what does it cost?

Staying up late, losing my sleep, losing my temper, losing my sanity...

I can't figure out this whole time management thing. MW LIVES on time management- every moment is planned, used to twice it's potential, and carefully monitored. I know, I know, it's the way it's supposed to be. And it's good, isn't it? But I just can't do it! There's so much to do, and never enough time to do it. It's just kind of overwhelming, you know?

I miss the summer. And I know I can't get back all the extra free time and everything, but just a few days off with good weather would be fun. And relaxing.

I should take a break...

in other news

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEMON!

I'm trying as hard as I can to pass over the extreme rage I'm experiencing right now. I shall edit this post later, as I'm failing at it.

incense

I'm in the computer lab...I've reminisced, I've spent a sleepless night remembering everything, the ceremony, the fifteen years we spent learning from him... and I just can't seem to let go of anything. Let me tell you how it went, so that it seems so much less like a dream and so much more like reality. Reality, the one thing I'm trying to escape, has finally caught up to me. But still...this is a modified version of events, since this is a public blog after all.

DingDong

"TINAAAAAA! HE'S HERE!" I tumbled down the stairs and wrenched open the front door, (it's got one of those odd vacuum things) ushering Lemon inside. We dawdled around upstairs until my brother, who had come home from London expressly for this ceremony ushered us into the car. It was not more than a three minute drive away, but we were still shivering with the cold as we forced ourselves to walk into the church. It wouldn't do to be running in at a time like this. Unsure, I lingered in the lobby with old friends while Lemon went to go pay his respects. I'd resolved not to go see his body...I wanted to remember him as he was before.

Eventually Movie came in and I accompanied him up. It was too much. The little cards with his pictures on him didn't look anything like him...he didn't even look anything like him. The only way I could tell it was real was his hands...the same hands that are the only thing I can remember. It was too much for Movie too. I took him to my brother and we tried our best to make the hurting stop but sometimes you can't let it work that way. After a while, I left with some friends, as well as Movie to go see if they needed help at the back. I handed out the deceitful little cards, I asked if they wanted to make donations, I said, "Would you like to sign the registry?" All the while my friends and I stood in that little line, a sentry of the youth he'd taught the essence of being Catholic, and shared his stories. It was the beginning of healing. The only way we could really let him leave forever is if we forgot him, and what he had done for us. "Father, I threw peanuts in the water!" "PING! A special blessing." "You should all consider Holy Orders." "Do you want to see all my pockets?" "My brother." "We stood by the river." "It was a miracle." "This is our faith." "This is our faith."This...is our faith." So we'll pass on the message and vow never to forget.

The mass began...we stood outside of the church waiting, as ushers do, and listening, as ushers sometimes do. The phrase of the night was, "You okay?" followed a nod of the head. The homily- eulogy? was appropriate. It was so shocking to see the 10 or more priests, and three Franciscan Friars creating a circle of golden vestments, interspersed with brown. The mass was beautiful...and over quite soon. As the youth assembled a pathway for the procession and the casket to follow, we watched as incense floated up to the top of the Church, hovering over the alter and finally reaching us way in the lobby. The priests crowded behind our path as the pallbearers processed and joined our line up. Father Reg. blessed the casket with Holy Water, as the incensed flowed through the area. As the ushers and youth we had the closest view of it all happening...and suddenly, he was gone. The Mass was over, and Friar Guy Gartland was on his way to New York. We re-grouped, calmed ourselves down, and headed for the sanctuary of the hall. And then we told stories...more of them, more of our memories until we could laugh while still thinking of him.

My brother sought us out and Lemon and I headed home, not quite ready to let go, but a little closer. For me, at least. I wonder what happened at Ms. Waskel's...

reality

Don't give me reality when I want to hear your lies...don't let me know when you're pretending so I can think it's real...don't tell me honestly/seriously/sadly because sometimes, I just don't want to know. I can't stand to hear you telling me everything is real. I can't bear to look when I know the time has passed.

Does the same go for you? Do you want me to lie or say it straight to your face?
I know when people ask me, "are you ohkay?" "how are you?" that they want me to say, "yes, i'm fine, i'm stupendous, i'm flying, i'm soaring, i'm sinking, i'm drowning, i'm dying, i'm lying, i'm just holding on." (Quoted from a convo today.)

What makes no sense and has no reason fills my mind. What's more, I know it makes no sense and has no reason. Don't fucking tell me all is right because no shit, everything's fine. I swear, everything's fine.

(Am I lying?)

surrealism and the keerie, in remembrance

The following is an excerpt written on November 10th, 2005, in the Mary Ward Chapel.

...Scant minutes after we'd gone our ways, I slipped through the Chapel door in search of solace. The scene was painfully stark, two boys and three girls, staring at their fingers as they murmered a plea to Our Lady.
"Hail Mary full of grace..." I joined them, each within our own reverie and linked by prayer.
"Merciful redeemer..." The rosary finished, we sat in silence. It was merciful indeed, that we had this chance, a choice. To gather in the twilight hours and pray to God for whatever His will may be. Slowly we drifted, and now I'm sitting here concealed a bit but writing out our tribute to him.
...Our Confirmation year was the most memorable- right from the first week of school he taught us about being Catholic- not Christian, Catholic. Throughout the year we learned about our faither and our church. He took us on tours, explaining the symbolism...we learned to usher and help at Mass. (Many of the Confirmandi from our year continue to do so today, myself included.) I watched for two years as hundreds of Confirmandi passed through his hands. I listened as he tried to recruit us, (the ushers) for the priesthood or convents. I can still remember the day he told us he was leaving for treatment, instructing us on the kids bulletins, showing us where everything was.
...I can still remember, and so we wait. We're all writing out our tributes now- Nisha smiling sadly, Camille as she sniffs back tears. I can hear the band faintly, the tune of "Follow the Fold" from drama, and the sounds of rehearsal. It isn't too long before I head there myself but today is a weak day, and it knows not the cold that lies here.

That was a little over a week ago. It's Saturday night, the news we waited for arrived this morning. Honestly, I had my mouth full of chocolate and was humming the tune of a new song I found sheet music for when the phone rang. It took a while. I passed the message on, as was my duty. It's still taking a while. I've returned from mass- which brings it all to reality. Not completely there yet, but still a little more real. The one thing at mass was that as ushers, we could run the mass the way he wanted while he wasn't here, but there was always the expectation of his return. Just hovering in the background, it was, the idea that his absence was temporary. Today I realized we'd never snap our mouths shut at the sound of his rosary, or see him standing at the alter, or listen carefully to his instructions. We learned to put out the kids bulletins, organize the Confirmandi, reserve seats, call Communion Ministers, put away the bag, check the collection schedule, grab the baskets, seat the people...everything in the past few months. And now comes the real test. Can POP RC survive without the man who did it all? I mean geez, we had to get a whole committee to replace his work with Confirmation, First Communion, and First Reconcilation candidates.

It isn't real yet. But it will be, soon. Silent comfort in your presence, spontaneous teenage prayer, quiet hugs, saddest eyes. With one look today, we communicated everything. I walked into the church and- one look. Donovan came- one look. It took that.

PS: On the right-hand navigation bar, you'll find a list of links. The third one is a link to The Power of WHAT? a blog created by The Group of Twelve. You'll find me, under the alias Aeriana Eve, (just like it is here) among with my cookie loving friends. Never of course forgetting, Samantha/Addy/Jeffrey who love muffins just as much. And Kaitlyn, who loves marshmallows. And Richard, who loves chocolate. And Lemon, who loves...Lemons! And I, who love it all.

Friar Guy Gartland, School Ministry, Franciscan. [never.Forgetten]

the IMAGE post

*cluE

"It's my belief that history is a wheel. 'Inconstancy is my very essence,' says the wheel. Rise up on my spokes if you like but don't complain when you're cast back down into the depths. Good time pass away, but then so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but it's also our hope. The worst of time, like the best, are always passing away."
-Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy

History repeats itself

passive

You can make no change being passive, but equally so, you can make no positive change by being violent. We spend too much of our lives being passive and apathetic. Passive is defined below.

Main Entry: 1pas·sive Pronunciation: 'pa-sivFunction: adjectiveEtymology: Middle English, from Latin passivus, from passus, past participle1 a (1) : acted upon by an external agency (2) : receptive to outside impressions or influences b (1) : asserting that the grammatical subject of a verb is subjected to or affected by the action represented by that verb (2) : containing or yielding a passive verb form c (1) : lacking in energy or will : LETHARGIC (2) : tending not to take an active or dominant part d : induced by an outside agency

As scary as it is to think, we're graduating in less than three years. We're all headed either into reality, college, or university. And after that...who knows. But wherever we are, we must make an impact on our worlds. It is our responsibility to make a difference, however small.

(PS: Yay for fontface, where I found the font for the image, "Passive" above. FONT: Impacted.)

the unofficial mw dictionary

Welcome to the first installment of the unofficial mw dictionary! Let us begin...

on track- phrase. not referring to a train or streetcar, but in reference to how many units you have completed. To be "on track" means to have completed a sufficient number of units to complete the course by June.

slacker- n. to waste time, to have the resources and ability to complete work yet choosing not to. v. slacking.

frenchie- n. referring to those who, of their own will, continue to take the french course after the mandatory grade nine course.

nerrd- n. someone who never hallwalks, skips, or wastes time within an area. also refers to those who are working while others are slacking.

niner- n. people in grade nine. this label carries a negative denotation, as niner's are usually seen as immature, distracting, and irresponsible. ouch.

inSANE!- phrase. "You're inSANE!" refers to those who are fasttracking or very much ahead of target date.

the admin- n. the vice principals, principal, and sometimes the hall monitors and IA's. (But not the EA's.) usually used in phrases similar to, "The admin are such idiots!" "Shit! Admin down the hall." "Those stupid admin assemblies." "Admin are wasting our time."

take a break- phrase. because of the self-directed system, it is possible to go to an area where you plan to relax or seperate yourself from work for the period. this can be slighty self-destructive, as you may develop a habit of break periods, (i.e. every 5th period) or may get into a break state of mind for the remainder of the day. many students "take a break" on the last period of the week.

More mw dictionary to come later!

Back again- I reiterate. MOODy teachers. GO AWAY! Or just go relax in your office or something I do'nt know but stay AWAY FROM ME!!!

rainy days

On the right is a jpg. of the short little ditty i composed on
nutsy teachers on rainy days. Below are the lyrics.

Rainy days, make teachers nuts.
They drive their students insane.
Why can't they just let go?
Sometimes we need a break.
Stop the rage!
Breathe it away...
And wait for a sunny day.

It wasn't really meant to be any good, but just an expression against teachers and counter ladies who seem to be on some kind of anger inducing pill as soon as the sky darkens. I hate to think of winter...

Ohkay. Question: Why do people think they're invisible as soon as they enter a stairwell? I CAN STILL SEE YOU. Hun, even though YOUR eyes are closed while you're making out with your bf/gf, mine aren't. Did you not realize that stairs are the equivalent of an intersection in the middle of a road? There are four staircases that 1400 people pass through every day. AND YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT! Oh, oh yea my bad I didn't realize that you were standing in that little alcove where the library emerg. exit is, or the little window place where the walls broken....I CAN STILL SEE YOU.

Breathe people, breathe.

magic letters

The magic letters are...P. M. S. What is it that makes our hormones run mad and send us into shopping/eating/raging fits of manic insanity? (Ohkay, I know, shuttup...FSH/LSH/estrogen- too much science) I know, (and so does lemon) when I'm feeling especially bitchy, and why. Apparently the administration is working against us, because when they called those stupid Three Days of Extended TA So We Can Nag You About Your Uniform And Time Management And Hallwalking While Being Hypocrites they never thought about the magic letters. (Day 2, TA's 25-55)

Day 3 begins tomorrow, but we're just wasting our time away in Extended, while Ta's 56-70 get to listen to the Assembly's We Called Over Three Days of Extended TA So We Can Nag You About Your Uniform And Time Management And Hallwalking While Being Hypocrites. I'm so excited. (Sarcasm, by the way.)

These Unit Seven HRE20 seminars sound REALLY lame, but I actually find them kind of interesting. The seminar I went to today was about peace and it was so eye-opening, all the different kinds of destruction and violence that permeate our daily lives. We've drifted so far from what God envisioned for us, (as far as we can tell from interpretations of the bible.) And as we all know- it's a lot more difficult to undo than it is to do. Some things, you just can't take back.

golden craaaaaaaackers!

The screenshot explains the weird subject line of this blog...I hope you can read it. If not, I blame the resizing of photobucket. I swore to nairy-berry that I'd make it my blog subject line.

First, I'd like to thank all the people over at the forum, (15/Love addicts are the most amazing people ever!) for replying to my racism thread, and commenting on the blog! Discrimination is something we should all fight together- no one should be a bystander. We all have a responsibility towards working for equality.

I canna stay long- must continue working. Towards several things, but also towards finishing my courses. *sigh.

discrimination

Who here has experienced discrimination? Racism, sexism, ageism? In a country that prides itself on multiculturalism, equality and acceptance of all cultures and beliefs, we've still got a long way to go.

Every teenager has known the storekeeper who stares at you when you walk into the store, the ones who are wary of anyone who stalks you until you leave. It's a common story- and not completely without reason, considering the huge amount of loss stores experience from shoplifting.

Then there's the bus drivers who demand a student id when you're in uniform- No, I'm just wearing a kilt and dress shirt for fun. I think it's comfortable and extremely fashionable. There's the drivers who snatch your transfer and hold it up to the light- Yes, I'm secretly spending hours in a dark basement creating my own paper and ink to match the transfer and save myself oh, $1.25. The $1.25 that my parents are paying for, and not me. Then the ones who are looking at your legs...when you're holding your transfer up at shoulder level. Sir...sir...it's um, up here. Yea. Yea. Thanks. And finally, the ones who narrow their eyes and you and grunt when you get on the bus. Eek, you grunted. I'd be more scared if you scratched your head and pulled out a banana.

There's the people who ignore you when you walk into the room. The ones who point and laugh while crudely imitating Chinese, (and I'm not Chinese!!!) The one's who purposely exclude you for group projects, and whisper behind their hands while staring at you, the one's who suddenly can't hear when you start talking. The one's who can find fault in everything you say.

WE WERE NINE! WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT??

I'm a little bitter. Just a bit.

running around in circles

Last night I was preparing for my musical theatre presentation, since I was sick last week when everyone else did it. "Yo daddy-o! The hippest place to be is at Macy's... paper shakers...classy chassie's...drugstore cowboy...!" 50's slang is incredibly interesting. Anyways, I was continuing my research and found a lot of women's clothing, one of which was the circle skirt. (Or the poodle skirt.) So I hunted down that bolt of cloth I used for my halloween costume, the sewing machine, and scissors and got down to it. It only took an hour and a half to measure, cut, pin, and sew the whole thing together. In the end, I had to bring it in eight inches and then add a button, but it was all worth it. The drama presentation was fun! And because the skirt is a lot longer than my kilt, (though not as long as it should have been, and without the poodle applique) I could sit like a normal person for once. YAY FOR SITTING NORMALLY! (BTW, the skirt in the picture has a much heavier fabric than the one I used, and is really purple...)


I also finally saw Mme. Newman, since all the niner's and gr 10 art students were out of the school. It turned out to be me, bacteria boy, and her in room 307. "Enfin!" she says. True, true. So I feel better now, although I still need to catch up by a LOT in half my courses.

It was an alright now- but I really have to get cracking on my work. Maybe in the midst of a unit, inspiration will strike and I can make something new sometime when I have free time. This sewing phase is a lot more fun and productive than the yogurt phase.

YAY for Unit Seven HRE20 seminars! I've only been waiting for a month...

Special November Dates
Cal's 15th: Nov. 2nd
N/C: Nov. 3rd
K/K: Nov. 3rd
S/?: Nov. 9th
Carryover Exam Day (No School): Nov. 11th
K/M: Nov. 14th
LKM Mid-Term: Nov. 26th
(If I had an LJ, the above dates would be in a calendar. But I like blogspot...)