Morning? No, I must have slept in…

Today I woke up at 6 and freaked out.

I had slept through the entire day! What the hell? Why does this happen to me? I also wondered why I wasn’t too hungry, but dismissed it.

Also, My friend had asked me to grab her some booze since I’d be going to the LCBO anyway (and, since she lives in Ottawa, her parents want her to visit tonight :S), and I didn’t do it!!! Dammit! So I texted her to say sorry.

Then I checked my e-mail, checked Facebook, all the usual things, and wondered why there was so little activity.

Did no one actually notice that I was out of action the whole day? The hell?

I checked the date, and sure enough it wasn’t the 11th anymore. I checked my texts, and the last ones were from yesterday…

Then I noticed that there was more light than the usual coming from my window.

Oh.

Oooooh… I see…

When I checked my phone to check the time again, I finally noticed the little AM next to the time.

Oh….

Then I realized just how BAD that is. Aside from the not checking for am vs pm thing…

Yes, I freaked out appropriately about the sleeping the whole day.

Then I freaked out about not getting booze…

I feel more like a university student this morning than I have for a while…

I also realized that I hadn’t even considered that it might just be 6am. That it might be morning.

I skipped that possibility entirely for the OH MY GOD reaction of having slept for THAT long.

I also just had to text my friend again to say that Never Mind, I Was Mistaken About The Time…

So this will be interesting meal conversation later…

Jeez…

So here is my Fail of the day. Hope you all enjoyed 😛

I think it’s pretty funny, even though I’m not looking forward to being teased about it later today 😀

Happy Thursday.

Insanity is Mean

I realized as I was rereading what I posted before this that Insanity can be mean. A real bitch sometimes, actually.

Insanity is usually pretty fun, even if it’s more than unwise to listen to her. Or him, if you’re a guy.

But Insanity is also the one who creates doubts. Insanity is the voice niggling at the back of your mind, poking at your fatty brain tissue, making fun of your frontal lobe from their position from a dark corner. Insanity is the one to convince you that those people you walked past? Yeah, the ones who were just laughing?

Yeah, they were laughing at YOU.

Why? Because you’re STUPID and UGLY and WEAK. You look like  pussy today, and that guy who just handed you that thing you dropped is thinking you’re a stupid bint.

What’s a bint? You’re so stupid, it’s something that sounds like a british person would say it. a british person probably HAS said it.

British people are cooler than you.

You shouldn’t try to fake an accent, even as a joke though. Because that’s RACIST!

Insanity is the one who also convinces you to do embarrassing things. Especially when you’re not paying attention to Sanity.

This happens a lot when you’re really tired, or, I guess, drunk.

It’s a great idea to text your friend at 4 am. Hm. They aren’t responding. Try calling.

It’s a great idea to try to lick your nose right now.RIGHT NOW. Now see how far you can stick out your tongue. How long is that thing anyway?

You can Dance. You’re a great Dancer. DANCE ALREADY! See, everyone’s eyes are on you, you’re fabulous!

HAH! Trip on air!

You should tell a joke. How about “You just dropped your pocket.” Tell someone that. Now.

Lets paint our hands… then sleep.

Insanity can be fun, yes, but without Sanity alert enough to help our regular mentality filter through the ideas for the good and bad and maybe later, Insanity will lead you to a room you don’t want to be in.

That room will either have bars or a lot of padding on every wall.

In this mysterious room, you will also be given ‘fun’ new clothes. One has extra long arms and straps all over, and the other is classically portrayed as black-and-white striped or Orange.

You don’t want to go to this room.

Listen to Sanity, please.

Don’t wear Paint(ed on) Pants.

Don’t scream randomly in class, no matter how curious you are to see what would happen.

Don’t stay up to all hours of the night unless you have NOWHERE TO BE for the next (at least) THREE DAYS!

Don’t try to tell your teacher an “In your pants” joke.

Use your Sanity filters wisely

In Your Pants

My sister reading this after November will read the title of this and think i am talking of the game “In your pants” where you add that to the end of book titles. This game doesn’t always work, for those of you who want to try it, but for many books it works. I learned of this game from the vlogbrothers, specifically from John Green. One of my friends is reading a rather religious sounding book for one of her classes… “The Hand of God”(in your pants). Other examples that I can think of are “The story of E. E. Cummings” in your pants. “Storm Warning” in your pants. “Thief of Time” in your pants.

Just walk around your house and look at book titles with this thought in mind, you will find some funny ones.

But no, this post is about a different matter.

I’ve mentioned in other posts that I dislike people thinking that they’re fat (as in disliking the thought, not the people though they can get irritating), but I recently had an experience that made me think a bit hypocritically.

I was going through my clothes, mainly my skinny jeans because I wanted to wear a particular pair of boots, and was noticing that one or two didn’t fit. That was okay, as they were rather small on me anyway.

I went for my light blue skinny jeans, and it was alright, I shimmied into them and used the belt loops to tug them a bit higher–

ZTCCHHHHHT

That is the sound that DOOM makes. Coincidentally, that is also the sound jeans make when they rip.

The back of my pants, thankfully, didn’t rip, but I just about ripped the belt loops off.

Not just the belt loops though. The fabric that they were attached to. There’s a square little bit that looks like I was trying to cut around it and gave up halfway through.

You can’t rip a pair of pants while trying to wiggle into them without having some unsavory thoughts.

Aside from a mantra of swear words, I was also thinking… other things.

Oh my god I just ripped my pants… Seems like you did. Yes

I am so FAT! Yep. Fatso, fatty fatty fatso~! You aren’t fat.

Oh my god, I’m never going to be able to fit into any of my pants…. Nope! Never! And you’ll have to wear skirts all the time too! Shut up! You aren’t fat. Calm down. Think rationally.

I’m going to rip all of my pants when I try to get them on, I will never be able to wear my boots! NOOOOOO! No you won’t, but hey, a bright side is that a fatty like you will get big boobs! Quiet! You won’t, skinny jeans are the only things you have that are at that fits and is slightly too small stage.

I’m going to have to buy new pants… HAH! But you’re poor aren’t you? Buy more paint sets instead. We can paint on clothing instead. No one will notice! Just wear different pants. Calm down. 

I’m poor… I hate pants shopping… Don’t forget that you also have to buy really big bras too, since now that you’re turning into a fatty you’ll have bigger boobs! Go pants shopping now! You heard the other one, skinny jeans is all you have! I didn’t say that! You DO have other pairs of pants. Calm down already, you’re wasting time. You have to go meet friends.

Oh jeez, I DO have to meet them in–HOLY SH*T I’M LATE! Dooon’t wooorrry…. Your friends won’t care. Just bring out the paints and you’ll be ready to go I’m telling you, NO ONE will notice if you walk out with painted pants. Just do it.. Don’t paint yourself. It isn’t good for your body. Just put on that new pair you got last time we were at home. 

Oh right, I DO have those pants… Paint is cooler! Just get changed already…

That went on for a while, even as I was walking to the bus station. Insanity was certain that it would be fun to tell the friends that the pants were actually painted on, and Sanity was putting her foot down and it seemed as though she had pre-recorded a mantra of “Calm down, calm down already, calm down…” with random points of body self-esteem boosts throughout.

Occasionally I found myself wondering how cool it would be to paint one of my pants all whacked out colours, and Insanity suggested bleach as well, and I was well and truly distracted until I actually reached my friends and blurted out what Insanity suggested.

Hey guys, I just ripped my pants!

There was silence, and then they sort of leaned to one side and looked as if they were looking for me to have a huge split down my ass or something.

Sanity and I caught up on the conversation after our shock that I had actually started a conversation like that and hurried to assure than that no, I didn’t walk all the way here with ripped pants (Insanity giggled and told me that my friends thought I would do that. “They must have a GREAT impression of you!“), but had ripped the belt loops when I was getting changed.

Still, thoughts about fatness floated through my head even as I was thinking about how I know I’m not fat and am in fact very comfortable with my body in almost every situation… It was just this pants situation that threw me.

It was ridiculous in my pants.

Midterms

I wish that all of my Midterms were bunched together.. about a month ago I had my first midterm, I have a midterm tomorrow, and I have a part 2 midterm of my first midterm to deal with in another week.5.

I’m just glad that exams are all on the same week… I’m lucky, since I have two classes of studios, I only have 3 exams this semester… and My last exam is on the 19th… X-mas break starts the 22nd…

Which also happens to be my friend E’s birthday.

I’m thinking of doing a drawing for her, one of a blue giraffe.

Her fav colour is blue.

Her fav animal is a giraffe.

Why not?

Anyway, writing this because I’m taking a break from studying…

Also to complain that I ONLY have 2 midterms and an exam to get my marks up in Crit. Thinking class, and I have 2 essays + exam to hand in to my Essay Writing Class, and I still haven’t gotten my first exam back…

I’d rather have a bunch of assignments and tests throughout the year to add up a bunch of small marks rather than these very few big tests…

In Art History at least there are a bunch of small tests and assignments to boost the mark.

A good thing as history like this is, for the most part, as boring as a bent nail.

It might be interesting at first, but if you had a class that lasted for 3 hours, studying this bent nail, you would quickly get bored.

I’ve been listening to x-mas songs to alleviate some boredom (not in class, now), and I suggest Bob Rivers’ “Carol of the Bartenders”, “The bathroom door said ‘gentlemen'”, “Pokemon”, and “Walkin ’round in women’s underwear”.

All can be found on grooveshark.com, which also keeps me from boredom.

*sigh*

*THUNK* AAAAAH! Save the Birds

Today I was startled from working on Part 2 of my Woofstock post by a startling noise combination.

*Thunk*

AAAAAAHHHH!

And then general sounds of bustling around.

I had thought that perhaps someone in my family unfamiliar (like one of my parents, or Emma) with how to use our chuck-it (a ball flinger) had jokingly gestured with it towards our back deck, and, in the way luck usually goes, a ball was flung at one of our windows and the rebound nearly hit Lexy.

Maybe on the back of her head, maybe on her arm, but I was picturing it as it was nearly hitting her in the head.

No, not because I have secret wishes of violence towards Lexy, but because it is usually the worst possible (and most times most amusing) situation that runs through my head.

So I ran to the back door, expecting someone injured (possibly) and someone embarrassed (possibly), and likely someone laughing.

If no one was there to laugh, I feel a bit as if I would have been the one to laugh, after asking the needed “what’s wrong?”.

That was not the case.

No laughing.

No.

I looked out our screen door and saw Lexy pulling and excited looking Gwynn off of our back porch, and Mom and Dad looking worried.

It is at this point that I should tell you that my actual first thought about what the *THUNK* noise was, was that it was a bird, as many, many birds end up hitting into the window right next to the computer, and then fly away. occasionally a lesser *THIK* will hit the window, and it will turn out to be a rather large bug.

But this happens regularly, the *THUNK* fly away.

Less, now, that we have shadow stickers on our windows, but I’ll get more on that later.

But it was the following “AAH!” that threw me off, as well as a moment of poor directional hearing.

Here is a picture of the window by the computer in our living room.

To the left, if you could see below it, there would be the porch, and my sister sitting in a chair right below it...

The window that I thought the bird had hit was the one to the right. After I heard Lexy yell I thought that a ball had hit the window, not a bird, and that, as I said earlier, it hit Lexy (prompting the “Aah!”).

But back to the story. Lexy was pulling Gwynn away, and dad was not looking happy. In front of one of the chairs was a little yellow thing.

As you can see, this was no ball...

It was not a Ball.

And it was obvious why Gwynn was looking so excited.

He probably thought it was a chew toy that came from above.

Mom thought we should probably move it, but Dad was pretty stern in saying “NO.”

I remember last summer I was working up near Thunder Bay at a dock, cleaning off the underside of boats to prevent invasive species from spreading, and a woodpecker flew into a door. I was fairly far away at the time, and was pretty worried, but before I could get there, some people started crowding around.

One guy had the bright idea to try to pick it up.

The stunned woodpecker had enough energy to recognize that it was injured, and a large THING was touching it, so it did what any injured and confused animal would do.

It fled.

Flew a fair distance too, right into the edge of a dock, whereupon it sunk in the water.

So Mom did not move the bird. It was a good idea, at least in the mindset that Gwynn was still looking longingly at the bird, but we just took him inside for untill the bird left.

It did not move for a while either, but I could see its beak moving, probably from it freaking out.

We left it alone, making dinner (which had SOME mild interaction with it, since it was right in front of our bbq, and we needed it to make dinner), and I thought it had died from shock, since I couldn’t see its beak moving anymore.

It’s legs were pulled up tight to its body, and it’s beak wasn’t moving. I wasn’t about to feel and see if it’s chest was moving, so Dad suggested/Told us to leave it alone still.

I left for a while, and then, TADA! It wasn’t on its side anymore! It was just sitting on our porch!

HE LIVES! For now...

 It was very exciting, and dad was quick to point out that he was right in leaving it alone.

But it wasn’t moving after that.

What a great thing to happen on Father’s day, huh? And right in front of Dad too… But then again, it happened pretty much ON TOP of Lexy, so at least it isn’t as bad as it could have been.

I left again, after taking the picture, very happy that the little guy was living.

I have to admit that the reason why I decided to take pictures in the first place (besides the fact that I now have bloggeritis, a disease that says “take a picture, and write about it!”), was because if it didn’t live I was going to write a memorial Blog for it, and encourage people to put shadow stickers on their windows, but, it seems like the little guy had a will for life.

The next time I checked, he was still there, and even the time after that, and I was kind of worried about him possibly being dead even after standing up (“If I have to die be some strange bit of solid air, I’m gonna do it standing, dammit!”), but on the third check, he wasn’t there.

Now here’s where the crazy and sane parts of me kick in.

Sane: “YES! He LIVES! Fly Free and Alive Cute Yellow One!”

Insane: “Oh my GOD! Gwynn got out and ATE HIM!”

I happily told Mom and Dad about the fact that the bird was gone, since, the Sane part of me said that if Gwynn had gotten out, SOMEONE would have noticed, right?

Insane: “OhMyGOD! Hunter ATE HIM!!”

Sane went quiet.

For those of you who don’t know, Hunter is the stray black cat with green eyes that hunts around my back yard. He walks like a hunter, which is why I call him that, and he kills the pigeons in our backyard. Also, he walks like a villain in a children’s movie, like Edgar from Arisocats.

Mom calmed me down by saying that yeah, he few off a few minutes ago.

Sane breathed a sigh of relief, even as Insane muttered about how the Yellow One was safe, but the Pigeons probably weren’t.

I put off finishing off my Woofstock Pt 2 post to tell people about this struggle (?) for life, and about the hazards our windows pose for our feathered neighbors.

If you scroll up to the picture of the two windows by my computer, you will notice the shadowish looking bird shadow on the window to the right. That was put there so that it would show that there was something solid there, or at least something that the birds should avoid (hence the predator-bird shape, rather than a sparrow or something).

If you have window space that is clear , and have nothing in the way of it, please put up a sticker, or some other indication thing on your windows.

They do not damage your windows, and you don’t have to get them wet or sticky to put them on, though it is suggested to put them on the inside of your window rather than the outside.

Save your feathered friends the trauma of hitting a window.

It’s not a nice sound, and it is rather startling to see little poufs of feathers floating away, as once happened when a Bluejay hit the window.

That bird was well enough to fly away immediately (Insane muttered about the unfairness that none of the pretty feathers fell off, only the grey blah looking tiny ones), and this Yellow Finch today managed to fly away after about an hour of sitting in shock, but it is always a worry that some day Hunter will get a free snack, thanks to one of our windows.

Check out this site and this birding site  for some more ways to keep birds from hitting your windows.

Also, if you notice, hitting something when you are unaware of it is much more painful than if you notice it at the last second. Windows are always clear to birds, and it has the bad joke at the end in the fact that they still don’t know what hit them afterwards.

Not all birds are like Angry Bird, and can go through things like that.

He's angry because his brethren are being held up to his unrealistic standard! He will not stand for this!

 Save the Birds!

Buy a sticker!

Grades vs. Prom Dress Shopping

Hey all!

It was fairly recently (as in before I even started the blog) that my school gave out our midterms, something that means that, sometime soon, the school will then be sending out those grades to universities and colleges. That is something that is different than the past 11 years of my schooling, but there was one more thing that was radically different, at least for me;

This time I wasn’t dreading the marks.

This is what I used when Marks were coming in...

There is something that I should point out now, before I tell of my not-so unspectacular marks, and hopefully it will explain a bit as to why I took the courses that I did.  For the past three years I was pretty convinced that I wanted to go into Engineering, architectural or civil, and took courses that would get me into a good university so I could go on and BE an engineer. I did all the sciences, I took all the math’s, I did a lot of looking into the various kind of jobs that I could go into—all that stuff, and it was about 3/5th’s of the way through first semester this year that I realized quite how much I really didn’t want to deal with that.

My schedule went something like, physics, religion (I am not religious, but go to a catholic school), double art, and Advanced functions, and my schedule at the beginning of THIS semester was English, Calculus and Vectors, double art, and chemistry.

It was due to my Physics class paired with the fact that I was doing less than stellar in my math class that made me realize that I was mainly going for engineering because a) Lexy was an engineer, b) it would pay lots of money and would almost guarantee a job, c) I really like buildings, and thought it would be cool to be like “hey, I helped build/design that house/building/structure”, and a great deal of d) I don’t actually know what I want to do, and this seems like a good option.

Physics is a class that I didn’t really have an issue with in grade 11, but I don’t know whether or not it was the teacher this year, or because of the content, but I am absolutely serious in saying that if there is any way to avoid physics, I will. If someone offers me money to redo the class, it would have to be a large sum of money, and it would have to be on the promise to pay me double if I got higher than 70. I may sound violently against this, but that’s because I find it extremely easy to despise a subject that makes me feel like an absolute failure, no matter how much I study for it.

This is an example of Brownstone...isn't it awesome?

I think it may have also been the math in it and for those of you who haven’t realized yet, you kind of really need math (and Physics) to be an engineer.

Like, really, really need it.

So nope, I reevaluated everything, and figured out that no, I just really like old buildings (like Victorian and brownstone buildings), and I think that a majority of the idea of Eng as a career was because I had no clue what else I could do and figured that my sis was doing pretty well as an engineer, so why not?

I don’t know how many people go through their high school career thinking things like this, or maybe going for what seems convenient, but it was not a great feeling, realizing I could have been taking a number of more art-oriented courses.

In a way, I was kind of lucky that I didn’t use any of my spares (my school only allows two spare periods) first semester. Because there was no way that I would be able to get through the day with both Calc. and Chem. in one day. As it is now, I have only English and then after a spare, Art, and then I can go home. Escape! Bwahaha!

Ah! What a wonderful thing that is!

This is a Victorian building... I want to live here!!!!!

But I have pretty much gone almost entirely off track from report cards.

So yeah, report cards come around, and I’m not worried in the least. I did not do well in Math or Physics first semester, and I couldn’t get out of Chemistry until after midterms came out, so that was my lowest mark.

Anyway, including an online mark, my top six marks average up to 83.333… %, so I’m good for the average since it’s only the top six marks that universities look at. So I personally don’t see an issue, except that maybe I could get a couple of marks higher in my online course. However pretty much EVERYONE is cranking down on me to get higher marks, to watch my marks, to make sure that I do my best.

Really, I have two courses this semester, with one online course. Art is something that I could do with my eyes closed, and still get a high mark (I got a 93 in both courses), and English is my favourite subject, and I’m getting an 81 while in Advanced placement. Advanced Placement is exactly what it sounds like, and if your school has an IB program, it’s kind of like that.

I realize that the marks are important, but I really don’t believe that stressing over marks when they are fine is going to make them better. No, I don’t have as great marks as, say, Lexy did when she went to high school, but honestly I’ve grown up with people telling me that I shouldn’t hold myself up against, or try to be like Lexy, and yet this keeps on coming up?

This is my last few months as a high school student, and I will be acting like a total dork when I graduate and will probably only ever visit to be able to say “I’VE GRADUATED AND I’M NOT HERE FOR SCHOOL!”

I want to be able to enjoy it until the last week at least, where upon I will study my butt off for my single exam.

Until then I will do my assignments, fill out job applications for the summer, and look for a prom dress/grad. dress, WHICH, I might add, is stressful enough.

I have never seriously gone dress shopping until last weekend, and the trip only secured the knowledge that I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT IT REALLY MEANS TO DRESS SHOP.

Guys, if you are reading this and scoffing at the thought of dress shopping being that much harder than, say, suit shopping, then you are wrong. Those who have the y chromosome and have no interest in wearing (let along shopping for) a dress will now be regaled with the kinds of questions that one of my friends (who is more than adept at dress shopping) asked when we walked into the first dress shop. Please note that by the end you would probably be freaking out as much as I did, if not more.

Guys, you'd be freaking out like this kid, or perhaps like this horse...

This looks darker in real life, and looks (in my opinion) better on me than on this model... I don't really like it on the model...

What kind of cut do you want?

What length do you want?

Does the fabric matter to you?

Do you prefer sequins, ___ (insert something she mentioned but I have no clue what it is) ___ or stones?

Why don’t you want floor length?

What colours do you prefer?

Well then, what colours do you NOT want?

Do you have any idea of what LOOK you even want?

Did you want a halter top, strapless, ___, off the shoulder, blah-de-blah, insert-some-other-kind-that-made-me-baffled, or what?

Are you planning on wearing heels? Flats?

Do you want to be able to wear leggings with it?

And it went on like that; until it got t the point that I hid out in the changing room, and told my two friends to just grab whatever they think would look good, or whatever. And to just guess what size I am, ’cause the numbers freak me out. Why can’t they just put XL, L, M, S, or XS rather than the numbers? My one friend (the more than adept one, since Buddy#2 was just laughing because she had to go through this before, and already had her dress, and is just as not-adept as I am) said that I might be a 1, but that seems too small, but I tried on a 5 and it was TOOOO big. 

Yeah guys, a 5. In shoes that’s downright tiny, and it was too big as a dress.

 And Friend 1 was right, I’m a 1… pssh…

Quick bit of info about my two friends since I feel as ifI’ll be mentioning them again in the near-ish future: Friend 1 /Buddy #1(both will have code-names later probably) knows about dress shopping and is someone I’ve known since middle school, but only really got to know in highschool, and Friend 2/Buddy #2 is someone I’ve known since gr. 9, but have had almost all of my classes with her… Friend 2/Buddy #2  is not less than Friend 1/Buddy #1, but I figured for the moment I would call her 2 because i’ve known 1 longer. If you read this, 2, don’t shake your head at me, it’s certainly not MY fault that you didn’t go to a public school for middleschool ;P

And yes I realise that it’s also not YOUR fault that I didn’t go to a Catholic School in middleschool.

This is my third choice...

So I tactifully retreated (some may call it hiding), and occasionally came out in between fighting with zippers, stupid gauze-ey things that were supposed to tie in some odd fashion, zippers that HID from me and were infinitely more irritating than the ones that just fought with me, little clips and clasps that didn’t clip or clasp the right way, and got a couple of pictures of the ones that weren’t entirely horrible…

I’m fairly certain that the maker of the dresses were fairly devious when they were figuring out how ther wanted it to be tied and whatnot, since everything was complex enough that I had to get it readjusted once I got out… the only reason why I didn’t get help while puting it on was because I didn’t feel like flashing the entire store, nor did I want to go out of the changing rooms clutching the dress to my chest.

And yeah, the entire thing was mildly scarring for me, so I’m going to do my best to avoid that stuff in the future.

But hey, I got a couple of dress options that I like (second choice is here), and will probably be going to pick one of them up soon-ish…

But I’m not going to let prom shopping worry me any more than I’ll let grades worry me 😀

Instead I’ll wallow in agony over the fact that the prom tickets are $120 each, and the prom comittee, instead of booking us for a cool, old Opera house, decided to go to some sort of community hall-type thing…

Ciao~