Oh those darn church pews!

This is a tribute to my Nana: I love you and I miss you and I'll never forget you. What happened to you wasn't very fair and I still have a hard time thinking about it. Whenever I read this I'll remember what I loved the most about you: your humour.

Some days are fine, and then others are really hard. Hopefully this will help the hard days seem less hard.

So, I was with my step-dad and my sister one day and we were driving up to visit my nana and poppa at their cottage, and to also make a side trip to the beach (which is conveniently located right beside my nana and poppa's cottage).

Before I go any further I should probably explain my nana to you. She was, without a doubt, one of the funniest and most eccentric people I have ever met. She loved to talk, that was all she pretty much did. Because she loved to talk she often talked about the most inane and random things, which often cause my sister and I, as well as our entire family to laugh.

So, we were at the beach and we had a jolly good time. I can't tell you exactly what happened, mostly because I can't remember, but I do remember that we had a good time.

When we got back to the cottage it was suppertime, and while my sister, step-dad and I were at the beach, my nana and poppa drove into town to pick up supper, which was KFC. (Who wants cook when they are at their cottage?) I was cool with this, I mean, I'm not a huge fan of KFC (kind of waaay to greasy for me) but having it once and awhile isn't' that bad.

Anyway, I dug in and started to eat, not really listening to the conversation because it was just my nana blabbering on about nothing in particular. However, something she was talking about caught my attention, not because it concerned me or was of any importance at all, but because it was the most random thing ever.

She was talking about her father and how he used to craft wooden things as well as carve. (Which is not funny, I know, but wait for it...) Then she started talking about how he made/carved some church pews. And then she goes on to tell us a story about when she was a little girl. Apparently the church allowed her father to keep a few pews, and he, not knowing where to put them, (where do you put church pews in your house?) left them out on the front lawn. Then, tourists started to come on to their property to take pictures of the church pew, and even though my nana told them to leave they wouldn't. They would also try to steal these church pews. My nana's face was dead serious and it was obvious that she thought the story made perfect sense.

Now, keep in mind, I'm only telling you what my nana said, and I have no idea if it's actually true, or if she was a few cogs short of a clock. (aka loco)

By this point my sister and I are choking on our foods trying desperately not to burst out laughing (we don't want to hurt our nana's feelings, afterall). How the hell does this type of story come up in a dinner conversation, let alone actually happen? I looked at my stepdad, and his face is also bowed in order to not give away the telltale laughing signs. My nana continues prattling on talking about how the tourists violated her rights and so on.

We, as in everyone who wasn't my nana, couldn't hold it in anymore. We burst half laughing half choking.

I still remember the amused expression on my poppa's face as he told her to shut up and eat her fries.

Priceless.

And that was just an ordinary day with my nana - she was quite the character.

Anyway, the bell just rang so I'm going to jet.

Later gators.

A tribute to Nicole's English presentation

So this blog post is basically a tribute to my good buddy NP, and her amazing English presentation. Before you pass judgement let me tell you, she knows I'm writing about this, and she knows that in no obvious way am I making fun of her - this is just something that I want to remember, and something that breaks us both down into hysterics whenever we do remember this. This one is for you NP.

It was a day like any other, my friend NP and I were in grade 11, which meant that while we were not the top dogs, we certainly were not the pond scum/bottom feeders that grade 9's are. It was after lunch and we were traipsing through the halls making our way to our next class, which was, you guessed it, English. Normally we are quite hyper during lunch and prattle on about nothing in particular, but today was different. I was the same - as I normally am - so I was talking incessantly, however NP was not.

NP looked like she was being devoured by the fluttering, vicious, gut-busting, butterflies in her stomach. Now, keep in mind, I have no idea if she actually had any butterflies in her stomach but it certainly looked like she did. Basically, she looked like she was going to ralph - and I told her, that if she was going to hurl, to aim away from me (I know - I'm really sympathetic/caring).

Why was she so nervous? Because, as you've probably already guessed, she had an English presentation. For most normal people, normal being the key word there - which is something that NP and I are definitely not (trust me on this) - a presentation isn't such a big deal. However, for NP it was kind of a big deal. Not only had she not understood half of what the book said, she also stayed up the entire night working on her visual and hadn't prepared (not even an ounce of preparedness anywhere for her) at all for the actual presentation. Since she had to talk about books where she had no idea what was going on, for a good 15 minutes, I could see why she was so nervous.

So we got to class and listened to a few boring presentations. I was as cool as a cucumber (perhaps even cooler since I epitomize coolness and cucumbers do not) because I didn't have to present that day. However, NP was pretty much sweating bullets throughout all the presentations.

Finally, much to NP's dismay, the teacher (we'll call her Berg) told her to, "get up and present her goddamn presentation" (Now, of course she didn't actually say that, but I would bet money that's what she was really thinking). NP, whose face was super red at that time (OH! I should probably mention to you that NP's face gets really really really red when she's embarassed, all the time - It's quite funny, you know, if you're not NP), hissed at me to get up and hold her visual for her.

I really didn't want to. In fact, I shot a glance at her saying, please, don't make me. But by that point it was pointless, NP's and Bergs stares were relentless. I slowly made my way out of my seat cursing everything that could think of.

It's not like I'm a bad friend, and I was too lazy to do that. It's just, well, I tend to think of funny random things during presentations like that, things that often don't have anything to do with the presentation, but are still funny nevertheless, and I often end up snickering to myself - which is fine because no one notices. However, if I started snickering to myself in front of the class, everyone would notice, and I would become super embarassed, along with NP.

Anyway, as I made my way up to the front I told myself to pay attention to the presentation, and don't laugh at anything - which is a really impossible task for me. I always, without fail, laugh inappropriate situations.

For example, there was this one time in Grade 6 where I got in trouble because me and a friend accidentally started a foodfight - although, I should point out that 2 guys actually started it by chucking pudding cartons at us, we merely retaliated by throwing orange peels at them, and it's not really our fault that the teacher walked in on us throwing the food - and the teacher made us sit in his classroom while everyone else got to watch Pirates of the Carribean on the big screen in the gym (it was also the day before Christmas break). So we're just sitting there and then all of a sudden I start thinking of the most random things and I just burst out laughing. The teacher of course thought I was patronizing him so he made me sit there even longer and he got quite annoyed with me so I ended up getting into even more trouble.

Wow, kind of got off topic there, but that's why you love this blog (:P), you get the most random accounts of me that you never even knew.

So I got up to the front of the room and held the poster up really high and hiding my face in the process (just in case I got a little giggly). For the first 6 minutes all was well, and I was all serious and totally not laughing, in fact I was really bored to tears. But then something happened. Something that made me burst out laughing in front of the class, and actually made the entire class laugh as well (well minus Berg, I don't think that she was all that impressed).

What happened was NP was running out of things to say - there's only so much you can say about books you hated and didn't understand - and she was faltering. Then it happened, she said, "the strengths of these two books are.." and she slowly trailed off. There was a long pause, and I started to get really giggly, but somehow, magically, managed to hold it in. Her face started to get some colour in it, and then some more, and more, and before I knew it her face was so red it was tomato-ketchup-firetruck red. She still hadn't said anything. "Um, um, um" is all that came out of her mouth. By this time it was damn near impossible not to laugh, but it seems like I was defying nature - I still had yet to make a sound, even though my insides felt like they were going to explode. The next thing she said was all in a rush, making it hard to understand: "there weren't any." She then bolted to her seat to sit down, like it was some safe place. I swear, I don't think that I've ever seen her move as fast as she did then. (After your presentation you weren't supposed to sit down - you had to continue to stand up there so Berg could interrogate you.)

I lost it. I burst out laughing. At first I was the only one, the rest of the class seemed to still be processing what had happened, and then everyone started laughing.

Berg's jaw dropped to the floor. After a few seconds she managed to compose herself and mutter oh dear, but her reaction was priceless.

In retrospect, that probably doesn't seem all that funny to you, but it was kind of a you had to be there moment.

But damn, it was the funniest presentation ever. Kudos NP.

Peace out crocodiles!

Damn.. Where's that built in sense of direction when I need it?

So, there was this one time when I was in about, grade 7 or 8, where our elementary school class went on a field trip. I know, you can't get much more vague than a feild trip, but I don't exactly remember where it was. Erh, like most people, as time passes, memories of mine magically escape the confines of my mind. For some reason I want to say it was Wildwood, but I am not sure if that is entirely correct. It was a huge forest that we visited on a cold day - I for sure remember that much.

You may be asking why I have remembered this field trip, out of the many that I have been on and have forgotten, as well, as why I am writing about this one.

Basically, it's because a traumatic event occured during that momentous day.

It was cold, drizzly, miserable and really wet. It wasn't a complete downpour, but it was the type of weather that chills you to your bones, and makes it feel like you'll never really be dry and warm again. It was a day where you're like, of course the sadistic elementary teachers force you to go outside and have "fun". Personally, I think that elementary teachers have an uncanny knack of having outdoor field trips on the days where nobody should be outside, let alone a bunch of kids, and it kind of makes me think that a) they are a tad psychic and b) they get a perverse pleasure out of their students' suffering.

That day's scheduled "fun" was, using a map and a compass, navigate your way around the maze-like forest and reach scheduled destinations. If I may be frank, fun my ass. That is like the complete opposite of fun. (TORTURE).

Just to be safe, the wilderness staff thought that it would be better to put us in pairs of two, because, surely, two brains are better than one. (Although, I'm not entirely sure this was true in my case.)

I was with my friend Jenna. Jenna, like me, was kind of uncoordinated and, klutzy, and, well, just all around like me.

We we're given a map, a compass, and a brief tutorial on how to read the map and compass(during which Jenna and I were both distracted - mostly because of each other). I seriously did not think that I needed a map. Sure, I was a little cocky, but I was also a Girl Guide, and I did this tri-yearly - which was a requirement for a few of our badges. I had common sense - I knew how to read a map and compass.

And yet nothing prepared us for this fateful day.

Soon after the brief tutorial was done, the teachers herded us out of the incredibly small cabin, much like farmers herd cows into their pastures. There was one last thing that was said: "If you, for any reason, get lost just walk north and you'll eventually find your way back to the main lodge.

Oh, and one last note, being the sadistic elementary school teachers the teachers were, they told us that we were getting marked on our teamwork, as well as how long it takes us to reach the last destination - that kind of added pressure to a lot of people.

Not really me though, I was as cool as a cucumber. Well, for the first five minutes.

Jenna and I kept up with the pack for the first 3-ish destinations, but then we fell behind. Why? Well, because we kind of got distracted. By distracted I mean, we saw this really cool log that we absolutely had to try and sit on. This kept us amused for a bit - I know... the things that kept me amused when I was younger is rather embarassing. However, soon after we remembered that we were getting marked on how long it took us to get to the finish line. We were on our way shortly after that realization.

*cue suspensful music - I had dropped something vitally important, something that we really needed to get to the finish line, and I didn't realize that I dropped it until, well it was too late.

We saw the general direction that people went in before we became separated from the group, so we started to walk that way. Soon after that, we realized, we had absolutely no freaking clue where the hell we were.

I went to pull out the compass so we could determine what north was - and much to my complete and utter shock. I had no idea where it was. Without the compass, we would have to rely solely on the map to get us to the finish, there was no way we would be able to find the lodge now.

I still wasn't panicking, I knew how to read a map. (I however didn't have the map, that was Jenna's job - my job was to take care of the compass - and I failed so miserably at that Jenna refused to let the map come within ten metres of me.)

We walked, and we walked, and we walked, and we walked. Nothing was familiar - and we hadn't seen any classmates - and two hours had passed. Allow me to also point out that our feet were blocks of ice, we were wet and completely drenched, and we were absolutely miserable.

And we were completely freaking out - the forest that we were in was HUGE. Like many amounts of acres. (I don't know exactly how many acres, because I have no idea where we went, but trust me, it was HUGE!)

I begged Jenna to let me see the map, it's not that I didn't think she couldn't read a map, although at that point I was having my doubts. Much to her chagrin, she allowed me to look at it. I stared at it for a few minutes, comparing it with my surroundings. I was confused because nothing on the map matched up to the landscape that was surrounding us. I turned the map 90 degrees, and then another 90 degrees. There was silence. And then, a string of swear words came bellowing out of my mouth.

@#&$(@&

Jenna had the map upside down. We were going down a 20 Kilometre trail and I had no idea
1) Where it would end up
2) How far down it we were
3) How to get back to the actual forest part of the map

I stared at her, my face white, but slowly turning purple (and for those who know me will know that my face turning purple - or red for that matter - is quite a feat), my lips were in a slight snarl. I was breathing deeply, as if I was trying to calm myself d-d-down.

Basically, I wasn't that concerned about the fact that we were lost now, or about the fact that we would most likely recieve a failing mark - in fact that wasn't even on my mind because I really didn't care about school back then - but about how I would never live this down. I'm was a girl guide for crying out loud. I should have killed that assignment, and I mean killed. But no, I was stuck, god knows where, and I didn't know what to do.

Jenna probably thought that I was mad at her, I really wasn't. Why? It was just as much of my fault as it was her. I was the genius that lost the compass after all.

Before that day, I generally had a good direction; I knew, basically, where to go when I was travelling along to wherever I was travelling along to. However, ever since that day, my sense of direction is non-existent. I am the last person that you want to be with when you are lost. I have no clue where to go, yet people tend to ask me. DON'T ASK ME! - unless, you want to be hiking down a 20 km trail. You may think that I am exaggerating, but I really am not, it is atrocious. People ask me where to go, and I'll point somewhere, however, I normally end up sending them the wrong way.

It infuriates my friends/family when they ask me where to go and I just shrug my shoulders. But really, I don't know, I'm doing you a favour, because I'm pretty sure that you don't want to end up lost (and if you listen to me that's pretty much exactly where you will end up: right in the middle of I'm-so-lost-I-can't-imagine-being-any-more-lost-then-this-ville - Oh, and if you do end up there, be sure to ask for the mayor, because that's me!).

Anyway, I kind of got a little off topic there, which, happens a lot if you know me. So you're probably wondering how I got out of that mess, because obviously I managed to find a way - I wouldn't be here typing this if I didn't.

Long story short, despite what I learned in girl guides that you should stay put when you're lost, I suggested to Jenna that we should probably get moving, they weren't going to look for us where we were (it technically wasn't even a part of the forest). We stopped talking for a bit and we heard the sounds of cars in a general direction. We, together, decided that it would be for the best if we went that way. So we walked, and we walked, and we walked. And, eventually we ended up at a campground (it was one with motorhomes where people live year round so we were lucky).

We knocked on the door of the home we saw and, while bawling our eyes out, we explained to the person that answered the torturous trials that we endured. They called the forest people, and they came to pick us up. All was well in our worlds again, well minus the laughing and the teasing that I both forsaw and feared.

But, even today, sometimes I have nightmares about that day.

I'll never forget the day where I lost my direction, perhaps forever, as it still has not come to me yet. This worries me, as I'll be navigating through a maze of a university campus next year. That would really suck if I ended up going down a 20km trail the first day. Eek!

Later Gators.

Embrace the llama within

I just thought that I would share that personal mantra of mine with you all today - I've had it for a few years now and I think that it has helped me make partial sense of today's world.

As for the mantra itself, it's kinda self explanatory I think.

Peace.

So Basically...

I'm feeling quite hyper right now, and in the mood to write, so I think I'm going to write another post while I'm at it - lucky you guys.

This is something that happened to me last year, and it's quite random (are you noticing a pattern yet?) but I still find that it gives me a little chuckle whenever I think about it.

Last year I was sitting in class, and I'm going to be honest, I really didn't want to be there. In fact, that's kind of an understatement: I wanted to be anywhere but there (even if anywhere was in the Amazon being chased by rabid alligators, or sitting in a bathtub full of purple Koolaid).

I was listening to the lecture intently - and by intently I mean in between my brief naps - and I noticed the teacher kept saying the same phrase, 'so basically...' over and over and over again. Being as bored as I was, I decided to get out a piece of paper and count how many times she said it in a 5 minute span.

I counted 8 in less than a minute, and each time she said it I would snicker to myself louder. By the 10th time I was having a hard time containing myself, and the person who sat next to me looked over and shot me glance that basically said 'are you high?' (I wasn't, although, I'm sure she wasn't the only one who was thinking that that day.)

And damn, the fire alarm just went off for real - which sucks because I was really in the writing zone.. Oh well, continuing the story.

After she shot me the glance, and because she hated the class almost as much as I did (no one could hate it more than I did - although several people came close), I let her in on what was so funny. The teacher kept saying it, and we were breaking down in to hysterics. We literally could not contain the laughter and everyone, at somepoint, stared at us.

I think the count was 18 times, but we didn't count for the entire 5 minutes because we were interrupting the class with our muffled (or at least semi-muffled) giggles. If looks could kill, we would have been annihilated because our teacher was shooting daggers at us.

Normally, I'm not that disrespectful in class (or outside of it that matter), but that day was an exception because I really didn't care at that point. Besides, there wasn't a real harm in it, it was fun!

I think it was a kind of you had to be me or her moment to fully appreciate this story but, I'm publishing it anyway so I don't forget about it, that, and because it's random - kinda like this whole blog.

The bell is going to ring soon, so I'm going to log off.

Talk to you in awhile crocodiles.

The story of my life...

No, I'm not going to tell you every sordid detail about every second of my 17 years of life, so you can relax. (I'm not the type to share something like that - and you would, well, probably fall asleep within the first 8293 seconds because, yes, my life IS that boring.) This is just a story about something that happened today that pretty much defines my life.

And before I get started, let me make you aware of one thing: I'm really sorry if I have missing letters in this entry, or bad punctuation, or whatever. You see, I'm in the school library and I have a knack for picking computers that absolutely suck. There is either something wrong with the screen (it's too blurry, too dim, angled the wrong way, and so on) or there is something wrong with the keyboard (it wobbles, some keys don't work, you get the point). Well, right now, I have a keyboard that requires me to pound on the keys (but not with all my might - just about half) in order for the corresponding letter to show up (yes, I'm definitely getting my daily workout right now). Normally, this wouldn't be a problem as the library (despite the myths of it being a quiet sanctuary - which are so not true, at least for this library) is filled with rambunctious hellions, also known as teenagers, that make it extremely LOUD. However, right now there is a presentation, and I'm making quite a bit of noise due to my pounding on the keyboard, and the librarian is shooting me death looks. So, I have to quiet down, which makes it harder for me to press every key. (Just a little warning).

(And that was a ramble fest - I know - but I warned you! I love love love to ramble as much as I humanly can - and I'm incapable of not rambling :P)

Anyway, back to the story of my life:

So, for the past four years of my highschool career I haven't really gotten involved. My heart has been in the right place, as I've always wanted to get involved, it's just my execution is a little shoddy. So this year, myself and a friend made a pact to get involved in every club that we've ever really wanted to get involved in. So far we have joined Me to We, Eco-Warriors, Adventure Club, Volunteen and Project Linus (we are still interested in joining a few more things that start later in the year). As you can imagine, it is pretty hectic for us, especially considering that all but one of these things take place at lunch during the school days.

Well, today was no exception. I had three things to do today at lunch: Volunteen, Project Linus and Adventure club. I mean, I know I have special psychic powers and all, but even I, like most people, have a hard time being in three places at once.

But, I'm kind of getting a little off topic, or at least misleading you, because that isn't the story of my life: it's what happened at two place that is the story of my life. (So basically, the last 2-3 paragraphs have been setting up/introducing the story of my life).

We went to Volunteen first. And we spent pratically five minutes there (while we should have been at Project Linus and Adventure Club) because they spelled my damn name wrong and there was mass confusion. That's twice in two years that they've completely butchered my name. Grr. It gets annoying after awhile, I'm just saying.

Anyway, we got it sorted out and then we went to Adventure Club (because it's not the whole period - whereas Project Linus is). And something regarding my name went wrong, AGAIN. It wasn't a mis-spelling, it was leaving my name off the list completely. And I know that I signed up for it - I have 2 witnesses to verify this.

The story of my life is NO ONE GETS MY NAME RIGHT! Ever! I think that I must be cursed because on certificates, lists, in newspaper articles, it's either not mentioned, or spelled completely wrong. Gah! No wonder I hate it. Infact, now that I think about it, it's often mispronouned as well. There's only so much I can take!

In fact, on kind of a side note, I think my (last) name might cursed or something. Do you know why? I'm not the only one who has problems with it. In fact, I think that it might have first started when my Grandma came to Canada from Denmark. The spelling of my last name isn't the true spelling of it: it has an extra vowel in it. Why? Because the government officials screwed it up. Or my Grandma did. But I don't think she did because I think she is way smarter than the government (Oh! Don't get me started on what I think about the government with their mass confusion, conspiracies...)

Oh Oh! Now that I'm thinking about it, it most likely was the government who messed it up because they've also done it to me. Last year when I was working on tax returns I put my name in as '(Surname) (First name) (First Initial of my middle name).' with a clear space! So imagine my complete and utter shock when I get my cheque and it's for plural me. ie, FirstName"s" LastName.

Dumbasses.

Damn curse.

I swear to you, it's the story of my life. But, sadly, I guess I'm getting used to it.

But this post has been extremely long and rambly so I think I'm going to stop it here while I'm still ahead, or at least, not too far behind (I think).

Lator Gators.

Don't panic mom, I just think that, err, I'm a tad psychic...

Ha! Can you actually imagine if I told my parents I was psychic? If you can't, picture this: Me with a dead serious face, my parents rolling on the floor, uncontrollably laughing their asses off.

My parents already think I'm weird enough - but even I have enough common sense to know that I shouldn't say something as bold and outlandish as that. My parents are quite square and narrow when it comes to matters like psychic powers.

But I totally think I have psychic powers - or at least a form of them.

No, before you get all excited, I can't predict your future or anything like that. These powers aren't very strong, but I know that I have at least a smidgen of them - which is more than most people can say.

I can sense if I'm going to see a certain person throughout the day, well before I actually see them.

I know, you're probably going - ohh... that's lame. But, let me ask you this one simple question, can you do that without fail? Because I really can.

How can I tell? My stomach gets a funny feeling, and I immediately think of the person. It's really weird, but I'm telling the truth here - as far fetched as it may seem.

You want me to give you an example? Sure, in fact, the reason that I'm blogging about it, as you may have guessed, is indeed because this happened to me today, this morning to be more accurate.

I was casually sitting on the bus staring out the window, wishing that I was, well, anywhere except on the bus. I was just minding my own business. My eyelids would occasionally droop, and head would first fall forward, and then snap back as I was jerked awake. All of a sudden, my stomach had that weird feel, and I immediately thought of a name (a name that will remain nameless for anonymity's sake). When I got to school, that person was the 4th (ish) person I saw. And this happens on a daily basis.

Sure it's not everybody, it's only people I really like, or people I really dislike (but not hate - because hate is a strong word). But still, it gives me a nice little warning of what to expect.

And mom - or anyone else who doesn't believe me - this is not the result of an over active imagination, I truly believe that I have special powers.

But these powers, like most other powers, are very draining on my energy. So with that, I think I have to go to bed before I crash right here, using my laptop as a pillow.

Later gator.

I want a giant marsh-mallow! NOW!

So this post is more of a reminiscence of my childhood rather than being revelant to anything I actually did today.

Why, you may ask? Well mostly because I hate mondays. So why would I write about something that I hate? GRR. This monday was no exception, in fact, it was worse than most Mondays, so no way on Earth am I going to write about it - I'm already spazzing out just thinking about it.

I prefer to write about happier, more enjoyable times. Or at least more interesting times.

In retrospect what I am writing about now definitely does not epitomize happy times. But this is the way I feel today - tortured.

I apologize in advance if my writing is atrocious, there is a loud voice quacking in my ear that is making damn near impossible to focus on writing - I'm actually really trying to focus on not screaming shut up. Although, if he doesn't stop soon, well, there are no guarentees that I won't get kicked out of the library for a mental breakdown.

@#$*%@(#*

Ok.. calming down now, breathing in and out. And... we're calm! Or at least calmer than we were. Getting back to what I was actually writing about (I kind of deviated from the original plan for the story by quite a bit).

We, and by we, I mean myself and my family - or whoever else was in the car at the time - would be driving down the endless stretch of country road. I would often stare out the windows on these long journeys (which seemed to take months, if not years) and admire the view. I would savour the lush green grass, and the light blue sky, wishing with all my might that I was playing out there, rather than trapped as a prisoner in my carseat. (I had a car seat for a long time - my parents were, well, a little, over-protective. And by a little, I mean A LOT. It's probably one of the reasons as to why I can be wound a little tight these days.)

On these drives I knew that I would rather be outside playing in the fields with my greatest toy - my imagination. I knew that these fields would be perfect to be a huge, viscious dinosaur, or a lost princess (two extremes, I know, but nonetheless, I still imagined both of them). I knew I would be happier outside, but still I was relatively content inside the car.

And then it happened. And then I saw the thing that made my mood change from content to agitated so violently. I saw, often more than one, big white marshmallows sitting in the field - with no one eating them - ripe for the picking.

All I wanted more than anything in the world was to escape the confines of my carseat and rush outside to devour that huge marshmallow sitting in the field. I knew that if my parents permitted me to do this, I would be the happiest child in the world. And that's what every parent wants right? Their child's happiness.

Yet, despite this, my parents would not pull over. In fact, they were often quite ignorant, and I was crying too hard to make any sense, they really had no idea what I was going on about. They often just thought, op, Kelsey's is just being weird again. No big deal. (I was weird a lot when I was a child).

Everytime I was in a car this happened. Every. Single. Time. Every single time I screamed my lungs out, and every single time, my parents would not pull over. That is crushing to a child's spirit.

Parents suck. Especially when all you want is a marshmallow, and they deny you that one single pleasure.

Eventually, I learned that these marshmallows were not marshmallows at all, but they were bales of hay wrapped in plastic. And do you know what? I was ok with that. Why, you may ask? Because there is nothing more fun to do, when you're at a friends farm, then to wet them down, and slide across them forever.

Those are good memories, ones that make the marshmallow trauma almost seem worth it.

Hey, I said almost.

Oh, there goes my marshmallow cravings again.

Later days, readers.

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying."

007

The name is Bond, James Bond...

*Raises gun or does whatever the heck James Bond actually does

Oh wait, wrong person!

So the name is actually not Bond, in case you don't know me. You should try to guess my name, I'll tell you if you're right.

A hint, a lot of people call me Stephanie - That's not my name, really really not (take my word for this).

Maybe I should write a basic list about myself. I like lists, they make everything seem so simple and understandable, when in reality, nothing is ever really simple or understandable. Especially physics. That stuff goes right over my head. Woosh.

Here goes nothing:
1. I've been the same height for the past 6 years. If you think I'm tall now, I was really tall in grade 8.
2. Career aptitude tests never work for me. Unless you think I should be a music teacher or a bee keeper or even a sheet metal worker.
3. I could never be a music teacher; I'm tone deaf.
4. I never say never, except in the example above. I will grow a third leg before I teach music.
5. I'm really really indesicive. It took me almost an hour to decide what sunscreen to buy.
6. I kind of want to be a writer when I grow old (notice I didn't say up), but I can't really seem to make a decision career wise. I could be a horrendous writer without even knowing it, which would probably kill that idea really fast... Feedback is eagerly accepted.
7. I can sort of play expert guitar on guitar hero, but I'm an absolute mess on the drums. Which is odd, because my horoscope thing says I have natural rythm.
8. I have walked into a glass door, more than once, on the same day, into the same door.
9. The thing that scares me to death more than anything else in this world would be the idea of floating in space without being attached to anything; just surrounded by the darkness, alone and scared... and freaking myself out now... going to stop thinking about this.
10. Birds also freak me out.
11. I'm in a war. With household appliances. I'm not entirely sure who is winning, but I tell myself it's me - it helps me sleep at night.
12. I have a lot of theories on government conspiracies - my most prominent one being the true effects of coffee.
13. I'm in a band called Elephant Whales. I play recorder or chello.
14. I have the Cool-Whip song stuck in my head.
15. My lifelong dream is to time travel.
16. Gnomes regularly eat my homework.
17. Clocks fall on my head.
18. Do you see the moonwalking bear? I'm working on it. Perspective is everything.

Let me just say, right off the bat, I'm weird. I may not seem so weird at first, in fact, I may seem kind of quite and shy, but that really is not the case. Ask anyone who knows me if you don't believe this. I always have the most random thoughts going on in my head, and I very rarely actually pay attention to what's going on around me.

People tell me I look dazed and confused most times, while others tell me they have no idea what I'm thinking.

This blog will tell you what I'm thinking - I can guarentee that.

On a side note, I tend to ramble. A lot. My teachers tell me that I'm basically incapable of not rambling, and I know that it is true.

Expect the most random stuff to be posted. Kind of like my list above.

Oh, and ignore the posts below (you can read them if you want). They were just posts that I liked from a previous blog for school so I copied them into this new blog.

Peace.

"A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kickboxing."

I Hate Birds

Remember my rant about clocks?

Yeah, this rant is similar except it's about birds.

Apparently the clocks have gotten birds to join their forces to fight against me.

Lucky me.

You see two days ago I was assembling a wheelbarrow (and no, it didn't go well) in my garage (I was getting paid to do this), where, out of nowhere, this bird tries to violently attack me.

Luckily I was separated from it - thank goodness for strong walls and windows.

But I'm getting ahead of myself and probably leaving you scratching your head and saying "what the heck is she talking about?".

It all started on Tuesday April 29, it was about 6:15 pm and I was reading a fashion magazine. My stepdad comes up to me and asks if I want to make some moohlah. I was like heck yes!

He took me out to my garage (a disgusting, filthy mess of a room) and told me to assemble this wheelbarrow he bought. I was like, "okay, but if I go to the emergency room, you're telling mom that it was your fault.

Me + Tools = Nightmare

He assured me that I was going to be fine. After making sure I had everything I needed, he left me to it. About 5 minutes in I realized that none of the pieces fit (and they didn't!) and I was mad.

I became more agitated when I heard this repeating "thud" noise. I mean, I was already mad and this annoying noise was making me even madder.

I look up to the one window in our garage and see this ugly bird flying against the window. If I didn't know better I would swear it was out looking for my blood.I got a little nervous. Make that beyond nervous.

I've never liked birds, with their beady little eyes and sharp beaks, well to be honest, they kind of freak me out.

Either it was one dumb bird or one seriously determined bird because it kept flying into the window.

I didn't want to take my chances - I bolted leaving the wheelbarrow unfinished.I figured that my life was probably better then a few measly bucks.

In conclusion, I now also hate birds, and everytime I see one I will think of this day and that bird that tried to kill me.

I'll never be safe again.

Plus they're ew.

R-r-roll Up the Rim - DAMN

Next thing I want to blog on is Tim Horton's roll up the rim (before last saturday).

I think that someone has cursed me when it comes to those things. I mean, seriously cursed me. Mega cursed.Why? Because I do not win.

Ever.

In all the years that they've run the contest, I've never won. I've never been able to feel the immense satisfaction of being a "winner". I've never felt warm and gooey inside because I've never won.

The cup says 1 in 9 odds.

Yeaahhhh right.

I've had like 25 cups so far - this time alone, and nada. Nothing to show for this.Everytime I go to open my cup my hopes are raised, only to be crushed. Every single time.Until last Saturday that is.

Brace yourself.

The way it all went down is my sister had a basketball tournament, and I, with nothing better to do, decided to go with her and my father. I had to get up at 5:45, because we were leaving at 6:20. I didn't actually get up until 6:15, but that's beside the point. I took my blanket and pillow inside the car so I could resume sleeping once we began our voyage. I did. Only to be prodded (inhumanely) awake once we reached the fine London Tim Horton's establishment so I could give my order. I got a large hot chocolate and a toasted sesame bagel with plain cream cheese. I wasn't entirely awake, nor did I want to be awake, so I once again resumed sleeping, leaving my hot chocolate and bagel for later.That's when things started to get really weird.

I had a dream, where I won roll up the rim. I woke up, and had my bagel and hot chocolate. As I went to roll up the rim I got this weird tingly feeling.I saw "gagner" which I realized was the french word for win.

I finally won! I was in shock, and I'm sad to admit, shaking from excitement.

It was a coffee!I was on top of the world.And that was just the beginning.

Shortly after, my sister played a basketball game. They won. Which may not seem like such a big deal, but you have to appreciate it - her team rarely wins.

After the game we had about 5 hours to kill before her next game, but not to worry, I managed to convince my dad to take me semi dress shopping. Which killed sometime. But, again, you have to understand he never takes me shopping (which is just as well considering when he does he just goes straight to the shoe department to sit down and whine).

I found the perfect dress. It's vintage, and nothing like anything else that you will see at semi. It's perfect - simply no other word for it.

After that we went to Tim's again. When I got my hot chocolate I got that tingly feeling. Before rolling up my rim I made my dad promise that if I won again he would buy a lottery ticket that I picked out.

I won! Again!

A donut.

But still. That's twice in one day. And I'd never won before. Ever.

I was feeling pretty awesome. It was the perfect day.My sister's team also won again! It was their longest winning streak of the season. (No lies)

After, we headed home, and true to his promise my dad stopped at a grocery store and let me pick out a lottery ticket. I picked Cash for Life.

But the tingly feeling wasn't there.

It was a pretty darn good day.

:)

Let's Pull the Moon From the Sky and Have Spring!

Today, after having our lunches, myself and an accomplice wandered around the school, as we often do when we're bored. After traisping through the English and Tech hall, we proceeded to inch down to our next class, which just so happened to be in the English wing.

During this time, mainly because we have nothing better to do, we often debate on certain, mostly insane, things. We call it intellectuall stimulus, and yes, it does make us feel better about ourselves.

Today I brought up the topic. It was an idea. Something that I recall having heard in the seventh grade from my science teacher. At the time I wrote this idea off as insane and that the person wanted to kill us all. But, after I thought about it, I like this idea - although it is doubtful that it will ever be reality.

We all know that the Earth is on a tilt, providing us with seasons (or at least, I hope we all know this). Well the concept is centred around that fact. A few years ago a guy came up with the idea if we pull the moon down it could re-centre the earth, so there is no more tilt. No tilt would provide us with spring all year round, instead of extreme weather conditions.

Back when I was an ignorant, narrow-minded child, I immediately disliked the idea. The reaction that I had was somewhat like the following, "That psychopath is going to kill us all! How the hell is he going to pull the moon from the sky? Where is the moon going to fall? What will happen to the people that live there? Basically: what is this guy smoking?"

My friend had a similar reaction. She asked me what I was smoking as well.

Now my opinion has completely changed. This may be crazy. I like crazy. But if you think about it, in theory it should work. It. could. work.

Now, that excites me. As much as I like winter, I don't. At all.I'm giddy at the thought of spring forever! I love spring. Not too hot, not too cold.

Still the skeptic my friend asked how they would get the moon down. Duh. I replied, "it's so simple, you just get this big lasso, tie it around the moon a few times and drag it down!" It could work. After I said that we laughed at me for about 5 minutes.

But in all seriousness, I'm sure that mankind could find a way. After all, we've done many things, in which we once thought were impossible. I don't think that this could be to much of a challenge.

You might have a similar reaction as my friend did. That's okay. But I really do encourage you to think about it more. How cool would it be if we actually did this?

Beyond cool.

Think outside the box now and then.

It's official..

I'm fighting a war.

Against household appliances.

The clock attack that I mentioned before was apparently just the start of it. But it seems that all my appliances have something against me. I've been attacked numerous of times since the clock.

My appliances are conspiring together, against me.I thought that I cared well for them over the years. I generously allowed them to stay in my warm home, rather then on the cold, harsh store shelves.

I thought it was enough!

It wasn't.

My hair dryer burned me, along with my straightner. My digital clock is on the fritz, telling me the wrong time. The toaster refused to work, leaving me with a cold bread. Blech.Yes, I know that all those events sound horrible but there was one in particular that pushed me over the egde.

An incident, with a microwave.Basically the microwave blew up. Spewed nasty smelling smoke and set off the smoke alarm. As well as burning my chocolate rock solid, and cracking a plate in half.The microwave sacraficed itself to get me in trouble.

My mother destroyed me.And she didn't believe a word about how the appliances are plotting against me.

Why?

All I got to say is this war is so ON!

I'll keep you posted on how it goes.

I do believe myself to be a courageous battler against household appliances, but mine might be too much for me.

I hate clocks

Yes. There I said it. I simply despise clocks. For numerous of reasons. But I especially despise them after what happened to me today.

So why the hate against innocent clocks?, you may ask. Well I shall explain, but let me clear up one thing, clocks are anything but innocent.

I suppose the hatred can be traced back to my childhood. It's the pressure that they emit on children. Whenever I was late, I could just feel the glare of the clock. "Hurry up, hurry up" "You will never make it, never".

I'm sorry, but I just can't put up with that kind of nonsense. It continued throughout my entire childhood. Now, everytime that I see a clock, anger runs through my veins, my fists clench. I hate them with all my heart. Always setting impossible standards, mocking us when we fail.

Now, you may be thinking that I need a psychoanalyist, and while you may be right, I should tell you what happened to me this morning. It was something that only strengthened my ill feelings. I was attacked by a clock this morning.

No really, I was.

There is a clock in my room above my door. It is fairly large, made out of hard plastic and is quite heavy, oh and apparently, it has a grunge against me. I was just minding my own business, a little upset that someone took the last bagel for breakfast, so I decided to go on msn and complain about my brother. As I walked in the door of my room, BANG! The clock fell... on my head :'(. It made quite a lot of noise too.

Well that hurt, alot. I had to go lay down for a while. It still hurts, I have a little goose egg on my head from where it hit. When my sister saw me she asked what happened. I told her, she, with everyone else, laughs everytime they see me. Nice to know that they find that funny.

That incident cemented my feelings about clocks. Nothing will ever change the way I view them now; little house appliances that attack innocent people.

That clock is now still on my floor, it shall be in the garbage soon though, I'm just a little scared to go near it - in the fear that it might attack me, again.

So hear my warning folks, get rid of your clocks! They are plotting revenge against you! Especially make sure that you remove heavy ones from above your door. That's pretty much asking for the clock to hurt you, so I learned today.

Ouch!

Lakes and Oceans

So as some of you know, I live in K-tore(home of the creek, pond, variety store and four way stoplight), and yes it's a blast. Yes, I could blog on all the terrific times that I've had living in that quaint village. But I've decided to, mostly because I am bored, to tell you about my walk home (from the bus stop) today.

Yes, it's very true. I have to walk from a bus stop. It's awful. By the time I get home from my very long and very exhausting walk my legs feel as if they are going to fall off. There is only one word to describe that walk, treacherous. Yes, I said it. It's a perilous journey. I have to walk from the variety store all the way to the outskirts of town, in which I happen to reside in. Luckily, I have my sister to carry me when I feel like I just can't make it.
However, today, I was feeling quite energetic and felt able to complete the walk, all on my own. In fact I even had energy to spare! A rare occurrence indeed. I managed to not only walk all the way, but also to talk to my sister on the way as well. The majority of our conversation was focused on Lakes and Oceans.

It began when she saw the lovely K-tore pond. She told me that she wanted to go swimming. I agreed, I said that I wish we could go swimming in the ocean again. She gave me a peculiar look, asking when had I ever been swimming in the ocean. I replied, all the time, like twice a summer. She asked me if I was sure I wasn't making it up. I said I was sure. Because we do! Then, after a few minutes of silence while she digested my piece of information, she piped up, do you mean the lake? Yeah, I guess I did, I told her. Thus sparking a big debate on lakes vs oceans, lasting at least five minutes.

You see, even though many argue that I am quite the genius (:D), I can not distinguish between Oceans and Lakes if my life depended on it. In fact I question why we bother calling them to different things. Obviously it's to confuse people, even the intelligent ones, like me. It's most likely the government's doing. (:D) They get a kick out of confusing the masses.

So, after she attempted to discourage me from using the term ocean (she failed) we got into a fight about why I would want to go the "ocean". She claimed that whenever we go I refuse to go into the water and therefore there is no point in me even going. I said I don't go into the water because there is stuff in it (Blech.. it's like bathing in a tub of waste) but that shouldn't be the only reason I, or anyone else, would go to the beach. Her, quite nasty may I say, response was that what else would people do there? I retorted that the reason that I go to the Ocean is to play in the sand!! She asked what happens when those sand lovers get hot, I said they pour water on them. She then asked where from, I said from sanitary bottles of water. She then said I was a tool. Ending the debate, and also declaring me the winner (she had nothing left to say). I was a good day. I do believe that I can go head to head with the best of them.

There really wasn't a point to this blog but I wanted to tell all you cynicals out there, (heehemm Stephanie) that a person can go to the OCEAN and not have to swim in the water. They can play in the sand!

Oh, and those who say that pouring water from water bottles is a waste, well I reuse the bottles, because, I do actually care about the environment.