Thursday, January 29, 2004
I had to have my timetable changed recently. Since it was three months after the course change deadline, I had to bring a letter from home. Like any other letter (ie note for absence), this involves me typing it out and my mother signing it. I am always the one writing letters. This is in no way deceitful of course, for she knows what I am typing, and reads it before signing.
So this 'letter from home' was no different than the other 'letters from home'. It was: a letter, stating my reasons for the timetable change, along with tidbits of useless information such as my spare time activities (Waterloo application all over again) and how much spare time I will have after the change, and how I plan to use that spare time (finding a cure for cancer, promoting world peace, basket-weaving, etc).
I printed them out the night before my appointment with the counsellor, and laid it out nicely on the table for my mother to sign the next morning. Because I have approximately thirty minutes in the morning to shower, dress, eat a big and filling breakfast consisting of cereal, milk, soy drink, eggs, rice, the dish that goes with the rice, and fruit, then brush and floss, it came as no surprise that I forgot to give the letter to my mother to sign.
It wasn't until I'd handed the counsellor her copy of the letter that I noticed the big gaping hole where the signature is supposed to be. Unfortunately, the letter was already in her hands. I looked at her as she looked over my sad, signature-less plea for a timetable change and felt like peeing in my pants. The big gap at the bottom was so obvious, and I was so scared. I thought about pointing to something random on the wall and uttering something completely inappropriete and spontaneous, and while my counsellor stands there in a shock I would snatch the paper from her loose hands and scribble a signature. I ditched that idea, for obvious reasons. I wanted to say that I only have one copy so I need to take the letter back to give to the administration, but I was stupidly holding the other un-signed letter in my hand.
To my great dismay, she read through the letter slowly and carefully, while I sweated and entered the primary stages of a heart attack. I left a big space for the signature and that space was jumping out at me screaming emptiness. In a last minute attempt to save myself, I started talking about how wonderful her office looks and smells. After finishing the letter, she said she will forward a note to the administration giving her permission for my timetable change. In the meantime, she said, let me put your letter in my folder.
Maybe she noticed that it was unsigned. If she did, then why did she ignore it? Or maybe she didn't see it. I guess I'll never know.
So this 'letter from home' was no different than the other 'letters from home'. It was: a letter, stating my reasons for the timetable change, along with tidbits of useless information such as my spare time activities (Waterloo application all over again) and how much spare time I will have after the change, and how I plan to use that spare time (finding a cure for cancer, promoting world peace, basket-weaving, etc).
I printed them out the night before my appointment with the counsellor, and laid it out nicely on the table for my mother to sign the next morning. Because I have approximately thirty minutes in the morning to shower, dress, eat a big and filling breakfast consisting of cereal, milk, soy drink, eggs, rice, the dish that goes with the rice, and fruit, then brush and floss, it came as no surprise that I forgot to give the letter to my mother to sign.
It wasn't until I'd handed the counsellor her copy of the letter that I noticed the big gaping hole where the signature is supposed to be. Unfortunately, the letter was already in her hands. I looked at her as she looked over my sad, signature-less plea for a timetable change and felt like peeing in my pants. The big gap at the bottom was so obvious, and I was so scared. I thought about pointing to something random on the wall and uttering something completely inappropriete and spontaneous, and while my counsellor stands there in a shock I would snatch the paper from her loose hands and scribble a signature. I ditched that idea, for obvious reasons. I wanted to say that I only have one copy so I need to take the letter back to give to the administration, but I was stupidly holding the other un-signed letter in my hand.
To my great dismay, she read through the letter slowly and carefully, while I sweated and entered the primary stages of a heart attack. I left a big space for the signature and that space was jumping out at me screaming emptiness. In a last minute attempt to save myself, I started talking about how wonderful her office looks and smells. After finishing the letter, she said she will forward a note to the administration giving her permission for my timetable change. In the meantime, she said, let me put your letter in my folder.
Maybe she noticed that it was unsigned. If she did, then why did she ignore it? Or maybe she didn't see it. I guess I'll never know.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Due to the recent discovery of my site in USDAFOODS as well as numerous hits with the search word avocados, the time has come to be educational and teach fellow readers about avocados and exactly why they are good for the body.
Having been born with the tendency to be lazy, I will give you links instead of actual information. Well, maybe I'll give you a little information.
Avocados are pear-shaped fruits with leathery skin, yellowish-green flesh, and a large seed. They are also called alligator pears and avocado pears. In my diet, they are found in sushi - usually california rolls - and sometimes in its natural, raw, fruit form, which my mother forces me to eat with a spoon. (As opposed to with a stick, I guess)
They are nutritous fruits, and perhaps one of the only fruits with fat. This is one of the best avocado sites, containing everything about avocados including recipes, facts, health benefits, and growing information.
Having been born with the tendency to be lazy, I will give you links instead of actual information. Well, maybe I'll give you a little information.
Avocados are pear-shaped fruits with leathery skin, yellowish-green flesh, and a large seed. They are also called alligator pears and avocado pears. In my diet, they are found in sushi - usually california rolls - and sometimes in its natural, raw, fruit form, which my mother forces me to eat with a spoon. (As opposed to with a stick, I guess)
They are nutritous fruits, and perhaps one of the only fruits with fat. This is one of the best avocado sites, containing everything about avocados including recipes, facts, health benefits, and growing information.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Recently, people have found my site through google searches for "arithmetic sequence"+ exciting and braces are ugly. Some people have such odd fascinations. The first person - the one who finds arithmetic sequences 'exciting' - has yet to learn about geometric sequences. I expect google searches for "geometric sequence + MIND BLOWING" in the near future. Sequences rock my socks. Speaking of socks, a humanities teacher I once had wore musical socks. She even turned it on once for us. It played 'Silent Night". It was a little disturbing.
Okay, Mr/Mrs Braces Are Ugly, what are you looking for? What do you want? Trying to find similar pea-brains with a dislike for orthondontic treatment? I bet you were so jealous of friends who had their teeth corrected to perfection that you've tried to make braces using aluminum foil and coat-hanger wire. Sucker.
I have been told that for an extra fee, you can have your braces erased in professional school photographs. Why would anybody want to do that?
Okay, Mr/Mrs Braces Are Ugly, what are you looking for? What do you want? Trying to find similar pea-brains with a dislike for orthondontic treatment? I bet you were so jealous of friends who had their teeth corrected to perfection that you've tried to make braces using aluminum foil and coat-hanger wire. Sucker.
I have been told that for an extra fee, you can have your braces erased in professional school photographs. Why would anybody want to do that?
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Coming soon: February's Valentine Special!
Don't miss this special event!
Don't miss this special event!
Sunday, January 11, 2004
I couldn't sleep last night. It may have been due to the long nap I took in the afternoon, but I went to bed late enough to make sure I fall asleep quickly. Not the case. I lay there, with my eyes closed, and realized suddenly that I can't remember Shakespeare's first name. What's Shakespeare's first name? Felix? No, that's Mendelssohn first name. I know! It's BILL. Bill Shakespeare. It doesn't sound right.
I looked around the room to find something that might contain Bill Shakespeare's real first name. I picked up my Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music, knowing that Berlioz - among others - was inspired by the works of Shakespeare. But I knew that they wouldn't include his first name under any of the composers' information. I was relieved to see that Shakespeare did not have a personal section in my music dictionary, because, well, Shakespeare didn't exactly show any musical talent.
Next I grabbed a music textbook. In the index, I found William Shakespeare.
William.
I fell asleep after that.
I looked around the room to find something that might contain Bill Shakespeare's real first name. I picked up my Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music, knowing that Berlioz - among others - was inspired by the works of Shakespeare. But I knew that they wouldn't include his first name under any of the composers' information. I was relieved to see that Shakespeare did not have a personal section in my music dictionary, because, well, Shakespeare didn't exactly show any musical talent.
Next I grabbed a music textbook. In the index, I found William Shakespeare.
William.
I fell asleep after that.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
We met on a fine, fine day. The warmth of the sun enveloped us like a soft, warm blanket, and the gentle breeze brushed our shoulders like a cool, smooth, hand. Our eyes found each other and as we gazed deeply into each other's being, something stirred within us. It was sight at first love. No, I mean, it was first love at sight. First sight at love! Um, nevermind.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
The warm weather lifts everyone's spirits up, but for some reason I also find it a little saddening, like something's missing, like I should be missing something; it feels nostalgic. Having spent months trapped underneath the dark and depressing rain, the sun and the warmth it brings are like the hands that open up a kitten's cage. The weak animal can barely open its eyes against the harsh sunlight, which is so sudden and piercing.
When it rains here, it rains lightly and without hurry. The drizzle is continuous and frustrating, with a constant accompanying grey sky. The sky is low during those seasons, and it looks and feels suffocating, with the feeling augmented by the unrelenting rain. On many occasions I have felt the urge to stand in the middle of an open field, throw open my arms and simply scream at the top of my lungs, hoping my voice will convince the rain to fall faster. I wanted it to rain more violently and at shorter intervals. It would have been more satisfying to struggle through the sharp wind and cutting rain drops for short moments than to have to live through an unending wetness every single day.
Though the pressuring sky and dim environment did have a major effect on me, the weather was also calming. Lying in my bed alone at night, I'd listen to the rain hit my windows, and found comfort in the irregular beatings of rain drops, the soft whispering of the wind, and felt safe in my room beneath the covers. The wind can blow as hard as it wants, and the rain can fall relentlessly, but I was warm and drifting into sleep, protected by the walls, untouchable.
When it rains here, it rains lightly and without hurry. The drizzle is continuous and frustrating, with a constant accompanying grey sky. The sky is low during those seasons, and it looks and feels suffocating, with the feeling augmented by the unrelenting rain. On many occasions I have felt the urge to stand in the middle of an open field, throw open my arms and simply scream at the top of my lungs, hoping my voice will convince the rain to fall faster. I wanted it to rain more violently and at shorter intervals. It would have been more satisfying to struggle through the sharp wind and cutting rain drops for short moments than to have to live through an unending wetness every single day.
Though the pressuring sky and dim environment did have a major effect on me, the weather was also calming. Lying in my bed alone at night, I'd listen to the rain hit my windows, and found comfort in the irregular beatings of rain drops, the soft whispering of the wind, and felt safe in my room beneath the covers. The wind can blow as hard as it wants, and the rain can fall relentlessly, but I was warm and drifting into sleep, protected by the walls, untouchable.
My new year's resolution is 600 x 800.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
I have just realized that I spend a lot of time in front of mirrors staring at my teeth. Or more precisely, my braces. My braces and my teeth. Whatever. This started a month prior to orthodontist treatment, when I would stare disapprovingly at my crooked teeth, trying different smiles to see which one looked the best. I thought I had an ugly smile, which is quite rare and not exactly a good thing, since smiles aren't supposed to be unattractive, so I actually looked forward to getting braces. And then I discovered that braces are ugly too. Go figure.
While most other girls spend literally minutes in front of the mirror doing their hair, applying their powders and lotions and mascaras and liners and smelly things, I spend my minutes looking at my teeth from all possible angles. I even have one of those dentist mirrors that lets me see the back of my teeth and underneath my top molars. Isn't everybody fascinated with their teeth? And braces? If they're lucky enough to have braces?
Some people can't walk out of the house in the morning without elaborate French braids or German twists or Chinese buns and can't bear to let others see them with their hair dripping wet and their pimples showing. Me, I can't leave the house without brushing and flossing my teeth. So it doesn't matter if my blemishes aren't concealed by Mac or if my hair is dripping wet, as long as my teeth and braces are clean.
Note: Just because I talk about my braces, stare at my teeth in the mirror, and look forward to orthodontist appointments does not mean I have an obsession. Just in case you thought so.
While most other girls spend literally minutes in front of the mirror doing their hair, applying their powders and lotions and mascaras and liners and smelly things, I spend my minutes looking at my teeth from all possible angles. I even have one of those dentist mirrors that lets me see the back of my teeth and underneath my top molars. Isn't everybody fascinated with their teeth? And braces? If they're lucky enough to have braces?
Some people can't walk out of the house in the morning without elaborate French braids or German twists or Chinese buns and can't bear to let others see them with their hair dripping wet and their pimples showing. Me, I can't leave the house without brushing and flossing my teeth. So it doesn't matter if my blemishes aren't concealed by Mac or if my hair is dripping wet, as long as my teeth and braces are clean.
Note: Just because I talk about my braces, stare at my teeth in the mirror, and look forward to orthodontist appointments does not mean I have an obsession. Just in case you thought so.
Saturday, January 03, 2004
Psh. Yeah right.
