La Música

I thought it time to post a happier poem. I am a happy person, honest. I am happy, and healthy, and in love. And I happen to like pianos. Here you have my latest. Poem, not piano.

Place your fingers, gently, gently,
Slowly, slowly, strike a key,
Breathe in deeply: one, two, three,
Let the music set you free.

Slide your fingers over me,
Slightly brushing: one, two, three,
Hear the notes, but play the keys,
Show me, guide me, set me free.

A quiet C to follow G,
And then an A before a D,
Now you see the harmony
When you are you and I am me.

Soft and subtle fingertips
Glide upon my ivory skin,
Music plays without, within,
And so the chords repeat again.

Breathe in deeply: one, two, three,
Let the music set you free,
You as you and I as me
Create a piece of such beauty.

Holiday stress

I wasn't there
And so the tree's bare
But who even cares?
Gifts aren't even there
So what's there to share?

The pictures we take
And the smiles that we fake
Do you think they will make
You happy? Do I break
Your heart, the messes I make?

Holiday's cheerful
In the end only fearful
Leaving us tearful
Give me an earful
Please make it meaningful

What do you want from me?
What would you like to be?
Too blind you can't see
Everyone's dark plea
Tired of paying your fee

I'm leaving on a plane
Though I will return again
Maybe you still live in vain
But you will feel the pain
This time will no longer remain

Growing up, no more a girl
On my own in this vast world
Send me a diamond, a ruby, a pearl
Buy my love and envision me twirl
Wonder why my lips don't curl

Satisfaction

I think I am pleased with my year book write-up...

Nick Name: Deenie, Deens, Teenie, Stinky
Most Memorable Moment: Summer '04, Boxing Day, Spencer's Pool Party, Gr. 11 Math, Dec 23/04
Most Embarrassing Moment: "I like the piano," Getting hit in the face with a football
Pet Peeve: Guys who tuck their pants into their socks
Favourite Saying: Crackers
One Word to Describe Your High School Experience: Magical
Future Goal: Write a book, Go hang-gliding
Advice to Grade 9's: If you choose to travel in herds, don't take up the entire hallway

At the airport

Airports bother me. I don’t know why they bother me. They bother me the same way that hospitals bother me. Except I know why hospitals bother me, so I suppose it’s not like that at all.

The people in airports bother me. Everyone is in such a hurry, such a rush. They’ve got no time to smile, no desire to strike up a random conversation with a complete stranger. The cashiers and workers in the shops even paint their faces with a sorrowful frown. When will this day be over? they seem to be thinking.

Hollywood depicts the airport as such a painfully happy place where everyone is nothing but sparkling smiles and glowing faces. Is that really the way it is? I don’t fly all that often, so maybe it’s just me, but I never see that side of airports. All I see is the hundreds of busy, hustle-and-bustle type people, rushing for their plane, rushing for their luggage, rushing for a cab, rushing to be anywhere but where they are, wishing they were going anywhere but where they are heading.

I wouldn’t even be this upset if their was some emotion at this bloody airport. I look around and I see no signs of human life, no feeling. The floor is white, the ceiling is white, the walls–while I will admit they are somewhat furnished and I do admire the artwork–are white. Virgin Mobile’s bright red booth shines like a beacon calling out into the night sea, luring its prey to enter into it’s warm, melodic atmosphere.

But do we answer? Of course not. We sit at tables sipping our café mochas and iced cappuccinos with such a grim look on our faces that that Virgin Mobile booth is probably thinking, I’m glad you’re not singing and dancing with me between these walls. I sure would hate to be as unhappy as you.

I can appreciate being sad or upset at an airport. You’re losing the ones you love for God knows how long. You’re depressed that it’s not you getting on that plane and going somewhere exotic like California or Palm Springs. Or you are going to someplace that exotic and maybe you’re scared of flying. Fine. Be scared. Be affectionate. Be heartbroken. Be terrified. Be something but miserable.

Even as I sit here typing out my soul, my brows form a disgusted downward arch. What am I so unhappy about? I’m going home. It’s Christmas. I just ate a wonderful ham and cheese sandwich. Do I miss that sandwich? Is that why I’m so sad? I doubt it. I really, truly do.

I try to be that smiling face in the mosaic of frustrated minds, but sometimes I just don’t want to be. I want to blend in, go with the current, be angry, be upset, be frustrated. Pretend I have somewhere to go, something to do. Pretend that it’s urgent, that I must get there right away. Say, Get out of my way, world! I’m in a hurry. But I can’t because I’m not.

I’m not in a hurry, I’ve no place to go, and I sure am not looking forward to that two and a half hour flight to Red Lake, Thunder Bay, and probably three more unannounced stops that they fail to write down on your ticket. I’m not excited to have to curl up with an hour long leg cramp because my laptop doesn’t fully fit under the seat in front of me or try to think of ways to amuse myself, all of which include a table, and realize that there is no table on the back of that seat either.

No, my next two and a half hours will be spent staring at the most ugly maroon, orange, blue, and red weaved curtain I have ever seen in my life and wonder why on earth the pilots try to cloak themselves behind such a hideous shroud when we can see through on all four edges anyway.

Maybe airports bother me, but I sure should come here more. At least then I get some work done. At least here I can actually find something to write about.

My lonely lunchtime snack

1. I'm a happy little pumpkin-orange without a care in the world, and I love to just sit her among Justine's Statistics notes. La de da de da...

2. What? What's happening!? Nooooooooo!

3. Good bye cruel world!

Christmas eggs

Tonight, I had a brilliant idea: Christmas eggs.

On the left, is my Christmas egg: a cutesy little penguin with a candy cane in his left hand and a piece of holly (that you can't really see) in his right.

The one on the right is Nina's egg: a chubby, bearded Santa Claus. Who is also cute.

If you have ever made Easter eggs, you will have no problem making Christmas eggs. All you need is:

1. one egg
2. a bowl
   
3. a shish-kabob stick
4. a needle or a pin
5. some acryllic paint and paint brushes
   
6. a hairdryer
7. some string
8. a hot glue gun

... Et voilà! Here's how it goes:

1. Take the pin and prick two holes in the egg -- one in each end
2. Push the shish-kabob stick into each hole to make them bigger
3. Blow into one end of the egg, and the insides will be pushed through the other side. This is where your bowl comes in handy. [You can use the insides to make egg nog...]
4. Put the shish-kabob stick into one hole and push it through till it comes out the other side. This way, you can hold the egg on the stick while you paint it, and you won't get too much paint on your hands.
5. Then paint your egg as pretty as you like. If you plan to paint in layers (which is a good idea because it will prevent the paint from running/mixing), you can use the hairdryer on a low setting to help the paint dry quicker.
6. When you are done, glue a string in a loop to the upper part of the back of the egg so you can hang it from your tree.

*** You can also use fun foam to cut out feet if you are making a person or animal, etc., and cotton balls if you want to make a pom-pom on a hat or a beard, etc.

Amazing, isn't it?

I'm so creative...

...and I have absolutely no life.

Merry Christmas everyone! [Now that I feel like that guy from Art Attack...]

My scary dream

This is a dream I had two nights ago. I decided to make it into a story... Well, a rough draft anyway. We'll see how it goes. It might just be me writing down what happened. Who knows.

Thanks Zan for the idea.

Please note that the two girls in my dream are people that I actually know but because I don't want them to think I am creepy (because I don't know them well), I have changed their names for my story.

It was dark, but it was warmer than it normally is at such a late hour. I think it was summer. It must have been. There was no snow on the ground and, from what I recall, any trees that I could see seemed to have leaves.

I was back in Thunder Bay. I was in the K-Mart parking lot, which is odd, because that K-Mart doesn't exist anymore. It must have been a childhood memory. I was in the K-Mart parking lot with Liz and Megan. We were just walking out of the building when all of a sudden we heard the sound of glass shattering. We looked at each other, scared and a little confused. We stood still for a few minutes, quiet, but heard nothing. So, we continued walking. I don't know where we were going. We were crossing the parking lot. Did we have a car? Maybe. We might have been going to catch a bus that was stopped on the other side of Arthur Street.

We continued walking, and all of a sudden, a boy zoomed by on a bike, one of those really tiny, good-for-tricks kinds of bikes. He was wearing black pants and a baggy, grey hoodie. He had something dark under his arm. It looked like a cat, but somehow I knew it was something he'd stolen from K-Mart. We all knew somehow.

We'd been watching the boy ride away for a few seconds when, all of a sudden, Megan starts chasing after him. So I didn't know what to do, Liz was just standing there. Liz disappeared though. I don't know where she went. She just vanished. Weird. So I was left standing all alone and the only thing I could think to do was to start running after the crook with Megan.

So off I went, and somehow I caught up. I must be super speedy in my subconscious. I was about three feet behind Megan, and I noticed the boy reach into his pocket. He'd seen us, and I knew exactly what he was doing: he was going to pull out a gun. I stopped dead in my tracks. I wanted to scream at Megan to tell her to stop but I didn't say anything. Sure enough, the guy pulled out a pistol. Then he shot Megan. She fell over and didn't get up. I assumed she was dead and blacked out.

When I came to, I was on the other side of the parking lot with Liz and the crook. We were standing near the trunk of a little red car. It might have been a Sunfire. I couldn't really tell just by looking at the rear bumper. The boy didn't say anything but we'd already figured out that we'd been kidnapped. We were discussing who would ride where. Somehow Liz managed to get the front seat, and the boy tried to convince me to ride in the trunk. I think I went along with that plan.

The next thing I remember was being parked outside a police station. The boy had a run-in with this cop back in the day, and was out to seek revenge. I guess he wanted us to help. We got out of the car and walked into the station. It was empty. It looked like a hotel lobby. There were street signs that read "Library," "Museum," and "Office." No one thought this was strange though.

We snuck through the "library" part of the police station. Liz and I weren't sure what we were doing but the crook seemed to have a pretty good idea. We stopped when we found a narrow, staircase. The stairs were covered with a beige carpet. We went upstairs.

Apparently, in whatever day and age we were in, it was common for a policeman and his family to live above the police station. They had a cozy little apartment. I liked it. So did the crook. He was there to steal something, but he never told us what. While he was rummaging through some cupboards, a large blonde woman came into the room and interrupted him with a loud "Excuse me! Who are you?"

I knew the crook wasn't clever enough to come up with a decent response and I didn't want to get arrested myself, so I stepped in and told the woman that we were from out of town and that her house looked so elegant from the outside that we just had to see what the inside looked like. She believed me and was so flattered that she invited us all into the kitchen for some milk and cookies. They were delicious. We also got to meet the policeman. He was retired and resembled a thinner, younger Danny Glover. He had a very raspy voice.

When we'd finished eating, we decided to leave. At this point, the layout of the house had changed and we were at a door that led outside to a driveway. Liz stood in the foyer and put on her shoes while the crook had a very friendly conversation with the policeman. I couldn't hear what they were talking about. For some reason, my shoes were outside. So the policeman's wife held the door open so I would still be included in the conversation while I put on my shoes.

Once I'd tied my laces, I realized that this was my chance to tell someone we'd been kidnapped! I pointed through the wall to the boy and mouthed "He has a gun!" while making the universal gesture for "gun."

This is when I realized how truly stupid this woman was. Instead of keeping her mouth shut and alerting her husband the policeman once the crook was out of sight, like I'd hoped she would, she yells at the top of her lungs, "Jeremiah!" Apparently this was the cop's name. "Did you leave your gun out on the front porch again?" I guess he denied it, so the fat, blonde woman decided to prove herself right by telling him that I had pointed to the front porch and made a gun with my hand.

As it turned out, the crook was smarter than Jeremiah's wife. He knew immediately that I had tried to turn him in. More importantly, I knew he knew. So I started running down the driveway, hopped a wooden fence, and found myself in a forest somewhere. It was autumn now. I could tell because there were leaves all over the ground. For some reason, however, the leaves that were on the trees were still green. It was a strange forest.

I heard the leaves crunching as the boy with the gun chased after me. My heart was beating fast and I was terrified. Luckily, I found a burrow in the trunk of a willow tree. I crawled in and started to cry.

The crook had caught up to me, and I could see him from my hiding place. He was singing a song. I don't remember the words but the song scared the crap out of me. There's a good chance that it was Ring Around the Rosie or a similar nursery rhyme song.

I was bawling my eyes out now and trying to keep quiet. But the crook could hear me. I knew it. He would pull away the branches of the willow tree with his gun and peek into the hole I was in. He pretended he didn't see me, but I'm pretty sure he knew.

I held my breath and watched as the boy started to pull back all the branches, one by one. When there were two or three branches left obstructing the villain's view of me, the two of us made eye contact. He had these terrifying, bright yellow eyes, and they made me start to cry again. His arm reached out and into the hole. I tried to push myself back but there was nowhere left to go. I closed my eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, Jeremiah the policeman came into the scene and shot the boy in the back of the head. I still cried, and while the cop was handcuffing the boy and arresting him -- even though he was obviously dead -- he gave some elaborate, retired cop's speech, something that you would see at the end of a movie. I was in too much distress to pay attention, and I haven't a clue what he said.

And then I woke up.

Gosh darn damn

I am not happy, guys. Not at all.

Eighteen out of 25 on my religion paper? There were two comments on the whole thing and for that I lose seven marks? Please, somebody please tell me why.

I got 20 out of 25 on the last one, which I don't think I deserved because I lost marks for the most stupid things, but I can accept that. But 18? Why 18?

First of all, Wikipedia is not a reliable source. Sorry, "academic source." Alright, I can buy that, but 1. I used Wikipedia on my last essay and they didn't say a thing, and 2. We had to have minimum four "academic sources" and I had four without counting Wikipedia. So bah, says I. Bah.

Yes, I am aware it is two marks less than my last paper, but are you aware that it's a 72%? In a course where anything lower than an 86% is a B? Oh, and this paper -- as was the last -- is worth 25% of my mark. Yes, that's right. This is my moment of crisis. Ugh.

Alright. I'm calm now. Thanks for listening.

Off to Future Shop!

P.S. I will get over this. Don't worry. It's not that big a deal. By the end of today I'll have forgotten all about it.

'Twas the night before finals

No, I did not write this. It was in the Housing & Student Life's December Issue of Reside.

'Twas the night before finals

And all through the college,
The students were praying

For last-minute knowledge.

Most were quite sleepy

But none touched their beds,

While visions of essays

Danced in their heads.

Out in the taverns,

A few were still drinking

And hoping that liquor

Would loosen their thinking.

In my own dorm room,

I had been pacing

And dreading exams

I soon would be facing.

My roommate was speechless,

His nose in his books,

And my comments to him

Drew unfriendly looks.

I drained all the coffee

And brewed a new pot,

No longer caring

That my nerves were all shot.

I stared at my notes

But my thoughts were all muddy,

My eyes were a blur,

And I just couldn't study

"Some pizza might help,"

I said with a shiver,

But each place I called

Refused to deliver.

I'd nearly concluded

That life was too cruel,

With futures depending

On grades earned in school.

When all of a sudden

Our door opened wide

And Patron Saint "Put-It-Off"

Ambled inside.

His spirit was careless,

His manner was mellow,

But summoning effort,

He started to bellow.

"What kind of student

Would make such a fuss

To toss back at teachers

What they toss at us?"

On Cliff Notes! On Grant Notes!

On Last Year's Exams!

On Wing-it and Sling-it

And Last Minute Crams!

His message delievered,

He vanished from sight,

But we heard him laughing

Outside in the night.

"Your teachers have pegged you,

So just do your best.

Happy Finals to all

And to all a good test!"

Happy exams, guys!

Random venting

So my dad was in town yesterday. He and Zan and I went to the Manitoba Museum/Science Centre. The museum was cool. I took tons of pictures. Perhaps too many. I think that's why my batteries don't last. Sorry camera, I didn't mean to doubt you, take you into the shop cause I thought you were broken. It was all my fault. Forgive me.

The Science Centre was a little... dated. I thought it was all super cool still but the stuff they had were things that I'd learned about in like Grade 2. You know: the iron filings that follow the magnet, "magical" optical illusions, using wires to make a lightbulb light up, all that fun stuff. Like I said, super super cool but a little dated. Science must have improved since 1995.

I liked the museum though. I think I thought I was at the zoo for half of it though. Lots of cute animals. Lots of dead animals too though, which made me a sad panda. But I still had a good time.

Then we all went to the Olive Garden for dinner and we had a very nice waiter. Like very, very, very nice. I liked him. He was enthusiastic, but not enthusiastic to the point where he was like "Oh I love Olive Garden... Olive Garden is the best... Don't you love Olive Garden?" My dad and I had a waiter at the Keg like that. I didn't like him. But this one I liked. He was genuinely friendly, and he was helpful. Good job, waiter.

I also went to Cora's with my dad for breakfast yesterday. Yum yum yum! Whereas the first time I went there, I left and didn't have to eat for three days, I was hungry by lunch time after eating my gigantic fruit-filled crepe. Mmmm crepes.

Today's breakfast (again with my dad) was not as huge but very delicious. I had a waffle with whipped cream and powdered sugar and strawberries on it. The waitress offered me syrup but I thought to myself, "Maple syrup and strawberries?" and politely said no thanks.

So we set up my new chair! I got a new chair. It's super comfy, not like my old crappy chair. And then my dad left. *Sigh...* I'll be home in two weeks though. Woo-hoo Christmas. I think it will be good to be home. I'm lonely sometimes. I miss my sarcastic little Nina. Two weeks...

I'm torn. I love it here. I love school. I love the city. I love that the bus system actually works. I love the mall. I love the independence. I love that it's something new, an adventure. I love that I'm close to Zan. I love that this isn't high school anymore. I love having a clean slate and starting over and making new friends and meeting new people and doing new things.

But I miss home. I miss the people there and the things there are in Thunder Bay. I miss knowing the city, driving, being able to find my way from place to place. I miss drawing crazy little maps for people who came into Wal-mart asking for directions when I wouldn't know the names of the streets. I miss the mild(er) winters and the people who I was never really "friends" with but who I'd get to see every day at school. I miss having a locker, a meeting place, walking to Alley's at lunch. In the cold. To get ice cream.

I miss AP English, and I miss talking about the annoying girls who sat behind me in French. I miss having to sit on a blue recycle bag in Andrea's little red car when the seat was still wet from the rain.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly. It's December. Two weeks from holidays. A little belated homesickness don'tcha think? Yeah. I don't know.

I wish I was confident sometimes. I wish had had confidence and knew who I was and where I was going and what I want to do and who I want to be. Who I am. I don't want to be some 30-year-old housewife because I didn't know what else I wanted. Sure, that would be great if it's what I wanted. I could say right now "I want to be a housewife." In fact, I know people who want to aspire to that and nothing more. And that's fine. That's awesome. Way to go, live your dream. But is that for me? Who knows.

Why am I in university? I owe $3,000+ in January, I'm paying for my degree -- what degree? I don't even know -- and for what?

Why didn't I take Journalism? Because I thought it would be boring? Why didn't I go to UBC or York for Creative Writing? Because I had my heart set on Winnipeg? Because I wouldn't adapt well to Toronto? Because BC is way too far away? I don't even know anymore. I just feel so lost. I miss knowing these things. I miss it so much.

I do love it here, I do. Minus the extreme coldness. Minus the lack of trees and lakes. Minus the countless firetruck and police car sirens. I do.

I love school, I love my religion professor. I love the few friends I've made. I love my building, my room, my floor. I love that a big city like Winnipeg has a $2 movie theatre for cheapskates like me. I love Zan and I love that he lives here and I love that I see him so much. I love being able to talk to my mom -- sometimes -- without fighting about unfed dogs or messy rooms or lights left on or dishes that haven't been done or when I'm going out and when I'm coming home.

I like the diversity here and I like the experience of living on campus, at school, being able to wake up an hour or less before class, finishing breakfast with 20 minutes to spare, and still making it on time. I like the break from not having to worry about a job, where I'm supposed to be and when (though I do wish I could make some money).

Everybody just seems so sure of themselves. So sure of what they want to do, what they are interested in, their opinions, likes, dislikes, you name it. Everyone. Am I the only one who's not? Do I even like English or am I just good at it? Do I even want to write? Do I want to write fiction, be an editor, a journalist even? Maybe I'm not a good writer, a writer at all. Maybe all this time I thought I could write I couldn't. I got 100% on my independent study for Writer's Craft last year; my teacher gave my story to his wife to read. So what? Does that mean I'm good at it? Or did I just get lucky a few times?

Where is the passion, the spark, the motivation that once was there? Maybe it wasn't real. Who knows. I don't know. What a surprise.

*Sigh.*

Okay. I feel better. Thanks for listening. Tune in next week.

Didn't I just finish reading about attention disorders?

It is December!

It is officially December, guys (oh, all you people who *coughdon'tcough* read this), and there are only 18 days till "I'll be home for Christmas..."

Sadly, many of these days will be spent study-study-studying. Woo-hoo. But, some of these days will also be spent Christmas shop-shop-shopping. So I guess it evens out.

For December, here is my tentative plan -- you know you care.

Justine's Tentative Plan for a Happy and Relaxing December:
in no particular order

1. Do not leave my Christmas shopping until December 17
   


2. Do not spend any more of my money frivilously -- Is that the right word? Is that a word?
   


3. Finish Zan's Top Secret Super Awesome Surprise Present -- Hopefully. We'll see how this goes. I'm officially exactly 75% done though.
   


4. Start studying for Statistics December 7 -- This way I can plan it all out over 11 days, study a teeny tiny, itty bit bit each day and not get stressed or frustrated
   


5. Pack lightly for the trip home -- Because I know I will have lots and lots of presents to bring back with me... Right?
   


6. Don't go to bed late so that I can still wake up in the morning. -- Just because we have holidays, doesn't mean I should start being lazy again. I'm starting to enjoy waking up early. I get a lot more out of my day. It's still hard though, but I'm trying.
   


7. Hang out with all the people I said I would hang out with when I'm home -- Because I have a habit of not following through with those "verbal" plans made over MSN, and it's not cause I'm mean or intentionally don't go through with them, but that those types of plans are always so sketchy. I never know which are actually plans and which were just like, "We should hang out" like when people say "Hey, what's up?" but don't want to hear a full response. You know what I mean... Or maybe not.
   


8. Write a short story -- I haven't written anything significant in a very long time, since September, and all I've been writing are little cutesy poems, which are good cause I love them, but I miss my short stories. I wish I was still creative... or inspired... or something. Gifted. I wish I was gifted.
   


9. Trick Zia into letting me keep Isabella and bring her back here with me -- I might have some problems with Jeff, too.
   


10. Come up with the best, most creative... best anniversary present for Zan
    


11. Find out what Nina has been snooping through in my room
    


12. Buy a lottery ticket and win a million dollars -- It might happen. You don't know.
    


13. Take more pictures -- I wish I took more pictures. I want to remember stuff when I'm 70 years old, whip out the photo album and say, "This was me, and this was me, and this was me, and this was me," and be able to show my kids what happened in my life (not when I'm 70, before that), lest they think I was a big loser with no social life... Wait.
    


14. Bring back more of those Mandarin Oranges -- I don't have anymore left, Mommy...
    


15. Go for a winter trail ride! -- Nina, Leila said that because Heather has "adopted" Casey, I could maybe ride Travis, and you could bring Buddy and we could ride in the snow.
    


16. Come up with a good New Year's resolution -- It will have to be something I can actually keep.

Okay, that's enough. That was a good list. This was a good break from what I'm supposed to be doing, which is studying. But I tell myself if I'm not on MSN, it's okay. I'm not breaking the rules.

I don't really believe that though. Only... two hours of studying left (but I'll be done earlier than I thought so woo-hoo)...