ALL beginnings are new beginnings.

What a great day. What a super-fantastic-jumpingupanddown day.

1. Shop: I have a 73 average!

2. Geography: Well, hopefully I didn't fail the test, like a third of the class did.

3. French: Okay, this was incredible. That test I thought I failed? I got perfect. *utter breathtaking shock* I'm gonna shut up from now on until I actually know I failed. I then spent the remainder of the period cutting and stapling my sweater.

4. Music: obviously amazing. I have to take music in grade ten. It's the only thing I look forward to at school.

5. Lunch: Strawberries!

6. Bio: Test postponed! Alicia and I wrote letters.

7. English: I actually listened to Gordon today. You know, it's astonishing the amount of tripe spewing from her mouth. If you take the time to listen, you never know what you might learn about our species. That wore off though, so Marisa, Jocelyne, and I devised evil plans for the future.

8. Photography: I love this year. I really really do. I have a light-tight canister with two undeveloped rolls of film in my locker, seeing as I had to leave. It's great though. Whoo.

9. Guitar. We were both in full form today, and had some great conversations about the awesome power of the metronome and the awesome blandness of the bilge on the radio. And did you know that Ken wotsisname of the MSO conducted some for Frank Zappa?

Neil: Every time I hear that song [Comfortably Numb], I think of Bob Dylan. And I don't know why, but it's really funny. You know who it was that put that idea in my head?" *insert long and very entertaining story about what Frank Zappa said about Bob Dylan or to Bob Dylan or about/to a Bob Dylan imitator* Yeah, so that's why I think of Bob Dylan when I hear that. And all that to say, there are a lot of songs written in the relative minor of D.

I could go into how small the English-Speaking Montreal community is, seeing as Sara and my father (who has started taking guitar lessons. Isn't he great?) are now connected in more ways than two, although they have never met. I won't.

If you look at fiction through the ages, a number of interesting patterns begin to surface. What I like the best, however, is the advent of the Fantasy genre (happens to be my favourite, and is NOT EVER to be confused with Sci-Fi in my presence). Fairy and folk tales from once upon a time often run along some variation of this: poor person becomes rich person (often because of their cleverness or kind nature). Obviously, when times were so harsh, many people wanted to escape from reality by imagining that this was possible, that if they were lucky or nice or smart, they could rise above their humble beginnings and live happily ever after.

Fantasy is a story set in a different world. Not a different country. Not a different social class. A world new and yet-unspoiled by human greed. Writers and readers have come to a silent agreement that the tales of success in this world are no longer; instead, we dream of some miraculous rebirth, some way to start over again. We've given up hope for our own world.

Dear Master Noran: I need your blogdress.

Autumn is.

Tigereye, rosy sky

“Sorry I’m late. I took a shortcut.”

-O'Neil

http://www.explodingdog.com/january2/mylifeisboringnow.html
http://www.explodingdog.com/january2/youresoboring.html

Seriously. Life is boring. Grade Nine is boring. Nothing’s happened so far. Nothing to say, nothing talk about except how much we hate advanced subjects. Nothing, nothing, nothing. This blog is going to go on quasi-temporary hold in a little while, unless life picks up.

Today was boring. Tuesdays often are. In music class we listened to some monks chanting plainsong. Photography is going to be UBER-AWESOME this year. I have a biology test tomorrow. I. Hate. Tuesdays.

This is going to be the last post about nothing. I promise. From now on, I’ll always have some central idea, some scene to describe. The blog needs to change, become not an obsession but an outlet. I was planning to shut this site down at post 200 (we aren’t there yet), but I have some ideas for what I’m going to do. I’ll let you know. I’ll keep you posted.

There is nothing left but faded light. I call on the sun.

And now I don't even have a radio.

My grandparents are going to live here for half the year. It's official now. It's been a discussion for years, and they're finally deciding to look for a place.

My mom and dad were talking about their retirement, probably related to this. I, being a little bit tired and light-headed, was too late to stop myself from bursting out, "I never want to retire." It's true, though.

This weekend I sent off titles to Sam Brown of explodingdog fame with Jenna, then was at Alicia's party. Photography will be fun this year. I had some more stuff to relate, more interesting than this, but I've just lost a very depressing battle with the air conditioner and my parents and I need to do my math homework.

But seriously: if anyone is SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY getting a band together, I want in. I've wanted in a band for years, but no one's ever been interested.

Can't fall off the floor.

Sketching clouds in the sky

This week has been way happier than that depressed week (not last, but the one before), but that's because I've been stupid this week. But wow, French today was the greatest.

I seriously love Goudreau. And no, this isn't new. But come on...who else could make Francais Langue Maternelle one of my favourite classes? Today was the best ever, as anyone who has her can attest to. She sat us on the floor and read us a story (Rapunzel). She did all the voices, too. (She's great at impressions. She did a fantastic one of Alec earlier in the class.) And then there was her soontobe famous comment on her Witch Voice: "Eh, c'est comme Madame Shottenfeld, non?"

Err...today at lunch there was that argument about going with Alec to Chien Chaurd, and Kaj had to go and make it personal and REALLY put Kelsey on the spot. So I said I'd go with Alec, and that I did...sort of. I met him and Isabelle on the way back. Kaj's a bit too hard of a parent, but he's right...I'm not doing that again. He's got to learn.

Now you're completely lost, but I can't really explain it more than that without having everyone know just how stupid the argument was.

I failed the math test. I think everyone thinks they failed the math test. David Chen probably thinks he failed the math test. But he probably didn't. And I probably did.

I guess it was worth a shot.

More.

Every instrument, says Ms Purdy, has some eccentricy that makes it difficult to play. So what's difficult on my instruments? Well, on clarinet it's quite obviously playing the notes in the highest register softly, as well as slurring when it involves hitting the register key. On the piano, I have the most trouble with slurs -- it's very difficult to slur on a keyboard. Involves a wrist motion that I have never mastered. The guitar can be hard, but I have a huge problem with sight reading on the guitar. Yes I do have sight reading problems, period, but it's particularly difficult when you're playing something with so many different positions...there are a lot of ways to play the same note on the guitar, and it's very confusing.

Today I ran into Jen and friend at the patisserie, which was really really nice. She's in nursing. What a surprise.

Yay, guitar!

“Irrational numbers make no sense.”

-Neil

This weekend we have both Rosh Hashanah and Ramadan. What are the chances of that?

I actually had a pretty good day today, in spite of finding out that we have three ITT tests instead of one and nearly losing my Slinky. Geography was actually fun: I spent most of the time talking about Liechtenstein and Somalia, rattling off facts remembered from grade six. (Dupaul asked us what we thought Canada’s image was, how other countries see it…and all I could think of was that Monty Python skit with the cross-dressing lumberjack.) And… I actually have time to write today.

I love my guitar lessons. Walking up those steps (not falling apart anymore, after they retiled the place) and entering that world, a world where every living soul wears jeans. Six rooms, posters, miniature Christmas tree, and three chairs beside the door. Really, though, it’s all Neil.

My teacher is the only Anglophone teaching at the place, and he must be the most popular guy there. However, he doesn’t really follow the rules, which annoys the dude in charge (Denis). He doesn’t use the books, he doesn’t encourage his students to take part in any of the concerts, and he gives everyone discounts. (He also does a great imitation of Denis’s accent.)

I don’t really know anything about Neil. I know he was a terrible student, I know he loves reading science books but just cannot grasp math, I know that when he took up the instrument he had so little of an ear that he couldn’t tune it. I know his opinions and ideas on a wide variety of subjects, including Cookie Monster, good quality sunglasses and that guy he saw playing at Lionel-Groulx. I know he has an answering machine but no cable.

But if you asked me about how old he was, I couldn’t begin to guess. I probably know more about Ms Purdy than I do about Neil (for example, her husband Mr Cox is Jenna’s music teacher and she has a dog named Biscuit…Biscuit Purdy, not Biscuit Cox).

Speaking of Ms Purdy, Alec got 20/20 on his music test today. I think we should all be very proud.

Who knew chicory and endives were related?

I seriously don't remember anything that happened before lunch today.

Alicia said that this blog is the mask I use to hide my face, and that someday the mask shall become my face.

Hm. Sounds somewhat V for Vendetta. I'm not sure I ever had a face to begin with, so who needs to mask it? Anyway...let me know if the mask starts looking too much like me, if it already doesn't.

So.

I forgot that we were having those injections today. I seem to forget a lot of things like that. Basically, I talked my nurse's ear off the side of her head. I knew she was the right person to go to when she started waving, and I waved back, and she waved some more, and then I realized she was calling me. She then made the mistake of asking me what I had for lunch, which prompted me to go off on a tangent about Akhavan. Then I ranted a bit about how I could never find my vaccination booklet (when in fact I had simply forgotten I would need it).

I used to actually like vaccinations in grade four, because it was the greatest equalizer ever. Everyone was freaked, and everyone was in the same situation, and for a change I wasn't the freak who was worried about nothing. In fact, I usually didn't worry. In fact, I usually forgot.

And I was able to stay there for about fifty minutes today. I would have spent the whole last period there if I hadn't left my backpack in the music room, but I guess the nurse was kicking people out anyway. (This is where having unremarkable brown hair is useful).

I have a francais test tomorrow, and I'm really freaked. So I'll just be lazy and post this transcript of me talking to Kaj on the way to Geographie.

Kaj with headphones
Me: Hey.
Kaj: ...
Me: Kaj!
Kaj: Nmf?
Me: Oh, whatever.
Kaj: ...
Me: Um, have you seen Alec?
Kaj: Wha?
Me: Alec!
Kaj: Alec?
Me: Never mind.
Kaj: ...
Me: Bye.
Kaj: Wha?
Me: GOODBYE, KAJ.
Kaj: Mmf.

I realize this post lacks any new material (ie. stuff I haven't already said to everyone) but like I said...lazy...tired...boring day...nmf....

Pity is for the weak too.

Back to Badminton

When I swam for the Swim Team, I would often find myself thinking about the strangest things during practice. Try it. Swim a dozen laps or so and you'll understand what I mean. Whether this is caused by the mundane nature of the exercise or the desperate countdown as you pray for the end of the drill, it is certainly an interesting phenomenon.

Badminton is a lot more active, and you can talk to the other person instead of being locked inside your own mind as you paddle for so many meters. Yet I still find myself asking myself certain questions as I smash smashes and...er...hit backhands.

Why am I doing this?
Why did I take a shower before I did this?
Shouln't I be reading L'etranger?

Otherwise today was rather unremarkable.

How are we supposed to know whether you need to pretend if you won't let us see you without pretending to be?

Welcome to the routine. ...and the headphones I bought today smell like Kelsey's basement.

I told my parents about Ms Purdy skipping around the room yesterday. They laughed.

Am I missing something here?

Marmalade skies

"We are the kids of the future."

-Alec

You know how they say that, after awhile, old married couples begin to talk and look alike? That makes the most perfect sense to me. I find myself taking on some of my friends' habits all the time.

Take Kelsey, for example. We've been married for nigh on two years now, and I know I've changed because of her. I often find myself using Kelsey expressions when I speak, or taking on a Kelsey tone of voice, and I've developed a great liking for waving at passing cars. Yesterday when we were all singing Tainted Love on the metro...that was great, and I didn't even think about it then. But I realise now (yes, that is a Kelsey expression) I would probably not have done that before I knew all of you.

Also, I think I should talk about my brother's socks. Emotional attachments. He never takes them off. Occasionally -- very occasionally -- he will change them, but never-and-I-mean-never try to pull them off his feet. He sleeps with socks on. He sleeps with socks on in the summer. I love socks -- I have more pairs of interesting socks than I do any other articles of clothing -- but I really only wear them when I have to put on shoes, and I wear sandals whenever possible. My brother avoids sandals.

Sorry. Had to pause to pull my socks off. They're nice new knee socks that actually stay on your legs without slipping down. I have black, grey, and (yes, Ariel) white. I'm not as crazy about blue, although I have an old pair of those.

Anyway. Jacob made me laugh at lunch today, which of course is not unusual in the slightest. I had several subs, although Gordon was, unfortunately, there. I'll rant about the assignment we've been given later. After school Alicia and I hung out at the church and took pictures. I'm sure Ariel got a great role, and hopefully Jocelyne is well.

I'm sorry I've been neglecting e-mails/msn/virtually everything else on the planet, including my new sheet music. It's this horrible langue maternelle thing. And math. And Shop. I am so failing shop, which is a shame because I like it.

Also it looks like I'm going to have to choose between photography (which I really like) and the job the Mo-West Children's Library offered me on Fridays (which I've been hoping for pendant des annees).

I really wish I could post a picture, but it's not working. I'll try later.

I'm not just your actor. I have my own play.

Today.

Today we all piled onto a bus and went out to the Old Brewery mission to serve food. With 'we all', I refer to Kelsey, Jocelyne, Alicia, Isabelle (new leadership recruit!), myself, and four others from the club. Although I had been before, it was still an illluminating experience. I think it's interesting how many of the employees were people who had been on the other end, people who experienced life at a low and worked their way back into civilization, then determined to help out others in the same situation. That's probably a very common thing.

That, of course, is because we as humans posess an indeniable talent at denying the existence of whatever problem we can. Living in our bubbles, we can only reach others when our bubbles collide.

Speaking of colliding bubbles, I saw Alanna DiThomaso on the way home. That was nice and unexpected. And speaking of nice, unexpected colliding bubbles, the bus driver was extremely nice to me and didn't fine me something outrageous me for getting a transfer from the wrong metro station. That's the first recorded incident of someone in the Montreal Public Transit System being nice to Fred.

Computers today was hilarious. Kelsey and Weiner left to print up letters at the office, and Shotty decided that she couldn't teach the lesson until they came back. They came back six minutes before the bell. And in Math the entire class managed to trick Kelsey into believing we had all been doing review until she came in (when the test had actually been postponed).

Life does go on, but today has been a dark green and silver Thursday, a day fraught with retrospect and ruminating. Life does go on, and it will, it will tomorrow and the day after. Our species adapts very well: we have to be adaptable in order to survive and make progress, to put the past behind us.

Sooner or later, though, the past is bound to return in a format we have not seen before. History does not repeat itself exactly as it was, but rather rearranges itself in order to throw us off course. And every time, we fall into its trap, biting the lure, completely unsuspecting and unprepared.

We adapt, but we never learn.

Hope always, and we are with you.

Yesterday.

Ah, lovely math. Math that prevents me from blogging on the one day I feel that I need to say something or explode. Math, preparing for a test that was cancelled.

To begin with, a triviality.

Yesterday Alec called me opinionated. This, I admit, does not put him on my list of People I Like Lately. You see, this is a very unfair thing to call someone, because it is impossible to argue. "No, I'm not opinionated." If one side of a debate is impossible to argue without proving the other team's ideas, that debate cannot take place.

And let's look at why he called me opinionated. Something to do with pronounciation of a word. Something to do with the word Celtic.

Now, no matter HOW I say this word, someone tells me that I'm dead wrong. So I asked my dad (who took Gaelic lessons for a bit), and apparently the word comes from a Gaelic one...something like Ghaeltahg. It's not spelled like that, but that's how it sounds. If I'm not mistaken C and K are pretty recent additions to the language.

So let's not have any more of these Seltick/Keltick arguments. I'm sick of 'em.

Back to Alec: I don't remember exactly why he called me opinionated, but he did, and it had something to do with me being sick of Seltick/Keltick arguments. According to Alec, I'm not very supportive of other people's opinions. Hey, that's probably true -- although I wouldn't have said it, no one likes that said about themselves -- but by saying it he was being unsupportive of my opinions. And, of course, I can't argue that point.

Call me opinionated, friends, but I think we should just knock that horrible word out of the language. Everyone has the right to their opinions, the right to express their opinions freely. I am completely in agreement that no one's ideas should be suppressed...and that's why I hate the word. By accusing you of suppressing other people's opinions, it in fact is suppressing your own.

See, Alec? You can't win. I've got a blog.

Now...Dawson.

Well, I don't need to go into details on how horrible it is. I can't do that anyway; I don't fully understand it. I wasn't there. What I do find interesting is how it seems so much worse for us because we know so many people there. Completely understandable, but interesting.

If I had a sibling there, I would be shaking as much as Ariel was until she found out her sister was okay. But no matter where this happens, people will have siblings there. We simply cannot visualize the horror unless we recognize the eyewitnesses broadcast on our national news. After all, humans are intelligent but narrow-minded by nature, and this is why we rely on routine.

So many people today told me that we cannot allow something like this to disrupt our daily life. Oh? Why the hell not? Any senseless murder of young, innocent people...any murder...should be allowed to disrupt our daily life as much as it likes. Out of the lips of those same people came the practiced affirmation that this was a reminder of the unpredictable nature of life, and of all the evil in the world that still needs fixing up (practiced affirmation has been paraphrased).

What good is a reminder if you forget it so quickly?

In my opinion, (and call me opinionated if you really want to, but I would prefer arrogant, obnoxious, narrow-minded or really almost anything else) everything and anything should be allowed to disrupt our daily life. If something makes us reflect on our position in the universe, then for the sake of all things beautiful don't throw that moment away, because it could be a long time before it comes again.

To all those affected by the Dawson incident and many parallel, unreported incidents around the world, I would wish hope. You are in our hearts.

Did you know?

Fact about Fred: Fred has had English before Math for three years now.

Yep, Sophia. Tuesdays are terrible.

As I write this I consider my page on page of math homework that I don't understand in the slightest. Kelsey sent me her notes, which was very kind of her and I am eternally in her debt. But I still don't understand the homework in the slightest. I don't even have my math textbook, because someone -- Kelsey? Fotar? -- told me that it was just the reverse of the sheet he gave us yesterday.

Let me backtrack a bit. I had two dentist appointments today -- orthodontist and Dr. D, who happens to be Kristen's dad. This means several things -- one, I can't taste anything. I mean, I really cannot taste a thing. I understand completely how Kelsey felt after swallowing that near-entire package of Ice Breakers. Two, I missed four periods and had to hit Kelsey up for everything, as usual.

On the way home from the dentist's after school, I encountered a pair of little elementary kids selling chocolates on the sidewalk to raise money for their school. They were very polite.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't have any money." This was true. I gave the last twenty-three cents in my wallet to Kelsey yesterday.

"It's okay, you can take one anyway. You don't have to pay us." A smile. "We gave some other people free chocolate too, don't worry."

I didn't take any chocolate, and I actually regretted not buying any. I did walk away happy. This making cute little kids sell chocolate is an excellent marketing ploy, especially when they're so cheery and decidedly not annoying. I'm not renting out my sister right now, but it would be a great sales strategy if I ever needed to sell the hated candy.

I have to go ask my mother to decode the Gallucci/Traikov transmission. Cheers.

Outside of time, observing inescapable death.

Quotes....

You may have observed my penchant for using quotes to introduce or close my posts. I present to you, now, a list of some of the best quotes of the grade eight year. Some are reprised, others have never before been published in the world of Reflections and Fuzzy Slippers. I'm sorry, but I have to get this done before we get really into this grade.

Here is when you groan, Kelsey, and tell me that it's not funny after six months. The Indian Sea, Kelsey. The...yeah.

Isabelle: "Et je l'ai tue...un peu?" (history oral)
"Well, I had to put them there. They looked lonely." (playing Risk) AND
"But why do I HAVE to conquer America?" (likewise)

Liam: "I wish I'd gotten up earlier so I could have had waffles." (outburst during French class)

Kaj: "Mr Gow, I have a hair in my eye." (Mr Gow: Kaj, deal with it.)
"There are a lot of ugly porn stars." (On Kelsey's affirmation that porn star was a possible profession. Kelsey was not pleased.)

Alec: "They torture the baby veals!" (It's Alec. No explanation necessary.)

Kelsey: "A lot of people are average height." (It's Kelsey.)

Matthew L: "Mrs Robinson, I do believe you're trying to seduce me." (To Mrs Robinson of EBS. Such a great kid, this Matthew.)

Effervescing Moose. This week starts out better than last.

"I sat on myself and now I'm a flower."

-Alicia

I'm always happy after I get new sheet music. It's like new-book-high, only it lasts far longer. Right now I have been stimulated to effervescence.

Many things made this day unforgettable. I got 20 on my music test, which is more than enough to brighten my entire world. Lunch was great...listening to Kaj, Alanna, and Michelle face off. I amused myself with a Sharpie for the entire day, and tomorrow I get to sleep in and not have to turn in any homework.

By far the ultimate best moment, however, was when me/Alicia/Jocelyne/Kelsey were trying to scrounge up enough money for a small slush. We needed forty-five cents, and were trying to come up with creative ways to acquire said small change. I suggested we busk, which we probably would have ended up doing had not Kelsey chosen the right moment for her outburst.

"Come on, it shouldn't be that hard to get someone to give you 45 cents," I said. "I'm sure you can think of something."

"Like stripping?"

I opened my mouth to say something along the lines of, yes Kelsey I'm sure that would work, but at that moment the man who had been standing behind us spoke up.

"I've got five dollars," he joked. "I could go up to ten."

I was still determined to say something. "Come on, Kelsey. Forty-five cents."

"It's only forty-five cents you need?" he said. "Why didn't you say so?" He handed Kelsey a toonie. "I have a daughter who's in high school, and I don't want her stripping either."

And that's how Kelsey got money for being herself. She really doesn't need to try.

MoWest badminton starts soon! As do piano and guitar...I'm so pleased to have sheet music! And I got twenty on my music test!

You have beautiful eyes.

Why my dad is awesome.

There are a few things you should know about me and church.

First of all, I'm not really willing to discuss my religion or faith right here, right now. But I don't go to church because of religion or faith: I go because I know it's important to my dad. I have grown to appreciate and even like a good number of the people there, but it's still not really my thing. You have probably noticed that I have a tendency to refer to it as "my dad's church," never as "my church" or "my family's church" (the latter being the least accurate, considering my mother).

So it's not that bad, and I do like to see Alienor/Rebecca/Carole&Ruth etc. I still like to put up a good fight, though. This morning I walked into my parents' room, fell onto the bed, and addressed my father in a slow drawl.

"Dad, you know that song they make the kids sing in Sunday School? The one that goes 'I am the church, you are the church, we are the church together?' The idea is that the church is more than a building, but is a whole bunch of people." My mother began here to laugh, sensing the direction I was heading in. "So if everyone is the church, why does everyone have to go sit in a building every Sunday?"

My father was ready with his rebuttal.

"The answer to your question, dear, is that the song has another part that they don't make them sing. It's the sixth verse." He began to move his hands in a classic dancing technique. "I have a father, you have a father, he makes us go to chuuurch."

Mom laughed again. "Your dad's on a roll today. I don't know what he had for breakfast, but we should all have some of it."

"Muesli," I said. (My parents and I had a discussion once about muesli. I said something like, "Muesli makes it easier in the mornings." My mom told me that sounded like a laxative commercial. We laughed. Yeah.)

He wasn't finished. "I have a father, you have a father, and he is such a jer-rch."

Tom, who was listening from his room, yelled, "It's jerk!"

"It's the Old English variation. You know, ch instead of k." He turned back to his guitar tabs.

"Can you imagine being married to him?" asked my mom.

This evening we decided that I'm going to be the kid who keeps calling them up and asking for money. "After all, your interests are music and English," Dad pointed out, "both of which are financial losers."

Speaking of music, I think Le Tombeau de Couperin is going to become one of my Dance Macabre-style fixations. I'll play it. Someday.

Don't worry about it.

Dancing with blue glow sticks

My brother had his birthday party at Laser Quest today. It was very nearly the biggest disaster in the history of my family’s birthday parties. Far worse than that time we didn’t know we had to fill the piñata ourselves. It did work out in the end, but it will doubtless be a story my mother tells at the thanksgiving dinner table.

The day started out well. Mom and I went to Vincent-d’Indy to look for exam pieces, and I found four. They are extremely depressingly difficult, and I’m really freaked out that with piano, clarinet, français, advanced math, leadership, photography, and eventually skiing/snowboarding etc…I’m going to have a very much too-full year. But I’m going to learn the Minuet from Ravel’s Tombeau de whoosits, and it’s way too pretty for me to give up on it. I have to go back for list two (classical classics…Mozart, Beethoven and the like. I really hate this list) and list three (romantic period…Chopin etc. I really like this list). As always after I have new pieces or books, I feel wonderfully optimistic.

Yes, I know I have a clarinet test this week. Shut up, okay?

We came home, and my mum decided to call Laser Quest to confirm, completely on a hunch. She had told them we would have ten to fifteen kids. Turns out they only reserved eight spaces.

Yeah.

Well, with my mother’s brilliant problem-solving skills, we eventually sorted things out. Most kids wound up playing one game. Owing to a concatenation of events, I played both games…I scored 509 in the second round, which made me happy. (I actually thought I had done really poorly. I got mad at this one guy in a Pink Floyd t-shirt who shot me once…and once too often!…so I followed him around for a bit. He must have hated me.)

My mom said, “I have a very serious teenage daughter. She is very environmentally conscious, reads labels, is very careful about what she does and what she eats, and likes shooting people.”

Now I sit here with two blue glow sticks on my desk and Saturday Night Oldies (which I haven’t missed this week! miracle!) on the radio. Eating leftover grated coconut. I like coconut.

And the question of the week is: am I the only one who thinks about the waste generated by condom use?

Why are exam pieces so boring?

It may have been a bad idea to choose L'Etranger for Francais class. It may have been a bad idea to be in the class in the first place. It seems like a really good book AND it came with about 100 pages of notes at the end, but I find myself looking up every seventh word. I'm trying to be good and look them up in the Petit Robert instead of a French-English dictionary, but sometimes the definitions themselves are too complicated for my little anglophone mind to process.

Take this one: I had forgotten what the word vis meant, so I looked it up. Here's what it said: tige de metal, de bois, presentant une partie saillante en helice. Do you know what it said in the French-English dictionary, friends? Screw.

I'm sure the first explanation is far better if you're one of those people who don't get a headache when looking at saillante and helice in the same sentence, but sadly this has been the story of my life for a little while. I've read a grand total of five pages.

The marriage booth today was insane. We counted up our earnings at the end, which came to eight fiftyish...a considerable profit even after subtracting the cost of the pipe cleaners, and especially considering that most of that was donations. Yay for leadership! The Grade Eights (as I predicted) went a little bit crazy about it. That guy Charlie who was married five times? Yeah. And Alanna went a little bit crazy when we ran out of pre-printed certificates and had to begin writing up our own. Insemination, anyone?

Also, it helps to have contacts in the office. And Alicia is great at wedding vows.

I think extended homeroom has been the best part of the day all this week. I have become very attached to my tri-Marco Salle 314. After school I unfortunately didn't have much time to stick around, but Alicia and I talked a bit. I'm sorry I haven't been writing much this week or today...it's been a tough five days, I suppose.

Well, I think we knew this would happen eventually.

Today I walked along westminster in my green dress eating a tomato.

My father was the second-last person to get into medical school in his class. He graduated among the top students. He used to tell me that it didn't really matter where you started out from so much as how hard you worked. People who put a lot of effort into life are ultimately the ones who are the most successful.

Some of us at Royal West were probably too used to riding on natural ability. Others, like Isabelle, have always been hardworking and talented. With every year, however...whenever work becomes more necessary...I find myself working less and less. I have always relied on inspiration, and it is becoming clear to me how little natural ability I actually possess.

I think walking along the train tracks was something I really needed to do.

You promised me the world, but all I wanted was the truth.

Birds.

Good days are when we don't think, and I have done a fair amount of thinking today, if at the wrong time.

So it's time for me to introduce you to the pets. The birds. Okay, it's sunk in enough.

For those of you not familiar with Kiwi, she is a green budgie that we first observed at our bird feeder one day in the spring of 2004. Concerned as to whether a tropical bird born in a pet store could survive in the wild of Montreal West, we bought a cage for her and attempted to domesticate the creature that had been menacing our sparrows for weeks. When no one claimed her, we did. She was slow to accept us as friends, although with patience we found her to be smarter than we expected. Personality-wise she is somewhat like my mother and somewhat like me -- for she can be sweet, but most of the time she is just very strange. (More on that later.)

Last Saturday, my family came home with another bird. I flipped. Budgies are not lovebirds; they are perfectly happy on their own. However, they do stop talking to everyone else when they have a companion to chatter at -- I've seen her with mirrors. As well, we have no idea about this bird's gender, which could cause complications.

The new bird (which my brother has threatened to call Gregory) was set up in the living room before being transferred to my brother's domain. It was terrible. I fell in love with the little feathered thing right away. It had something to do with his oversized eyes. Far younger than I had ever known Kiwi to be, he is blue with a cute song and a timid nature. Somewhat like my brother, minus the blue and the cute song.

The two birds haven't met yet, and Kiwi is still the strangest budgie I know. This morning she was out of her cage for awhile before she landed on the table and began to investigate. Coming across a pile of cutlery, she had one of her inexplicable Bird Ideas. Before we could anticipate her diabolical plan, she was throwing forks at my brother.

And no, I have no idea how a bird tiny enough to perch on fingers can lift a fork, much less throw it around. But Kiwi's always been a bit of a mystery.

Memo: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

It's NOT Monday.

Today didn't start out too well (as in zit-under-nose-and-wore-wrong-skirt-to-school kind of not-well) but it certainly improved as the day went on.

First period Francais was intimidating, especially when she handed out that list of Approved Francophone Authors and told us to choisis un livre par mardi prochain. Gym was not as bad as it could have been, and Alicia did have that great line about football positions sounding a lot like sex positions. Oh, and I kicked the football. Sort of. Whatever I had after...oh right, it was Bio. Well, that film was completely lost on me, although I do remember thinking that the music could have been improved on.

I think that the bell went off during every class today. Well, no. Computers finished before the bell. Anyway.

Getting to English was the most fun I've had in a long time. That huge backup at the west wing doorway must be pretty close to unprecedented. It was the greatest -- hey look there's Jocelyne! And there goes Kaj...I'm missing my English test! Hey, who was that trampled over there? Oh well....

Yeah, I know mine is a sad, sorry existence. Moving on. You should all join Photography.

I actually finished the English test fifteen minutes before the end of the class, which is definetly unprecedented. Lunch was very fun, even though everyone left us alone, and then I had double Kelsey. Math was far more intimidating than Francais and computers was excellent, especially when Shotty apologized to Kelsey.

Oh, and Kelsey? I told you Knitting Guy existed! I knew he existed! I BELIEVED in him....

Hmm. The leadership meeting after school put me in a good mood. Apparently the four of us are going to be taking over from Shannon & Asma & co, which makes me feel more important than I am. Then we got slushes, and I spent an hour trying to get Kelsey home, spending money on Kelsey, and listening to Kelsey talk. It was great.

To completely change the subject, I have a strange tendency to think a lot about goodbyes. Every time I say goodbye to someone, or goodnight, or even go upstairs and leave them for two minutes, I think, What if they never saw me again, and that was the last thing I ever said to them? What if those were my last words? Usually they end up being pretty stupid last words, and I decide that I can't possibly be about to die because those are pretty stupid last words.

But if I ever make an overly dramatic exit, you should have a pretty good idea of what I'm thinking. (And no, I don't have a pretty good idea what I was thinking when I decided to tell you this.)

Now I leave, knowing that I have stacks of unfinished homework and unwashed laundry. *makes overly dramatic exit*

Here's to unboringness!

they say even a broken clock is right twice a day

...which is more than can be said for most clocks. The majority are set to somewhere around the actual time, and remain somewhere around the actual time. But a broken clock gets two beautiful, spot-on perfect moments in every day. After all, that can happen when you step outside of normal.

Today was the last day at the pool, which means that three of my genetically-related fellow lunatics and I had to go jump in the water for an hour or so. We have this bizarre ambition to be in the pool five months out of the year. (Unfortunately, exams and travelling ruined this for me in 2006.) Nothing else happened this weekend, except that I recorded myself playing arpeggios on the guitar and had fun coming up with a stage name.

I can't help looking over my shoulder as I write this. The fact that the attic stairs don't have a door to block them off never really bothered me until that day I was trying to play clarinet and turned around to see my sister's friend-who-lives-next-door, Maia, watching me. Now, Maia has a tendency to come in when I least expect her to, but this really freaked me out, and I'm afraid that someone will materialize there again, appearing as suddenly as she did. I don't really have anything interesting to hide, but that does not make it any less of a shock.

Blah.

Goodbye summer.

Sorry I posted so many times yesterday. I suppose I had things to say. And it's true that yesterday I will remember for a long time, permanently etched into my mind as The Day Jocelyne Dropped the Umbrella on Us.

Today Jenna, Rachelle and I went to Monkland and had Second Cup coffee slushes and Mentos. Then we went back to my place, played Blurt and piano, had food and watched the sky. AND I got to see Jenna's beautiful GarageBand songs. (If you know of anything good like GarageBand for Windows, let me know. I'm trying to do some research; it could be useful in future.)

Listened to music too. Unfortunately Tainted Love was and is lodged in my brain, so now I have to go replace it with Lucifer Sam or something. See you.

And we're more helpless than even we know.

Last post of the day. I promise.

I can't believe we all fell for "Magic Slushes." Let me explain. Kelsey once asked the guy at the Hotdogerie what his favourite flavour was, and -- possibly not wishing to delve into the mess of obscure flavours hidden under the counter -- he answered, "Well, I'm going to have to say Magical."

So today Alicia and I ordered Magical Slushes. And you know what? He just picked two random flavours and mixed them together. And we believed in the magic!

I tell ya. The process of disillusion is a terrible ordeal.

Nearly a very bad day.

This morning I was talking to Noah.

"Are you in Honour Band?"
"No.... (laughs) I blew my audition."
"I blew my audition too in Grade Nine, but halfway through the year she asked me to join...someone quit or something."

Now, that made me feel happy. Not because I expect to be in the band anytime soon, but it's good to know someone who screwed up as badly as you did. (Although I sincerely doubt that is the case.) And it's always nice when people try to make you feel better.

Today was almost terrible. I forgot my Math homework, but he didn't call on me. I had to sit through two assemblies, but I didn't have to do my English test. And after school was incredibly fun, more fun than I have had in awhile. After all, what could be more fun than sitting in a park listening to Jocelyne sing her future hit single, Twang?

I'm so sorry to disillusion you, but you're worthless.

Or I could just join lighting crew.

On my way home yesterday, I stopped in at Bonder's to pick up a gift certificate, as requested by my mother. The lady behind the cash seemed to have a difficult time finding the certificates. She rummaged around the desk for a good something minutes before calling over another guy so that they could rummage together. They seemed to be in agreement that "she," whoever "she" is or was, had placed the items in a blue folder, but the blue folder in question was proving difficult to locate.

As I stood there, my mind (as is its custom) drifted along various pathways of thought, before settling on the fact that there seems to be a lot of our grade in the Honour Band. Now, this in itself is not a troublesome thought, but it invariably leads to one that is -- my Honour Band audition. Fortunately, the pair found the certificates (they were in a black folder) before I had the time to remember that and, after listening to the lady mutter about what "she" was going to do to her, I headed home.

The audition was, quite simply, extremely bad. I didn't know my audition was going to be on the first day, so I had left the clarinet I had actually been playing for weeks at home; my reed was too old; I completely blanked in the first line of music. I really, really, really hate sight reading under pressure...it always gets me at the McGill piano exams too.

I seem to have quite a streak going, and I would really like to break it. I have blown every audition granted to me. For Bardolators it didn't matter so much because I can't act anyway. For Chicago it didn't matter so much because I can't sing anyway. I actually cared about the band audition, and I'm never going to forget screwing up on it.

Especially not if I screw up again this year. Which I won't. Which I can't.