It's been over a month since my mother and a good portion of my family fled the country, leaving me with the leftover kidlets at home. I am beginning to feel bad for them, being stuck her all day. I don't mean to be boring, I just sort of happens that way. However, I was feeling rather adventurous the other day, so I hit my dad up for some cash, and Abby and I, along with my siblings, loaded up into the vehicle and headed out to Vancouver for the day. Oh, what a day.
It is important to state now, rather than later, that as the person driving, I have never experienced downtown Vancouver driving.
Our first stop was the ferry terminal. Easy enough, you'd think. However, Abby and I both thought we knew where we were going, so we did the only thing we thought logical: we called my father at work and asked for directions. All this means we got lost 3 times, because we were all wrong. However, for the sake of Abby's pride, she was the least wrong...
Okay fine. She was right. But if you ask me in person, I will deny it.
After dropping Abby's sister off at the terminal, it was off to Stanley Park. I was prepared with my handy Google-Map, as we twisted and squeezed our way through the crazy traffic, almost killing us all at least 3 times. Needless to say, I will not be doing that again, any time soon. Even with our almost-death four times over, it was nothing less than a fantastic day.
Now, on to something I should have done a while ago: Introduce you to myself!
My name is Rebecca, but I answer to Beckie. I have big feet and untameable hair and lots of freckles. I am not a model, nor am I especially smart. I'm self-conscious. I can say things that make me look stupid, and I rarely listen to a whole song all the way through. My room is always messy, and I procrastinate with my homework, chores, and generally everything that can possibly be put off to a later date. I think harry potter is rad. I burst into song at random intervals, and my iPod is among my prized possessions. I love my music, and don't you dare insult my taste, because it's mine and I love it. I feel most comfortable when I'm acting like a complete dork, and I talk loudly without realizing it. I love a big God. I sleep with as many pillows I can fit on my bed, and my cats are among my best friends. I see no harm in becoming a crazy cat lady. I like to draw, mostly doodle. I love writing, and I adore my friends. They're crazy, but crazy is alright in my books. I think feet are ugly things. I speak sarcasm as a second language, and I use my sense of humor in most situations, both good and bad. Sometimes I take things too seriously, or not serious enough. I prefer being happy. Life is so much more beautiful that way. I have a massive family. It's always been that way, and I wouldn't change it if I had that option; it's never boring this way. Oh, and my favourite colour is green.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Today is the day when I realized I have no idea what's going to happen.
It looks gripping. Much better than the other 17.
I no longer have a schedule. I can no longer wake up in the morning and blindly follow that same routine, shuffling my feet and stifling yawns throughout my boring classes. I have no boring classes to attend, and I have no where to go. Not yet, at least. So until then, I am right here.
Now forgive me, this blog is a little on the depressing side. To be fair, you must be aware with the fact that my partner in crime, the same one from earlier blogs, has left me for another country. I am not quite sure what New Zealand has that I don't have, besides the sexy accents, but apparently it seems attractive enough for Kyla to up and leave. Huh.
Luckily, wallowing in self-pity has been cut short, as my old friend, Abigail, has come to visit me for the entire month of July. Cue loud whoops in celebration. Seeing as the larger chunk of my family has fled the country for the summer, I have become rather socially isolated, as the children I am left at home to care for either don't like me enough to talk to me, or cannot form coherent words besides 'mamma', 'puppy', and 'froom'. Abby has come to save my voice from lack of use, and I find it is like old times, when she lived around the corner from me, and we found joy in mocking each other. I came to a splendid realization yesterday, when I realized the house was completely spotless: if I kept feeding her coffee, she will keep doing stuff. I believe she drank close to 7 cups of coffee, and the house hasn't been in this great of shape since, well, never. It's amazing. But apparently this is to be expected from her. She informed me she was raised to be the perfect housewife. I'm scared if my mom found out, I might be out of a job....
I have lived my 18 years without watching any horror movies. I am not going to try and convince you that I avoid these movies because I prefer movies with substance, or a storyline that applies to my life. I am not one of those folks who need to have a point to everything. Let's be serious, I write this blog. No, this is not the case. The truth is, I am just a giant chicken. I was scared of Aladdin until I was 13 years old. I don't watch them because I don't get a thrill out of being scared to the point of tears. Go figure.
HOWEVER. This all changed two nights ago. I watched both my first, AND my second horror movie. Why? I don't know. I really don't. I walked willingly into that room, knowing full well what I was about to do. Which movies did I watch, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Boogeyman 3, and The Haunting of Molly Hartely. Now, the latter was a decent movie. But let's be honest, what's the point in writing about a movie that was good quality? Now, Boogeyman 3 was a completely different story. After it was finished, I hopefully looked over to a fellow movie-watcher, and asked "Are all horror movies like that?" She chuckled to herself, and informed me of what I was afraid of: "No, no, no. That was probably one of the worst horror movies ever. I wanted to turn it off 7 minutes in." Shoot.
Of course all the commercials were for all the upcoming horror films coming out. With the titles of these movies, plus the observations I made in the actual movie store, I have come to one conclusion: They need to make up some new ones. They just seem to make sequel after sequel of the same story. Even so, I find myself a little bit excited for this movie:
It looks gripping. Much better than the other 17.
Now, excuse me while I embark on a housefly killing spree. It needs to be done. This is going to be a very long summer.