Clubbin'

I'm going clubbin' tonight.



From seven until ten is my first HIGH SCHOOL DANCE. Different from the gimpy wannabes of elementary (no offense), there is to be a social involved. With cards. And cookies. And such. Plus they drag down the Coffins and have lights and an actual music system.



Today at lunch I bought tickets. I handed Kyra the money and forgot to take the ticket, so I had to come back and get it. Later.



I'm typing extremely carefully due to the layers of fresh, glistening cheap navy polish on my nails. No, I'm not a girlygirly who spends nine hours fixing herself. But I do enjoy primping myself up before big events. It goes like this.

• Pick an outfit


• Pick another outfit


• Carefully glue each individual curl into perfection


• Put on foundation


• Put on too much eyeshadow.


• Take it off.


• Do it again.


• And again.


• Then do it right.


• Line one eye


• And fix it


• Again


• And again


• Then the other eye


• Miss


• And repeat.


• Slather lips with beloved CHAPSTICK because gloss comes off


• Put on too much perfume and be embarrassed all night.

Ha ha. Kidding.

I did use hair gel and stuff, but I have good aim. Ha.

In drama practice today, we actually used a "stage". I have my lines memorized from pages 5-16. Mostly.

Tomorrow I have an orthodontist appointment, but I have to be back in town by 3:15 because we have an SRC meeting. I'm the grade 8B Room Rep, along with three others.

Thursday is Band, I think.

And Friday is Free Hug Day, brought to you by the Grade 8B!!! We wear stupid signs and run around and shell out the love in an act of proclamation. We are trying to promote that freshies are not shy and have good hygiene. We all need little signs taped to us. I have a Free Hugs shirt, as well, so I'm wearing it. I bought it with three other friends at the same time, then this annoying girl bought the same one to copy us. Loser. My sign that I made says:

"Hug the Ug

Ly Kid"

And in little letters at the bottom: "Out of Pure Sympathy."

~

Whoa. For some reason, three quarters of the gadgets are gone off the top of the blog posting box. That's strange. Plus, the font it types out in is courier new. I'm scared!

But guess what? When I was in Calgary, dealing with my family crap, I was shallowly torn up over the fact that I was going to miss auditions for junior drama. My dad worked out something with Mrs. W, and she said she'd have a part for me when I got back. I was only halfway okay with this. I mean, it would have been nice to have the audition and everything. The real deal. Plus, the part I would procure would be most likely lame. Don't mean to brag, but I'd probably have a pretty decent chance at getting a good part if I auditioned. Which I couldn't!

But the dear, sweet, kind drama teachers didn't cast till I got back!! How cool are they?? I vow to love teachers for the rest of my life. Forever. I have to. (My parents are teachers.) I did my auditions and they posted the list. I HAD A PART.

But I was confused. In the play, there's the main guy who does most of the talking. The complicated plotline is that a teenager Judson Watson, a GUY, lands in the Tulgey Wood between Wonderland and Oz. And of course he didn't do his book report. He tried to watch The Wizard of Oz, but his stingy dad kicked him out. He started to read Alice in Wonderland, but fell asleep. And is now in the middle of an "incredible dream!"

The other characters include: Dorothy, Alice, Scarecrow, Lion, Tin Man, White Rabbit, Mad Hatter, Dormouse (no idea where he comes in, but he's cool anyway) and the two rulers. The Queen of Hearts and the Wicked Witch of the West. And who did I get cast as?

Yep. Judson. The GUY.

When I first looked at the list, I was utterly befuddled. There I was, near the top of the list, but it said: "Jacey...Jacey." (They spelled my name wrong, those flying monkeys.) So I'm standing there, going all, I am MYSELF?? But then my friend Aaleah (the dormouse) goes, "Oh, you're JUDSON!!" And then I was pleased. I didn't want to use my actual name, cause that's weird, but I came around to the idea. He's--SHE, now--is pretty much the main character. I have a lot of lines. Like, four paragraphs at the beginning of the play.

We had rehearsal at lunch. But it was really more of a read-through. I felt a little awkward, though--the girls playing Dorothy and Alice, who are also main characters with lots of lines--are in tenth grade. I'm just a dipstick Freshie. So it was kind of uncomfortable. Weirdly, though, I never actually looked at them throughout the readthrough. I just heard their voices.

SOOOoooo I'm happy. Mostly. Because my iTunes is fixed for REAL. Since I downloaded it: like, six months ago: at inconsistent exits and restarts of my laptop my songs and playlists would be WIPED clean from it. I could dig them out of the computer, but it was annoying. I LIKE PLAYLiSTS! I was determined it was a Vista problem, but it turned out to be a Sony Vaio screwup. I bought, like, ten songs in the past few days. I'm running out of iTunes cash. Jehsyka, I bought half the songs on your playlist. LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Plus I bought the Spiderman song.

Okay, blogger is being really weird. It's like oldschool. When I tried to do italics, a little HTML thing popped up. And there's no colors or anything. And when I inserted the link to Jehsyka's playlist, weird things came up.

HELP, I'M SO AFRAID. Is your Blogger acting up?

How can this be happening?

Really, it's hard to imagine that any of this past six days has been real.

This Friday, we went up to my cabin to spend September long weekend. I was excited for the next week back at school. I had a cross country schedule and a script to study for drama auditions on Tuesday. That occupied all of my mind.

Then we got a phone call. My 14-month-old cousin, Kane, was in the intensive ward of the hospital. They didn't know what he had. We didn't know what was about to happen.

Then we got another phone call. We learned that baby Kane, my sweet, darling, baby cousin, wasn't going to make it.

Those next minutes were the worst of my life. My whole family was crying as we hugged each other. Except for me. I wanted to, but somehow, I just couldn't cry. We had to go to Calgary immediately. Except we just had three days worth of clothes. Our new plan was to meet our aunt in Saskatoon, and then travel on to Calgary. Auntie Char would bring us more clothes. We all packed, sniffling and dazed. As I was lugging my stuff out to the truck, that's when it hit me. I started to sob. It was so horrible.





We spent a good nine, ten hours in the suburban that day. Lots of the way was silent and sad. Towards the end, however, we got a little silly. We made a picture depicting our love of salad. We also made a song. I'll post the picture.


After so many hours cooped up in the truck, it didn't seem real that our baby cousin was dying. How could he? It was Kane. Kane was the sweetest, most perfect baby ever.

Around ten, we got to the hospital. A big, colorful builidng that seemed ironically cheerful. We had to clean our hands with sanitizer. And we saw Kane, and he looked so small in the hospital bed. He had a tube in his nose and a breathing tube bandaged to his mouth. The rest of the tubes were covered by a colorful fish blanket. He had grown a lot since we had last seen him, in February. My aunt and uncle were holding up fairly well, considering, you know. That they were losing a child.

The trouble was in Kane's tiny brain. If you tickled his feet, he would twitch his legs or shrug his shoulders. He was still there. He was still with us.

That night we stopped at about ten hotels looking for an open one. But they were clogged due to September long and some skills competition. We ended up pulling up at some Best Western in Strathmore. We left the next morning.

For the next two days, we stayed in a Comfort Inn with a pool and waterslide. Our cousin, Mathew, stayed with us. We visited Kane during the day. In the morning and night, we swam in the pool.

Kane was increasingly non-responsive. You could feel it in the room, he wasn't with us anymore. His body was trapped in that stuffy room, but we thought his spirit was just above us, watching. It's like when people die briefly and come back to life. Kane wasn't really there. It was awful, but in a way, I wished he could be free.

The next day, he hadn't improved. We said good-bye to him for the last time. I couldn't help crying behind my stuffy mask. I kissed his sweet slack face, twice, and ruffled his soft baby hair. He was so peaceful looking.

My mom and I cried outside on the bench. My whole family is Catholic, and we strongly believe that Kane was going to be safe. Kane wasn't dying, exactly. He was being set free. He was going to be in a much better place than us. Also, in a way, he was much luckier than us. He didn't have to know all the bad things in the word. He'd never experience a crushed ego, or heartbreak, or face something horrific. All he knew was love and trust. My grandpa was going to take care of little Kane.

When we stood up to go for a little walk, we saw a rabbit. A huge, fat, gray bunny, just sitting plain as day on the hospital grounds. He hopped idly to the empty playground, and he just sat there. Then he ran off. This was an act of God. The sight of that sweet, fluffy bunny hopping around made me smile.

Kane Alexander Steenson died at 11:10 pm. They removed the respirator, and his heart beat only a few more times, and then he slipped off peacefully. My aunt and uncle held him. They were with him the whole time.

We moved to our second cousin's house. It's big and beautiful. Danna, my dad's cousin, is great. We hadn't met her before. Meghan is a year older than me, and she's hilariously great. Paul is twenty or something, and he lives at home and works. Even though the circumstances are horrific, I'm really glad I had the chance to meet my cousins.

Kane was cremated, and his funeral is on Friday at three o'clock. My uncle prepared a half-hour presentation with pictures and videos of Kane. My dad and Kane's aunt, Lisa, prepared a eulogy. It's so wrong that he was with us for only fourteen months, but most people would never even get that long with such a boy as Kane. So in a way, we're lucky.

I "interviewed" Kane's brother, Mathew, my cousin, about memories. Here are some that I remember:

• When Matt was showering, Kane crawled in and shocked him by peeking into the shower.
• Kane loved his two puppies, Sadey and Lelik, and would toddle over to Lelik (golden retriever) and grab his fur with two hands and bury his face into his side.
• He loved to splash in the hot tub.
• While Matt was playing video games, Kane would attack him by jumping on him.
• Kane loved to play with the garden hose and fill up his pool.
• If someone held his hands, he would jump on the trampoline.
• He liked to play/eat sand.

Sadly, we didn't know Kane very well, but here are some of my memories:

• At Christmas, five months old, you only had to look at him and he would grin.
• He loved all animals.
• We sat him up on the bread machine, and he loved the vibration.
• On media player, while I was playing a CD, he was mesmerized by the swirling patterns.

Kane was the best baby in the entire world, and it is so cruel that he had such a short time with us. I love you, Kane. Kanerinsky. Kane of the Jungle. Rest in peace: we love you forever.

Lesson Learned

Second day of High School. We actually did a little work, which I enjoyed. Too much, I think. A page of French notes was a little too thrilling. I need to expand my social network.

We have a class called Arts Ed, with my homeroom teacher Mrs. B. Our first project is decorating our portfolios, which is a fancy name for a big piece of paper folded in half and stapled in place. Mrs. B says she wants us to decorate it in a way that lets her know us, because obviously eighth grade is all about being buddies. Most people are slapping down things like DC logos and plates of spaghetti. I was struck with the brilliant artistic idea of making a swoopy thing, dividing it in half, and on one side putting old-fashioned stuff I like and the twenty-first century reflection on the other. For example, in the top left corner is a lovely envelope with a wax seal. In the top right corner is the two little MSN people.

I signed up for Cross Country running. I cannot run. I shall die.

I'm reading "The Book Thief" by Markus someone-or-other. I can't remember. I must say, it's weird, and I don't understand it. Have any of you read it? Does it get better?

My lesson learned today: don't take out your contacts after polishing your flute. The pre-silver-polished cloth will haunt your fingertips and burn your eyeballs out. Don't do it.

Bottom of the Food Chain

That's where I am right now. "Fresh Bait," is what some of the big, scary seniors were calling us today. But I don't really care, because I'm in high school now!!!

YEA! It was a very awesome, interesting day today. I entered the school with some of my friends. Kensey and Aaleah and I were too frightened to go by ourself. Because honey, that's just askin' for it. We all went to Kensey's before school, because we were there by like, eight fifteen, because we were hyper. Kensey's parents were at work, so I mused aloud: "You know, it seems a tad dangerous, doesn't it? Three out-of-control freshies ALONE in this fragile house?"

They agreed. All summer I had been bopping up and down with hyperactivity and bubbling excitement for high school. But I must confess, I was nervous as I walked up there. It was kind of uncomfortable strolling the hallways. Although we weren't really "strolling". We were kind of walking quickly with our shoulders all tensed up. Kensey was in a different homeroom. But it wasn't really frightening, because our school is fairly small. 160 students. We know everyone. Plus, my parents are teachers--kindergarten and 11-12 ELA--so most of the teachers have came and partied at our house. It's a little weird, but not bad.

Aaleah and I were in Mrs. B's room. I'm initialling, because I don't wanna be held responsible for cyber-stalking and whatnot. So, we hung out in the classrooms, because we're not cool enough to roam the hallways.

Yet.

Mrs. B gave us about six different colored papers, and then handed out our locker combos. We practiced on them. It was hard. Maybe I'm just a dork. Or unintelligent. Probably. But anyways, Aaleah is right next to me, which we thought was cool until we both tried to put our stuff into our lockers at the same time. Bang, bang, rattle-bing-bang. Ow.

In ELA, Mrs. T asked if anyone knew the longest word in the English dictionary. I knew it. She asked, and I said tentatively, "floccinaucinihilipilification?"

She smiled. "Can you say that louder?" And I did, and I could spell it, too, but I didn't tell her that. I don't like to show off (huge lie.) Ha ha. She showed us on the board and la-la and then we went to an assembly and the SRC gave us Survival Kits. It was a paper bag with Ivory soap, mini-deodorant, hairspray, female stuff, shampoo, bandaids, and a sucker. I think it's their subtle way of telling us we stink.

In high school, you get an extra-long lunch hour and only five periods all day. Five that are one hour long. There are three in the morning, and two in the afternoon. I love it. It makes the day seem shorter.

In the afternoon, we had PE with Mr. C. He cheerfully guarenteed that we would be in better shape by the end of the year and would also spend a lot of class on conditioning. A.K.A., we're all gonna die. But all we did was play swampball for half the class, and it was fun, though I realized I was in worse shape than I realized. I'm going to hurt. But Mr. C is a firm believer in fitness, and he's been my ball coach before, and he's a cool guy, and fitness is a great thing to do. I don't like it, but I do want to get in better shape.

Last class was Health with Mr. A. We discussed what surprised us about high school, what is better in high school than elementary, and vice versa. Then we did a trick question test, with questions like "how much dirt is in a 3x4x2 hole?"

Obviously, you have to multiply the height by the width and add the length to get the volume. Like, duh.

I know no one actually cares about this, but I figured I'd give you the rundown anyway. I finally settled on a "style" for my blog. I made a new header. I was all inspired after Jehsyka's "Shades of Gray," which I loved. It works for her. But I like dramatic black, but I love color as well.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to actually work tomorrow. Have fun at school, all! It really is awesome!

Dragonfly Symmetry

Dragonfly; flutter by,
Beat your wings in ecstasy.
Quick to live, slow to die,
Life aligning perfectly.

We could learn how to fly
Find out who we want to be.
Start your journey to the sky,
Life aligning perfectly.

Dragonfly, tell us why,
You know to never disagree.
Why you take to the sky
Intent on perfect symmetry.


We must take to the sky
Join the others flying free
We could flow, we could try
To live in perfect symmetry.


Who has any ideas about the meaning and message of the poem? Did you like it? Let me know. (It's my poem, by the way. Just to clear that up.)

The Final Countdown

So guess what I did last night?
I FINISHED A NOVEL.

And it feels GREAT.

Miriam's Isle was born. Weighing in at 154 pages and 21 chapters, she's but a child. She has a lot of growing up to do. Right now, she's just a sloppy little kid that people tend to coo over for two minutes (oh darling you finished a novel isn't that just nice?) and then turn their backs on. But first, I'm giving myself a bit of mat leave. A month or so with Miria and Tom out of my brain. And then comes the child rearing.

But who cares? Because I DID IT. The first draft (or "exploratory" draft, whatever) is the hardest thing to do. But it is far, far away from the final copy. I'm nervous to begin the revision process, but I'm excited too. I have never really done it before, not on a novel scale. 'Twill be something new.

Probably some of you are snorting and rolling their eyes, because I'm so amateur and childishly excited and proud. Really, the hard work is probably barely begun. All you accomplished people are going to go "get a life it's only a first draft the process has only begun." You know what I say to that?

Go to you-know-where and warm your toes.

Okay, I don't think everyone would be that hard-hearted. But still, I can't help but be proud to have finished my first novel the week before I start high school. I know I'm not the only thirteen year old in the world to have done this, however. Jehsyka did so last summer, and she was a lot more mature about it than I was.

Whatever. I'm in a happy bubble. I would just like to remind ya'll to check out MIRIAM'S ISLE at my Other Blog.

Today in my town a whole bunch of peeps are coming. Some Kraft TSN thing, I forget what it is exactly. We won some money for our dilapidated rink. I am going to go and frolic the crowds and run nude in front of the TV camera. Along with everyone else. Watch for me, guys!

Well, enjoy the rest of your summers. I love having Teacher Parents, because last night I printed off three copies of Miriam's Isle First Draft off a printer that is not mine. It even copies with holes in them. Also, I inconspicuously found a Photocopy goof of my class list. I snuck it home, but I don't like my class. You know how sometimes teachers let you pick out three people you want in your class? I would rather pick three people I DON'T want in my class.

There's a guy who's an obnoxious playuh. I've never been in his class before. So it should be interesting, the way watching a train derail and explode is interesting.