ho hum, hi ho

It's been a ho-hum-busy few days- I'm sure you know the kind. I'm busy... doing nothing. (Hello, biology homework! I hate you too!) And now, for some reason, I'm thinking about Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. The tune is stuck in my head, and it's driving me insane. (Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go!) This always seems to happen at the most inconvenient moments... like in the middle of a presentation. (I often start singing that song, instead of what I'm trying to present. Really, I should get points for creativity!) And it's never good songs, either. (This can probably be chalked down to Science. Most bad things can.)

Another possibly scientific problem? Suddenly forgetting things. Important things, like your locker combination right before the buses leave or the words to another song... that you're presenting in front of your entire highschool. (So there's only like fifty people at my school. Still.) It was all going swimmingly- I was playing the ukulele (they're the cutest instruments on the planet! You know you're jealous) and singing along when suddenly... I had a complete blank.

Awkward silence ensued...

And continued.

Until I couldn't take it anymore, and slunk off the stage, my tail between my legs. (Metaphorically. Unless it's possible to grow a tail of shame... I'll have to look into that. Oh wait, that's known as a rat-tail. Save me!)

never exercise at a party

I like biking. However, I don't like freezing my ears, toes and nose off while doing it. Enter... the stationary bike. (You'd think they'd come with a disclaimer... or maybe they do, and I just didn't read it. Who actually reads those anyway?) Useful during the winter? Maybe. However, in the hands (feet?) of the right (wrong?) people, it can be a dangerous weapon.

Picture a party; not a wild and crazy, TGIF-style, but instead a fun gathering of friends. We were hanging around in the basement, chatting (I know, I know, it comes as a surprise that a group of teenage girls would do such a thing) and fiddling around with the various exercise machines. (Fitness is fun!) I was playing around on the stationary bike, trying out different speeds, when suddenly... it started moving.

I've replayed the incident in my head at least fifty times, trying to figure out what happened, and I'm still not sure. Did the bike skip? Did my shoes slip? Or was it just me being my normal klutzy self?

Whatever the cause, the effect was fairly dramatic. The bike slipped forward, tipped on its front wheel (I hadn't even realised there was a wheel there, before then) and flipped over. Of course, the stupid thing didn't stop there. I was clinging to the top like a limpet (I don't even know what a limpet is. It just seems like a popular expression) as it pushed me into the wall with its wheel, leaving gorgeous tire tracks across my face.

Did anyone ask me if I was okay? No. They all fell to the floor laughing. (You can really tell they love me.) However, this also proved that karma was alive and well- several people had headaches after from slamming their heads against the ground.

And the best part? There was a camera running the entire time. (She hadn't actually meant to film me... she was looking at a purple dinosaur.) The resulting video is now plastered all over Facebook for the entire world to see. (Okay, maybe not quite. Just her 246 friends... and if they decide to show it to their friends...) Let's just hope she never figures out how to upload it onto Youtube.

Ever since then, we've been mortal enemies. (Not quite nemesis territory, but close. I've started bonding with the treadmill instead.) And, of course, this has never happened to me while I'm alone. Tell me, dear readers- has this ever happened to you? Or am I the only one to whom exercise machines are deadly?

confessions of a teenage drama queen... writer

Attention everyone! I have a confession to make. I... write stories. For fun. (No guns involved, I swear!)

Yes. I know it's awful, and right now you're thinking- why would anyone even reveal that? It's just so awful! Why doesn't she just confess that she eats scorpions for fun, too? (Fun fact- I just spelt 'right' as 'write'. Why are typos so weirdly relevant? Except for when they involve lobsters or other crustaceans, which also seems to happen often.)

However, it's a facet of my life that just can't be denied. (Read: obsession.) The reason I truly came to realise this? Whenever I'm trying to avoid something, I start writing. Some people procrastinate by watching TV or talking to friends. I invent a new character. (And now you're thinking- wow this girl is a loser. First she said she liked math, and now...)

But on behalf of writers everywhere, I would just like to say- WRITING IS FUN! Yay for writing! Also, without writers, there would be none of those TV shows you're so addicted to... so just think about that the next time you're making fun of that girl sitting in the corner with crazy eye makeup and the weird old hat. (Who is totally not me. Cough cough.)

And another thing. Why is it that rereading things is always so painful? Looking at an old story I had written, I felt as though my eyes were about to melt out of my head and drip onto the keyboard. (I quickly had to leave the computer- it would have been devastating if I'd damaged it!) Although sometimes it can be funny too- like FUNNY AWFUL.

And the clincher? These were things that I wrote last year. How do actual published authors stand it? How will I feel in another year from now? Worst of all, how will I feel about this blog when I realise that IT'S BEEN OUT HERE FOR THE ENTIRE WORLD TO SEE?

...I think I'll just end this now, before my brain explodes.

testing testing, i'm just suggesting, you and I might not be the best thing

Online quizzes. We've all taken them, in advance stages of boredom or procrastination. (Apparently I'm a chili pepper!) I think we can all agree that they're at least slightly accurate. (I can totally relate to being a bright red vegetable that people think is kinda weird.) So then why is it that, when we actually have to take them for school, they are so completely wrong?

Yes. I am talking about that dreaded creation known as ...Career tests.

My theory is that they're all elaborated by a race of aliens who wants to bring the earth to destruction... or who just don't understand anything about us. (Haha! I've found your secret! Wait, no. I bet it's the mutant squirrels. THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME, I tell you!) Otherwise, why would it have told me I was destined to become... -dramatic drumroll- a soldier?

I know. It makes no sense.

Reason 1 Why I Shouldn't Be A Soldier (aka Wisbas) (That sounds sweet, like a kitten's whisker... not the menacing tone I was going for): I am afraid of insects. (Blood doesn't bother me, since I get into so many accidents, but bugs... And somehow I don't think that waking up the entire camp at three in the morning because a fly landed on my cheek would endear me to anyone.)

Wisbas Reason 2: As previously mentioned, I am a klutz. I would be far more likely to shoot myself in the foot (literally!) than to use any weapon correctly.

Wisbas Reason 3: Really, those two reasons should be enough.

At least I wasn't in the same scenario as one of my friends, who was told "There are no employment possibilities that match your interests." Ouch. Does this mean he's condemned to live as a hobo?

Well, at least I understand why no one wants to hire me. Since all my test results just scream 'soldier!' they're just worried I'll quit when I see how suited I am to a different profession. It has nothing at all to do with anything I said or did during the interview. It's just some weird psychic knowledge... right? It's not because I was wearing my good-luck purple feathery earrings, and one of them fell into the interviewer's drink?

...no, that can't be it.

(Completely random side note- yes, I love Marianas Trench. If you don't know them, look them up now!)

um, obviously

This lovely photo of a sign- and a sticker- was taken in front of Niagara Falls. (I know, I know... beautiful scenery and I took a picture of this? I was being unique, people.) What I really want to know is, did the sticker come before or after the sign? Somehow they seem connected...

is it time to go to bed yet?

Why is it that some mornings seem so much earlier than others? Some days, I feel like 'YAY IT'S TIME TO GET UP! This will be a great day!" (Yes, I'm a morning person. Actually, it's more that I'm not a night person- I've been known to fall asleep at seven pm. During sleepovers. And everyone knows that 'sleepover' is code for 'all-nighter'.) Today, on the other hand, I arrived at school without realising I had even gotten up yet. Did I teleport? Take that evil creation known as 'the bus'? Who knows? Most tragic of all, everyone else's hair looks better than mine. (You'd think that my hair would realise, oh, she's tired, we'll give her a break and look great! But no. It's a ball of fluff.)

Actually, no, that's not even the worst part. I now have to confess...

I am afflicted with Type 1 Klutzitude- the most severe form. (I know, you feel so bad for me! Tears are forming in your eyes! Oddly enough, in most people, their grief emerges as laughter.) I trip over cracks in the sidewalk and even grass that's been cut too straight. (One of my friends came up with the idea of airblocks- invisible pieces of solid air that appear just when it's least convenient- and I swear she's right.) I've learnt to deal with this disorder and, most days, it doesn't prevent me from living a relatively normal life. (If you consider being tripped by gusts of wind normal.) However, on days like today, it comes out with a vengeance.

Today will be one of those days. You know- the ones where I will run into doors that weren't closed a second ago (does this happen to anyone else? IT FREAKS ME OUT) trip over yellow squares on the floor (...no, they're not actually any different than the white ones) and, best of all, go to soccer practice.

Is this a symptom of some exotic disease? Not unless wanting to play soccer is simply a result of the many times I've hit my head. It's just that I know I'm probably going to run into players on my own team, trip over the ball and faceplant in the dirt. (This all happened yesterday, and I wasn't even tired.)

Sigh. I need some caffeine. Or, even better, a brain transplant.