La pluie au planete

Sometime, I would like to hear you say my name with the same reverance-
To admire one of my distinct qualities
That You Don't See

you're not looking

Meme les artichauds ont des coeurs...

The most beautiful and overwhelming feeling in the world;
So much emotion over a period of so little time.
Ah, and time, that beautiful, terrible thing.
And friends, those wonderful, wonderful, smiling eyes and hearts.
And songs, and families, curly hair.

I used to look just like her.

I don't like cheese, I don't like pity, because I had such a stunningly impassioned weekend, both with good and bad, epiphanic and inspirational and crashing.
To a choir that used to be tone deaf; let us forge through our new-found pitch together, with ease and without hesitation. Also, let me thank you for having one of the most beautiful experiences I will ever have with music, with life, and with people that matter. I can't describe the feeling of 60-some voices rushing over me from widened smiles, and if you were judging me for doing such a terrible job, for hiding it. Maybe it wasn't that big a deal for you, but for the ten minutes I was conducting that 1 overwhelmingly intense song, I felt like I was amidst some sort of heavenly, heavenly storm. Of perfectly joyous and heart-breaking sound.

I used to look just like her.

My friends are beautiful.

I miss something that I don't recognize.

Belle hirondelle

I do.

Pourquoi mes titres sont toujours en francais?

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the sweet-tasting autumn rain
When you awake in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of birds circling in flight
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand on my grave and weep…
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
-Mary Frye

Les nouvelles

Things I have discovered:

- I do not work well under stress and lack of sleep.
- I really like water color paints
- I have mixed feelings about my hair and Allison's hair cream
- I have mixed feelings about my English teacher
- The hugs I get from my boyfriend keep me going
- I eat too much oatmeal
- I don't know the difference between right and left
- I may be steadily going blind from peroxide-eye contact
- My room is still a mess, and it is making me even more upset
- There is no bread in my house
- I may chomp on you
- I HATE BEING COLD
- I love to sing.

Le soleil

How many villages could we save?

Sunshine Song by Jason Mraz.

Today, I hate; English questions. My hair. How dirty my room is. English questions. English teacher. Being tickled. The fact that everyone gets to sleep in today except me. The fact that I don't get to stay at home tonight or the next day. The perpetually dry gray sky and cold wind. ENGLISH QUESTIONS. Also, how do you post pictures?

On the flip side; Boyfriend. My new watercolor paints. My housecoat. The things I get to eat for lunch. Jason Mraz and John Mayer. Christmas is approaching. Hannah, who I am venting(ish) at. How I am alone. A break from English questions.

Pendant que j'attends pour Supernatural de charger...

Sam and Dean Winchester, rolling along
In their '67 Chevy Impala
Killing beasties and ghosties and demons and stuff
But never in Guatemala.

Their mom was killed in a nursery fire:
Their father was a big jerk
Who sacrificed himself at the beginning of Season two,
And that made Dean go berserk.

But before Season two, there was Season one,
Where Sam had really cute hair
It's still pretty cute, like the rest of him too,
Even when he starts getting psychic nightmares.

Now comes Season 2, where Dean is angsty,
And Sam really wants to talk about feelings,
But once they do, Sam gets done in,
And Dean does some demon dealings.

Season 3, where Dean is angsty,
But understandably, because he's going to Hell,
And Bobby gets sadly unappreciated
And Sam and Dean rent a large number of motels.

Sam goes kind of crazy in Season four,
Providing for angst (and demon sex)
And then the Apocalypse kind of gets under way
You know what rhymes with sex? Tyrannosaurus rex.

But there are no dinosaurs in Supernatural (yet)
Only cute boys who hunt evil stuff
And that makes them cuter, and also just awesome,
As well as ridiculously buff.

Les etudes sociales.

Social studies, directly defined as the most boring subject ever, except I really like it now because I am getting 91, and we spend a lot of time in the library 'researching' projects but really being on facebook and watching A Very Potter Musical or writing mindless blogs, is presently happening.
I think that instead of researching the World Wildlife Fund I will research actual social things, like people, because when I think social I think people, so I will now conduct a study on the people around me.

Kaylie and Eric Haynes are nurturing their secret love affair by sharing a moment watching A Very Potter Musical (for the umpteenth time, in Kaylie's case.) I am watching her mouth the words. She is funny because she does that a lot and makes silly expressions on her face. But I forgive her because I do it too and that is why we are best friends. Eric Haynes is looking contemplative, as per usual. If he were a famous statue, he would be The Thinker, and Kaylie would not. Kaylie would not be a statue because, like me, nobody could make her into a statue because she is always dancing around like a hooligan, or watching A Very Potter Musical, evidently.
(I would like to note how sad it is that even though I cannot hear what is happening in the aforementioned musical playing on the computer next to mine, I still know exactly word-for-word what they are saying/singing.) (Almost.)

Megan is being responsible! It's crazy! When is Megan ever responsible! Or responsable, which is the word I just substituted for responsible, because French is plaguing my brain with a disease, where I don't even get any of the cool French traits, like wine and cheese and being in France, I only get the smelly French things, like speaking in French. It's actually kind of funny because she is sitting right next to me and not even noticing I am talking about her. She is looking up things to do with the Olympics. I am concluding this is because in her spare time she is a famous figure skater/alpine skiier/something else you do in the cold. And she is preparing. Because she is a preparer. Now.

Tessa is also being responsible? What on earth is this blasphemy? I think I am dreaming. Because Eric Haynes, Kaylie and I are doing everything but working, while those two are. Psychotic!

Someone whose name I forget is asking us what the first words that came to our heads was. She is asking this over and over and over again and the words coming to my head are more and more often annoying irritating and murder.

Her name has been revealed to be Kelsey. She and her friends laughed at me when I told them 'panda'. What is wrong about thinking about pandas, is what I want to know? Someone has to think of the pandas. And I am doing it. I get things done. I solve problems. Thats what me and Rachel do. We are problem solvers. Or something.

I am getting really jealous that I am not watching A Very Potter Musical. I'm going to go cry...and eat my sandwich.

Until next time.

OH, also, my social teacher is leaving. That sucks. Because, as mentioned before, he gave me 91. Also, he hands out scratch and sniff stickers. What teacher still does that in grade 11? Also, because Eric Haynes and I are the best students ever, we get squishy chairs. Also, my boyfriend sits in the same squishy chair as me in his social class, which restores my faith (that was never lost) that we are meant to be together. Why else would the forces of the universe facilitate elementary school note passing between us? Why?
I can never go back to normal chairs.

Aux peuples plus talentes que moi...

will take, the chain off of the door...

Awesome talent show! It made my faith in humanity definitely restore itself!
(Because it was lost before. Now, not so much.)
(Plus my boyfriend is cute.)

Ahem.

Kiss a wookie.

L'ecriture creative...

Ah, creative writing...

Jenny and Raymond were having a good night, if one’s definition of a good night included the mass consumption of alcohol, hallucinogenics, and other incapacitating substances. They had made a vow to become the most drunken, disorderly, lawless, rambunctious and completely obstreperous people in each bar they could not remember attending. It was questionable as to why they were doing this, because everyone knows that it is dangerous to one’s health and is putting at risk your life, and other bodily functions. It is one of the most important lessons you will ever learn in any academy, school, internet site, or on a bathroom stall wall or other reliable source. It is a lesson almost as crucial to understand as the lesson about how time-travelling is impossible and books or stories or creative writing projects based upon such fanciful and clichéd topics are bound to be gag-worthy if not just suitably unrealistic and unappetizing.
Upon a taxi ride home so uncomfortable for the poor driver that all his plans for suicide were reassured, Jenny and Raymond stumbled into their small, cheap, yet somehow snazzy New York apartment. The reason for this snazzy apartment is not revealed in this story, just like it never is in any stories or television shows, because it is impossible for all these broke people in New York to still have such snazzy apartments, sort of like how it is impossible for the subject of time-travel to be written about from a serious angle, because it is so overdone and completely contrary to reason.
Unsurprisingly, Jenny and Raymond collapsed almost immediately onto the floors of their snazzy New York apartment. Not only did this cause Jenny to hit her head so hard on the side of an alien spacecraft 6 times the size of any door, window or other aperture appearing to the naked eye within the snazzy apartment, but upon bearing witness to the blood gushing from the wound on his dear friend’s head, Raymond was sent into an alcohol, marijuana and gross-induced coma-like state so deep we can only classify his sights observed within this state as absurd, preposterous, fictitious and wholly untrue.
Raymond awoke to find himself staring face to face with the results of alcohol poisoning on his good friend Jenny. Sickened to his stomach, he rolled over and off the bed on which he was suspiciously lying on. (Suspiciously for we may remember, quite clearly, the two inebriated friends deflating ungraciously upon the floor- but then again, we may also recall that we cannot trust anything observed in Raymond’s dream-like state). As he inelegantly belched and toppled onto a sceptically snazzy carpet, he was at once confronted with an interesting conundrum- for at the foot of the bed in which a very repulsive human female was resting was a machine that appeared to be buzzing uncontrollably, with epileptic flashing lights (two characteristics common to make-believe machines) that shared certain similarities with a refrigerator. Proving that the theory of Pavlov’s dogs is, indeed, practiced by the distinguished humans of the 21st century, Raymond eagerly and sloppily lumbered over to the mystery machine.
When the door appeared to be immovable by even such a force as an overtly hung-over and drooling man, Raymond did what any sensible male of our fine era does when confronted with an unsolvable problem; they ask a woman to do it for them. Usually the woman can unravel and untangle the dilemma, because evolution made women into finer, more intelligent and primarily superior beings than men. Understandably, men, who are more primitive and less complex thinkers then women, tried to force women for thousands of years into submission because they didn’t like people beating them at gambling and horse races. We can see this male close-mindedness especially throughout the Middle Ages and continuing on through the Renaissance. In fact, one could ALMOST say it is a main contrasting component that sets apart the Renaissance from nowadays. One could observe such a fact without even HAVING to travel back in time to the Renaissance. Imagine that.
Upon prodding Jenny most unceremoniously, she was evidently able to open the door of the flashing machine. It is one of humankind’s many faults that they have become unfortunately, dismally, grievously and, lamentably, stupid- and go opening the doors of many a flashing, beeping machine, when they really could have done without. Alas, without the ironic developed stupidity during an age of innovation and mind-blowing scientific inventions, there would be no cause for stories or creative writing projects about the many facets of time-travel and all its irregularities, so what can you do.
Stupidity is an ironic virtue much celebrated in this Age of Science, but during the Renaissance, stupidity, or the excuse ‘primitivism’ was being surrendered for common sense, inquisitiveness, and humanism. This was a term coined by a group of Renaissance-ers to celebrate the natural human curiosity towards arts, sciences, and literature for people of all statuses and levels of wealth. They glorified for the first time the sense that everyone was worthy to be educated and pursue thought; they explored a freedom of choice not considered in the Medieval Ages. They started to revel in individualism.
And then, of course, we have the after-effects of such epiphanies; in our own common society, our lack of curiosity and motivation in this age of enlightenment and technology is simply depressing. Many of the citizens in a Renaissance society would probably be shocked at this absence of interest in such an era; they would be astounded that many a person cares not for how their television works and where the power originates from, just that it does work. In fact, one might go so far as to suggest that the forward thinkers of the Renaissance would be practically insulted to bear witness to where their original innovations for society have plummeted to; thank goodness there is no such thing as time travel and they could never have done that.
“Maybe,” remarked Jenny, a wise member of the female half of society, “we should not further investigate this decidedly dangerous and imaginary machine, Raymond. It has a lot of buttons and flashing lights, and I think if we continue on we may get sucked into a wormhole, the only hypothesized but still highly implausible way of time-travelling.”
“But Jenny!” whined Raymond. “My Y chromosome is demanding me to press those big macho buttons! And also, you must remember that probably none of this is real anyways so it’s alright because we will wake up in our snazzy New York apartment if we get maimed or killed!”
Jenny decided that she had might as well agree, because Raymond’s logic that this wasn’t really happening was awfully convincing, and she could give in without feeling horrible about herself because this wasn’t really happening. So, after only pausing to overdose on Advil, (another sure piece of evidence of the unreality the two friends were finding themselves within), Jenny and Raymond stepped into the whirring machine that it is evident by now they assumed to be a time machine.
“Good Lord!” cried Raymond, stepping out of the time machine. “I have no idea where we are, but there are not very many large and modern buildings.”
“I know where- or when- we are,” said Jenny. “It is obvious to me by the way that everyone is dirty and unhygienic, theology and humanism is developing, (although blind faith within God and the church still exists), people are watching plays written by William Shakespeare, lower class individuals are becoming more privvy and scrutinizing of thought, study, science, and religion, art is delving deeper into realms of interpretive and thoughtful imitation, and I can not understand anyone even though they are essentially speaking English; they must be utilizing one of the hundreds of different dialects within each country due to the fact that structured education of 1 single dialect hasn’t yet been developed amongst the peasants, that this time period is the Renaissance.”
“I think if someone from our time were to try and live in the Renaissance they would still be very confused about the lack of television, Jenny,” observed Raymond intellectually.
“Not to mention,” Jenny concluded, “That the majority of our 21st century population wouldn’t be able to survive in a world where people have to actually think, weigh options, and consider consequences. You, Raymond, are a fine example of a human from our era of automisation; without something or someone providing for you, you wouldn’t be able to function. We have become so used to the technologies we use each day that without them, our world would fall apart. It is just a typical irony that in our “advanced” society, full of bright and intelligent young minds (that may or may not be wasted by alcohol and drugs before achieving their potential), we completely abandon hard-working philosophies for an easy route aided and abetted through technology. We do not even wonder how things work anymore, as long as they do; as long as the work gets done, (preferably not by us), the means are trivial. Whether these means be truly astounding in their prodigal technology or not, we prefer to not have to lift a finger rather than try to understand what is completely available to us. Humanity has lost its curiosity, and I believe that that is the main element which sets our society apart from that of the Renaissance.”
“You’re probably right,” Raymond ascertained. It is unfortunate that after such an epiphanic conclusion Jenny has made about humankind in this state of unreality, that an angry mob of 16th century villagers intent on hunting down witches has congregated behind our duo of time travellers, but alas, this is the fate that meets all who travel into the non-existent. You get poked which pitchforks and burnt. Regrettably, amongst the prodigious scientists, philosophers, artists and humanists of the Renaissance, there were also those (usually of the Crazy Catholic Society, which originated around the evolution of amoebas and continues on to this day) who believed in burning intelligent people, or people they just didn’t like. There will always be a few crazies, I guess, like those who believe that time travel can be taken seriously and written upon as a topic equally as seriously. What can you do?

Ce n'est pas la fin du monde.

'To die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die.'

Ode to english class. Bejesus, it made my day today; thank you, Allison and Hannah, for just letting me blow out at you for my crap weekend.

Also, bring my boyfriend soup. He is sick. Let us pray it is not of the 'piggy variety', as he says.

Vous etes tot.

Plucking my eyebrows makes me sneeze.


"The sea is just a wetter version of the sky."

Moi, je ne suis pas un lama.

...but I am other things. Today. These are the things that have made me who I am today- and I mean, really, today, not some cheesy inspirational 'today' as in me as a whole person, just 'today' why I am the person I was.

Ryan's sweater; made me warm through the night, which allowed me to wake up only a little bit less than rested, completely un-hypothermic, and as content as could be expected. The sweater was there to keep me from frostbite because my room is FREEZING cold for the remainder of the day.

Kaylie; a) because of her oatmeal recipe that I love and cherish and it's not even really a recipe, its just two ingredients (you guess what they are), but I did not know how to make it, and it is the best thing for a warm wakeup to a bound-to-be bad day, other than her heated mattress, but that's another story. and b) because I woke up and she had texted me and it made me fill with euphoria all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

Ryan; because he had sent me a picture of him to enjoy in the morning.

...in a scottish hat.
...with clothes on, for god's sake.

Apple Lime juice; there is no other type of juice, more worthier of the name juice, than you. Actually, probably you should not be called juice, but something even better, because you do not belong in the same category as other juices.

Supernatural: because you kept me entertained at your pretty boyness and your clever little supernaturalities. Holy cow in heck, supernaturality is a word, it doesn't say it's wrong with that silly little red line! Okay, that is another way you made my day. And also because its made me scared of everything. Like being close to trees, in a car, on a full moon.
Ahem.

Pumpkin cookies: are delicious.
Wool and cotton; make good decorations, especially when exhibited in a plastic bag, labelled Wool and Cotton, and pinned to a wall or simply placed on a table.

Ryan's grandmother, who forgot her coloring book.

Coconut lime handcream,
(as always)

Carrotsticks,
(as recently always)

and potato salad and kites, and also very expensive hooker earrings, and the undersides of tables.

That's all for today, folks.