Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick

What is it about being sick that makes everything around you grind to a halt?
I have been in pretty frail condition lately - actually, I am a frail person in general. I have a fairly crappy immune system, and when I was a kid, this manifested itself in about 6 or 7 colds/throat infections/ear infections/general bouts of oozing fluid a year. Now, my immune system has toughened up a little, but I also take horrible care of myself. This means that I deal with a lot of migraines, I'm always sleepy, and I'm generally in a crabby mood because my body simply CAN'T HANDLE the amount of caffeine and sugar and crap I put into it.
On an unrelated note, I am not a particularly pleasant person to be around.
But usually, I am JUST able to hold it together because by body is generally able to function. Like, I can drag myself from one place to another; I can keep my eyes open (unless the room I'm in has those really aggressive fluorescent lights, in which case I sometimes have to put my head flat down on a desk and emit a long, low moan - it's okay, all the cool kids do it); and I can usually communicate in pretty coherent sentences. Mostly.
But then when I'm sick, that shit just FALLS APART, man. Everything unravels fantastically into utter and complete chaos. I become completely unable to keep together all the things on which I had a tenuous grasp before. Those tests I was going to cram for? How am I supposed to study if I CAN'T SEE through my swollen, puffy eyes? That article I was supposed to write? My hands are occupied with kleenex, and so are unable to type (they are also unable to do ANYTHING ELSE hands do, like feed me, hold things, or lie still while I'm trying to sleep). Also, my body is all shaky and weak, so my mobility is restricted to shifting on the couch, walking to the fridge, and then walking back to the couch. Sometimes, I'll stand up for a moment to see if my legs still work, but that's only if I'm feeling particularly brave.
When this happens, I always have this mini revelation about myself. To most people, this is called COMMON SENSE, but to me it seems like a miraculous epiphany every time it happens. I'll be lying on the couch, blowing my nose continuously, and then I'll stop. And I'll realize...
"Hey. Maybe I should...TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. Then, I wouldn't get sick! And I would feel good all the time! Then I could do OTHER THINGS that I usually don't do because I'm busy falling asleep or...falling asleep..."
And I will sit still for a moment, awash in the wonder of this realization. And I'll start to get hyped up by my brilliant idea, and I'll say to myself: "Iris, maybe, once you get healthy again and the little aliens in your body stop plugging up your sinuses, you can start taking care of yourself! You can eat real food again, and exercise, and sleep at normal times like everyone else."
And then I'll nod to myself and mutter happily, and smile (and then wince because smiling makes the dry, irritated skin around my nose crack open like angry fault lines).
Sometimes, when I eventually get healthy again, I'll try to put this plan into action. Maybe it lasts for a little while - last January, it lasted for about three weeks before I crashed and burned. But the end result is always the same: I get so worn out from trying to keep up this regime of health and success that both regimes fail spectacularly at once. The result? Me, blubbering over a failed math test while spooning chocolate frosting DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH, not stopping even when I've eaten so much that it's starting to taste weirdly spicy because my tastebuds have been incapacitated by the sugar levels, growling at anyone who comes near me and ABSOLUTELY REFUSING to do anything that functional human beings do, like clean or shower or change my clothes or tend to my responsibilities. This lasts for awhile until I become so disgusted with myself that I am compelled to pick myself up and try again. And it goes pretty well - I'm not healthy, but I'm functional.
And then I get sick.
The moral of this story? Don't try to be healthy - it'll just wear you out.
Must go blow my nose.

Good News!

Good news!
Yes, I know it's late, but with me, it's ALWAYS late when there's good news. Good news and daytime just don't go well together. But at night, well, that's when all the exciting things start to happen (and no, not in that way, you ridiculous, silly intramanet people). Point being, I have good news! (Also, redundant me iz redundantly redundant).
During the past month, I have had quite a few projects going on. I'm starting to think that maybe I have created an unnecessary amount of work for myself, but I'm enjoying all of it, so WHO CARES! *has abandon, throws silly, silly rational thinking out window*
Anywhoozers. One of my many projects has been writing a play for a fabulous environmental writing competition, and I am pleased to say that just moments ago, finally, FINALLY I typed the words "The End"! (And NO, I didn't just type those words even though all I had was some doodles and a title). Of course, this is just the first draft, and I'm going to be fiddling with it for another month (or two, or five), but it is still officially a full, beginning-middle-ending, bona fide play, rather than just a tangent in my head. It's not very good yet, since all I've done is hammer out a very rough sketch of what I hope is a significantly improved final draft, but right now, I am just going to be happy for myself. To wit:
:D
This is excellently excellent. To celebrate, I am going to post a little excerpt from my presently atrocious play, currently entitled (but subject to change) OASIS. Without further ado, here it is:
---------------------------------

Aiden: Hello? I can see you there, behind the rock.

(Nadiya starts to sprint away, running offstage).

Aiden: No, wait! Please come back! I’m not with those guys, I’m not here to try and take you away! I mean no harm, I just wanted…Please. (He sighs, then starts walking away.)

Nadiya: (From offstage.) What do you want?

Aiden: (Shrugs.) Same thing as you, I’m afraid. Water in my veins and air in my lungs. The chance to breathe in and breathe out another day.

(A pause. Then,)

Nadiya: (Sarcastically) How beautiful. Well, I can’t give you either of those things, so you’d better just leave me alone. Go find another patch of desert for yourself. I’m sure the tumbleweeds will appreciate your poetry.

Aiden: You’re clever. There must be a river around here somewhere, and one that’s not contaminated. I haven’t met anyone who was able to string three words together for several months.

Nadiya: Maybe there is.

Aiden: Would you be so kind as to inform me the way? I won’t leave you alone if I don’t have anywhere better to go. It’s easier if you just tell me where the river is.

Nadiya: (Laughs, then walks onstage, stopping a few feet away from Aiden. She crosses her arms defiantly.) You think I should tell you where to find water? You, a stranger, whom I’ve known for all of a minute and who could be delusional from disease or dehydration? You believe that I would just kindly point you down the right path? Should I tell you it’s just a hop, skip and a jump away from my lovely little abode? Or hand you over a tent that you can put up in case you get uncomfortable? Should I mend your shoes and shirt before you leave? Pack a lunch in case you get hungry? In the middle of this god-forsaken desert, you really expect kindness?

Aiden: (Simply.) Yes.

-------------------------------

My Poor, Beloved Toenails

My toenail is hanging by a thread.
"Ah!" you think. "Clever Iris is using SYMBOLISM to illustrate some deep, universal truth about the human experience which will feature largely in her brilliant next novel!"
No, really. My toenail is hanging by a thread. My actual toenail. Which is real, as opposed to my brilliant next novel, which is nothing more than a fanciful idea of mine. And...well, not a real thread. I don't actually know what roots toenails to the nailbed. A combination of skin and nerves and blood vessels, I suppose. In any case, it's not a symbol - my toenail really is just a good, solid rip away from becoming FREE OF MY TOE.
This is upsetting, to say the least. I never realized how fond I was of my toenails, how lovely they are, these proverbial cherries on the proverbial sundaes of my feet. They really are an important part of me; I can paint them different colours, they can peek out of the openings of shoes, and they give me something nice to look at when I look down at my feet. I suppose, in a way, this has been a bonding experience for me and my toenails - taught me to appreciate what I have, and all that bull****. So that's good. But for the love of GOD, please let me keep my toenail! I love it. I love all of them! I love them so much that I could not bear to LIVE without any one of them! 9 out of 10 isn't good enough for me. I want all of my toenails. I want to be able to paint ALL OF THEM, and cherish them, and love them and...and...
Sigh. I guess I should explain how this happened. I was walking along outside and I stubbed my toe. Yeppers. Simple as that. Except I'm not your ordinary girly-girl. I don't just bump my toe lightly into a chair like some namby-pamby little baby. When I stub my toe, I do a GOOD JOB of it. I make sure that that little mother****in' toe is crushed, BEATEN into submission, the blood spurting from delicate, fragile little blood vessels in my feet that chose to learn their lessons the hard way. I make sure that if I'm going to hurt, I may as well shed a few nanograms of weight in toenail while I'm doing it. Also, none of this nonsense about stubbing my toe on wood or linoleum or any of those soft, girly materials. No, I stub my toe on STEEL.
You know those short, circular hosey things for water that the city places into the ground? I don't exactly know what they're called, but they're about two inches in diameter and an inch tall, and - oh right - made of METAL. Well, this one little bugger was buried in the neighbours' unkempt lawn, right on the very edge, hiding in the tall grass like a lion in the savannah. And I was just walking along unsuspectingly when I throw my foot into that thing as hard as I could considering I wasn't running. Hurt like a f****** mother******* f****, I'll tell you. And now, a week later, I am in danger of losing my toenail.
See, these things don't happen to regular people. Other people manage to keep all their toenails - more than that, their nails are always painted in delightful, whimsical colours like Seafoam Green or Hallows' Eve Orange. But nooooooooo, not for me! I have to trip over my own feet and accidentally slap my own face and write reminders on my hand that end up on my forehead after I spend the night sleeping with my head in my palm. I have walk into cabinet doors, leaving bruises the length of my THUMB on my forehead (my forehead has taken quite a bashing over the years). When I get a pimple, it's not just a cute little red spot. It conspires with all the other pimples on my face to form a giant, green, pulsating pancake on my face, until I literally cannot move my cheek. Literally. And when I stub my toe, I stub it goooood, baby. My life is a f***ing hilarious, 24/7, live-action comedy.
Yet I don't have enough material to write a simple, little, freaking book. What's wrong with this picture?
Yours forever,
Iris

Let's Try This Again

I've tried to put up a new post a couple of times in the past few weeks. My computer, apparently, does not want me to return to my blog. It's crashed more times than Charlie Sheen at his height, and refused to save my work in the process. But I am persistent, you hot mess of a computer, and I refuse to back down! You hear me? I refuse! I will prevail, for the sake of my blog, and for the sake of the powerful, awe-inspiring, enduring egocentricity of mankind which makes ranting, inane blogs necessary! *cue grand swelling of music as I wave a Viking sword around and come over a mountaintop on horseback*
Anyhow. Last couple of posts I had planned were about some interesting things. Well, interesting in an obviously nerdy kind of way. Harry Potter, books I'm reading, stuff like that. But honestly? After my computer screwing me over so many *&Y@$ing times, I'm really not in the mood anymore. I just want to get this finished and on the internet, before my computer can eat it up again. Nom nom nom.
So, I have decided to just write about what's on my mind, and what's on my mind is the latest book I've been writing. It's still pretty nebulous in its actual form, but here are some of the things I've been thinking about that have contributed to the initial premise of the book (most to all of the ideas are subject to change and/or complete deletion from the final work - if it ever gets to 'final work'):
- the way people see other people, and specifically the way people misrepresent other people to themselves
- colour, and not just in the literal sense
- the importance of interpersonal interactions (I understand this is a bit amusing to write about on an online blog, but oh well. Interpersonal interactions are important, whether we like it or not)
- why people hate dentists so much
Yep, that's pretty much it so far. I realize there's approximately three people (including my mom) who find this interesting or relevant, but as I've said before - this blog is not for you, people of the intramanets. It's for me. And - I hope I'm not jinxing myself here - I think I just managed to complete an entire post without my computer crashing, which helps me a heck of a lot.
'Til next time!
Yours truly,
Iris

Sick

I know, I know. Yet again I've let a month slip by between blog posts. I am a terrible person, I have no time management skills, yaddah yaddah yaddah. The only excuse I have - miserable as it is - is that I am completely submerged with schoolwork. I thought last semester was hard? Ha! Last semester was a picnic in a meadow with Colin Firth feeding me Lindor bunny chocolates and a lute-player (lutist? Llllll...autist?) serenading me in the background.
This semester has upped its game significantly, and I'm finding myself being pushed to the limit in every subject. I'm still striving, still pushing ahead with faith and perseverance, but it's getting harder and harder. What's more, I am horrendously sick. I can't move my neck, can't swallow, and every bone in my body feels like it'll shatter if I move. Also, my nose seems to have become some kind of waterworks display, and I am helpless to stop it. But unfortunately, I have to go to school tomorrow, because I just can't afford to get behind. I have both academic and extra-curricular commitments, and I know I sound like a self-important snob (which, let's face it, I am) but I just can't drop all that to stay home sick!
On the plus side, I've just finished a wonderful book called 'A Tiny Bit Marvelous' which I recommend to anyone looking for a light read to cheer them up. I've also been reading a book for my Literature class (obviously, more serious than 'A Tiny Bit Marvelous') called 'My Name is Red,' which is a thoughtful and interesting novel about art and religion. Lengthy, but I'm enjoying it.
Also! I am hoping to start up my SECRET PROJECT soon, if all goes well. My life's a little bit super insane at the moment, but hopefully it'll be ready to go by March. See you then!
Iris

After the Storm

The calm has finally arrived, my friends.
In my last post, I gave you an intimate glimpse inside the often frightening world of the Studying Teenager. If anyone (not including my sister - I know you're reading this) was reading this blog before that post, they certainly aren't anymore. But today, my friends, is a completely different day than then. Today I am well-rested, calm and worry-free. How, you ask?
Yesterday I wrote my last exam. It's nearly impossible for me to wrap my head around that fact, but there you have it. I've finished four courses! Whatever happens next, happens, and I'll save the freaking out over my marks for later. Now is the time for cleaning my room, shaving, doing my hair, getting back on my diet, reading, and socializing. It's a wonderful feeling, to be able to do all the things you want to do. I fully intend to get the most out of my four-day break. On Wednesday, a new set of classes begins, but for now, I am living the life.
iris

Brain Sprain!

All day, my friends, studying has been me. I say this because to say "I have been studying" would imply that I was the subject of my day's activities; this is not true. This day has not been about me reading my notes and memorizing lists and terms and theories. Rather, it has been about the material devouring me, digesting me completely and letting me become part of it. I have morphed into the study. The study has morphed into me. I AM the studying.
This may sound a little melodramatic, but let me tell you: I have studied for eight hours today, and while I love all the subjects I've been studying, there comes a time when memorizing 300+ verbs, their four principal parts and respective translations, can become a little mind-bending. That kind of intensive brain work should be credited with a little melodrama. Not that I'd rather be studying anything else, but I feel so wrung out by studying that I don't feel I can do it for one more second. This is a problem, of course, because I only got through about half my material today, but I have studied it so thoroughly that facts just keep popping randomly into my - genetic variation is when a gene controls variation in hereditary traits.
Hmm? Sorry, what was I saying? Oh, yes. I am so afraid of forgetting what I've studied that it's been repeating over and over in my head on some twisted, thought conveyor belt. Even now, I feel I should be cramming in some more studying, but I felt I had to write instead - for the sake of my health, not that it's in such good shape, anyway.
This is the result of my day's labours: I have a pounding headache, I haven't showered, and I really should go finish the laundry. My diet has crumbled under the stress like a kiddie chair when I sit on it, and my hair is indescribable. I am paranoid, OCD, a complete mess, and the acronym BEVGAPSH is on a continuous loop in my head (don't ask what it stands for - no, don't - don't! - *there is a scuffle* - Biogeography, Embryological Development, Vestigial Structures...)
This, my friends, is the plight of the Smart Kid. Other teenagers have horror stories about hangovers and failed report cards and breakups over text message with their dirt-bag boyfriends; I deal with none of that. There is no such drama in my life. I have a pretty OK relationship with my family (it's a little rocky, but it works), I love my friends, I am responsible, well-behaved and don't attract too much attention to myself. But the sight of me after a day of studying would frighten any parent into picking the lying, green-skinny-jean-wearing, booze-a-holic drug addict over me. Those nerds you see at work or school with the glasses, the shy smile and the neatly organized study notes - those are the ones who go completely ape-shit at exam time, destroying their surroundings and doing things like tripping over lint on their way down the stairs, then grabbing the railing with just two fingers and somehow managing to break their nail while they're getting up, only to slip again because they're wearing those socks with the frogs on them that make them giggle in the brief, manic periods between study hours (once they finally reach the bottom of the stairs, they've forgotten why they came down, and blink at family members like they've never seen them before; then they make their perilous way back up the stairs, already going over in their minds what they should study next, their left eye twitching, but it must be okay because that's never happened before - it must just be a brain sprain, if that's a thing - although that's also what they said about that rash a couple months ago, and it's turned purple in the meantime).
The world of the intellectual teen is a frightening one, and don't let anyone tell you different.
Until next time,
Iris

A Cellular Rap

Because my brain is on exam overload and - just for now - can think about NOTHING BUT BIOLOGY, here is a rap about cells which I have pieced together from my unfairly long Genetics unit in my Biology class:

Life uses energy to keep its state
Reproduces, evolves, makes waste
Cells use mitosis to procreate
IPMAT, watch the chromatids differentiate
Why you gotta hate on how cells mate?
It's not up for debate
Mitosis, meiosis, and the DNA percolates
Into our bodies to decide our fate
Determined by thymine and a nitrogen base
Biology can't satiate my brain's estate
But this exam makes me hate that life creates
Such a difficult mandate
'Cause now I gotta learn and regurgitate
All this stuff about why we are animate
When all my brain wants to do is
De-de-de-deactivate

Ahem. So, yes. If you thought you had a chance at the Nerdiest Rap of the Year award, you are sadly mistaken. I have clearly stolen the show. See you after exams, if I am still capable to put together thoughts and write sentences at that point. Otherwise, I bid you farewell, worthy blogosphere! Wish my godspeed on my trip into academic impossibility.
Iris

Zombies, Unicorns and Snowy Days

Hello, all!
You see, I am capable of being regular with my blog if I put my mind to it! It's only been about a week since my last update; I'd say that's pretty commendable. *mini happy dance*
All right, so I just finished my first week back to school, and it was unpleasant to say the least. Everyone was distraught over having lost their Christmas break, which evaporated into the air like so much grey smoke. This caused people (*coughcough* me *coughcough*) to be very irritable and snappy. Combined with having to wake up at 6:30 again (shudder), I got braces on this week. And no matter what any orthodontics veterans may tell me, they are painful. They feel awkward in my mouth, they make my teeth feel sore, I can't bite into, well, anything, and I feel uglier than a naked mole rat with them on. So that has played a number on my mood. Also, exams are creeping on us faster than ever, and I feel thoroughly unprepared.
HOWEVER. I know that in my last post I made an ongoing goal to be more positive, so I will try - at least in my blog - to do this. Now, since I don't have the ability to actually convince myself that anything is going positively right now, I will opt for the easier solution - complete and total unacknowledgment of anything negative, accomplished through a powerful dose of self-denial.
So! On that note, I will write about the NICE and HAPPY things that surround me right now, starting with my recent used book purchases. While I said that I wanted to read Walden in the new year, I've been sidetracked by a couple of other books: Don Quixote, The Marvelous Land of Oz and the book I'm reading right now. It is called Zombies vs. Unicorns.
Zombies vs. Unicorns is an anthology spawned by a group of young authors who started an internet meme which asked which was better: the zombie or the unicorn. Many authors were very strongly on one side or another, and they recently came together to write short stories arguing their side. I am Team Zombie, for those of you who are wondering. However, I'm able to stomach the unicorn stories, of which my favourite so far is Diana Peterfreund's "The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn" (the fact that it's a killer unicorn really ups the interest for me). My favourite zombie story is, by far, Maureen Johnson's "The Children of the Revolution," which is horrifyingly creepy, but amazing.
And more news in the area of positivity: snowy days are finally here! I am not a particular fan of snow; I don't like to shovel, I don't like wet socks and I don't like big bulging jackets that make me look like the Michelin Man. However, as the weather in Canada becomes milder and milder, I have realized that I am seeing global warming occur before my eyes. It's worrying, to say the very least, and when a snowy day the likes of which I am used to finally arrives, I have a moment of relief. The soft, white fluff covering the quiet streets this morning seemed to me a promise of hope: all is not lost. This is reversible, and redemption is possible. Our legacy does not have to be that of a violent civilization whose greed ultimately consumed it. We can be more than that, and I am determined to help my generation become more than that. Because really: without snowy days, how are we supposed to justify drinking three mugs of hot chocolate?
Until next time.

Ongoing Goals for the New Year

Ah, hello friends. *waves hand shyly* Haven't seen you all in a while...
All right, now I know I haven't written in here for...WOW, geez...a long time, but today is the first day of a new year! It's 2011, people, and while I believe that New Year's resolutions are terrible things which set you up for failure, I do have some ONGOING GOALS which I'd like to accomplish in the new year. The first, of course, is that I write more often in my blog. Even if no one ever reads it, I think it's important for me to establish some kind of consistent writing schedule. One can't spend all their writing time on school work; I mean, there's only so much I can say about sinoatrial nodes, hydrocarbons, and imagist philosophy before I lose my mind. I need to keep my sanity and make time for FREE WRITING on my blog. I really do think that's important (translation: if you haven't written in your blog for a while either, you should probably take my goal into consideration. Just a thought ;)).
Of course, that is not the only ongoing goal I have for 2011. I would also like to:
1. Lose twenty pounds (pounds as in fat, not British money)
2. Read Walden
3. Finish the school year with a 95% average (I'm pretty sure this is an exclusively Canadian way of grading, so, to clarify, a 95% is an A+)
4. Finish TNIW (If you're confused, just read "An Update", my second blog post)
5. Complete a SECRET PROJECT (so secret that even the blogosphere *gasp* - yes, even YOU! - cannot know about it)
6. Start and hopefully complete driving lessons
So, those are my ongoing goals for the New Year. I may or may not update you on how I'm progressing with them, depending on whether or not I actually make any headway. If you don't hear any more mention of my ongoing goals, I've probably forgotten or failed miserably at them. Of course, that's not to say that I WILL. Hmm, maybe a positive attitude would help in actually achieving my goals this year. I should probably add that to the list...
7. Be more POSITIVE!
Well, that's it, that's all. Those are my goals. And what are yours? Please feel free to share, all the best 'til next time, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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.