Entry #7

A piece of my soul has been missing these past few days. I walked around my home in a zombie-like trance, unable to motivate myself to do anything but mourn for that missing piece.

My cellphone has disappeared.

I know, I know. You`re worried about me. The pain I must be enduring is almost too much to read about. No fear, my loyal readers (ha.. ha.), Beckie and her beautiful tele-communication device have been reunited once again, and all is well.

Moving on to equally depressing topics. Math class. Ah yes, Math. My second time through this course has proven to be just as horrific as the first, although this time I actually TRY to listen to my teacher, instead of reading Pride and Prejudice in the back corner, my only conversations with the teacher involving whether or not Mr. Darcy had realized his undying love for Ms. Bennet yet, and what my takes were on Mr. Collins and his bizzarre antics.
In the past week, math class has almost become even more horrific, if such a thing is possible to comprehend. Don`t let your head explode trying to wrap your mind around it, just take my word for it. We have finally come to the dreaded triangles and its many mysterious angles and theorems. I cannot begin to describe the feeling that overtook my body when Mr. Coulter uttered that word: `Theorem`. You know that feeling when it`s overwhelmingly hot out, and you hear that sound, that irritating yet beautiful sound, of the ice-cream truck. Oh, Ice-cream on a hot summer`s day! Is there anything more exciting and satisfying? Why yes, yes there is. What, you ask? I`ll tell you. It`s a math assignment from this book!

Doesn`t that just excite you to no end? I know, me too.

As I left my house this morning, 10 minutes behind as usual, my mother informed me of a blizzard warning that was expected for later today. In my first class, I shared this information with the lovely Kyla (you may recall her from earlier blogs) as I saw a few whisps of snow falling outside. She looked out the window, smirked, then turned to me. `Is this the terrible blizzard you speak of?` Clear mockery, you may say. I`ve learned to accept this behavior from Kyla. You will too, in time. She has this horrible problem with sarcasm, it gets a little out of hand at times. How we get along, I wouldn`t have the slightest idea. I`m far too serious and polite. Ehem.
Lo and Behold, before even half an hour had past, you could not see to the end of the parking lot because of all the snow. It was a terrible sight. Ever since I`ve become a driver, snow has lost its novelty. White death. Needless to say, I made Kyla repent for her earlier shinanagins. All was truly forgiven and forgotten when she handed me my Christmas present. On February 25th, exactly 2 months post-christmas, I had the honor of reliving the christmas joy, as snow fell in the background and the vice-principal stalked by, I was all holly-jolly. Thank you again, Kyla. It was a lovely gift.

Entry #6

Oh, the joy of Sundays.

The day of rest, the last blissful day of the weekend, a day where it's really all about relaxing ...

Scratch that. The day where I remember what I do five days of the week, and all of the things I needed to finish over the weekend and conveniently forgot about until 6:00pm on the Sunday evening. Perfect!

Why am I blogging, you ask? Because I couldn't help it. If given the choice to study Biology 12, write a prophetic speech, or just write about random things on the internet, I would choose the latter. It's just the natural decision.

Grad presentations are coming up in 17 days. Not that I'm counting down or anything. The dread that overtakes my soul when those two words are mentioned consecutively cannot be written coherently. It's more like a series of grunts, moans, shrieks, and other unnatural bodily sounds. If I step back and look at it logically, the whole thing shouldn't be a big deal. Honestly, all I really have to do is talk about myself for 20 minutes straight. Unfortunately, I have never been a logical person, so panic is my first instinct. On the outline of things to talk about, it says "Talk about how [your school] has affected you and shaped you." Now, I'm sure the writer's intentions with such a suggestion were to hear me verbally vomit about how awesome my high school experience has been at said school. Alas, they will be sorely mistaken if I answer that question honestly. Therefore, they are expecting me to lie.

I can only "bs" my way through so much, you understand? Writing lies is easier to get away with than standing in front of a dozen or so people and spewing out untruth after untruth. This means I will double-dutch my way around that question, hopefully escaping any questionable stares from my teachers and other assorted viewers.

I wonder ... Maybe if I just sent each person to read my blog, they would understand what I do in my spare time, instead of having me fluff it up and make it sound better. It's nothing glamourous, they will see. In fact, it's overbearingly sarcastic, unnecessarily pointless, and generally just a waste of everyone's time. That last statement pretty much sums up my personality.

Entry #5

As I sit here, my father passes with a authoritative aura, squaring his shoulders, attempting to be intimidating. failing = dismally. "It's 12:15, I think it's time you go to bed." If you read this, Dad, I love you. But Blog comes first, sleep comes last.

It's been a few days. Not that I've forgotten about this, no, but because I am lacking activity right now. I'm sure all of you reading this (and by all, I mean Ashley) are not interested in my pajama-clad, tea-drinking, madusa-haired lifestyle as of these past few days. Not everyone can pull off the 'just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-I-don't-care-what-the-haters-think-of-me' hairstyle. I don't get it.

Now, I know if you're a female and aware of the fads of today, the picture above sends a certain excitement through your entire girly body. Oh yes, the famous Edward Cullen. sigh. I figure I should admit to my flaws. Come clean, if you will. I. Am. A. Crazy. Fangirl.

I never thought it possible, for less than a year ago, fangirls made me chuckle, shaking my head in pity. Oh, those poor, lonely girls. Nothing better to do than stalk their obsessions through the interwebs, installing webcams into unsuspecting celebrities' glove boxes. Feeding their addiction on blogs and by purchasing used tissues off of ebay.

I have entered the bizarre dimension of fan-dom. Terrifying, but beautiful.

Now, if you're reading this and telling yourself "oh how original, another girl addicted to that book with the apple", do not jump to conclusions. If you you assume that's the only thing I am addicted to, you are wrong. I thought I had done a good job of avoiding temptation. I barely watched television, nicely avoiding shows such as Lost, or Grey's Anatomy. I read classics, if any book at all. But this summer changed it all.

My cousin suggested one evening that we watch some show called One Tree Hill. "Just one disc," she urged when I explained my uneasiness with starting a new TV series. Oh, where's the harm in the first disc of the first season? Big mistake. I now own all seasons, and my Monday nights are always booked at 9 pm. If I have plans, they always end with enough time for me to make it home in time to get comfortable in front of the boob-tube.

Then it happened. Twilight was everywhere. Vampires, you say? Not my cup of tea, if you catch my drift. Apparently, however, it is literally impossible to converse with any female in school if you do not know the meanings behind words like "Edward Cullen", "Bella Swan", "Lion and the Lamb", or "Sexy Vampire". I decided, for my own social purposes (because as humans, we crave even a tiny bit of society), that it was necessary for me to read this so-called "Twilight".

Roughly 2 or so weeks later, I had finished the entire series. I fully admit to being obsessed, as I simply cannot get enough of it. I prowl fansites, dream about British hunks by the name of Robert Pattinson, and even now, I am blogging about it. Look how far I have stooped.

Don't judge me, I guarentee you, if you have not already, one day you will experience the horrific feeling of fanaticism. It's a guilty pleasure, we all have them. I just openly admit to it. Well, in my blog I do. With my all of one reader (love you, Ashley). So I guess it's not quite openly admitting. But if you have read my blog, you deserve to know!

Now, I must take my father's loving advice, and get some sleep. If it helps you sleep, I will try and hide my obsession for all things twilight in here. Once I'm in Ireland, I should have more exciting things to talk about. Like Irish men and sexy accents. oh baby.

Quote of the Day.

My lovely girl, Alyssa, made my day. you make me smile, dear.

Alyssa [to Patsy]: Beckie is the best, because "Beckie" rhymes with "Best."

Beckie: Not at all actually. In fact, the only similarity is that they both start with B.

Alyssa: Just go with it.

Entry #4

What an unnecessarily traumatic evening valentines day was. I'm not complaining, though. Those kind of evenings are the ones I remember!

Kyla and I decided to go to Mission to catch a girly movie, but we would stop in Abbotsford for dinner. We left pretty early, expecting a long wait at Red Robin, as we forgot to make reservations (my bad). On the contrary, we walk in to a waiting room stuffed with hungry people, go to the front to inform the hostess we would like a table for two, and she told us to follow her right away. Shocking. SO, as we finished our dinner and generously tipped our overly-friendly waiter, we realized that we had far too much time to burn. The only solution to this, of course, is to prowl around Walmart in our dressy clothes. We weren't the only ones. It seems Walmart was crawling with overly-dressed folk. Afterwards, we figured we'd head to Mission and figure out something to do once we were there. Kyla, being the creative one in this relationship, thought it would be fun to go for a drive around the beautiful township. Oh yes, what a stupendous idea! Now, I'm sure Mission is a beautiful city, with lots to offer, but I'm pretty sure I took every wrong street that there possibly could be in such a small town. Our scenic tour consisted mostly of an industrial park, a rather dirty looking night club, and other various creepy roads with no signs or streetlamps. I was hyperventalating so bad at one point, I'm pretty sure I was positive a masked villian was going to jump out at me and rip my limbs off.

After arriving home at roughly 12:37 am, I went to open my front door only to realize my older brother had taken my house-key to make a copy, and had never given it back. Lovely. I called, knocked, rang the doorbell, yelled through windows, all to no avail. I gave up eventually, and decided to lay in the middle of the road. I layed there till 1:15 am, when I realized with a flash of embarressment and frustration, that our screen door in the backyard is never locked, and I had been sitting out in the cold for no particular reason. I suppose we should probably get a lock on my back door, but last night I was rather greatful for our lack of safety.

Entry #3

Happy Single's Awareness day. Or, if you prefer, Happy Discount-Chocolate Eve!

Another valentines day has come, and once again, I'll be spending it dwelling on the fact that my girlie friends are so much cooler than the other kind. Or at least, that's my excuse for being single once again as this holiday comes and goes. I do not let my lack of romance stop me from enjoying my saturday evening, however. Kyla, my partner-in-crime-and-other-various-activities, and I are planning on making our saturday not-so-depressing. Our plans may be in jeapordy, however, seeing as we forgot to make reservations. Oops. I am having difficulty thinking about what I should get for her as a gift, seeing as she works in a flower shop, and she gets free flowers virtually every shift. Chocolate? No, she always has a stock of those under her bed. Teddy Bear? No, she isn't particularily fond of those. Ideas would be greatly appreciated.

Now, I have slept half my day away, and I still have plenty to do before my evening begins, so I will leave it at this, and wish you all far more luck in love than I have. Merry Valentines!

Entry #2

1 teenage almost-graduate + 4 bickering children + 4 pre-pubesant tweeny-boppers + 1 teething baby x large house - 1 mother = one extremely frazzled me.

Now, I've never been particularily good at math (and when I say that, I mean I'm no good at math at all, not even in the slightest), but I am smart enough to realize that such an equation would leave me pulling out my own hair out by the roots. Two weeks, I should be alright... right? Not so much.

I'm pretty sure I strike fear in the hearts of infants, due to the fact that I am running around the house very similar to that of a chicken with its head freshly removed. If that chicken were some form of chicken-hulk hybrid, I would be such beast. My mom will be impressed if she returns home to her children still possessing all 4 limbs.

It's Valentine's week at school this week and each day those participating have to bring in a treat (according to the day) for their chosen secret valentine. Tomorrow, Thursday, is 'something home-made'. Now, I'm not sure what that exactly entails, but I'm guessing cookies will be rather popular tomorrow. My question is, would going to the grocery store and buying a box of cookies count as cheating, or as a grace bestowed upon my valentine? I'm sure store-bought cookies would be far more edible than anything I could possibly make at home. I have, however, bought instant cake mix, and will attempt to make cupcakes. Stay tuned to see if I burn the house down.

A few days ago I received a letter in the mail from the lovely folks at Distance Education Center, politely telling me to get my 'rear in gear' with my Writing 12 course, if I would like to finish in time to get the credits. How thoughtful. True story though, I was sent the course last June, and have only sent in, what, 4 homework packages? 2 of those from the past 2 weeks. I should probably get on that.

The funny thing about this blog, is that I'm sure no one is reading it, but it still feels rather theraputic. Like an online diary where I can vent all of my frustrations and crack lame jokes at my own intelligence. I don't mind laughing at myself.

and the countdown begins ...

Entry #1

Entry #1 And so it begins.
As I sit here, listening to some great music, slightly nauseated and partially frusterated from the whining and squealing of the infant-child, Korbin, I find myself more in tune with the amount of time I have left at home. The first half of grade twelve has seemingly flown by, with no evidence that it really happened, to be honest. Only 4.5 short months left! I cannot wait. Living in an overcrowded house my whole life, the quiet independance I'll be facing soon enough seems all too welcome. I'm sure my opinion on this matter will change soon enough, as I'm rather used to it. Sigh.

I figure I'd make a blog, seeing as I just joined this site, but I think it is about time I try and figure out how to use it, and make it look not-so-dull. I'll be seeing you.