I think that June 21st, 2011, was probably one of the best days of my life.
I woke up. And I worried about today's exam, bio. And then I went to the bus stop, joked with my friend for half an hour, got to school, saw everyone, and it just felt good and normal and happy. And yeah, then I spent forever taking a test. And I was one of the last people done, of course, 'cause I take my time. And I always want to remember the moment right when I raised my hand when my teacher just stopped the other proctor from checking my test because he wanted to do it himself--it made me laugh for no real reason. I'm gonna miss this year; I actually liked my teachers and they were actually good at their jobs.
And then I got picked up and went home and sat around for a bit, and listened to Moves Like Jagger around seventeen hundred times. Then my cousin called, because she wanted to go to the movies. We'd talked about it and it was half-off day so I thought, "What the hell?"
It's late, so I don't feel like listing all the things that happened to us that made this the best movie ever. I can't believe we haven't been kicked out of that theater yet, though. Also, they're going to own my soul by the end of summer. And you should never be ashamed to sit between your best friend and her cousin as they dance to "Ice Ice Baby" and occasionally sing along. NEVER BE ASHAMED~
Of course, once we finally left we had extra popcorn and thus had to feed the seagulls, who were rather happy about it. We were then harassed and insulted by the elderly and went to cousin's house, where we were hanging out and sang along to a large variety of songs whilst having fun with bubbles and being idiots. And more shit. I don't even write this for other people; I write it for myself~
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Year
Self,
Oh hell. You actually did it. 13.6666666666666666666666667 years of not failing at life, and you actually feel damn good for once. Remember the beginning of the year? Remember the beginning of eighth grade when you were so afraid of everything and had to make sure everything would be okay? But it turned out okay and--amazingly--you're coming out of this year on top. You have friends--not just the same people you've been clinging to since elementary school, but new friends. You've met people who you actually like, people you joke with and laugh with and just generally enjoy being around and people who you can actually be around going into the future, people you don't have to be false with.
Just thinking:
You and Ash. It's what, nine years now? The Game, losing it--that's our summary of this year. And yeah, she wants to go to high school so bad and yeah, she wants this year to end but you guys are doing so much better. And yeah, maybe next year you'll still survive. So maybe you're not best friends in the whole world and do everything together, but you're friends and you talk and you joke and you laugh.
You and Nicole. Two and a half years. This year, you spent more time in her homeroom this morning than you ever did in yours, and God only knows how many things you panicked over together. And Matt, always so sure that we were right--you laughed about that time after time. Best lab partner you've ever had, eh? Also the only lab partner you've ever had, but still. At least you have the faintest idea how a microscope works now.
You and S. A year and a half. Remember all your arguments? Remember 9-4-9-15-20? And then there's all your book arguments--because really, you still can't get why she sticks to Maximum Ride. 'Snot worth it, really. And all of her Stories--you know the ones. Wednesdays with her dad, horrid weekends with her grandparents, but you think they're all hilarious anyways.
You and Amy. Think about it--four and a half years. Four years, in a row, the two of you. The conversations you two have every day when she goes to science and you go to history, then later when you go to Spanish together, are one of the best parts of your day. Remember you, the first day of school? It was sort of sad, because you went through the day and there was no Amy--and there'd been an Amy since fifth grade when you two both got the same teacher and all the same classes--and then it was last period, and you found your desk and you looked across the room and hell, that was her, and you two laughed. And of course, she's never getting rid of you now. And hell, you're gonna be locker buddies for the next three years. At least, almost locker buddies. She's like five down. Good enough.
You and Rach. Just this year. And yeah, you complain but you don't mind her constant need to know that she has the answer to a history question right, and yeah, you find her anxiety sort of funny, but she's your friend. And, like I haven't said it enough, you joke and laugh and talk and it's just fun.
You and E. This year, too. Because gym wouldn't be the same otherwise. You argue and laugh and died attempting to run together, but it was a fun death. And you'll never look at school lunches the same way again.
You and A. Two years, but mostly this year. Hell, if it weren't for you two being shoved in the same study hall you'd both be so screwed right now. Remember math? Sometimes it was an impossible feat, it seems. And you know that you two are gonna spend all of this week doing Spanish homework together 'cause you're too lazy and procrastinate so you don't do it at home.
You and K. Just these past few months, lately. But you'll never forget your can opener, will you? And you'll never stop mocking her over Bert and her impossible-to-pronounce last name.
And they, Ave, made your year.
Oh hell. You actually did it. 13.6666666666666666666666667 years of not failing at life, and you actually feel damn good for once. Remember the beginning of the year? Remember the beginning of eighth grade when you were so afraid of everything and had to make sure everything would be okay? But it turned out okay and--amazingly--you're coming out of this year on top. You have friends--not just the same people you've been clinging to since elementary school, but new friends. You've met people who you actually like, people you joke with and laugh with and just generally enjoy being around and people who you can actually be around going into the future, people you don't have to be false with.
Just thinking:
You and Ash. It's what, nine years now? The Game, losing it--that's our summary of this year. And yeah, she wants to go to high school so bad and yeah, she wants this year to end but you guys are doing so much better. And yeah, maybe next year you'll still survive. So maybe you're not best friends in the whole world and do everything together, but you're friends and you talk and you joke and you laugh.
You and Nicole. Two and a half years. This year, you spent more time in her homeroom this morning than you ever did in yours, and God only knows how many things you panicked over together. And Matt, always so sure that we were right--you laughed about that time after time. Best lab partner you've ever had, eh? Also the only lab partner you've ever had, but still. At least you have the faintest idea how a microscope works now.
You and S. A year and a half. Remember all your arguments? Remember 9-4-9-15-20? And then there's all your book arguments--because really, you still can't get why she sticks to Maximum Ride. 'Snot worth it, really. And all of her Stories--you know the ones. Wednesdays with her dad, horrid weekends with her grandparents, but you think they're all hilarious anyways.
You and Amy. Think about it--four and a half years. Four years, in a row, the two of you. The conversations you two have every day when she goes to science and you go to history, then later when you go to Spanish together, are one of the best parts of your day. Remember you, the first day of school? It was sort of sad, because you went through the day and there was no Amy--and there'd been an Amy since fifth grade when you two both got the same teacher and all the same classes--and then it was last period, and you found your desk and you looked across the room and hell, that was her, and you two laughed. And of course, she's never getting rid of you now. And hell, you're gonna be locker buddies for the next three years. At least, almost locker buddies. She's like five down. Good enough.
You and Rach. Just this year. And yeah, you complain but you don't mind her constant need to know that she has the answer to a history question right, and yeah, you find her anxiety sort of funny, but she's your friend. And, like I haven't said it enough, you joke and laugh and talk and it's just fun.
You and E. This year, too. Because gym wouldn't be the same otherwise. You argue and laugh and died attempting to run together, but it was a fun death. And you'll never look at school lunches the same way again.
You and A. Two years, but mostly this year. Hell, if it weren't for you two being shoved in the same study hall you'd both be so screwed right now. Remember math? Sometimes it was an impossible feat, it seems. And you know that you two are gonna spend all of this week doing Spanish homework together 'cause you're too lazy and procrastinate so you don't do it at home.
You and K. Just these past few months, lately. But you'll never forget your can opener, will you? And you'll never stop mocking her over Bert and her impossible-to-pronounce last name.
And they, Ave, made your year.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
In case I haven't properly covered this (I totally have . . . ), I procrastinate. A lot. It is in my blood to put off doing things I don't want to do. Which is why I am sitting here rambling and listening to Maroon 5 (I bought Hands All Over yesterday. : D). And now I have a shitload of things to do and I don't wanna do them.
Blargh. Anyways. I have like three and a half hours to finish Spanish and then do math . . . And then at ten I have to watch The Voice because I'm weird. : )
What was the point of this? I dunno. :)
Blargh. Anyways. I have like three and a half hours to finish Spanish and then do math . . . And then at ten I have to watch The Voice because I'm weird. : )
What was the point of this? I dunno. :)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Wow.
So I'm sitting here at my laptop forcing myself to study for a biology quiz tomorrow because I know that even though I'm really good at bio if I want to ace this which I do then I need to study. So I am. I also need to study math and the Cold War, which is why I'm totally going to sleep at eleven instead of ten . . .
Anyways. I was staring at all the tabs I have open and I just started laughing. See. my tabs go:
1--YouTube - Blake Shelton - "The More I Drink"
2--Cracked.com, "I Can't Tell If Movies Are Being Serious Anymore" by Dan O'Brien
3--Online bio review thing
4--GT 26, technically retitled Ghost Town 3³ - 1= log₂ ( 67108864 ) = 26, which I just realized I haven't refreshed in like two and a half hours . . .
5--Wikipedia, Catherine of Valois, wife of Henry V of England, mother of Henry VI of England, and grandmother of Henry VII of England through a marriage to Owen Tudor (also sister of Isabella of Valois, Richard II of England's child bride)
6--Blogger. To write this.
--Hell, I'mma take a screenshot . . .
~Ave
Anyways. I was staring at all the tabs I have open and I just started laughing. See. my tabs go:
1--YouTube - Blake Shelton - "The More I Drink"
2--Cracked.com, "I Can't Tell If Movies Are Being Serious Anymore" by Dan O'Brien
3--Online bio review thing
4--GT 26, technically retitled Ghost Town 3³ - 1= log₂ ( 67108864 ) = 26, which I just realized I haven't refreshed in like two and a half hours . . .
5--Wikipedia, Catherine of Valois, wife of Henry V of England, mother of Henry VI of England, and grandmother of Henry VII of England through a marriage to Owen Tudor (also sister of Isabella of Valois, Richard II of England's child bride)
6--Blogger. To write this.
--Hell, I'mma take a screenshot . . .
~Ave
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Public Bathrooms: They Frighten Me
Every day, after last period (Spanish), my friend and I walk the exact same route: take a right out the door, walk down the hall past the first staircase, past the front entrance, to the second staircase, then go up those stairs, take a left, say bye at my locker. I get my stuff together and then shove it all into my backpack and slam my locker shut at nearly the exact same moment that Bestie (i, if you know that list) arrives just to the left of that staircase, and then we go downstairs together. It's routine.
Bestie, however, has what we call a "micro bladder"--that is to say, she has to go to the bathroom like three times during the school day alone. So of course, we always end up taking a detour to the bathroom before leaving school because apparently it's necessary. I, being a weird person, almost never go to the bathroom during the school day (of course, once I get home it seems I have to go every two hours, but I think my bladder is just trained for that 'cause it's special. . .) so I always stand there against the wall and wait for my friend. The interesting element to this, though, is simple: Children are gross, and even once they reach middle school they're still fairly gross, and have actually began a downward decline in person hygiene.
It seems that, as young children, we are constantly controlled by parents. They always make sure we brush our teeth twice a day and do it right and they make sure we shower and put on clean underwear on a somewhat regular basis and ensure that our rooms aren't too gross. All of these things and their importance are highly impressed upon us so that one day, when we're older, we can do them all on our own.
This is a lesson modern youth have entirely skipped over.
It just so happened that on . . . Wednesday, I think, while I was standing in the bathroom humming "Rolling in the Deep," four different children finished their business and then left the bathroom. I really shouldn't be calling them children since they're my age and I don't like being called a child but whatever. The point was this:
None of these children washed their hands.
This bothers me greatly. It really shouldn't, but it does. And thinking about the children who don't wash their hands led me to thinking about public restrooms, specifically those at school, which led me to thinking of the other thing I hate about them, which is that the door is always open.
I don't mean like the stall door--that would just be creepy. No, I mean you have your little bit of privacy allotted by wannabee-walls and then a wide open door leading out into the hallway, and to top it all off the ceilings are high and everything echoes because the school is elderly.
Basically, anyone walking by in the hallway can hear you going about your business.
This actually bothers me a lot more than the whole hand-washing thing but trust me, that still bothers me a lot. It's just . . . random strangers are walking by outside and they can hear you and they know exactly what you're doing in there. Even better, at school, you know most of them. So now random people you know--but not really--are also listening to you going about your business.
AND IT'S A SCARRING ORDEAL.
~Ave
Bestie, however, has what we call a "micro bladder"--that is to say, she has to go to the bathroom like three times during the school day alone. So of course, we always end up taking a detour to the bathroom before leaving school because apparently it's necessary. I, being a weird person, almost never go to the bathroom during the school day (of course, once I get home it seems I have to go every two hours, but I think my bladder is just trained for that 'cause it's special. . .) so I always stand there against the wall and wait for my friend. The interesting element to this, though, is simple: Children are gross, and even once they reach middle school they're still fairly gross, and have actually began a downward decline in person hygiene.
It seems that, as young children, we are constantly controlled by parents. They always make sure we brush our teeth twice a day and do it right and they make sure we shower and put on clean underwear on a somewhat regular basis and ensure that our rooms aren't too gross. All of these things and their importance are highly impressed upon us so that one day, when we're older, we can do them all on our own.
This is a lesson modern youth have entirely skipped over.
It just so happened that on . . . Wednesday, I think, while I was standing in the bathroom humming "Rolling in the Deep," four different children finished their business and then left the bathroom. I really shouldn't be calling them children since they're my age and I don't like being called a child but whatever. The point was this:
None of these children washed their hands.
This bothers me greatly. It really shouldn't, but it does. And thinking about the children who don't wash their hands led me to thinking about public restrooms, specifically those at school, which led me to thinking of the other thing I hate about them, which is that the door is always open.
I don't mean like the stall door--that would just be creepy. No, I mean you have your little bit of privacy allotted by wannabee-walls and then a wide open door leading out into the hallway, and to top it all off the ceilings are high and everything echoes because the school is elderly.
Basically, anyone walking by in the hallway can hear you going about your business.
This actually bothers me a lot more than the whole hand-washing thing but trust me, that still bothers me a lot. It's just . . . random strangers are walking by outside and they can hear you and they know exactly what you're doing in there. Even better, at school, you know most of them. So now random people you know--but not really--are also listening to you going about your business.
AND IT'S A SCARRING ORDEAL.
~Ave
Friday, March 11, 2011
THIS IS VERY EFFING IMPORTANT. *MASSIVE FLAILING*
SO HI, BLOG AND .4 READERS OF BLOG.
I meant to write you an actual post, I really did, but I'm super busy and I love to procrastinate so that didn't happen. HOWEVER.
Incendia has been nominated for the Veritas Award in the angst category, and you can go vote for it at fanmortals.webs.com by clicking on the "vote" option at the top. IT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED AND THANK YOU IN ADVANCE.
(I'm sleep deprived, if it was not given away by the caps lock abuse.)
Mille grazie~ (LOOK FOREIGN LANGUAGES. THIS MEANS YOU SHOULD VOTE. *nods*)
. . . Yeah, sleep deprived. :/ Sorry.
--Ave, who's really really hoping you'll vote
I meant to write you an actual post, I really did, but I'm super busy and I love to procrastinate so that didn't happen. HOWEVER.
Incendia has been nominated for the Veritas Award in the angst category, and you can go vote for it at fanmortals.webs.com by clicking on the "vote" option at the top. IT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED AND THANK YOU IN ADVANCE.
(I'm sleep deprived, if it was not given away by the caps lock abuse.)
Mille grazie~ (LOOK FOREIGN LANGUAGES. THIS MEANS YOU SHOULD VOTE. *nods*)
. . . Yeah, sleep deprived. :/ Sorry.
--Ave, who's really really hoping you'll vote
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Why Ave Should Stop Writing Posts At Two In The Morning
Well. Uh. See, I'm insane, so it's almost two-thirty and I'm sitting/reclining on the gigantic pillow my favorite cousin made me two Christmases ago (love you cousin) and trying to find a reason not go to to sleep. Basically I haven't done so very much with myself recently besides sleep and "clean my room" and listen to extensive amounts of Rise Against and watch random YouTube videos and read a whole bunch of Cracked.com articles. Actually, that's basically the reason I'm writing this . . . I would call it a blog post but it's mostly just unorganized rambles, but whatever. See, I was going to go to bed at one. I was so set and determined on this, and then of course I was watching more YouTube videos and that got shot straight to hell. Now my videos aren't loading, so I'm here. So.
Basically I've spent the past two days studying the art of nerdfighting ('cause it's an art, of course; google it if you don't know it), and watching Charlieissocoollike and his friend Alex whose YouTube name escapes me at the moment. I have frequently thought of how I should write a blog post, but I'm going through a lazy period and recently had a lot of free time, which, rest assured, is rapidly dissipating so soon I'll be my normal stressed high-strung semi-insane self. One more day, then I'll be back to being insane. So yeah.
Today I took one of my dogs for a walk. This may sound normal, but she happens to think she's the greatest thing since sliced bread (Okay, someone said that to me like four days ago and I haven't been able to stop saying it since. I'm blaming Theia, think it was her.) and it's the middle of winter. Two Fridays ago it was really really nice out, at least by the standards we live by here, but now it's freezing again and it keeps snowing. Dog also refuses to walk through snow and skirts around it whenever possible. Of course, once I shove her into the snowbank she thinks it's also the greatest thing since sliced bread (SEE? I'M DOING IT AGAIN. D: ) and thus jumps in and runs in circles and generally spazzes and acts like a dog. So I alternately get dragged and have to shove a blubbery brick of fur and pure hard-headedness (I don't care if that's not a word.) down a whole bunch of sidewalks.
My dog enjoys this. For some reason.
I immediately decided that I must have exerted my energy for the day on that walk that lasted around half an hour, but no. See, for some reason my mother had to take all the good, normal dogs somewhere for the first half of the day and took my sister. Basically she left me alone with the three neediest creatures ever to set foot in my home, and I live there.
First there's hardheaded blubbery brick who thinks she's Jesus only better (I keep saying that too.) Then there's her sister--but they're not alike, no. They're basically complete opposites: Dog's Sister (necessary capitalization, most definitely) is afraid of everything.
And I mean everything.
Anything that is even in the slightest unusual or unfamiliar to her is automatically viewed as a huge threat to her well-being and peaceful existence (I'm just kidding. It's not peaceful. She is totally insane and is a dog, which translates as: She's murdered more than her fair share of woodland creatures in her time. (She also just had her second birthday, so I don't want to know the death count when she passes. :/)) and thus she has to go through what we call The Extensive Panic Maneuver. Actually no one calls it that but me in my head but this is my blog so they can go die.
It goes like this:
1--Recognize there is something that you could possibly consider a threat. Just in case, it shall be treated as one even if it is only Ave's new socks.
2--Glare at object. This stage begins roughly a fifth of a second before stage three, but steps two through six all occur in unison.
3--Tail shall begin to wag uncontrollably. Anyone hit by it should seek immediate medical attention.
4--Growl. It must be low and throaty but fail because you're entirely uncertain what it is and thus don't carry through on the growl/bark mutation that had begun.
5--Get low to ground. Somehow, in your mind, this ensures your safety in case it is scary, which it won't be because it never is.
6--Back up rapidly and hide in the nearest safe place.
7--Make someone make the scary thing go away. AKA get scolded for freaking out at nothing and then wanting to be consoled so running to someone and making them pet you.
This is what I deal with on a daily basis.
There's also other dog but she's basically like Dog. So yeah.
I was then forced to pay attention to them when I just didn't feel like it.
Anyways. What else happened to me? I should probably compile a list now because otherwise when people ask me what I did on Monday I will have nothing and look like an idiot.
To list:
Last Saturday: Uhm. I definitely slept for a long time then . . . Yeah.
Last Sunday: Slept. Went on laptop. Nothing happened.
Monday: Should have cleaned room. Did not.
Tuesday: Uhm. Made spaghetti. Ate large quantities of garlic bread. Slept. Of course. Think this was the day I got the entire works of Rise Against from Kay, it might have been Thursday. I do not know. It's almost three in the morning. So.
Wednesday: Well. Uh. Internet. Watched television. This is what I do every day.
Thursday: I ACTUALLY DID THINGS. It was someone in my family's birthday recently and that happened to be the day we had a party (Don't ask me why a Thursday. No clue.). I wrapped presents and then went out to eat with a bunch of my cousins (whom I love. In case I haven't said that enough: I. Love. My. Cousins. Lots.) Then went to Grandma's. Ate cake. It was good cake. Played Hot Potato, long story. Found out brother got accepted into his preferred college. Spent the rest of the night researching my preferred college, UoT (University of Toronto, Canada's best college).
Friday: Became insecure about UoT. Thought about how Ivy League is good. Remembered I am an overachiever and thus should learn to relax. Remembered how much I loved UoT the night before. Also remembered I have at least three years to decide this. Relaxed a bit, still feel like an underachiever. Sort of.
Saturday/today: "Cleaned." Watched Scrubs. Laptop. Read Cracked articles. Listened to Rise Against. Watched YouTube videos.
I had more things to write but I am tired and MY VIDEOS LOADED.
I'm out. Have a nice day and don't die and all that stuff. 8D
--Ave
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