Five hours in a plastic desk, in a freezing cold gym, in pants that I should have consulted someone else before wearing.
Who ever decided that it would be a good idea to put the Socials and English exams back to back is a villainous, evil, evil person. This morning the entire English attendees assembled in the school foyer, only to be confined to small unforgiving desk units and confronted with essays and analysts. Now essays are fine. Writing is good, thinking about what you're writing is good too. But picking apart a picture of a bald man using shearing scissors in his garden outside of a construction site? REALLY?! What emotion is that suppose to invoke? I swear, I tried. I tried really, really hard to study the image and pull meaning from the old man wearing his ratty white tank top. I observed the contrast and followed the lines, tried to imagine what it would be like to wear his chocolate brown shoes and to hear the cranes outside of his yard. I looked his expression, what was this man trying to communicate? Why was he making such a pained face while cutting back his shrubbery?
Still, I felt nothing.
I was looking a grumpy old folk, doing an everyday thing, in an ordinary picture. So I did what every English teacher will tell you to avoid unless completely necessary. Under the circumstances, I believed it to be crucial for my grade.
I lied through my teeth and wrote exactly what she wanted me to.
Sometimes it sucks trying to get that good mark, especially when you are forced to create false meanings and themes to write paragraphs without any soul. Nevertheless, English is drama on paper and sometimes the plot lines have to suck before they make it up on stage.
So I wrote my soulless analyst and finished just in time to dash out for lunch and make it to the socials exam. With all the essay writing I have a blister on my finger (I write like a three year old, and press too hard) as well as cramps in various places in my hand.
Worth the pain? Very much so.
Summer is upon us.
Happy school year!
Arctic Hipster
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Happy Fairy Day
Today, I lost my skirt.
How is that even possible in a public place you ask? How could I possibly be selfish enough de-robe in a high school beneath the glaring eyes of countless innocent bystanders? In what way is has such scandalously and controversial statement related to winged beings?
The Relay For Life made me do it! As you're probably aware, the Funky Fairies Relay for life team has been door to dooring, baking, coloring, creating, planning, volunteering, bargaining and harassing the general public in order to fund raise for the Canadian Cancer society's all night walk-a-thon this Friday. Our team is all girls under the age of seventeen, who have been affected directly or indirectly by cancer and want to make a change. Directed by our fearless leader Jeanne Yurris, The Funky Fairies have been working our wands off from the beginning of April to the second weekend of June for the last three years. Without a doubt, I can say it's easily one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had. Working with motivated and positive people is enough to make anyone smile, but these girls are more than that. We support one another's endeavors and ideas, doing the best we can to help each other achieve them. These girls are kind and caring, I've never had a bad day where is was not made better by a Fairy Gram or an encouraging hug by a teammate. There is such passion in our group, a drive to seek out and aid. There is never an absence of help, from our team or for our team.
I'm pretty sure there is another law of attraction, that those who search to succeed are met with those who search to help succeed. There are some very amazing friends, students, family members, staff members and community members out there who have given us Fairies a greatly appreciated hand. We've had boys like Braden Redshaw and Kevin Durkee be so kind as to donate cookies to our bake sales and a wonderful student body to buy all of our creations. Teachers have allowed us to miss classes to set up and take down various fundraisers, without many questions asked. They have even gone as far as to donate to the cause.
Our families have the patients of saints. They have taken up the roles of chauffers to and from events. They have worn the chef hat and worn down the Bank Of Mom and Dad. But ultimately they've been our biggest cheerleaders.
It's no wonder that today we've raised over seven thousand dollars.
So when I misplaced my skirt today trying to change into a bright blue sparkly prom dress for a team picture with the Yellowknifer, I was glad. The Fairies and community have worked so hard for this, and I believe it's time to show pride in our accomplishments. So I wore my big poofy blue cupcake of a prom dress to third and fourth period. Today is fairy day for me, but anyday could be fairy day. Just don your crown and get out there to make a difference.
Let the sparkles and wings make you brave.
Arctic Hipster
How is that even possible in a public place you ask? How could I possibly be selfish enough de-robe in a high school beneath the glaring eyes of countless innocent bystanders? In what way is has such scandalously and controversial statement related to winged beings?
The Relay For Life made me do it! As you're probably aware, the Funky Fairies Relay for life team has been door to dooring, baking, coloring, creating, planning, volunteering, bargaining and harassing the general public in order to fund raise for the Canadian Cancer society's all night walk-a-thon this Friday. Our team is all girls under the age of seventeen, who have been affected directly or indirectly by cancer and want to make a change. Directed by our fearless leader Jeanne Yurris, The Funky Fairies have been working our wands off from the beginning of April to the second weekend of June for the last three years. Without a doubt, I can say it's easily one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had. Working with motivated and positive people is enough to make anyone smile, but these girls are more than that. We support one another's endeavors and ideas, doing the best we can to help each other achieve them. These girls are kind and caring, I've never had a bad day where is was not made better by a Fairy Gram or an encouraging hug by a teammate. There is such passion in our group, a drive to seek out and aid. There is never an absence of help, from our team or for our team.
I'm pretty sure there is another law of attraction, that those who search to succeed are met with those who search to help succeed. There are some very amazing friends, students, family members, staff members and community members out there who have given us Fairies a greatly appreciated hand. We've had boys like Braden Redshaw and Kevin Durkee be so kind as to donate cookies to our bake sales and a wonderful student body to buy all of our creations. Teachers have allowed us to miss classes to set up and take down various fundraisers, without many questions asked. They have even gone as far as to donate to the cause.
Our families have the patients of saints. They have taken up the roles of chauffers to and from events. They have worn the chef hat and worn down the Bank Of Mom and Dad. But ultimately they've been our biggest cheerleaders.
It's no wonder that today we've raised over seven thousand dollars.
So when I misplaced my skirt today trying to change into a bright blue sparkly prom dress for a team picture with the Yellowknifer, I was glad. The Fairies and community have worked so hard for this, and I believe it's time to show pride in our accomplishments. So I wore my big poofy blue cupcake of a prom dress to third and fourth period. Today is fairy day for me, but anyday could be fairy day. Just don your crown and get out there to make a difference.
Let the sparkles and wings make you brave.
Arctic Hipster
Monday, June 7, 2010
What wonderous things discovered again by unexpected means
I have found great inner peace dear readers....
Well, not completely but that is simply because of the teenage mindset and lack of experience. Nevertheless, I am ready to make some changes in my way of being as well as begin some new projects. I am attempting to release all of the stress that has accumulated inside of me during these last few months through physical activity. Yoga stretches out every bit of muscle that I never even realized I had, and releases it in a calming way. Leaving me feeling as though I'm able to bench press a house. Realistically that's humanly impossible. It's a pretty great feeling though.
That said, there are also some pretty fantastic vibes entering my window at this time. The sun is back darlings! Sky rocketing Ice cream sales and surprising Yellowknifers with tell tale signs of our origins. Almost the entirety of the city's population had turned an angry red after our first day of plus twenty temperatures. The weather had been nothing but blue skies with the casual dark rain cloud. We northerners don't fret that much about precipitation anyways. You get used to it after nine months of snow.
Speaking of cold, have I talked about how wonderful my boyfriend is? He honestly is the coolest person since Frosty melted. Sir Alex is the force that refuses to let me tumble into self loathing or teenage angst behavior. Instead he makes me laugh until the tears roll down my face and my sides are in pain, which makes us laugh even harder. Thus furthering my belief that all you need is love.
Is it possible to exist in such a state of undeserved bliss?
Alas, despite a couple barf-ons by the unstoppable force of life this is turning out to be quite the fantasmical* year. Two plays (Charlie and the Chocolate factory: Micheal Jackson tribute and The Werewolf's Curse), countless social engagements, hundreds of cookies, volunteering until my heart is sore, staying up doing homework until I'm sure my hands will fall off, fundraising like the mad for Relay For Life, and writing. Lots of writing.
Now, in some ways I wish I didn't do so much or could say no to participating and helping out some times. I might get in my eight hours of sleep that way. In another though, if I weren't so busy I'd be bored. My parents believe it's hereditary, and as much as we all curse each other out for our over booked, under-planned schedual, our household wouldn't be the same without an event mangeled calender. In fact, I doubt any of us would get six hours of sleep like that. We'd all be up pacing looking for things to do. Instead of giving up being immersed in society, I'm prioritizing. My mother informs me that that's very mature and I'm growing up. What she doesn't realise is that I'm merely "reorganising". I'm slowly trying to reduce my Facebook addiction, and instead, replace it with a blogging obsession. This makes more sense anyways, considering I suffer from "Graphomania":
"a compulsive urge to write either driven thereto by an exaggerated idea of the importance of what he or she writes or by an insane impulse"**.
I'm voting for the insane impulse. Math homework, the back of gum wrappers, the underside or even the upside of tables, chairs and other furniture, a ridiculous amount of notes and letters and journals. Strangely enough, the idea that I might one day create a job out of this seemed improbable. Writing= Freedom. Job = Work. I didn't think that I could actually do this as a career, one that would make money and possibly fulfil my unsatisfiable need for the written word. Unlikely, but goodness would it be awesome.
Then, as if fate had another idea for my Psychologist future, the English world fought it away with books and authors. That's right, guess who was able to attend the North Words conference?! Not only was my class able to listen to publish authors Jamie Bastedo, author of On thin Ice, Silas Revenge and Tracking Triple Seven, and Cathleen With author of Skids and her new novel Having Faith in Polar Girls Prison, I was able to talk to them. Some kids grow up wanting to meet so-and-so of this movie or that, but I've always wanted to meet a writer. Boy could you tell too. I was tripping over my sentences and basically blurting out my entire life story in the span of a couple seconds. Yet, being the amazing breed that they are, Mr. Bastedo and Mrs. With tolerated my explosive adoration and awe. Mrs. With even gave me great direction on where to take my life. She studied at the University of Victoria with amazing professors, retired great authors who were attracted by the weather but couldn't give up the trade. She took theater and had an education degree, and is helping kids adjust to school. She talked with me as if I hadn't just spilled my story all over her shoes, but rather as if I were a writer too. That's when it hit me.
I wanted to be a writer too. I could be a writer.
So i went home and looked at my life as though each piece was an article of clothing or childhood treasure tumbling out of a disorganised closet. Right at the bottom, created when I fist heard a story, was my need to write. So I put it out in the open, and stacked everything from least important to most, placing it out in the open. This is my project lovely readers, this is my future.
May your closet be messy enough to be lived, but clean enough to see.
Arctic Hipster
** Dictionary.com
Well, not completely but that is simply because of the teenage mindset and lack of experience. Nevertheless, I am ready to make some changes in my way of being as well as begin some new projects. I am attempting to release all of the stress that has accumulated inside of me during these last few months through physical activity. Yoga stretches out every bit of muscle that I never even realized I had, and releases it in a calming way. Leaving me feeling as though I'm able to bench press a house. Realistically that's humanly impossible. It's a pretty great feeling though.
That said, there are also some pretty fantastic vibes entering my window at this time. The sun is back darlings! Sky rocketing Ice cream sales and surprising Yellowknifers with tell tale signs of our origins. Almost the entirety of the city's population had turned an angry red after our first day of plus twenty temperatures. The weather had been nothing but blue skies with the casual dark rain cloud. We northerners don't fret that much about precipitation anyways. You get used to it after nine months of snow.
Speaking of cold, have I talked about how wonderful my boyfriend is? He honestly is the coolest person since Frosty melted. Sir Alex is the force that refuses to let me tumble into self loathing or teenage angst behavior. Instead he makes me laugh until the tears roll down my face and my sides are in pain, which makes us laugh even harder. Thus furthering my belief that all you need is love.
Is it possible to exist in such a state of undeserved bliss?
Alas, despite a couple barf-ons by the unstoppable force of life this is turning out to be quite the fantasmical* year. Two plays (Charlie and the Chocolate factory: Micheal Jackson tribute and The Werewolf's Curse), countless social engagements, hundreds of cookies, volunteering until my heart is sore, staying up doing homework until I'm sure my hands will fall off, fundraising like the mad for Relay For Life, and writing. Lots of writing.
Now, in some ways I wish I didn't do so much or could say no to participating and helping out some times. I might get in my eight hours of sleep that way. In another though, if I weren't so busy I'd be bored. My parents believe it's hereditary, and as much as we all curse each other out for our over booked, under-planned schedual, our household wouldn't be the same without an event mangeled calender. In fact, I doubt any of us would get six hours of sleep like that. We'd all be up pacing looking for things to do. Instead of giving up being immersed in society, I'm prioritizing. My mother informs me that that's very mature and I'm growing up. What she doesn't realise is that I'm merely "reorganising". I'm slowly trying to reduce my Facebook addiction, and instead, replace it with a blogging obsession. This makes more sense anyways, considering I suffer from "Graphomania":
"a compulsive urge to write either driven thereto by an exaggerated idea of the importance of what he or she writes or by an insane impulse"**.
I'm voting for the insane impulse. Math homework, the back of gum wrappers, the underside or even the upside of tables, chairs and other furniture, a ridiculous amount of notes and letters and journals. Strangely enough, the idea that I might one day create a job out of this seemed improbable. Writing= Freedom. Job = Work. I didn't think that I could actually do this as a career, one that would make money and possibly fulfil my unsatisfiable need for the written word. Unlikely, but goodness would it be awesome.
Then, as if fate had another idea for my Psychologist future, the English world fought it away with books and authors. That's right, guess who was able to attend the North Words conference?! Not only was my class able to listen to publish authors Jamie Bastedo, author of On thin Ice, Silas Revenge and Tracking Triple Seven, and Cathleen With author of Skids and her new novel Having Faith in Polar Girls Prison, I was able to talk to them. Some kids grow up wanting to meet so-and-so of this movie or that, but I've always wanted to meet a writer. Boy could you tell too. I was tripping over my sentences and basically blurting out my entire life story in the span of a couple seconds. Yet, being the amazing breed that they are, Mr. Bastedo and Mrs. With tolerated my explosive adoration and awe. Mrs. With even gave me great direction on where to take my life. She studied at the University of Victoria with amazing professors, retired great authors who were attracted by the weather but couldn't give up the trade. She took theater and had an education degree, and is helping kids adjust to school. She talked with me as if I hadn't just spilled my story all over her shoes, but rather as if I were a writer too. That's when it hit me.
I wanted to be a writer too. I could be a writer.
So i went home and looked at my life as though each piece was an article of clothing or childhood treasure tumbling out of a disorganised closet. Right at the bottom, created when I fist heard a story, was my need to write. So I put it out in the open, and stacked everything from least important to most, placing it out in the open. This is my project lovely readers, this is my future.
May your closet be messy enough to be lived, but clean enough to see.
Arctic Hipster
** Dictionary.com
Monday, October 12, 2009
One missed call
At this very moment, there are probably a million things I need to be doing. Instead I'm blogging and having a stand of with the phone.
Who will be the first to make a move? Will the phone ring before I dial his number?
RING DAMN IT! RING!
For centuries women have awaited the call of their suitors, a letter, a wire or even a herald would give news of a lady's beau. They however, would probably have remained elegantly calm and collected. I just sound as if I've O.D. on cough sirup and taken up Belle's habit of talking to inatimate objects. Particularly communicating devices.
How infuriating! Does the opposite sex not understand the amount of stress this habit of theirs creates? I have already downed three slices of cake. This my friends, is what we females call....
" Anger Eating!"
We devour any sort of high fat, calorie heavy food in sight. Tearing at pizza slices as if it was the problem or *ahem*the heads of the people causing the problem *Ahem Ahem*
My goodness terrible this pneumonia. Just awful. Time for more cough sirup!
Anyhoo, I'm smothering my sorrow with sugar whilst my eyes are drawn to "No new messages" reading across my cellular device. Maybe he's having thanksgiving dinner?
Er, or perhaps he started eating at twelve when he said he would call and is suffering from "Turkey Tired Syndrome". That's why he can't bother to pick up the phone. I bet he's so exhausted from digesting the poor bird his fingers can't even make dialing motions. That's exactly why.
WELL THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULD BECOME A VEGETARIAN!
Or maybe this is a sign. Sometimes it's the conversations you don't have that are the ones that say the most.
Who will be the first to make a move? Will the phone ring before I dial his number?
RING DAMN IT! RING!
For centuries women have awaited the call of their suitors, a letter, a wire or even a herald would give news of a lady's beau. They however, would probably have remained elegantly calm and collected. I just sound as if I've O.D. on cough sirup and taken up Belle's habit of talking to inatimate objects. Particularly communicating devices.
How infuriating! Does the opposite sex not understand the amount of stress this habit of theirs creates? I have already downed three slices of cake. This my friends, is what we females call....
" Anger Eating!"
We devour any sort of high fat, calorie heavy food in sight. Tearing at pizza slices as if it was the problem or *ahem*the heads of the people causing the problem *Ahem Ahem*
My goodness terrible this pneumonia. Just awful. Time for more cough sirup!
Anyhoo, I'm smothering my sorrow with sugar whilst my eyes are drawn to "No new messages" reading across my cellular device. Maybe he's having thanksgiving dinner?
Er, or perhaps he started eating at twelve when he said he would call and is suffering from "Turkey Tired Syndrome". That's why he can't bother to pick up the phone. I bet he's so exhausted from digesting the poor bird his fingers can't even make dialing motions. That's exactly why.
WELL THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULD BECOME A VEGETARIAN!
Or maybe this is a sign. Sometimes it's the conversations you don't have that are the ones that say the most.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
When you don't know the answer.
I hate the feeling of not knowing the answer.
Be it on a test, or even just in a social situation, it frustrates me to no end. It 's like jumping of a cliff and realizing you have no idea how deep the lake your about to land in is. Not only is it too late to go back, but the situation could have been avoided if only you had taken the time to think about it.
I failed my learner's test, by one question. To make matters worse, I had circled the correct answer and crossed it off thinking it wrong.
People keep asking why I'm so sick, what I have, what is wrong with me. But I don't know. The doctors don't know either. I shiver, my heart races, my temp rises and falls more than the canadian dollar has in the last two years. My parents are worried, and my coughing keeps them up at night. I wish I could promise them I really am okay. But I don't know if I'm okay.
Today we had a line test in drama. I thought I knew all my lines. I studied religiously and memorized. Every night this week.
But I forgot to highlight a line. Forgot to remember it. Forgot to say it.
And I Hate the feeling of not knowing an answer.
Be it on a test, or even just in a social situation, it frustrates me to no end. It 's like jumping of a cliff and realizing you have no idea how deep the lake your about to land in is. Not only is it too late to go back, but the situation could have been avoided if only you had taken the time to think about it.
I failed my learner's test, by one question. To make matters worse, I had circled the correct answer and crossed it off thinking it wrong.
People keep asking why I'm so sick, what I have, what is wrong with me. But I don't know. The doctors don't know either. I shiver, my heart races, my temp rises and falls more than the canadian dollar has in the last two years. My parents are worried, and my coughing keeps them up at night. I wish I could promise them I really am okay. But I don't know if I'm okay.
Today we had a line test in drama. I thought I knew all my lines. I studied religiously and memorized. Every night this week.
But I forgot to highlight a line. Forgot to remember it. Forgot to say it.
And I Hate the feeling of not knowing an answer.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
"I Love my Crazy Friends"
The first time I saw a t-shirt with this statement printed on it, I was in Quebec roaming around with "The gang" and our exchange students. Honestly, I couldn't express how true that t-shirt is. Friends are possibly one of the most important parts of a person's life. That's next to family and breathing (however good friends would probably find you a gas mask or attempt to preform CPR if the need arised).
Not only do they hold your hand during needles, pull all the thorns out of your hair when you roll into rose bushes, share their food when you forget your lunch, make science fun by becoming "Periodic Table Ninjas" or call you at midnight to sing you happy birthday, there even exists wonderful fantastical people who will help you snag a bigger part in the play. That's right, you are reading Grandma Georgina's blog.
Although this might not seem too inexplicably amazing if you have not read the script for "Charlie and the Glass Elevator", try to imagine this:
An ancient Grandmother wearing nothing but a night shirt in all her wrinkly glory, speaking with a trailer park southern accent, floating in space and using her mouth as a jet propeller to gravitate in a glass elevator.
Yes, it's that awesome. A big thank you to "The Bucket" family.
I am eternally gratefully.
May we join hands, if we be crazy friends.
Arctic Hipster
Not only do they hold your hand during needles, pull all the thorns out of your hair when you roll into rose bushes, share their food when you forget your lunch, make science fun by becoming "Periodic Table Ninjas" or call you at midnight to sing you happy birthday, there even exists wonderful fantastical people who will help you snag a bigger part in the play. That's right, you are reading Grandma Georgina's blog.
Although this might not seem too inexplicably amazing if you have not read the script for "Charlie and the Glass Elevator", try to imagine this:
An ancient Grandmother wearing nothing but a night shirt in all her wrinkly glory, speaking with a trailer park southern accent, floating in space and using her mouth as a jet propeller to gravitate in a glass elevator.
Yes, it's that awesome. A big thank you to "The Bucket" family.
I am eternally gratefully.
May we join hands, if we be crazy friends.
Arctic Hipster
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sweet things only take up a moment of your time
The fact I'm trying (emphasis on Trying) to cut back on the baked goods for the sake's of my family's and friend's health, has left me feeling a bit bitter lately among other conflicts. Although this last week has been hard, and does not seem as if it will get any better, I'm hoping in making a list of sweet things today will feel a bit more....sugary. I'm writing quickly considering tomorrow is the first day of dance rehursals for " Charlie and the glass elevator: Micheal Jackson tribute". Most pleasant things take only a minute though, so here goes...
Reasons to smile...
Tonight my family and I embarked on an adventure to purchase orange juice
I almost can put my feet completly on the ground in the yoga position of downward facing dog
We received our information package about the child in Africa we are sponsoring
Her name is Febby
Today "The Guitar Playing Hippie" and laughed at yet another inside joke
We have inside jokes
I adore him...even more than cookies.
Found an amazing recipe for spicy mexican brownies
Had no homework tonight
It was twenty two degrees... IN SEPTEMBER!!!
There is a breath taking sunset right now
My dad just called me "Macadamia Nut"
Mom read from "Ink Spell" using her teacher voice
I just thought of the "David HassleHoff Contest" on Megan's blog, then remembered her cooking.
Nichola, the italian exchange student said Hi to me this morning
Tomorrow is a brand new day, and honestly there is nothing that could be sweeter.
Arctic Hipster
Reasons to smile...
Tonight my family and I embarked on an adventure to purchase orange juice
I almost can put my feet completly on the ground in the yoga position of downward facing dog
We received our information package about the child in Africa we are sponsoring
Her name is Febby
Today "The Guitar Playing Hippie" and laughed at yet another inside joke
We have inside jokes
I adore him...even more than cookies.
Found an amazing recipe for spicy mexican brownies
Had no homework tonight
It was twenty two degrees... IN SEPTEMBER!!!
There is a breath taking sunset right now
My dad just called me "Macadamia Nut"
Mom read from "Ink Spell" using her teacher voice
I just thought of the "David HassleHoff Contest" on Megan's blog, then remembered her cooking.
Nichola, the italian exchange student said Hi to me this morning
Tomorrow is a brand new day, and honestly there is nothing that could be sweeter.
Arctic Hipster
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