It's been a while since my last post, but I like to think I have a good reason for it.  I'm taking a summer class( not summer school.  I passed my classes) and my brain has been overloading with Supreme Court cases and the true identity of Deep Throat.  So, today, I decided to make a post, and just talk about relatively stupid things.  y'know, same as ever.  

So, I realized what school is for.  It's not about maths and history, and it's not practice for beating up small children, or a starting ground for young Mafiosos, although that last one is actually a possibility.  Nah, school is a place to learn how to learn.  I actually learned this watching a Youtube video, and I sortakinda took it a step further.  Personally, I learn best when reading books.  If you want to learn about the world, read history books.  If you want to learn about politics, read diaries of politicians.  If you want to learn about maths...grab a calculator.  

Basically, there are books for everything.  Then there's the internet.  I shouldn't bash the internet, because at the moment, it's my main medium of talking to complete strangers on another continent (hi guys!) but I do prefer books as a learning place.  I don't mean the type of learning where you go, "Hey, I wonder..." and decide to look it up.  The internet's a wonderful place for random questions.  

I read books, a lot of them, but I read fiction.  When you read fiction, you obviously can't learn about history, mostly because fiction doesn't always happen in this world.  Nah, I read fiction to learn about people.  Fiction books don't revolve around the plot, or the world, but the people.  And it's the people that you learn from.  

Oh yeah, and if you want to learn how to make a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blast, read Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  

Nightmare Beedrills

Remember what I said about not having many nightmares?  I have weird dreams, and dreams with unpleasant aspects, but no nightmares.  The other night, I had an incredibly unpleasant dream.  It started out nice enough, until I decided to climb a lattice-the kind that has plants growing up it.  Well, I was a good height up when a bee came out.

I'm terrified of bees.  Bugs, kinda icky.  Spiders, whatever.  Bees, run for my life.  When I think of bees, I imagine a Beedrill from Pokemon.  You ever seen those things?  They're TERRIFYING.

That.  That's a normal bee to me.  A nightmarish bee is this thing...but worse.  And there were twenty of the nightmare-Beedrills!  The worst part about dream-bees is that I can't escape the damn things.  A lot of small kids are scared of bees, for stupid reasons.  There're a few that can see reason, and aren't particularly scared of the flying needles of death.  

I wasn't one of them.

But as I left middle school, I started to reason with myself about my chronic fear of bees, and I slowly got over.  By the time I started high school, I could actually stand next to a bee.  Every muscle was screaming at me to run, but I still had some control over myself.  Yea, I kept this fear alive until ninth grade...or for you Europeans...not really sure, but four years away from university.  

Then I went camping.  The act of camping itself isn't necessarily associated with bees, nor was hopping around on a boulder field.  I was jumping around with a few friends, and I was a bit slower than them, being somewhat cautious while they just run around like a goat.  I was on top of a rock about six feet above the other rock that I was going to jump to, and my friends pointed out there was a wasp nest the size of my head underneath another nearby rock.  I, using my brain, decided to jump down VERY QUIETLY and move on quickly so that I don't disturb the bees.  

I succeeded in the first part of my plan very well...then one of the idiots I call my friends (one of the more idiotic ones) screamed.  Apparently (This is what I've heard) bees can't stand the sound of screaming.  So a bunch of bees come swarming out looking, well, like this.

They were buzzing in bee language, but I can translate for you.

"Agh, the noise!  Attack the nearest creature in an attempt to stop the noise!"  Yea, that was me.  Whee...

I covered the distance I would have taken five minutes to cross in a mere thirty seconds.  And I still got three damn bee stings.  

I now run from bees.  

Today, while examining my relatively dismal financial status, I got somewhat peeved.  Not incredibly angry, mind you, just peeved. As my mood shifted from contemplative to peeved, I suddenly became aware of the voice in my head.  y'know, that little voice that speaks your thoughts.  I don't know what deaf people have instead of a little voice, but my little voice suddenly shifted from an American accent into a British one.  Cockney, to be precise, which is very odd because I have a very hard time maintaining a Cockney accent.  I used to be able to put one on with no stress whatsoever, but now I just can't get it right.  It just morphs into another brand of British.
The same thing happens when I try to do an Australian accent.
There are a few different accents that I can just flip on, both in my head and verbally.  The best two accents that I can do are Scottish, although some say that it's half Scottish and half Irish, but they don't know what they're talking about, and I can also do a good Russian one.  I got my Scottish one in Scotland (no duh) when I was visiting my relatives.
I got my Russian one while watching Despicable Me.
I can also take on a few different British accents, ranging in class and "poshness."  Oh yeah, and my Irish accent drives people through the roof.

Now, some might be thinking, "What's the point of these accents?  They don't really affect anything, right?"
Wrong.
With a plethora of believable accents, the average human can fool a number of supernatural creatures into believing that he/she is much more awesome than first appearing.  The greatest weapon that someone can have against an American werewolf, for example, is a solid Asian accent.  Werewolves, as everyone knows, avoid the middle of Asia because of the climate (especially the Mongolian area) and because the natives know a helluva lot more than the average North American, not to mention that they generally are badass at some martial art.  Werewolves, being short-sighted, probably won't be able to tell that you aren't actually from that area because of your image.
Werewolves of other nationalities might not be as easy to fool as American ones (American werewolves are rather dimwitted, and are easily fooled) so a more targeted accent is necessary.  Pick a specific area of Asia, and learn the local history as well as the accent, and you should be able to hoodwink all but the smartest of wolves.
It should be noted that an accent is not like armor.  A werewolf will not turn and run upon thinking that you are from Asia.  Instead, the wolf will hesitate, which will give you the split second to either hit the wolf or run for your life.  If the werewolf looks out of shape, I'd suggest running, but otherwise, whack the wolf over the head, then run.  A disorientated werewolf is a safe (ish) werewolf.