Et puis?

People I want to meet:

- Donny Osmond
- Oscar Wilde
- The man who invented erasers

C'est quoi le value reel d'un titre? Si vous voulez lire ces mots, c'est seulement un question de quand.

Why must things change? Or not change, depending on how you look at it.

Why am I worrying about all this right now? By worrying, I am ruining the things that are good right now. But I can't stop myself from worrying, and thinking, and stewing. What will happen now? Tomorrow?
In a year from now?

Also, to be noted:
 I can't seem to find myself in the things that I am good at. Why are things that are so effortless, also passionless? Convenient, rendering, and making me feel accomplished, yes. But where is the drive? Where is the soul? Why can't I be more like them- so sure of where they are and what they are meant to do. For them, success is no big deal. For them, the success is the self-accomplishing and blissful feeling of passion in an area where natural prodigy thrives.
And then there is the pride, and the reputations, and the stories that they are recognized by. Not on purpose. Well, yes, on purpose. Well, no.
Do you get it, now?

What if it doesn't work that way?

Everyone wants to make something of themselves. Everyone wants a name, everyone wants to

be recognized. But when I think about that, I don't want it; I need to do something more with my

life. With myself. With me. It seems that I am the only one out of us that doesn't know where she's

headed. 

I want so bad to know.

Ce n'est pas ma faute

 

Happy Birthday, Becca!

Un erreur de ponctuation

Dear Olive,
Schrodinger's cat is not 50% alive. That is the point of Schrodinger's cat. He is either 100% alive or 100% dead, as well as being 100% dead or 100% alive. There is no 50%.

I wuv you.
Today, when me and Hannah were discussing in math how we were to see you at lunch, Eric Miller says: "Who is Allison? I do not know such a woman." (Perhaps in not so many words.)
And I described you as "She has long dark hair, and was a cat in a past life. She talks with her hands."

I hope that this cheers and bolsters your spirit just a little bit. Maybe enough to write a song with all the big words from A to Z? Maybe. Maybe another day.

But really. How else would you describe you?

Remember that we love you, and that you are not boring, unlike some people (apparently.)

-Martini?

Quand je suis endommage, j'ecris.

Reasons I am a happy person nowadays:

1) I do crossword puzzles and torment the French teacher with my exclusive groupings.
2) I can almost-sort-of dance again. My back is being kind.
3) Musical Theatre is the best thing ever- I'm sorry, Ryan and Becca. You just don't know what you're missing. And you just can't stop us talking a mile a minute about it...just as you can't stop the beat...
4)The boy who puts up with aforementioned happy rants. And angry rants. And psychotic rants. And brings me out to Moroccan dinners.
5)An Edmontonian weekend of bliss and contentment, Cranium and 10 pounds.
6) I have lost those 10 pounds.
7) Pride and Prejudice; the best piece of literature ever written. Oh, Jane Austen. You cynical romantic.
8) My new nickname for Olive, Strawberry(?), ehm...Goldfish Cracker...and Martini? (it was four in the morning, I can't remember. Anywho. Our aforementioned new nickname.) The Literate Four.
Complying with the whole "We met once upon an English AP class..." theme.
9) The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing.

J'aime chanter.

a) Distance does make the heart grow fonder: I am distancing myself from my Toblerone bar. I want it even more. With all of my being.
b) I am guilty of treason. Not high treason. Just self-treason. What?
c) Musical theater > Math
d) Math > French
e) Somewhere, over the rainbow.
Way up high.

Les chansons tristes et les souris bruillants

Nighttime falls, outside your sleepless window

I just wanna be with you

Feel your breath, bittersweet

On my back

If we can hold on 

Along this winter road

If we can stay strong

Through these storms

Then I'll know, which way to go

I'll follow you

Just like the moon

Follows the sun

On restless nights

I'm just sayin'

Why don't we go dancing?

I just wanna be with you

Let go, of your hesitations

Hold me, in your arms

If we can hold on 

Along this winter road

If we can stay strong

Through these storms

Then I'll know, which way to go

I'll follow you

Just like the moon

Follows the sun

On restless nights

'cause if your heart is hurting

And you're turning away

And you're saying, "No more"...

Then I'll be there, wherever you're going

I'll follow you

Just like the moon

Follows the sun

On restless nights

Sunsets, seem much more pretty

With your hand, held in mine

I can see your soul, through those

Perfect windows

I just wanna be with you.

Les journees neigueux:

"The....chicken. The chicken eggs."
"Eggtime."
"The chicken eggs! The eggs...of the chicken."
"The chick...en?"
"The chicken eggs. The chicken eggs."
"I don't think it's the chicken eggs."
"Okay, the chicken, or the egg?!"

"Fuck."

"Katie. I know it's a cake. Stop decorating it."

"Niagra Falls!"
Score.

"Nice chin..?"
"Its a smile."
"I thought it was a tongue."

Coincidentally, did you know that the tongue is the only muscle in the human body that actually gets STRONGER as you age? Yeah, blow my mind. Or something.

Anyways...
Good weekends. Minus the back pain and Matty's feet in my face.

Si tu est

I have begun this blog with absolutely no end destination in sight. None at ALL.
Except to stall me from eating breakfast. You see, I want to have female children, and Allison told me this is the way to do it. I probably shouldn't trust her. What she is actually trying to do is starve me from my breakfast, so that I will always be hungry in the mornings, so that I will not be able to focus in school, so that all my marks will drop so much I will be forced into a job like raising cats in a really big house with her, who would otherwise be all alone all the time. I see what you're doing, Allison. And it won't work. I WILL eat breakfast.
...Maybe. See, I'm also suffering from a lack of exercise, with the whole back load, and I feel a little slightly bit overweight. So maybe it's a good thing not to eat breakfast. Let's not talk about my eating disorders any longer.

My boyfriend is coming home today. I am leaving today. I miss him. I think I had a funny dream about him last night.

PROS:
- I'm going to Edmonton to spend the weekend with my Jennifer Joannie and Katie, both of whom I love very much.
- I figured out how to operate my EReader. Now I am reading Pride and Prejudice upon it. This is one of my favouritest books in the entire world. The one with zombies in it is an insult to all that is holy.
-My boyfriend is coming home. Now, while I am out having fun, he will be missing ME, instead of the other way around. Maybe he will use this time to write me a song and buy me flowers and fetch me a constellation for Valentine's Day.
-Thursday afternoon was just a great period of history. It should have been documented.
-My new boots.
-Ragdoll kittens.
-Dragons.
-I danced for 15 minutes yesterday. =)

CONS:
- It looks cold outside. I HATE the cold.
-Math? Hi, I already don't like you. I am forming judgements about you that you probably wouldn't like.
-My boyfriend is coming home, and I am leaving.
-I feel icky-sore. And tired.
-But nice.
-This blog post keeps randomly changing my letters into italics.
-My face.
-Enough with the italics.

Random thought du jour:
I would like to try the peas from Persopolis.

Les camarades?

1. Is this really for real happening? Come on now.

2. Did that really for real happen?

3. That's good. It's gude.

4. Return home as soon as possible.

5. I am 16, going on 17...

Yes, 

I'll admit it. I feel happy today. Not like an angsty blues singer anymo'.

Maybe it will pass.

Maybe not.

Il y a un difference entre l'honnete et ce que vous faisez

There is. Learn it.

In following Allison's example:

Once upon a time, there was a rabbit. The rabbit delighted in nibbling on the patch of clovers outside of her rabbit hole, frolicking with her rabbit friends in the lea of Friendly Forest, and, on occasion, visiting the neighboring clover patches where new adventures could be held. More than anything else in the entire world, however, she loved to look upon the Friendly Castle, in which there lived a Prince, his sister the Princess, and many such royal friends who ruled over the Lands of Friendly. The rabbit wished more than anything that one day she, too would be a Princess of the Land of Friendly, where she was sure she would be much happier.
Her rabbit friends all told her what a silly proposition it was. "No rabbit can be happy among the Princesses, Rabbit," they told her. "Stay here and nibble with us upon these bright green clover patches."
With a sigh, the rabbit turned her back to the Friendly Castle, and half-heartedly opened her little rabbit mouth to take a little rabbit bite out of some clover. All of a sudden, out of the corner of her eye, the little rabbit caught a glimpse of the most beautiful purple flower, rising like a violet Princess out of the washed clover greens.

It was a beautiful flower, the dark purples of the soft petals lightening to a poignant lilac-colored center. The leaves seemed to support the hundreds of tiny purple petals in a perfect green embrace, seamlessly flowing into a long and winding stem. The rabbit had to admit- it looked almost too scrumptious to eat. But, being a rabbit, almost too scrumptious isn't good enough. The rabbit chomped, chomped, chomped- and the perfect flower was no more.

Lilacs, thought the rabbit. Lilacs, and carrots, and...she chewed thoughtfully. Just a touch of coconut pecan pie. It was, by far, the best flower she had ever had the chance to ingest. Feeling much happier, the rabbit hopped off to her hole to take a nap.

When she woke up to the sounds of the jays singing and the bees humming their morning business, the rabbit felt, well, different. She felt buoyant, and on her breath could still smell coconut pecan pie. As she recalled her delicious flowery meal, she remarked on how confident she felt. She never remembered having felt so willful and bouncy in her life. She reckoned, as her paws hit the warm green grass surrounding her hole, that even her pelt looked a little shinier. And, as she raised her little rabbit head and cocked her ears to the sound of the soft spring wind rushing through the grasses, her eyes fell on the sun, rising over the splendid battlements of Friendly Castle. She knew immediately what she would do next. Never had she felt more ready.

First, she set off to find her rabbit friends. They were eating from the same patch of clover where she had found her purple flower the day before. When she announced her plan, they tried their hardest to dissuade her; telling her about how the life of a Princess was no life for a rabbit, and that they probably had no clover at all in the Castle. They tried to convince her to play hopscotch, jump-frog, and even Scrabble- her personal favourite- but with a strengthening of her little rabbit resolve, she hopped away from the clover patch and to Friendly Castle.

And guess what. She was happy there. She fell in love, and she made friends, and she was never happier. There was no going back to her silly little clover patch.

Believe in me.

Les sentiments

1. Yogurt.
2. The presence of so many talented people makes me feel vulnerable, inadequate, and like a poser.
3. Je ne veux pas etre de poseur; je veux etre la brunette sur laquelle  les autres se posent.
4. I am praying for my voice to reach so much deeper than your hammers and strings.
5. I am dancing in my mind.

Quand je pleure, je pleure le jus de pomme...

I thought life was great. Up until about a week ago, because my back is definitely not keeping up to my heart.

BASICALLY WHAT IS WRONG
-It hurts when I do everything.
-I need to dance so I can do well on my exam in a month.
-My exam is in a little more than a month (ThankGodThankGod)
-My exam is in a little more than a month (OhGodOhGod)
-I need to dance away all my other petty troubles.
-When I dance, I break and probably make my back worse.
-I no longer believe in the God of Spines. If He is out there, He is cruel.
-He probably feeds off of back-pain inflicted tears and the melting ice on my floor I use to try and relieve the pain.

WHAT IS WRONG BECAUSE OF MY BACK OTHER THAN THE ABOVE.
-It is making me unable to perform simple functions, like bending over, carrying bags, and reaching out to far to open doors. Also, I can't run or breathe fully without a knife being shoved into my back.
-It is making me sleep on my back. It is impossible to get a good night's sleep when you can't move off of your back.
-It is thus making me tired and exhausted.
-It is making me eat nothing but apples, because I am getting no excercise.
-We have run out of apples.
-It is making hugs hurt.

WHAT IS NOT WRONG AND COMPLETELY UNBACKRELATED.
-MBF tomorrow and Thursday. Come see it. It will be epic.
-No, that's it.

Quand je trouve le temps

Need to blog soon. No time now, I am wasting valuable dreaming time.