A Blank Page

That's kind of what New Years is about, isn't it? A fresh start. A new book. A blank page.

I just read on Steph's blog how she loves blank calendars, and I must say I agree. I don't know how many people actually bother to write in notebooks anymore, but for those of you who understand, is it not a thrill to crack the spine of a brand-new book? When the creamy pages are fresh and beautiful and there is no limit to your creativity. I keep personal journals, and every time I start a new one it feels like such a big deal. I practically plot out my first entry before carefully handwriting it. Of course, once you get farther in your handwriting grows sloppier, until your notebook is like an old friend. However, it's the kind of friend you feel comfortable getting angry at. This is when you scribble and scratch things out and long for a new book. :-)

I love fresh starts, but I must say, it never feels like January is much of a fresh start. For me, it's September. New school year, new supplies, new clothes, etc. January is just kind of blah. But I never fail to write New Years resolutions. I am ashamed to say that I'm pretty sure I've never thought of a truly unique one, they're pretty much the same as any other person on this earth. Here are some of the favorites...

"I resolve to quit eating junk food and be a healthier person." That one lasts usually a week before the first slipup, maybe a month or two before it's completely forgotten.

"I resolve to work out and hit the gym." Either you don't have 'time' to get there, or you get to the gym, run for twenty minutes, and collapse and can't go on.

"I resolve to get better marks in school." Applying only to students. Luckily, January is the month we write our final exams. Those will likely drag DOWN my mark.

Anyways, those go on and on. It's embarrassing, how little people change. It's not like I'm guilt-free, either. I've had those goals, or very similar ones, pretty much every year since I grew up and my grade one teacher didn't make us draw pictures of our resolutions. Which, at six, were generally resolutions like making your bed every morning or keeping your room clean.

I didn't bother resolving to write on my blog more often. It's here when I need it. Although I did have the idea to put more photos on here, which is something I've been doing way more often than writing these days.

Anyways, don't be ashamed of your cliche resolutions. It's all in good taste.

Happy New Years!

Queen

Google informed me today that it is Freddie Mercury's 65th birthday.

I've always found that strange, to be honest. Not Freddie Mercury (although he was a bit of an oddball) but how Google will put stuff like "Van Gogh's 300th Birthday" or whatever. I mean, they're dead. They're not celebrating the date of their birth any longer. It would have been their birthday. This would have been Freddie's birthday, but it's not. So why do people keep saying happy birthday?

I'm not saying I don't want him to be remembered. The opposite, actually. I think he is amazing. He is one of my greatest inspirations for pianist/singers. I love Queen, I love their music, and I love watching their performances because he's such a good performer.

I think it's so sad he died at 45. I know he was gay. I know he contracted AIDS. I know he wasn't a saint, how a lot of people make out dead people to be. (i.e. John Lennon was an amazing musician but he did a shit ton of drugs. That's not incredibly saintlike.) I still don't think anyone deserves to die like that. I just read a very long account of his death on the internet, written by his last boyfriend or something. It could have all been total bullshit, maybe it wasn't. But it was still sad.

(I had a thought. My other greatest inspiration for pianist/singers is Elton John. Can gay men just tickle the ivories better than anybody else? Or should I be concerned with my love for gay guys? Interesting.)

Anyways, Happy Birthday Freddie. You would have been sixty five today. I don't know what you'd be doing, if you would have reunion tours like some bands, or write new music, or release a solo album or something. Maybe your voice would slowly deteriorate, so you can't even sing the songs you used to.

I wonder if it's better for an artist's fame to die young, before the world can see you wither away like a human and watch as your body breaks down and your voice shrinks. They seem to be remembered better that way.

Digging Down Deep for Motivation

Well, well, well. If my calculations are correct, I last posted November 10th.

2010.

Bro.

That's pathetic.

That's just downright embarrassing.

I don't even know why I even came out and admitted this.

But the truly tear-jerking, shoulder-shaking, sob-worthy sadness of this whole post is that I'm only doing it because I happened to make a deal with Monica.

The hour groweth late, so I shall quickly skim through my brains for the summer activities that have been happening to me lately.

1. Harry Potter.

         For those of you who are not Harry Potter fans, please leave. Just exit my blog, right now, and crawl into a small dark hole. But bring a small reading light and the boxed book set, so that when you return I can happily welcome you back.

       For those of you who have stuck with Harry and his pals to the very end... who attended the movie showings in full costume... my kindred souls... I salute you.

         For normal people, who most likely fall somewhere in the middle, stay cool.

        Isn't it strange to think it's all over? JK Rowling's legacy has not been a passing phase, a fleeting obsession that was cool for a while but then faded (*cough* *cough* Twilight.) It's been spread out over a decade, and it's readable whether you're six or thirty six-- it's not too childish, it's not too hard. And it deals with STUFF, not necessarily KISSING AND ROMANCE AND SUCH, but deeper love. (And, obviously, I enjoy books with kissing. I enjoy movies with kissing. It's just a good thing.) It makes it more accessible, you know? I mean, I read The Philosopher's Stone when I was but a wee lass of six years old. I think I read it with my mom over the course of months, and then one day I climbed a tree and finished the last quarter myself because I couldn't wait longer.

       And then, before you know it, the seventh book is out, and we made my dad buy three copies so nobody had to wait to read it first. And I read the 700+ page book in about eight straight hours, crying in the right parts, smiling in others, biting my fingernails for most-- and then the books were done. It was a perfect ending.

      But it was okay, because the movies were there. We had those to look forwards to. Personally, I've had July 15th booked off my calendar since I left the theater of Deathly Hallows Part I. And now it's all over.

      Now, I may or may not have had PMS and/or was overtired that day, but did I ever cry. Some people claim to not cry at movies. Ha. A friend of mine said via Facebook "OMG I cried three times!" And I'm thinking, "I wish. I started crying, and then just kept going." But it was okay, because when you leave the theater hiccuping with your makeup smeared around your eyes, going to the bathroom to try to make your face less red and blow your nose, you're not alone. All those dedicated Potterwatchers are there for you.

       And in case your wondering, I used my fluffy hair to my advantage and dressed up as Bellatrix Lestrange to attend the midnight premiere.

       2. Stephen King
        
          I am an avid reader (further classified as "bookworm" or "nerd") and have recently discovered the wonders of good old Steve. I have been reading his novels this summer, and I also watched the Green Mile. (And I died in all its fantasocity.) "The Langoliers" and "The Body" are my favorite novellas. "Needful Things" and "Misery" are my favorite books. And for the record, don't read "Pet Sematary" and then proceed to obey your mom's wishes and get the water hose from outside when it's midnight and pitch black outside. I'm fairly certain it's bad for your blood pressure.

        ON THE SUBJECT OF BOOKS I recently read Paranormalcy (actually I finished it two hours ago) and was astounded, angry, and jealous. I was astounded that a book could make me that happy to read, and how much fun it was. I was angry it took me this long to read it, because I was denying myself of awesomeness. And, oh, jealous because I CAN'T WRITE LIKE THAT.

          Kiersten White: you rock. And I hate you a little for it. But I can't, because anyone who creates Evie has to be sweet.

          3. Work

           I have at last joined the leagues of the working class, and found that I have not been missing much. I am a Sandwich Artist at a restaurant called  Subway, which is situated in about every city and/or town across the globe, I have been realizing.

              Well, perhaps not in Africa. Or those other eastern places that don't eat real food like fries, or pizza, or even subs, but eat weird things like abalone (which sounds like lunch meat but is actually an endangered sea creature type object of a sort) and poisonous fish and weird plants and, I dunno, shark fins.

         It's a pretty sweet job, actually, because I work with some sweet teenagers and we have fun. And also, we get free Slushies and fountain drinks. And coffee. And half-price cookies, which sounds like a good idea until you get a slow day and consume half the pan. (I recommend White Chocolate Macadamia Nut, which have to come from heaven or someplace similar.)

        Technically, I guess that would make Heaven situated in our industrial freezer.

Moving on.

All I've been doing this summer is lazing around, doing a few creative things and feeling guilty when I don't do anything. And then I think, summer is meant for relaxing. You're recharging your batteries for school when things get busy.

And then I think, but since it's noon you could probably get out of bed.

I've taken some pictures, I've played my guitar and my tiny, adorable purple ukulele, and I've even blown the dust off an unfinished manuscript and been polishing that a bit.

Maybe I should just finish that damn thing, send it to a few publishers, and then forget about it. That would be nice.


All right. I'm not going to promise I'll be a regular blogger, because I suck at keeping those kind of promises. (Hence, the junk food I will never ever eat because it's bad for you and you don't need it and you can talk yourself out of it honestly it's not worth it oh okay just this once mmmmmmm). But on the other hand, I don't want to be the kind of blogger whose every other post is "Oh I'm so busy! I should write more often!"

I think the problem here, is that we need a MAKEOVER. Clean everything out. Start fresh. Make it pretty. Dust off the cobwebs.

Promises are easier to keep when they are pretty.

For Your Amusement

I decided that, since I have nothing to say, I would post some of my pictures. Some are edited, some are raw, but they were all taken by me.

A Successful Day

This morning, I woke up at an ungodly hour (see: 6am) to travel an hour to arrive at my orthodontists' office at eight in the morning. Normally, this would have depressed me beyond belief. Ortho usually means a) a sore mouth for 3 days, b) adjustment of wires and cutting up my mouth, c) reprimandation (is that a word?) from the hygienists, or d) all of the above. Except for this time, it was special. It was the last time I would enter that godforsaken place WITH BRACES ON.

Yes, folks, I have successfully completed my orthodontic treatment. Hurray!

In truth, I got my top braces off in July. That was a glorious day. But today, when they removed my lower braces, I was like: I AM FINISHED. Braces were not a particularly wonderful experience. The only thing is, I had to get a retainer for my bottom teeth.

I think that back in the day, retainers included a wire that stretched across your teeth. My retainers are perfectly clear, like a thin cast that I slip over my teeth. You would think that you wouldn't notice it so much, but you do. For a few days, my teeth will hurt again. The retainer brings a new kind of pressure to my teeth, so it makes them sore.

I can't remember what it's like to not think about my teeth every other minute.

I decided to eat some frozen yogurt: it soothes my mouth and I got to remove my retainer for a while. This plan seems to be working quite well.

:-D

CSLC

"CSLC is hot to go, say H-O-T-T-O-G-O, ahoo! Hot to go! Ahoo, hot to go!"


This is the cheer that was echoing through the hallways of LBP school at this years' 26th Annual Canadian Student Leadership Conference! Where Canadian leaders throughout the country are selected to go, mingle, and learn how to be the leaders of tomorrow!


This is starting to sound dangerously like an advertisement/newspaper article, so I'm going to stop now.


Cliche though the words may be, they were true. They ARE true. And this year, our student council advisor picked two students from our school to go to CSLC. One of them was an eleventh grade girl named Abby, and the other was me.


It was the experience of a lifetime. Seriously, it was! This year, it was held in Montreal. I live in Saskatchewan! Mrs E, Abby and I boarded a plane at 6am last Tuesday. We flew to Toronto, then to Montreal. I had never ridden a plane before (that I could remember.) It was so cool! It's weird to think about how some people, businessmen and women, fly all the time for their job. When we boarded the plane, Abby and I were poking about everywhere. We flicked past all the things on the screen mounted in the seats, examined all the magazines and safety cards and took pictures and exclaimed and generally looked like the small-town hicks we are. Other people would take their seats, pull out a book or a Blackberry, and didn't look up or out the window when we were taking off.


I was imagining doing this all again in the future. I would so love to take a trip to Europe someday with my camera and tour and take pictures everywhere. The top three places I want to go are 1) Italy 2) Rome and 3) Greece. Someday I want to go to Australia, too. That would be such an amazing experience.


I decided I want to go to Montreal again too! In truth, we didn't actually see too much of the city. We spent most of our day in the school, which was so much fun. I met so many people, and it wasn't like a typical school where you have your ten or so people that are bursting with spirit. From there about half or more of the kids participate self-consciously in events, and the remainder are 'too cool' to look like they're having fun at a school event.


No. At CSLC (we called it see-slick), every single person was selected to go there because they are a good leader. Every person has made a difference in their school, and every person had school spirit enough for five. In the cafeteria, a table would stand up and chant, "WE'VE GOT SPIRIT YES WE DO, WE'VE GOT SPIRIT HOW 'BOUT YOU?" and point to the next table, who would try and top their cheer. We would get involved in huge circles playing games like Ninja and Pony (I'll explain later) and we were an enthusiastic audience. Seriously. We gave every speaker something like three standing ovations. We would stand when they entered the stage, we would stand again if they cracked a good joke, and again at the end.


This year, the theme was "Big Top" (that's "Grand Chapiteau" for you French folks) and they hired a performer almost every day. There were acrobats and jugglers, and this one guy named Scott Hammell whom I now adore. He's an escape artist! Ever heard of Houdini? He was like him. Honestly, I didn't know people still did that. But he got in the Guinness Book of World Records when he performed a crazy stunt. He was bound in a straitjacket, then wrapped in fifty feet of chains and secured with four padlocks. Then he strapped bungee cords to his boots, and was lifted something like 7, 200 feet in the air by an air balloon. He struggled out of it in 54 seconds. And he was only eighteen at the time!!


Needless to say, he's awesome. He performed this again for us, the straitjacket, chains, and padlocks, and even the hanging upside down. He had to pop out his shoulder to struggle out of the straitjacket-- it was somewhat disgusting. Ugggh.


Also, he's a hypnotist. I love hypnotist shows!! We had one at our school last year, but I was a freshman and too nervous to volunteer. I was too nervous to volunteer this time, too. I hope that, if we get a hypnotist again at Christmas, I'll get the guts to go up. He's also a motivational speaker for Free the Children.


CSLC inspired me so much. Before Montreal, I think my goals were something like this: 1) publish a book 2) play guitar. Something like that.


Now, my new ambition is to speak French. I'm seriously considering an exchange trip in grade eleven. Canada is a bilingual country! I want to be fluent en Francais et Anglais.


The other thing I want to do is go on a trip to benefit a third world country. One of those trips where you travel to a place like Haiti or Thailand and build houses and make friends with orphan kids. I really want to do that now, maybe after I graduate I could do something like that. I should get involved with Free the Children. We had Marc Kielburger give a presentation to us. You may not know him, but he is Craig Kielburger's brother. This is the kid that started the foundation called Free the Children. Craig started this when he was, like, twelve years old. It's now international and has built 600 schools for children who had no way of getting an education.


We did get to see some of Montreal. On Thursday, we participated in an Amazing Race. IT WAS AMAZING. Downtown Montreal is so beautiful! The buildings are all old and brick, with carvings and cool windows. Tres belle. Someday I'm going back there, when I can speak French, and I'm sbringing a camera for more photography.


The last night of CSLC was sad. We had to leave all these new friends! And it wasn't like our provincial conference, when people lived two hours away, or four, or five. I said good-bye to people that lived in Quebec City, B.C., New Brunswick, Manitoba, and Newfoundland. We spent the last night running around and hugging everyone. I was sad, but it was nice, too. There was a dance, but me and three other people just hung out in the lobby of Palais de Congres and just talked. We told each other random facts about ourselves that we hadn't gotten to in the past five days.


It was such an amazing experience! I had never felt that feeling before. I guess it would be like if you moved to a new city, and you started at a new school and you could be anyone you wanted. I knew one person out of 700 teenagers there. I could be anyone I wanted to be.


Just as an example. In my town, most of the girls dance. It's just what you do. Ballet, jazz, tap, lyrical, etc. I had been in dance almost all my life, but I quit this year. I just don't enjoy it. I'm now focusing on SRC, music, and volleyball. A lot of people in town, when I say "I'm not dancing this year," they just go "what?"


Because that's how a lot of people know me, I guess. But at CSLC? I never mentioned that I used to dance. They didn't know me as a former dancer. They knew what I told them about. We had an exercise when we had to say the things we were passionate about to a stranger in the audience. I turned to a girl beside me from Nova Scotia and said, "I'm passionate about art and music." Because it's true. That is what I enjoy. This girl didn't know that at home, I play the Sims 3 and used to dance and play volleyball and don't like math.


I'm home now, and I'm still feeling inspired. Instead of wasting my time today, I picked up my guitar and practiced for a while. The fingers of my left hand are sore now, but I feel satisfied. I learned something, I strengthened a skill, I didn't just sit and watch TV or waste time on Facebook.


So, I now know more about being a leader. I want to change my school. I want to learn a new language, and I want to help those less fortunate than me.


If you ever have the chance to participate in a chance like this, you shouldn't even hesitate. You should grab at the chance. It's in Newfoundland next year, in case you were wondering. :-)

Ghost Town

My blog has become a ghost town. I don't really have anything to say.

I accomplished this many things this summer:

0.00000284

Go me.