I have a very weird feeling right now. I just took a break from my twelve year schoolworkathon to have a snack and update my blogs. I'll keep going after I'm done writing this.
I have a half day tomorrow because my 4th period was cancelled. To be quite honest, I think that lot's of people are going to be taking half days tomorrow due to the Fashion Show buyout that I'm totally NOT going to. My halfday is legitimate, and for that I'm proud. I also won't have to spend money at lunch cause I'm going home at 11. (Man, that's not even a half day.) Then I'm going to come home and hammer out to ISU's which is going to be potentially damaging to my health.
One thing that is completely damaging to my health is never having a day off. I've done this 7 days a week gig for a while now and my mind is so exhausted. My brain keeps looking for a spacer between all the work, but there isn't one, and as a result, it never wants to concentrate on work. (Ergo, I'm writing this post right now.) I guess I'm just having trouble focusing, thought not for lack of motivation. My entire future hangs on my academic performance in the next month. That may sound like a gross exageration, but it really isn't. The percentage weight of these enormous projects on my final are frightening in comparison to the worth of other projects. So essentially, the time when I need to focus on schoolwork the most is when: the warm weather comes, I get a job, my internet wrecks.... Man, I just want to sit on my ass and watch tv or go to the beach for a day. I'm definetely beaching it up this summer, despite my 40hr work week. I will be partying and beachbumming at every chance because my youth is running away from me, and I'm too old to catch up. That's creeping me out, majorly. I feel excited for my life to begin and my career to start and my independence to blossom, but at the same time, I think of how fast 0-18 has gone and in the same span of time I'll be in my mid-thirties... (I might as well be geriatric... Sorry to all the oldies, but man, I don't want to be old.)
I should also add that at random intervals my life flashes before my eyes. It's very odd. My life has been very weird, but good. I'm glad that everything has happened the way it has, but there are a few encounters that I wish I could have left out, for my psychological soundness...
Wow, if I put this much effort into my essay, I'll be done in ten minutes. WOOO.
My grandfather built a house for my grandma. The house is large and tastefully decorated. He wanted the house to be lovely for Her to grow old in because he assumed that She would live longer than he would. The house used to be beautiful and big and full, and now it is cold, enormous and empty because he lives in it all alone.
The house always smelled like fresh bread or muffins and in the morning, you wanted to wake up early to catch the bacon and biscuits. The smell of bacon was an alarm clock unto itself. There was always something in the oven, on the stove, or cooling in the fridge. Fresh lavender and basil from the gardens was hidden in all the rooms that seemed to make the house more like a benevolent deity than a structure of mortar and stone and wood. Now the house smells like cleansing solution and air conditioning. The windows never get opened anymore, and this became clearly evident when grandfather’s burnt eggs splattered against the ceiling. There are no more pleasant or awakening smells.
The gardens around the house provided fresh fruit and vegetables. There were always raspberries to be picked, sweet peas to be shucked, or potatoes to be peeled. In the non-edible gardens different flowers and trees and shrubs were blooming and growing at different seasons. Even in the early spring and late fall, something seemed to be just emerging for you to see. At the end of the growing cycle, the herbs were dried, the flowers were pressed between the pages of a large volume, and the fruit turned into preserves. Now a professional gardener does rounds of watering, picking, and storing. The gardener doesn’t make paprika from dried paprika peppers. He does not leave raspberries for us to pick, or sweet peas for us to shuck.
The house used to be filled with the sound of cooking shows, or Her voice gibbering in Hungarian. She would speak to the dogs and squirrels outside, and often to the plants in her greenhouse, or on the window ledge of the kitchen. Now all that you can hear in the house are echoes- of footsteps and doors closing and car alarms beeping and Pavarotti’s pretentious tenor blasting at full volume. You cannot hear your own thoughts, and neither can the plants, because a large Italian bellows about lost love.
The house if for sale now, and I hope that whoever moves in can make bacon and bread. I hope they know how to dry herbs to make spices. I hope they know what flowers bloom in what season and I hope they know that wide-open windows make the best air conditioning. I hope the house once again becomes a benevolent deity that welcomes and warms another little girl.
The house always smelled like fresh bread or muffins and in the morning, you wanted to wake up early to catch the bacon and biscuits. The smell of bacon was an alarm clock unto itself. There was always something in the oven, on the stove, or cooling in the fridge. Fresh lavender and basil from the gardens was hidden in all the rooms that seemed to make the house more like a benevolent deity than a structure of mortar and stone and wood. Now the house smells like cleansing solution and air conditioning. The windows never get opened anymore, and this became clearly evident when grandfather’s burnt eggs splattered against the ceiling. There are no more pleasant or awakening smells.
The gardens around the house provided fresh fruit and vegetables. There were always raspberries to be picked, sweet peas to be shucked, or potatoes to be peeled. In the non-edible gardens different flowers and trees and shrubs were blooming and growing at different seasons. Even in the early spring and late fall, something seemed to be just emerging for you to see. At the end of the growing cycle, the herbs were dried, the flowers were pressed between the pages of a large volume, and the fruit turned into preserves. Now a professional gardener does rounds of watering, picking, and storing. The gardener doesn’t make paprika from dried paprika peppers. He does not leave raspberries for us to pick, or sweet peas for us to shuck.
The house used to be filled with the sound of cooking shows, or Her voice gibbering in Hungarian. She would speak to the dogs and squirrels outside, and often to the plants in her greenhouse, or on the window ledge of the kitchen. Now all that you can hear in the house are echoes- of footsteps and doors closing and car alarms beeping and Pavarotti’s pretentious tenor blasting at full volume. You cannot hear your own thoughts, and neither can the plants, because a large Italian bellows about lost love.
The house if for sale now, and I hope that whoever moves in can make bacon and bread. I hope they know how to dry herbs to make spices. I hope they know what flowers bloom in what season and I hope they know that wide-open windows make the best air conditioning. I hope the house once again becomes a benevolent deity that welcomes and warms another little girl.
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BOOK LIST: Canadian History
LOOK FOR PRIMARY SOURCES
Canada Decade by Decade (older, book, rich in primary sources)
Giant books about certain year
Canadian History for Dummies, 2nd Edition
Will Ferguson
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: June 2005
Dimensions : 544 Pages, 7.42 x 9.27 x 1.05 in
ISBN: 0470836563 · Published By: Wiley
Not All of Us Were Brave
Stanley Scislowski
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 1997
Dimensions : 0 Pages, 6 x 9 x 0 in
ISBN: 1550022989
The Oxford Companion to Canadian History
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: March 2006
Dimensions : 800 Pages, 8 x 10 in
ISBN: 0195424387 · Published By: Oxford University Press
A Country Nourished on Self-Doubt: Documents in Post-Confederation Canadian History
Thomas Thorner
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 2005
Dimensions : 290 Pages, 6.5 x 9 IN
ISBN: 1551115484 · Published By: Broadview Press
LOOK FOR PRIMARY SOURCES
Canada Decade by Decade (older, book, rich in primary sources)
Giant books about certain year
Canadian History for Dummies, 2nd Edition
Will Ferguson
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: June 2005
Dimensions : 544 Pages, 7.42 x 9.27 x 1.05 in
ISBN: 0470836563 · Published By: Wiley
Not All of Us Were Brave
Stanley Scislowski
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 1997
Dimensions : 0 Pages, 6 x 9 x 0 in
ISBN: 1550022989
The Oxford Companion to Canadian History
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: March 2006
Dimensions : 800 Pages, 8 x 10 in
ISBN: 0195424387 · Published By: Oxford University Press
A Country Nourished on Self-Doubt: Documents in Post-Confederation Canadian History
Thomas Thorner
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 2005
Dimensions : 290 Pages, 6.5 x 9 IN
ISBN: 1551115484 · Published By: Broadview Press