It never really occured to me that a "weekend" was, y'know, the end of the week. In my mind, "weekend" was not a compound word, but a sacred word, a wonderful word that was often said and relished. (While we're disecting words, where the heck did they get "relish" from? Pickles are disgusting. I mean, ugh.) So anyways, it is Friday night, and I am awaiting my friend Alex to come over. She is one of my best friends and my best movie-maker friend. She also has the same taste in books as me and is one of my friends who actually read for fun and understand books. Plus she's a great artist.
So, I'm guessing we'll watch a Batman movie (she's somewhat obsessed, but I can't talk when I hum Phantom constantly) make some frozen yogurt, eat a lot of food, pause and think about how fat we're getting, and then forget about it and eat more food. We will most definetly make a bunch of stupid videos with a digital camera, probably mine. When I say stupid, I mean we use bright yellow capes and sparkly gloves from my old dressup clothes and talk in accents and do half improv, half scripted humor. Its funny stupid. Fun stupid. Awesome stupid. Not just stupid, like this guys shirt today.
Actually she just arrived, so Peace Out.
27.2.09
14.2.09
Vacation
Today is the first official day of vacation, and already we are far from home.
I don't think it's suicidal to tell my location, because we're a days trip away from my actual home. We are at Drumheller, Alberta, were all the dinosaur stuff is. We drove all day (ugh--I hate our stupid Suburban now) and are at last at the mini Travelodge motel. We went bowling and I almost walked away wearing the "stylish" metallic-green and silver bowling shoes with bright red laces. The guy reminded me as I was leaving. I removed them red-faced, but he said that people have walked out wearing them before. He added that they usually return them. I'm like, "Why would they do that? These hot things are the most happenin' footwear out there!"
Ha ha. Later we went swimming and at the pool there was this rope you could swing into the pool by! Man, it was great. I'm the least athletic of my siblings, and even I had a sweet time. I'm also the tallest by about a foot (my little brother is 11 and 4"7 and I'm 12 and 5"5!) so I realized I could sort of push off the side of the pool, leap, grab the end of the rope, and cling there. I would do that if we left it alone for too long and it stopped swinging. I also realized I could climb a little bit higher while in the air, which was a great feat I'm sure I'll feel tomorrow in the morning in my upper arms.
We went out to supper at, like, 8. It was eight o'clock in Drumheller, but it would be nine o'clock back home. Which is why now, in our hotel room, almost everyone is in bed like we would be at ten thirty as opposed to nine thirty.
In Drumheller there is a giant, life-size plaster T-rex that you can walk up in. There's stairs inside of him and you can climb up and be in his mouth and have a great view.
Here's the guy, although of course its snowy and cold. At night, though, it was kind of foggy, and the ethereal light from the streetlights and stuff illuminated his belly and his teeth and it was really creepy. "Jurassic Park Flashbacks!" I was thinking.
Our main destination is Fairmont Hot Springs in BC, but tomorrow we are visting some relatives in Calgary, staying with them, and afterwards continuing on to Fairmont. I have my own boots but nothing else, so I'll be renting skis. Everyone is renting at least one thing except for Landon, who got a snowboard for Christmas.
So, that's my vacation plan. I'll be posting more as the events unfold.
Anyone else got rockin vacation plans?
10.2.09
Crushes and Other Stuff
Well, the first thing in my title is crushes. I'm only in seventh grade, but most people do this thing they call "dating," which basically means putting a label on a slightly-closer-than-friends friendship. Some people act really stupid when they do this. There's this one girl who will ask someone out, and then avoid them for three weeks, and break up with them. I mean, its so dumb. It makes me wanna yak, almost.
But yesterday someone asked me out. His name is Dylan, and we "dated" through part of grades five and six. But we like each other, so we got back together. So, basically, we hang out at recess or meet up at hockey games and stuff, as well as eye-rolling at teasing. Ha ha. (Guess what, KH? You're not that funny!)
As for other stuff, last night I got new glasses, frames and lenses. The new frames are thick plastic (which sounds unnatractive but look cool) that are dark brown tortoiseshell. They have a slit in the side band on each side, and the top is plastic and the bottom is metal. They're Vogue or something, and I like them. Dad thinks they look like writer's glasses. They make me look smarter. W00T!
6.2.09
Friday at Last
Ahh, at last it is Friday. I have been longing for Friday ever since Monday. Know the feeling?
Today at school we watched a pretty cool video about fear in the brain and stuff, and they interviewed a woman (Brooke Hayes--I don't really know how I remember her name) about her phobia of snakes. Even when a zookeeper took a small snake out of a basket and held it carefully, she was standing about three metres away and was on the verge of a panic attack. They were explaining about this little walnut-sized thingie in the brain that signals the body to release chemicals like adrenaline and stuff, but please don't ask me to recount it word for word, cuz it ain't gonna happen.
In PE, we went cross country skiing. I only fell twice...but I didn't know how to get up. (Thanks for the assistance, Kensey.)
My brother had a hockey game and my friend Alex and I sold 50/50 tickets. I got to yell, lucky me, so we basically walked around with me hollering, "FIFTY FIFTY TICKETS! ANYONE?" We sold one hundred and sixty-nine dollars worth, so yay us.
There was a new episode of Ghost Whisperer on tonight. Woot. It was really good! But I won't spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, or wants to see it, or whatevs.
Finally, my throat hurts. I hope I'm not coming down with the flu...and if I am...I hope it doesn't kick in until Monday.
Today at school we watched a pretty cool video about fear in the brain and stuff, and they interviewed a woman (Brooke Hayes--I don't really know how I remember her name) about her phobia of snakes. Even when a zookeeper took a small snake out of a basket and held it carefully, she was standing about three metres away and was on the verge of a panic attack. They were explaining about this little walnut-sized thingie in the brain that signals the body to release chemicals like adrenaline and stuff, but please don't ask me to recount it word for word, cuz it ain't gonna happen.
In PE, we went cross country skiing. I only fell twice...but I didn't know how to get up. (Thanks for the assistance, Kensey.)
My brother had a hockey game and my friend Alex and I sold 50/50 tickets. I got to yell, lucky me, so we basically walked around with me hollering, "FIFTY FIFTY TICKETS! ANYONE?" We sold one hundred and sixty-nine dollars worth, so yay us.
There was a new episode of Ghost Whisperer on tonight. Woot. It was really good! But I won't spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, or wants to see it, or whatevs.
Finally, my throat hurts. I hope I'm not coming down with the flu...and if I am...I hope it doesn't kick in until Monday.
4.2.09
Braces
If anyone has told you braces don't make a difference, that they're no big deal, that they're attractive and don't hurt, let me set you straight: those people LIE.
Braces DO make a difference. In eating, looks, and your lip. They also make a difference in your teeth, which is the good part. The ONLY good part. For me, they fluctuate between a BIG DEAL and BARELY ON MY MIND. Right now, its been the only sour thought in my mind. They are not attractive-- they make you look like a chainsaw ogre. And God, do they hurt.
It could be possible that its just me, because my mother (constantly) reminds me that I have a low pain tolerance. And, well, just because she had to bribe me to oblivion to pull out a loose tooth when I was six doesn't necessarily mean I have a low pain tolerance!
*cough* *cough*... okay, I'll admit it. I'm a freakin' wuss.
Anyways, I got my top braces on October 20th. I got em, it was weird, and they sucked for a few days, then I forgot about them.
Enter December 12th. I got green elastics that stretched across my front six teeth really tight and I again experienced that wonderous, week-long Advil addiction.
And then, February 3th, I got my braces on my bottom teeth. I have an overbite, so my top teeth bite down on my bottom braces when I close my jaw. Consequently, my orthodontist had to drill off part of the brackets so I couldn't even get elastics, darmit. Afterwards, I foolishly purchased a chicken teriyaki sub and realized I couldn't eat it. I had to peel it open and eat the chicken and green peppers with a fork.
And now today, February 4th, I am again experiencing that wonderful feeling of pain. Ugh, ugh, ugh. My teeth alternately ache and get a weird, unpleasant, tickly feeling. I can't bite into anything. I cut it into teeny pieces and shove it to the back of my mouth where my molars are not as sore and can cautiously chew. Last night I woke up at 12:30 after being asleep for about two hours. I lay awake until one and started reading, trying to ignore the rhythmic throbbing of my teeth as they ached with each pulse of blood. At two, I went upstairs and downed two Advil Liqui-Gels and refilled my water glass. I lay in bed for another forty-five minutes sipping the cold, soothing water. I finally fell asleep. But, as expected, I feel pretty rotten today.
My teeth are feeling better right now, despite my somewhat painful flute lesson.
On a non-painful note, I made pasta today. Yesterday in the city, after our family's several eye appointments and MY orthodontist and knee appointments, my auntie bought a pasta maker. I also ordered new glasses, and I'm pretty psyched because of my new frames. But anyways, I went over to my aunt's after school and she had already made some plain fettucine and I helped make some lemon-pepper-and-parmesan-cheese spaghetti. For supper we had homemade noodles in homemade spaghetti sauce--it was SOoOoOoO amazazing. Plus, my father bought me a Koolaid slushie for my mouth.
So, despite my rough little teeth problems, the rest of the day wasn't so bad.
Cheers!
P.S. I don't blame anyone who gave up on my whining and quit reading halfway through-- I just had to get some complaining out of my system. :)
Braces DO make a difference. In eating, looks, and your lip. They also make a difference in your teeth, which is the good part. The ONLY good part. For me, they fluctuate between a BIG DEAL and BARELY ON MY MIND. Right now, its been the only sour thought in my mind. They are not attractive-- they make you look like a chainsaw ogre. And God, do they hurt.
It could be possible that its just me, because my mother (constantly) reminds me that I have a low pain tolerance. And, well, just because she had to bribe me to oblivion to pull out a loose tooth when I was six doesn't necessarily mean I have a low pain tolerance!
*cough* *cough*... okay, I'll admit it. I'm a freakin' wuss.
Anyways, I got my top braces on October 20th. I got em, it was weird, and they sucked for a few days, then I forgot about them.
Enter December 12th. I got green elastics that stretched across my front six teeth really tight and I again experienced that wonderous, week-long Advil addiction.
And then, February 3th, I got my braces on my bottom teeth. I have an overbite, so my top teeth bite down on my bottom braces when I close my jaw. Consequently, my orthodontist had to drill off part of the brackets so I couldn't even get elastics, darmit. Afterwards, I foolishly purchased a chicken teriyaki sub and realized I couldn't eat it. I had to peel it open and eat the chicken and green peppers with a fork.
And now today, February 4th, I am again experiencing that wonderful feeling of pain. Ugh, ugh, ugh. My teeth alternately ache and get a weird, unpleasant, tickly feeling. I can't bite into anything. I cut it into teeny pieces and shove it to the back of my mouth where my molars are not as sore and can cautiously chew. Last night I woke up at 12:30 after being asleep for about two hours. I lay awake until one and started reading, trying to ignore the rhythmic throbbing of my teeth as they ached with each pulse of blood. At two, I went upstairs and downed two Advil Liqui-Gels and refilled my water glass. I lay in bed for another forty-five minutes sipping the cold, soothing water. I finally fell asleep. But, as expected, I feel pretty rotten today.
My teeth are feeling better right now, despite my somewhat painful flute lesson.
On a non-painful note, I made pasta today. Yesterday in the city, after our family's several eye appointments and MY orthodontist and knee appointments, my auntie bought a pasta maker. I also ordered new glasses, and I'm pretty psyched because of my new frames. But anyways, I went over to my aunt's after school and she had already made some plain fettucine and I helped make some lemon-pepper-and-parmesan-cheese spaghetti. For supper we had homemade noodles in homemade spaghetti sauce--it was SOoOoOoO amazazing. Plus, my father bought me a Koolaid slushie for my mouth.
So, despite my rough little teeth problems, the rest of the day wasn't so bad.
Cheers!
P.S. I don't blame anyone who gave up on my whining and quit reading halfway through-- I just had to get some complaining out of my system. :)
2.2.09
Free Write
Beneath the ground, trapped. Being smothered by the compressing earth, surrounding me on all sides. My oxygen grows less and less, as the CO2 I expel permeates the small cavern. I feel myself fainting away, through the thin, dank air, fading to join the angels…
But no. This is not me. This was my mother, who gave up before she tried. Who said goodbye before she said hello.
That is not me.
Gasping in the stubborn air, I scramble. I push and claw frantically at my dirt ceiling, feeling the pain and sting as my nails splinter and rip off. Trying desperately to ignore them, trying to be brave, but I just can’t. I can’t do this the way they do. My heroes.
I switch methods, from clawing to banging. I throw my bony shoulders up into the hard dirt, heaving my torso into my cage with all my might. I feel the bruises, the inky spots that would cover my shoulders in the morning. If they weren’t already there, they were coming.
My problem was I didn’t know how deep this grave was. I didn’t know where this grave was. Heaving, clawing, I desperately try to escape. I don’t want to join my mother.
All at once, the ceiling of soil collapses. Choking, and drop to my knees, curling into a ball. One heavy rock lands on my elbow, and I wince and tuck myself into a tighter wad.
Sunlight is flooding in the hole, fresh, breathable air coming with it. I stand up, despite the shower of dirt clumps, and breathe in dust and sunshine. Once the filth has cleared, I see my almost grave was dug not very deep, but there was a web of green over top. I rip those off, weaving my bloody fingers through and pulling hard, yanking them down. Lush vines tumble into a dense pile at my feet. I take a running leap with my remaining strength and pull myself, with great effort, over the crumbling edge. My stomach shrieks from gnawing hunger and my throat aches from the thirsty desire. I don’t know where to begin, now that I am alive.
Water first. You can survive for weeks without food, but days without water…
After ten minutes of treacherous walking in a sunny but tangled and unfamiliar forest, I spot a glistening pond. With a cry of desperate relief, I run towards it and fall to a heap in the shallows. I don’t know if it’s salty or fresh, but I don’t care. If I die, I die. At least I can die in the air.
But it was fresh. And I drank, and drank, and drank, until my stomach was sloshy. I pull myself out of the scummy shallows and spot a fallen log that leads a ways out to the clear water. I balance carefully on it, picking my way across. There is not much of me to balance.
Once I get to the edge, I look into the glassy mirror of water.
A hideous face stares back.
Bony, gaunt. Completely iced with dirt and mud, save for a slightly muddy spot around my lips and chin where the water had cleansed it. My cheekbones stick out. My filthy clothes hang in soggy tatters. My eyes are empty and hollow and huge. I look like a drowned, dirty owl. My hair hangs in a greasy, dirt-encrusted, unfixable frizzy tangle around my face.
But my expression stares back, haunted, lonely, scared, aged.
My father did this to me.
I wrote this randomly one day. Random meaning I opened my laptop, and typed. I have no idea who this girl is, how she got there, how she'll get out of that mess, or IF she'll get out, but I will have to figure that out later. For now, I just had fun.
I believe this is what Mrs. Laini Taylor calls a "Work Doc", just a random spiel of words. My personal advice to writers: if you're in the middle of a project and get stuck, freewrite. It will reasure you that you haven't lost your touch, its fun, it keeps you writing, and it may even help get you through the rough spot.
But no. This is not me. This was my mother, who gave up before she tried. Who said goodbye before she said hello.
That is not me.
Gasping in the stubborn air, I scramble. I push and claw frantically at my dirt ceiling, feeling the pain and sting as my nails splinter and rip off. Trying desperately to ignore them, trying to be brave, but I just can’t. I can’t do this the way they do. My heroes.
I switch methods, from clawing to banging. I throw my bony shoulders up into the hard dirt, heaving my torso into my cage with all my might. I feel the bruises, the inky spots that would cover my shoulders in the morning. If they weren’t already there, they were coming.
My problem was I didn’t know how deep this grave was. I didn’t know where this grave was. Heaving, clawing, I desperately try to escape. I don’t want to join my mother.
All at once, the ceiling of soil collapses. Choking, and drop to my knees, curling into a ball. One heavy rock lands on my elbow, and I wince and tuck myself into a tighter wad.
Sunlight is flooding in the hole, fresh, breathable air coming with it. I stand up, despite the shower of dirt clumps, and breathe in dust and sunshine. Once the filth has cleared, I see my almost grave was dug not very deep, but there was a web of green over top. I rip those off, weaving my bloody fingers through and pulling hard, yanking them down. Lush vines tumble into a dense pile at my feet. I take a running leap with my remaining strength and pull myself, with great effort, over the crumbling edge. My stomach shrieks from gnawing hunger and my throat aches from the thirsty desire. I don’t know where to begin, now that I am alive.
Water first. You can survive for weeks without food, but days without water…
After ten minutes of treacherous walking in a sunny but tangled and unfamiliar forest, I spot a glistening pond. With a cry of desperate relief, I run towards it and fall to a heap in the shallows. I don’t know if it’s salty or fresh, but I don’t care. If I die, I die. At least I can die in the air.
But it was fresh. And I drank, and drank, and drank, until my stomach was sloshy. I pull myself out of the scummy shallows and spot a fallen log that leads a ways out to the clear water. I balance carefully on it, picking my way across. There is not much of me to balance.
Once I get to the edge, I look into the glassy mirror of water.
A hideous face stares back.
Bony, gaunt. Completely iced with dirt and mud, save for a slightly muddy spot around my lips and chin where the water had cleansed it. My cheekbones stick out. My filthy clothes hang in soggy tatters. My eyes are empty and hollow and huge. I look like a drowned, dirty owl. My hair hangs in a greasy, dirt-encrusted, unfixable frizzy tangle around my face.
But my expression stares back, haunted, lonely, scared, aged.
My father did this to me.
I wrote this randomly one day. Random meaning I opened my laptop, and typed. I have no idea who this girl is, how she got there, how she'll get out of that mess, or IF she'll get out, but I will have to figure that out later. For now, I just had fun.
I believe this is what Mrs. Laini Taylor calls a "Work Doc", just a random spiel of words. My personal advice to writers: if you're in the middle of a project and get stuck, freewrite. It will reasure you that you haven't lost your touch, its fun, it keeps you writing, and it may even help get you through the rough spot.
1.2.09
Hockey
I spent Sunday sitting on a bus/ sitting in a hockey rink.
Oog.
Today was my brother Landon's Provincials. They were hosted in a town called Biggar. It was pretty funny, if you're my dad, because the town name automatically provides a great potential for stupid puns. My father is amazing at puns. It may not be much of a talent (no offense, Dad) but he is good at it. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cringe (or cry.) Sometimes I pretend to laugh. And sometimes I have to pretend NOT to laugh. Oh, dad, you're just too punny for words.
But anyways (the sign, by the way, has a pun. It says, "New York is big, but this is Biggar!") we left at about nine-thirty, loaded up in the suburban, and drove to the hockey rink. We then loaded up onto this bus which he usually rent for field trips. I had my laptop bag stuffed with movies, books, and of course my charged laptop and power cord. So, we rode on the bus for about THREE LONG HOURS and finally made it. Then we sat around for a while until the game. When the game started, I actually went out and watched, which was weird. No offense, any hockey playas, but I really don't like watching hockey. But I did watch the entire first period, and sort of enjoyed it. I mean, the hockey was pretty good, our team was playing good. I was just tired because of two late nights in a row and had a headache, which automatically sucks the fun out of anything, and because it's COLD. But whatever-- I watched hockey, and I didn't die. I'm so proud of me.
I didn't really intently watch the next two periods, because I was inside the blessed, blessed warmth, reading. Landon did get an assist. We won, 11-2. BAM! We totally kicked their butts. It was awesome.
The ride back seemed three times as long, especially when my laptop died (not a malfunction, just batteries) and it grew too dark to read and my reading light stuttered unexplicably until it went out. I had to resort to switching my iPod onto "Backlight Always On" and moving it down the page as I finished "On Thin Ice," by Jamie Bastedo and than continued "This Lullaby" by Sarah Dessen (two very good books, if you guys need something to read.) I really like "On Thin Ice" because its not like most teenage novels, a swoony romance. It has nothing to do with love at all. Well, not like kissy-couple love. It's about a girl in a teeny Arctic town and polar bears and stuff. I read the back, and was a bit skeptical, but after the book I loved it. I've taken it out of my town library about four or five times.
Oog.
Today was my brother Landon's Provincials. They were hosted in a town called Biggar. It was pretty funny, if you're my dad, because the town name automatically provides a great potential for stupid puns. My father is amazing at puns. It may not be much of a talent (no offense, Dad) but he is good at it. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cringe (or cry.) Sometimes I pretend to laugh. And sometimes I have to pretend NOT to laugh. Oh, dad, you're just too punny for words.
But anyways (the sign, by the way, has a pun. It says, "New York is big, but this is Biggar!") we left at about nine-thirty, loaded up in the suburban, and drove to the hockey rink. We then loaded up onto this bus which he usually rent for field trips. I had my laptop bag stuffed with movies, books, and of course my charged laptop and power cord. So, we rode on the bus for about THREE LONG HOURS and finally made it. Then we sat around for a while until the game. When the game started, I actually went out and watched, which was weird. No offense, any hockey playas, but I really don't like watching hockey. But I did watch the entire first period, and sort of enjoyed it. I mean, the hockey was pretty good, our team was playing good. I was just tired because of two late nights in a row and had a headache, which automatically sucks the fun out of anything, and because it's COLD. But whatever-- I watched hockey, and I didn't die. I'm so proud of me.
I didn't really intently watch the next two periods, because I was inside the blessed, blessed warmth, reading. Landon did get an assist. We won, 11-2. BAM! We totally kicked their butts. It was awesome.
The ride back seemed three times as long, especially when my laptop died (not a malfunction, just batteries) and it grew too dark to read and my reading light stuttered unexplicably until it went out. I had to resort to switching my iPod onto "Backlight Always On" and moving it down the page as I finished "On Thin Ice," by Jamie Bastedo and than continued "This Lullaby" by Sarah Dessen (two very good books, if you guys need something to read.) I really like "On Thin Ice" because its not like most teenage novels, a swoony romance. It has nothing to do with love at all. Well, not like kissy-couple love. It's about a girl in a teeny Arctic town and polar bears and stuff. I read the back, and was a bit skeptical, but after the book I loved it. I've taken it out of my town library about four or five times.
So, my Saturday was a snowmobile course all day and Sunday was hockey. It wasn't the greatest weekend, but
- I got my snowmobiling certificate
- Our team won the game
Saturday night I did hang out with a few girlfriends. We watched 1 1/2 movies. We ate like two bags of popcorn, one bag of jellybeans, one bottle of Lime Crush and one bottle of Grape Crush. (By the way, the two mixed together taste really good.)
So, that was my great/not so great weekend.
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