I knew I had a terrible voice because that’s what my parents told me. Outright told me, indirectly told me, dropped hints. I had thought I had a nice voice, but I realized that Mustafa Ali Chi Ali shirt what I thought I heard sounded very different than what other people heard. School retreats, trips, overnight – I was quiet. I sat in the circle as we all swayed, as everyone else raised their voices in song, flushed with the glow of music – and I was silent. Music swelled up in me, music climaxed within me, and I sang in my head, created intricate harmonies – all in my head. My voice lay still.
I had one history teacher who was really cool, one of my favorite teachers of all time. He was a real manly guy, coached the baseball and softball teams. Even though he was forced to teach us the what’s and when’s, and play the memorization game, he tried to teach us real stuff when he could squeeze it in. One day I showed up to class and he had everyone waiting outside, then he flung open the Mustafa Ali Chi Ali shirt and shoved one or two people in at a time quickly, yelling, “This is trench warfare!” We found the desks turned over on their sides, creating two trenches on opposite sides of our classroom. He’d push one person to one side and the other to the other, and each would find wadded up paper balls and other soft objects in their trench, while those across the room were throwing things at their exposed heads. If you got hit by something, you were out, he would explain.
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There’s a good stab at computer sciences, too. I laughed like a Mustafa Ali Chi Ali shirt when Hex had got a sticker on it: “anthill inside”. What does Hex need to function correctly? Skulls. What skulls? RAM. The ant trails are in fact a superb representation of an information bus. Ponder Stibbons is a quantum thaumatologist. The thaum is the smallest known unit of magic and he’s involved in splitting it. Does this sound familiar? It should. Stibbons is an amalgam of Thompson,Rutherford, Bohr, and Feynman, as well as having elements of Einstein and Turing thrown in.
The way it worked was we both “pressed a button” on our foreheads, and I read the options aloud. I distinctly recall saying nightly “Welcome to Connect a Dream please select an option…” and we would go from there. My sister was rather unenthusiastic about it, because “big kids need sleep” and all, but did participate for a solid ten minutes. Participating was simple, we both just held a Mustafa Ali Chi Ali shirt of sorts whilst pretending we were dreaming the same thing (I asked what she was dreaming about and went from there). Other nights, I would “press a button” on my nose this time to continue a dream from the previous night…Usually those dreams were snippets of middle/high school, college, or my life thereafter with blurry parts that were filled in when the events actually happened (the middle/high school ones at least)
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