos is supposedly folding chair cleanup- but it feels a smidge like trial by claustrophobia. It’s through these crowds I see Christopher.


At least, I hear him. It’s hard not to- he and I have an unspoken law. Practically a sacred rite. Every time he sees me, he cries, (and I quote) “Beeeeeen!!” And of course, I yell back, “Chriiiissssss!!” A high-five, or something along those lines follows. This brings me to my third profile: Christopher. He, like Ryan, has very blond hair. But unlike Ryan, its not standing up on end, his skin isn’t as pale, and his eyes are most definitely blue. Anyway, imagine the most random and light-hearted guy you know. Okay, triple those attributes, and you have something close to an unimaginative stoic compared to Chris. Its hard to bring him down- that’s what I like about him. Like me, he’s a Lego fanatic, but he’s also good with stop motion videos. The results are pretty amazing. He’s actually in the grade above me, but hey, who cares? In short, if you need to lighten up, he’s the guy for you.


So Chris and I have actually managed to get close enough to high-five when I get caught in a riptide of backpack bearing kids and thrown back into the hall. So much for that.


Muttering darkly about traffic control, I’m halfway down the hall when I realize my first class is in the other direction. Let’s just say I step into Critical Thinking a bit battered.



And there you have it. Okay, I’m just a lowly L2, so if anyone has any insight on these people to add, let’s hear it. =) Any other thoughts, suggestions, questions, whines, or rants are appreciated, believe it or not. (I get a bit of all five from RB… Now don’t take hard RB, it was only a joke! ;]) So yeah, I have nothing more to say- I’ll shut up now. So long, folks. =)

Monday, September 13, 2010

Just to Kick Things Off Here

Okay, now I know there are plenty of early risers in CC. And I respect that. But that's just not how I am. I don't know if anyone can sympathize, but Monday mornings can seem pretty bad. Here's my feelings:

So its Monday morning. And I’m using the definition loosely. It’s dark outside, cold as heck, and the rooster’s still out cold. Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Mondays. It’s the mornings that irk me. So anyway, there I am, sawing logs, just minding my own business. A nudge on the shoulder and a feeling of dread greet me as I wake. Though now conscious, the hatches of my eyelids are firmly nailed closed. I stumble out of my bed like a ship with a schizophrenic at the tiller, nearly running aground several times as I stagger about on my two left feet. After narrowly navigating through the doorway, I flop down the stairs, leaving my heart, mind, and many other vital internal organs under the covers.
Having miraculously survived the trip downstairs, I slog toward the table. Dad pushes some breakfast in front of me. The lumberjack special: a piece of toast, with a drop of milk to drink. Oh, before you can fully appreciate my breakfast experience, you need to realize something. When I say a drop, I mean it literally. Don’t get me wrong: my dad’s awesome. But when it comes to drinks, well… The amount of liquid he gets by on would leave a cactus with a dry throat. A camel would be choking. And sometimes I think he forgets the rest of us need proper hydration to survive. But anyway, moving along…
So, due to the culinary drought, I leave the table with a mouth plastered wall to wall with peanut butter. I mean, I had some true interior-decorating going on: shelves, roofing, and maybe even some carpet going in. Impressed but choking, I scale the stairs (not without mishap) and stagger into the bathroom. Prying my sticky jaws open and mentally noting to keep a crowbar by the sink, I thoroughly saturate my mouth, rinse, and repeat. Then, loading down my toothbrush, I scrub away, thankful that my taste buds are not yet fully connected to my brain, preventing me from tasting the scrumptious blend of peanut butter and mint.
Offering up a prayer of thanks after again safely traversing the stairs, I gather my school stuff. Wincing as I sling the overloaded backpack over my shoulder (nearly ripping it out of the socket in the process), I head out of the house and collapse into the idling car.
Having been on the road several minutes, the sun finally rises. In our eyes, that is. But hey, it was still beautiful. By this time, the fog in my mind is starting to clear. With I smile I recall a certain quote:"

“On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks.” (Me included)
H. Allen Smith

Alright, I'll admit- that was a little exaggerated. But honestly, its not too far off. The wake-up will always be my least favorite part of CC, but hey, watcha gonna do? =/
Have any Monday morning experiences or thoughts you care to share? Do tell. ;)

Welcome To The CC Blog!

Hey, it's Ryan Burns, and welcome to the Unofficial CC Blog! This is a blog where all CC students can comment and share experiences. I mean, we all have classes on Monday, we hang out together at Lunch, and mill about aimlessly after school's over, but me and fellow CC student Ben Krapohl have teamed up to form a place for those who wish to engage in further conversation with others from the Classical Consortium. Now, we will post at least once a week, even more if we have time and energy after those assignments on the spreadsheet! Me and Ben will try to keep this stuff CC-related, but I will warn you that we are both pretty random, so catch us if we go astray. But this isn't all about our posts, it's about what you have to say. Leave suggestions, likes, dislikes and whatever else you want in the comments for any posts. I have a single rule (and it's from Ben, not my mom!): No complaining about CC on this here blog, see? I won't talk to you like a 20's CEO anymore, but this rule should not go unheeded. Other then that, you are free to explore the blog! Welcome to life after CC! And with that, BE OFF!