The First Day

This was an English assignment for school that I decided to share with you, because my blog has been left to dust and decay long enough. Tell me what you think.

Julia was most decidedly nervous. She knew she was nervous because her stomach hurt, her hands were sweaty and her heart was fluttering madly in her chest. All of these together indicated extreme nervousness. After a few moments of deliberation, she decided that it was OK to be nervous. Everyone was nervous on their first day of school. This thought comforted her little.

Time seemed to speed up towards the moment when the car wheels slowed their revolutions, the minivan pulling up to the multi-story building. Julia's breath came in short gasps as she watched the steady flow of students through the rain washed windows. She decided that she was scared as well as nervous. Some of these people were enormous and even though she knew it was impossible, at that moment she was afraid of being stepped on.

“Ready?” Julia was snapped our of her reverie by the sound of her mothers voice.

“Mhmmm...” Julia answered noncommittally and gathering shreds of courage together she stepped out of the car into a moving maelstrom of activity and high-pitched voices. Walking up to those front steps felt like one of the hardest things she would ever have to do. Julia pushed against the flowing tide of people, reinforced by her mother's hand at her back.New students shivered in corners as old students yelled greetings and reviewed their summers at the top of their lungs.

Suddenly, Julia stepped out of this chaos and confusion in to a peace filled room. In the doorway stood a comfortable looking woman with a lovely smile. Timidly, Julia smiled back, and some of the butterflies stopped fluttering. She was still nervous but she didn't think she was frightened anymore.

The rest of the class filed in, each child shrinking against a firm parent. All of the children wore frightened grimaces and as each one met their new teacher the grimaces slowly faded away to be replaced by overwhelming relief. Julia had decided that Miss Hardman was definitely nice and as she ran her hands over the smooth, shiny surface of her desk, she realized that she had no butterflies at all. She wasn't nervous at all.

“Hello children, and welcome to Grade 1. I'm your teacher, Miss Hardman.” All of this was said in a soft, mellow voice that reminded Julia of soft caramels. She liked it a lot. Miss Hardman was a nice looking person. Her dark hair fell in soft folds around her neck and shoulders and her brown eyes glowed with warmth and friendliness. Everything about her proclaimed that was a teacher and companion of small children. Her faded cardigan and worn skirt exuded comfortable usage, but the best thing about her was her smile. When Miss Hardman smiled, everyone else did too. Julia felt no doubt at all that school was going to be pretty great.

Gleekiness

I am a HUGE Gleek...at least I love the music. I disdain to comment about the show because though I'm sure it has many wonderful moments...well, we won't go there.

For those of you who don't know what a Gleek or Glee is, I shall explain. Basically Glee is a TV show about a glee club (a glee club is where you sing and dance and stuff). They sing a lot of awesome songs and its pretty awesome. The TV show itself, however, isn't so awesome, for the simple fact that its about modern day high school kids, who do modern day high school kids stuff...if you get my drift. But I just don't watch the show, and I wallow in the wonderful music instead. Like I said, it's pretty awesome.

They do covers of some of my favorite songs, and I'll show you a few just cause I feel nice and anyone who hasn't heard glee...well, they just haven't lived.

I die and come back to life every time I hear this song...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDW_mD5oknA

and also with this song...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d2HHg5PHHw

This song just makes me feel happy...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d2HHg5PHHw

Those are some of my favorites, and I know, I need a life. But why would I want a life when I could just listen to glee all day?

Wisdom Teeth and Massive Needles for Elephants

It seems to me, whenever I write on this blog, I'm either in vast amounts of pain, or I'm regaling you with an embarrassing, if funny, story.

Today...I'm in pain. I got my wisdom teeth out yesterday...yep, I now look like a chipmunk with its mouth full of nuts and berries. It is not a very comfortable feeling.

Getting your wisdom teeth out hurts like.....heck. NO, I was not going to swear, although I feel an awful lot like it. If you had somebody stick five needles in your mouth, slice a hole in your gums, break your tooth, and drag it out, piece by piece, you would feel like swearing!

Something also went wrong during the surgery, and now I have stitches in my cheek and two of my wisdom teeth were not taken out. I THINK it was because my mouth was too small. As my delightful dentist said with chagrin, "Don't ever let anybody tell you you have a big mouth...because you don't." Anybody who thinks I have a big mouth can go stuff it, so there. He said (My dentist that is) that we would have to wait to get my top two wisdom teeth out until they erupt. Which made me think of Mount Etna. I sincerely hope we are not waiting until my wisdom teeth spew lava all over the inside of my mouth.

Another horrifying aspect of this tale: I was actually awake during the whole thing...I heard EVERYTHING. Every grisly crunch and sickening scrape was mine to cherish. I also felt a great deal. Although I had a massive amount of freezing done, I could feel the pressure as they drilled into your bone. I am expecting horrifying nightmares.

Did I also tell you that needles terrify me? When my dentist pulled out this massive needle, I felt my heart stop. Surely they only used those on elephants? I looked frantically around the room. No elephants. I cringed inside. Looked like I was in for it.

To be strictly truthful, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. They gave me some freezing gel, so it could have been a lot worse. I could feel the needle go in. I could feel the pressure. But I wasn't writhing on the floor in gargantuan amounts of pain. Be that as it may, needles in the roof of your mouth are VERY painful. I don't really recommend them.

Right now, I am kinda high. For the past 24 hours I've either been filled to the brim with freezing drugs stuff, or filled to the brim with pain killers. I'm not operating or driving heavy machinery any time soon. But hey, at least I can't feel much. Oh the beauty of our modern drugs...they make you act like an idiot, but at least your not in pain.

P.S.-Can you tell that the painkillers started kicking in about halfway through this blog post? Disregard any strange turn of phrase....and if I send you an email today, disregard that too. I'm really not myself. :D




Wisdom Teeth (Not mine)

Pain, Orthodontics, and Ditzy Women

I am in pain. Seriously, I'm not joking. It feels like someone is pulling my teeth out half a millimeter at a time, with a pair of pliers. Like I said, Ow.

To understand my pain (and why I'm feeling it) I should start at the beginning of my story instead of the end. I had braces, HAD. I got those horrible metal torture devices off yesterday. After 2 years of dare I say, absolute purgatory, I am free. Why am I still in pain, you may ask? Well...

I was jolted out of sleep by the blaring of a radio somewhere inside the middle of my ear. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I realized the alarm clock wasn't actually inside my head. Relieved, I turned if off and glared at the faintly luminous numbers. I am most definitely NOT a morning person, and 6 am is pure suicide. I got out of bed feeling fairly out of it and definitely not all there. The orthodontist was a sadist, I decided. He delighted in torturing me by making me get up for a 7:20 am appointment. I didn't even know they were OPEN at 7:20.

Somehow, and seriously I have NO recollection, I got ready and because my parents are heartless and enjoy my suffering just as much as my orthodontist, I walked the 20 minutes to my appointment. When I am fully awake, walking is child's play. Asleep, it is slightly more difficult. I'm surprised I was not hit by a car or mugged by...well, someone.

Miraculously, I made it and got safely seated by the...whatever those people are called who do everything to your teeth. Orthodontic Assistant? I quickly decided that this particular OA was a flake, if not a complete ditz. I'm not being cruel or exaggerating. As I held my mouth wide open for her better access to my pearly whites, she poured a steady stream of questions into my ear. Here is a sample of our conversation:

OA: (in a falsely bright voice) "So, I bet your REALLY glad to be getting you braces off right?" (giggles)

Me: "Uh-uh" (spit spews everywhere)

OA: Well, and how is school going for you?"

Me: "Eh eh ooh" (I try manfully to make myself understood as she shoves her fist into the side of my cheek)

OA: "Well, that's good. Do you have plans for the summer?" (grinning cheerfully)

Me: (tears welling in my eyes as she tugs a little TOO hard) "AHHH...uh-huh"

And it goes on...and on...and on. Having exhausted the stream of available questions that she can direct towards me, and having removed the last bracket, she pulls out what looks like a miniature electric sand-paper thingy and proceeds to polish my teeth with it, inflicting a great deal of discomfort, if not pain, on me, AND complaining about the motor for the sanding thingy at least 5 times.

She finishes polishing my teeth, removing the last bit of glue. I go to rinse my mouth out. I look in the mirror and gaze at myself in some shock. My cheeks are covered with blood, and my gums are bleeding profusely. I kid you not. It was disgusting. Apparently, your gums are all swollen and sensitive from the braces so when, as the OA so wittily put it, you even look at them, they bleed. Well, my gums were bleeding and sore.

I hastily scrubbed the dried blood from my cheeks and swished my mouth with water. And then I smiled because my teeth were beautiful (they still are), if I do say so myself. After admiring myself in the mirror for a while, I hurried back. I then got my picture taken several times, and an x-ray. All the while the cheerful OA spewed out a steady stream of comments and instructions. I wanted to do something drastic.

Finally, the orthodontist saw me, gave me the OK and I escaped with my positioner, which is the last word in torture and the reason for my discomfort and pain. It is a big hunk of plastic that fits on to my teeth, holding them in place and moving them slightly. Tweaking, as my OA, ever cheerful, called it. I have to wear it after dinner and to bed, which would explain my bad mood. I woke up last night because of the aforementioned feeling of having my teeth yanked out. Here is a picture, just for you:

I am in pain.

Teusday Challenge

Teudsay Challenge, or rather Tuesday Challene, or rather tuesday challenge (finally)

My friend Gwen made it up. Its where you can't backsapce for you r whole post...i know. its rather neve racking and i'm typing a lot slower than normal becasue i don't want to look like a complete idiot. Its not realy working.\dang!

Anyways, today my moteh (mother) my soster (sister) and my other sister and my other sister adn my baby broher( brotehr, or ratehr brother) and I, all went t o canmore (its in the moutains for all of you who don't live in alberta) to get my little baby brother a Thudguard. What is a thudguard you might well ask? well, a thuydguard is a tiny helmest you put on a baby who insists on baning his head continously on the floo (i meant to say banging and floor). We were afraid he might sutain some brain damage because of the continuous banging, thus the thudguard.

That is a thudguard and although my sister maria insists it make s john look like a moron, i would have to disagree, becasue I think he looks absolutely adorable.

After we got the thudguard we went to a coffe shop, and i drank chocolate mik (milk) and had !/3 or 1/3 of a cinnamon bun. It was very yummy and satisfying and though it was raining cats and dogs i had a great deal of fun and engjoyed myself immensely. Canmore is beautiful and the mountains are big and majestic and they make you think about how silly those people are who think God doesn't exisst. Looking at those mountains all i could think about was how stupid people who've seen the moutnains are, who say God doesn't exist are. I'm not making myself very clear i know but its difficult when you can't baksapce and get rid of your excess words. oh well...

Today is also my b mothers b-day. I've got to scitter cause wer are haveing CAKE!!!! yum...

The Joy of Reading (Good Books)

My sister laughs at me when I say this but...my favorite feeling is after I've read a good book. After reading those last magic words, I sigh, giggle joyfully and contemplate the beauty of such a wonderful and lovely book. I usually go back and read my favorite parts, those parts where you felt a little tingle travel up and down your spine, making your heart beat faster and your imagination to light up with the words on the page.

I am not really doing adequate justice to such a feeling or such books, because for those who know, it is a wonderful and lovely feeling. You've been somewhere else for hours, somewhere enchanting and different. When you wake up from the story, you are still drunk on those magic words. It's enough to make you go into a hermetic lifestyle just to read.

Those of you who have never felt this, those who feel that I am coming it a little strong, you have absolutely no idea what you are missing. There are worlds and people and emotions that you can experience just by cracking open a book. Books take you places and introduce you to people. And as long as there is a satisfying ending, well-chosen words, and a gripping story, I love to read.

Ouch...

Right now I'm in the process of figuring out the basis of my short story...it's difficult but I think I'm onto a good thing.

In other news, it rained today! I love the rain :D.

Sigh...I am really, really sorry. I am so tired I can hardly form a coherent though. Nothing interesting comes to mind and I have absolutely no anecdotes or wise words to impart. My brain hurts, my elbows hurt, my fingers hurt. I am one big ball of pathetic hurtingness and my yawns are splitting my head in half. Oh woe is me...

Tomorrow will be a better day. I shall write part 1 of my story, and please deal with me honestly. Criticism is not wanted, but it is needed. I shall nurse my bruised ego in private, make the changes, and bite the bullet (I've always wanted to say that and I've never had a chance!)

Anyways, I'm going to have soak in a hot bath to bruise my aching feet and brain. Don't judge me, I think I'm coming down with a cold...

I Need Feeback!

So...

I'm kinda stuck for ideas of what to tell you about today. No little bits of wisdom, funny stories(embarrasing more like), or crazy ideas come to mind.

However, the lovely Maria, my sister, suggested I write short stories on my blog, for practice. Tell me what you think. Unless the idea is absolutely repulsive to you, I think I might try my hand at some light fiction.

Oh and a few ideas wouldn't be remiss either. I'm kinda stuck on ideas right now. Writers block...sigh.

Parentheses and Me

Parentheses and I have a problem, or rather I have a problem with parentheses. I shall now make a resolution not to use parentheses on this post, but only on this post for if I cut them from every post I am afraid my soul couldn't bear the strain. If I slip up and one sneaks in I give you permission to slam me in the comments.

Today I had piano. I was afraid. I felt as though I was going to vomit.

The reason for my strange stomach movements and my nonsensical fear was the fact that I hadn't practiced more than twice this week and I was ridiculously unprepared. Realistically, there was little grounds for such fear. But stomachs don't deal in reality. Despite the fact that my lovely music teacher wouldn't hurt a fly OR skin me alive, I felt myself sweating as I entered her apartment. I had my lesson, and about halfway through I found myself laughing at that earlier fear...fear always seems funny when you look back at it.

Anyways, piano is over, I wasn't skinned alive and I'm not afraid anymore...until my next lesson, when I think I really will vomit.

p.s.-Don't get me wrong, I love piano. However, Its terrifying when you haven't practiced and you are totally unprepared. Learn from my mistakes and BE PREPARED!!!! (Hoodwinked reference! (oops))

My Fatheadedness and Swollen, Bloody Noses

I am a fathead. Although I am a fathead, I am the only person who is aloud to call me a fathead. If anybody else did, you would get a punch in the nose, though you would be speaking the truth. You held firmly to the truth, and for your pains you would have a swollen, bloody nose. You might have guessed I don't enjoy people telling me the truth about me. I much prefer being told sweetly flattering lies, and living my life in blissful ignorance.

And now I am woefully off course. To yank myself back to the pleasant topic of my fatheadedness, I shall relate to you a true story, about a spacey, forgetful girl (me), who's only wish in life was to arrive on time for her piano lesson but who instead go horribly muddled.

Every Wednesday I have a piano lesson at 2:30, and I am usually driven by one of my devoted, doting, darling parents. Today, however, was DIFFERENT. Today, I took the bus or rather, I tried to take the bus. I set out from my house in good time to catch the train from Dalhousie Station, getting off at Brentwood where I was supposed to catch the 20 Heritage bus.

As I stepped off the train, I glanced at my watch and realized with apprehension that I was rather behind schedule (due to the fact that trains don't always arrive on time). This apprehension sent a signal to my legs, and they responded with a half-hearted gallop.

Coming into view of the Bus Stops below me, my half-hearted gallop turned into a whole-hearted sprint as I watched the 20 prepare to leave. In a last humongous effort, I charged down the stairs, onto the bus, and collapsed on my seat. Upon my triumph, I quickly proceeded to pull out my book, falling into a reverie. I was shaken out of my reverie, by the realization that I had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHERE THE BUS WAS TAKING ME! In short, I was on the wrong bus.

As this realization coursed through my soul and proceeded to burn and turn to ash any self-respect I had up till now held for myself, I just sat there, stunned. What the jumping jehovah witnesses was I going to do!? A quick glance at my watch told me there was absolutely no hope of getting to my lesson on time, and as I had no idea where I was I decided on my course of action. I waited...and waited...and waited...

Until at long last the bus swept into Brentwood Station and I was able to take my burning cheeks and ashes home.

To be met by the indignation of my family at my stupidity. All of which I richly deserve.

Oh, and I just want to make one point clear. Yes, I take the bus quite often, and yes, this is the first time I've ever taken the wrong bus before. I'm normally not that stupid (I hope).

Highlights, Embarrasing Stories, Favorite Authors, and Ignorant Worms

I'm not really in the mood to blog...however, I figure I owe it to you (unless you find me terribly annoying) to bring you the highlights of my day.

Today's Highlight: Today, I went to the library to do my work. I relish going to the library, but today I stayed much too long (probably due to the fact that I finished working in 1 hour, and I read for 2).

As I got ready to leave, I could spot several high-school age persons trying to look disinterested in my study area, and failing miserably. Leaving my desk, I proceeded to trip over the leg of my chair, drawing unwanted attention (and scorn) to myself and almost falling flat on my face in front of several cute boys. Although I was ready to die with the shame of it all, I think I carried off the situation quite well. I smirked (I think) and kept walking, as my face slowly turned red. Once I was out of sight I dissolved in laughter, much to the mystification of several elderly ladies, who must have thought I was mentally challenged (or high). Anyways, that was the high point of my day. Life is wonderful (or at least so I'm told).

Now that I've gotten that off my chest...I have absolutely no idea what to write about. My brain is exceedingly sluggish today (story of my life) and I am having difficulty even putting a full sentence together without making the most glaring of grammatical errors or the most shame-worthy spelling mistakes.

Oh, I know. Lets talk about books. I dearly love a good read. Some of my favorite authors (not that you're interested) are: Jane Austen, Eion Colfer, Pamela Aiden, Ngaio Marsh, Dorothy Sayers, Shakespeare (Duh), etc., etc., etc. The list goes on and on. I'm too lazy too finish it, and I'm sure you would be too bored to read it.

What about you, my long-suffering, but ever dear reader? Who are your favorite authors? Oh, and tell me a funny embarrassing story about yourself, please. It isn't fair that your should get to laugh at me. Everything should go by halves. I want to laugh too :D.

Sayonara, Arrivederci, Au Revoir, Goodbye, etc. (I do that just to show you how smart I am. Bow down to my superior intellect, you ignorant worms!) (just kidding, I know you're not really worms)

My Life So Far...(not really)

So...my life so far. I know what you're thinking, at least I know what I am thinking. "Really Beth, your doing a post about YOUR life? (shakes head) How narcissistic, not to mention boring! My friend, get a life (I would think that if I had any friends)". I mean really, what have I done (of importance) with my 15 years so far?...don't answer that.

No, I'm not going to regale you with my mind-numbingly boring life story A) because it is mind-numbingly boring, B) because parts of it are embarrassing to myself and C) I am (hopefully) not THAT narcissistic as to think you would care or give a damn. (although i do talk to myself)

Beth says (to herself) "Ahem! Then why do you have a blog?" Beth answers, "oh shut up".

OK. So, the point I'm trying to make is...a lot of people think that everybody else cares or gives a damn about their life story (people my age or a little older). So, these people my age go out, and shout their grievances to the world. And the awful truth is, society today encourages this. Seriously, facebook, twitter, myspace... a public diary where people air their thoughts, little remembering that everyone can see their public display. Its amazing how forgetful people are of the fact that what they put on the computer STAYS on the computer...and can go on to ruin their life.

The moral of the story is...something. I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself.

(oh and i haven't been putting up posts for such a long time because i'm lazy...aint it sad?)

The Kiwanis Music Festival

A few days ago I had the EXTREME pleasure(not) of participating in the Kiwanis Music Festival. For all you unknow-it-alls who don't know what that is, I'm not explaining. Let it suffice to say that it is nerve laceration to the nth degree. However, I was determined to see it through with style and panache.

As my mother and I drove up to the tallest building on the Sait campus(the directions given us by the incompetent women working for the Kiwanis), searching for a parking place that wouldn't cost a small fortune, my heart beat accelerated till I felt sure that it would pop out of my mouth. Either that or all my blood vessels would burst. Getting out of the car my hair was whipped around and my skirt sent flying by the icy wind and I cursed Calgary for the hundredth time. Of course, parking cost a fortune in small change, most of which I provided. And I was hyperventilating.

After extensive searching, we found the entrance and made our way to the 22nd floor lounge. Stepping into the silent room, I could almost smell the fear. Ten children most probably pushed into this by pushy parents (not you mom). We sat down in the back, the better to view the competition. All in all I was ready to jump out the window. The only thing holding me back was the thought that deep down I really wanted to go up their and play that grand piano. I wanted to harrow some soul.

And so my turn came. All I remember is the uncontrollable shaking of my pedal foot and the thought that I could NOT mess up. The rest is just so much blurry imagery. My mom says I did a great job. I'll take her word for it.

I didn't win anything. Apparently I wasn't playing emotionally enough. But all's well that ends well (Shakespeare), until next year when I really WILL have a heart attack.

Sunday, Daylight Savings, Me, and the Flu

Today I went to mass and after mass I went to a baptism. It was a beautiful baptism.
After the baptism the family and I went to a small party at the home of the newly baptized baby, where I promptly sat down and almost fell asleep.

I AM SO TIRED! I hate daylight savings with a passion. It robbed me of one hour of beautiful sleep last night and I vow to take revenge (how I am not so sure). Though it was rather nice to have the sun go down later, I still resent the fact that MY sleep patterns have been disrupted (what sleep patterns?!). How dare anything inconvenience me?

But no, I am being heavily sarcastic. Really its not that bad. Very soon I will have forgotten my anger, like I forget everything, and I will move on with my life.

In other news, Jane was puking up her guts yesterday. Yep, she has the flu, the exact same flu I had almost 2 weeks ago. Well not exactly the same seeing has I didn't vomit everywhere. Nevertheless, she is quite ill, and it looks like the mother will soon join her. Poor me will be left to hold the fort and look after John (who is almost 6 months and who can roll over). Oh Joy.

Shopping, My Feet, and Brain Vomit

I just got home from the mall...ughhh. I am exhausted! Anyways, for about 3 hours I walked around, flipped through piles of clothing, went through the humiliation of trying on a few items...all for ONE shirt!

I know what you must be thinking right now. Wow, that crazy girl, she is insane and in serious need of a strait jacket.

Or maybe you are like me, and you do the same thing every weekend. Don't get me wrong, I hate shopping. Really, I do. It's just that sometimes(about every weekend) I forget that I hate it so much. On a Saturday morning I lie in bed wondering what to do. 3 hours later, I inevitably end up moaning because my stupid feet hurt soooo much. Right now my feet are very sore.

Well, I think that is probably about as much brain vomit as you can handle from me for one day so I will say Sayonara, and go soak my feet.

Sprained Ankles, the Bus, and Rude Young Girls

So a few weeks ago i sprained my ankle...getting off the bus. Lying on the hard pavement, with people stepping over me, I mourned the loss of that thing called courtesy.

As a young girl glanced disdainfully down on me, asking in loud voice, "What's wrong with her?!", I blushed, because for a moment I felt that I was in the wrong. How dare I sprain my ankle and get in her way?

Anyways, the point I am trying to make is that young people today have had no courtesy or respect beaten into them with a wooden spoon as I or my siblings have. Instead they flit around thinking about...themselves.

How sad.