Halloween

Halloween is drawing near. It's never been my favourite holiday. There's something about the tinsel and snow of Christmas that can't be beat by kids in cheaply made costumes who take my candy. I mean, really. Which would you pick? (I ask this, of course, assuming you are not a five-year-old child, in which case the day on which you get to take candy from your neighbours is the best day of the year).
Still, I have a soft spot for the spooky fun of Halloween. Especially because, this year, I will be spending it with friends, having the living s**** scared out of me by various horror movies. I've never been a true horror fanatic, but I can stomach it, and it's fun when you're amongst good company. We have been trying to decide for a while which movies to watch for this get-together, and I have heard many, many summaries of different movies, all of which I apparently "have to see."
Now, I'm sure all the movies I have heard about have their own merit and are worth watching, but all this talking about horror movies has got me thinking about why we love horror so much. Why do we love scaring ourselves senseless? Why do we want to believe that there are truly horrible things - ghosts, werewolves, ax/chainsaw/fishing-hook -murderers - lurking just beyond our range of sight? It's kind of a counter-intuitive thing for a species to want to do, but I've come to the conclusion that horror movies are, in fact, much more comforting than they appear.
We want to believe in the paranormal, the gruesome, the unknown, for the same reason we want to believe in religion. Because if there is not the possibility, however slight, that there IS something hiding from us in the shadowy corners of a remote forest, something we could never even imagine, then what is there? There is just this, just what we know. There are trees all grouped together in a night poorly lit by the moon. There's no excitement in that; there is nothing to believe in. If there are no ghosts (or demons or gods, etc.), then all that happens after we die is that our bodies decompose in the ground and we are slowly, eventually, forgotten. If there are no demons, then there are just people who do bad things, not because they are inherently evil, but because there is something deeply wrong with the way their brains function - something that could happen to any of us, given the right circumstances.
People need to believe that there is something more to life than just what we can see, because what we can see is not movie-worthy, most of the time. It's standing in line at the grocery store and being $.50 off for a cup of coffee after waiting in line for fifteen minutes. It's having to clean up with a pounding headache and noticing obscure stains on the shirt that you JUST PUT ON five minutes ago. Most of the time, our lives are not note-worthy. If something terrible or scary does happen, it's not thrilling. It's sad and awful, and full of the tears of those close to the victims.
And there has to be, just has to be, more than that.

Thoughts

Hello all.
I don't have much time to write tonight, and yes, I realize I haven't been very consistent with my blogging, but I have been very busy! Still, I am trying to be more punctual with post updates by blogging more FREQUENTLY, even if the posts are OF THE MINI SIZE.
So, I've had a bit of a trying week. My schoolwork has gotten very hard, very fast. In some ways, I relish it (we are learning about verb structure in Latin, which, as a dork, I find very exciting. Also, I am tickled pink about our poetry unit in English - can you believe that for five years, my school's senior english teachers have not felt it necessary to have a poetry unit? Shame.) But then again, I am also an adolescent, and straining my brain goes against my natural impulses, so the mind-bending formulae we are learning in my Chemistry class have me hyperventilating in anticipation for the test. Formulae: i iz doin' dem wrong.
And I realize that schoolwork is not an excuse for not blogging, but there you have it. That is the best I've got. A few exciting things have happened since I last updated, though. (Well, exciting for me. You may find them utterly inconsequential, but I hope I can make it a little bit interesting for you). The most important thing is that I have recently been accepted as a volunteer for my community's humane society! This is very exciting for two reasons: one, I love animals and have been rejected as a volunteer from every other pet clinic/rescuce/store in the region, so this ACCEPTANCE is very new and thrilling for me. Secondly, having experience working with animals is something that will become very important for me if I pursue becoming a veterinarian (which I think I will).
The second important thing, which happened just a few hours ago, was that I read a blog post by the endlessly fabulous Libba Bray, a Young Adult author whose blog breathes life back into the blogosphere. I intend to write a more full reply to it when I get the chance, but for now, I'll just post the link for those of you who might be interested in checking it out. It'll be worth your while, trust me, especially if you are a soon-to-be or recent high school graduate.
So, without further ado, here is the link! : http://libba-bray.livejournal.com/58659.html
See you soon!

Valentino Wonders

Hello again, blog. Haven't seen you in a while. Why haven't I seen you for so long? Good question. Well, it seems that my teachers have taken it upon themselves to cleverly plan all their major tests so that I have a test and/or quiz EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR OVER A WEEK. The teachers, I think, find this VERY FUNNY. I can just see them now, eating doughnut holes and laughing in their secret faculty lounge, watching footage of me breathing into a paper bag outside the school building. They find my misery AMUSING.
But, alas, there is nothing the teachers can do to stop Thanksgiving from rolling around. Every year it comes, and all the children reflect upon the blessings that have been bestowed upon them, and on the wonderful family that they love, and - aw, screw it. We love having Mondays off. Unfortunately, as a kind of f-u to the day off we've been given, some of my teachers like to give us tests on the TUESDAY WE RETURN, so that we are forced to study during our holiday. Despite this nasty little trick of my teachers', I've managed to have an excellent long weekend.
Firstly, I spent the entire weekend in Toronto, which is both one hour and an eternity away from the suburbs in which I live. I wore nice dresses and went out to the movies, saw pretty things in nice stores, and ate out - a lot. My dad doesn't see me very often, and I guess he just wanted to make our Thanksgiving together special. Well, it was. But not for the heartwarmingly mushy reasons that it should have been, I'm afraid. No, this weekend, I saw something the likes of which I have never seen. I have never fallen more completely in love with anything before in my life.
I walked into David's, the most ridiculously expensive shoe store in Toronto, and came upon these shoes: http://www.chiq.com/valentino/peep-toe-lace-couture-dorsay-pumps Now, I would've been more than happy to give up a limb for these things, but the fancy store manager probably wouldn't have had much use for a detached arm. Other than that, the only way I could have obtained those perfect pumps would have been by buying them. But, oh shoot. I forgot my $905 (tax not included) that I usually spend on shoes in my OTHER PURSE.
Anyways, since I don't own a chain of fast-food restaurants, the only thing I could do with the Valentino wonders was try them (even that was hard to do - I was afraid they might crumble at my clumsy, cheap touch) on and stare adoringly. When we left the store, my father told me that if I studied really hard and became a lawyer, I could go back there someday and buy those shoes. And that's when I asked myself: would I ever give up my passion, the thing that, for me, validates existence, that gives me hope and makes me happy...for shoes, however amazing?
Never.
Not even if you paid me $905 plus tax.

An Update

I've been very busy with school lately, so I haven't had time to write much of anything lately, let alone anything in my blog. It's sad but true; polarity, electron affinity, Poe, Latin derivatives and a whole bunch of other very smart-sounding information has replaced my blog in the last two weeks.
Today, however, something miraculous has happened. I have showered, cleaned my face, done my homework and worked out for an hour and I STILL HAVE half an hour left over in which I can just...sit!
It's a pretty weird feeling already, and the summer ended less than a month ago.
Anyways. I knew I'd been neglecting my blog, and for the sake of keeping up some sort of writing regime (because, who are we kidding, English class does little in the way of teaching people how to write - senior year of high school and people are still confusing "your" and "you're") I have decided to write in here ONCE MORE. The only problem is that aside from posting poorly written, meandering poems about butterflies, I don't have much to say. I guess I'll just summarize my school year so far, for the sake of having everything that's going on with me organized in my mind:
Firstly, I have four classes this semester: Latin (III), Chemistry, English and Biology. I'm interested in all those subjects, and so far they're all going well. I like some teachers better than others, but nothing too horrible has happened yet. Trust me; you will know when something horrible happens.
Secondly, I am currently juggling five extra-curriculars (soon to be six, HOPEFULLY seven) and I have made a promise to myself that I will NOT join any more extra-curriculars this year, so as not to overwork myself. Although, damn, those school newspaper sign-up sheets do look tempting.
Thirdly, it has become too dark and wildly erratic, weather-wise, to run consistently. For this reason I am going to be swimming several times a week so that I can hopefully get that freaking arrow to go to the left on the scale.
Fourthly, I am sporadically but surely continuing to write my novel (which shall henceforth be referred to as That Novel I'm Writing, or TNIW) and I am going to put aside a solid chunk of time this weekend to just write - to put down all my ideas and hope that some of them stick.
Finally, I think it is a testament to my dedication to language and the written word that right now, when I could be sleeping, I am writing this post. I am DELAYING SLEEP because I want to keep up a regular writing schedule. Do you know how big a deal that is for me? Anyhow. I think that this proves how ridiculously committed I am to this silly writing thing. So in summary, be happy this post even exists! It takes a very determined brain to work when it is this tired.
And now, I'm off to catch some shut-eye. See y'all.

I Saw A Monarch Butterfly

I saw a monarch butterfly today
Floating on the thermals
That whisked about above my head
Hurrying forward

The wings were stiff and still and sure
Trusting the changeable wind
To carry it forward, to hurry it on
As it floated

A butterfly is an insect, a monarch
Of the tiny things
The powder on its wings is so
Ephemeral

The legs are spindles upon spindles
The thinnest of glass
I could break them with a breath, a touch
Shatter their everything

And yet, and yet, and then
The butterfly is sure
Letting the wind whisk it forward
Confidently

I lumber forth, protected from
The changeable wind
My boots, leather, plastic, polyester
Swaddle my feet

Nothing can touch me, for I am
Creation, Nature, God
To the smallest of smalls, the monarch butterfly
Flying forth

And yet, and then, and yet,
I use caution
I consider my options, painstaking, questioning
Myself

How is it that the monarch butterfly
Flies stiff, still, sure
On the changeable, ephemeral wind
And I hesitate?

The monarch butterfly is vulnerable
The wind could change
The clouds could rain and storm and thunder
If they wished

The wings of the butterfly never
Never hesitate
They stay on course forever
Completely sure

I walk through the slight breeze
With such purpose
I am that most important of things
I am human

I cry to the mindless wind
"Mind me!"
"Listen to my ideas, complex and varied!"
"Splendid!"

At every fork in the road
I stop
I think and weigh options as the wind
Continues forward

The butterfly never stops its flight
Through space
It does not question with its considerable brain
It glides forth

I saw a monarch butterfly today
Flying on the wind
I endeavor to fly, stiff, still, sure, but
I hesitate

The Only Good Thing About High School

It is that time of year again. We are inching towards the end of August, and all the little childrens' smiles are fading once more. Pencil cases are being pulled out of dusty drawers, and string bikinis are being tucked away for another long year.
Alas, it is school time again, and I can feel the universal groan of pain in my bones. Up here in snowy Canada (actually it is extraordinarily hot right now, but indulging Canadian stereotypes online is one of my favourite pastimes), high school begins after Labour day, on the 7th of September. This means that I have five days in which to mentally prepare myself for another agonizing school year. Of course, like any responsible and forward-thinking student, I've already done all the physical preparation. I've bought my back-to-school cardigans, plaid shirts and fun headbands. I've purchased the required agenda, pencil case, pencil case fillers, binders and shiny new school bag. I have chatted with my guidance counsellor and straightened out my schedule so that all my intelligent-sounding courses are on my timetable (case in point: Studies in Literature. Daunting, no?)
However. I have not been given any sort of instructions as to how to mentally prepare myself for another grueling year. This is something which, apparently, the school board and teachers and janitors and counsellors have decided that the students must do on their own.
So, in an attempt to prepare myself, I started thinking about school and its myriad facets. The cafeteria that has always reminded me of a holding pen for cattle. The girls in English class who text on their iPhones all period and ask me, in the last five minutes of the class, to explain to them the entire day's lesson. The friend of a friend with whom I have to feign enthusiasm about Justin Bieber.
But then I remembered that I was forgetting about a pretty major part of school. It's something a lot of high school students tend to forget, and I only caught my mistake a few days into my halfhearted preparation.
I forgot about the actual school part of school. You know, classes. Teachers. Textbooks. Learning. And I realized that school, and high school especially, is an extraordinarily special place. Elementary school is focused on giving you the basics in any and all subjects, and by university or college, you pretty much know what you want to do. High school, however, allows you to focus solely on yourself. Whatever your interests, whatever you want to learn and pursue, there is a teacher willing to dedicate his or her time to teaching it to you. It is a place created entirely so that teenagers can indulge their every whim and learn all about whatever it is that interests them. Of course, it's also about producing literate adults who can join the workforce, but more than that, it it provides us with a very important opportunity. It gives us - the teens - four years in which we can be undecided, and we can be passionate, and we can do whatever we want to do because we are being compelled to do what we want to do. I'm still pretty young, but I have a feeling that that opportunity doesn't show up too many times in life.
This year, I am taking three Science courses. I'm also taking a Studies in Literature course and two separate English courses, as well as a Functions class. I am taking all of those courses not because they are requirements for a job that will keep a roof over my head, but because they interest me, and because I can.
I think I'm prepared for another year of high school.

Siblings

I have always loved the English language. As a citizen of a multilingual world, I' ve always had a healthy appreciation for all languages. But while I love the way French rolls off your tongue and the way German commands a presence, English has always been my favourite. I love that it has no real parallel in the way that, say, Italian has a parallel in Spanish. I love that while the word "love" might seem unwieldly compared to the words "amour" or "amor", it is imbued with its own special beauty. I love that English is spoken in many different ways, in a myriad of different dialects and accents, all over the world.
This summer when I spent time with family in Serbia, I had to put my love for English aside and try my hand at Serbian, the language of the country. It's the mother tongue of pretty much everyone in my family, but I've never been too impressed with it. I never found it to be a pretty or interesting language; it's never entranced me the way English has.
But this summer, I found something absolutely beautiful in the Serbian language. Something that I'm fairly certain is unique and specific to Serbian (and its sister languages, Croatian and Bosnian). In Serbian, there is no word for "cousin." If you have a male cousin, he is referred to as your brother. A female cousin is your sister. After learning this, I wished that I could eliminate the word "cousin" from all languages, English included. Because who is the person with whom you share your thoughts and hopes and fears, whose family is your family, whose blood is your blood, if not your brother or sister? They are the person - the people - who see you not only as friends, but as parts of themselves. They are the people with whom you share experiences, but also histories, in a way that you can never share a history with a friend. They are the people you love and cherish unconditionally. You don't need to impress them, and you don't expect them to impress you, because they are your family, and you cannot divorce or ditch your family.
My cousins live halfway around the world. I don't see them every day like I see my friends or my immediate family. But they are my siblings.
I miss my brother and sisters.