the last hiding place on earth

only a little

2007-08-25T12:46:00.001-07:00

Somewhere along the line, my shoe collection became a little excessive.

I'm not sure when it started, but I'd have to guess that it was at birth.

You see, I was born with a very rare disease called an obsession. I come by it naturally. My mother and my aunts (when together) are total footwear-fiends. Two weeks ago, all four of them bought the exact same pair of designer sandals for a quarter of the original price. How can you pass up a deal like that?

And how can I pass up a pair of unworn Spring espadrilles for ten dollars at Value Village? I'd be disowned if I didn't buy them! I rock at finding ten dollar deals and Wal-Mart specials.

The count:

11 pairs of flip flops
5 pairs of ballet flats
6 pairs of sneakers
4 pairs of high heels
3 pairs of espadrilles
2 pairs of boots
2 pairs of costume shoes
1 pair of clogs

The worst thing about this is not that I have so many pairs, but that I'm running out of room to put new ones! What was once limited to the confines of my closet is slowly creeping out towards my bedroom floor.
I've been keeping boxes lately, but even those are starting to stack higher and higher.

Obviously my family needs to move so that I can have a shoe room.

Edit September 11: New total! I bought a pair of steel-toed boots for work just a couple of days after I wrote this. 34 and couting!

something bittersweet

2007-07-30T18:42:00.001-07:00

On my provincial exam results page:

"YOU ARE A SCHOLARSHIP WINNER. YOU SHOULD RECEIVE AN AWARD PACKAGE IN LATE AUGUST"

I LOVE those words!

In other news, I've decided that I care too much about other people's problems. When it starts messing up things in my life, it might be too much.

he goes to my church, apparently

2007-07-22T14:02:00.001-07:00

I love my aunt.

2007-07-01T19:26:00.000-07:00

Really, I do!

She's very sweet.

Unfortunately, she still thinks that I'm eight.

Not eighteen.

I'm sure she means well.

I do things in style

2007-06-27T22:47:00.001-07:00

We've all heard of bad days. We've all had them.

I didn't have one today.

In fact, it was kind of good. I had a really cute outfit on, I reached the final stage of my Pokemon game, I had a fabulous dinner... it was all just fine.

But oh my gosh. This evening. Apparently I attract horrible horrible things when the sun goes down.

I was downstairs an hour ago getting food. It's super dark down there during the night because there aren't any windows, but generally I consider myself pretty good at traversing the span between the stairs and the laundry room in the dark. Except that our house is being worked on right now, so there are all sorts of doors and door frames leaning against walls waiting to be installed.

I ran into one. My toe is still bleeding and my pedicure is ruined.

As if this weren't enough, I knocked over my glass of milk that was sitting on my desk. While my toe was still bleeding. My cell phone, Nintendo DS and favourite notepad all happened to be in the way.

My mother came to help me clean it all up, but I'm afraid that the area rug in my room is dead. It's had so many things spilled on it that I forget which stains are from what. I need a new one.

I really wanted that glass of milk, too.

I just found a huge puddle of milk behind my monitor that we missed.

Crap.

Edit: I added a picture of a flower because it makes me happier than I was last night. That is all.

who studies grammar in their free time??

2007-06-20T16:52:00.000-07:00

Fun story:

Approximately two hours ago I completed my English provincial. I feel better than Sara apparantly does about it, but I don't think I did fabulously either.

The hardest part for me was the original composition. I knew that I wanted to write a narrative, considering that most people stick with your standard five paragraph essay.

"Those we admire shape our lives." Or something along those lines. Who remembers, anyway?

When I was brainstorming, I came up with what I thought was a fabulous idea. I've been listening to this grammar podcast for the past few days, and have been learning a lot. Knowing this, it seems obvious that my composition would be related to grammar in some way. I wrote a first person narrative from the point of view of an English teacher with almost a fetish for grammar. The story itself was pretty good. Not my best, but probably good enough.

I discovered the problem probably three sentences after I had begun.

In order to write from the point of view of a grammar fanatic, I had to have impeccable grammar myself.

This isn't such a big deal, I have pretty good grammar, but I was so paranoid that I would let something slip and the characterization would be negated. I can't use improper grammar to write from a character who loves it! It was because of this that I took over an hour to write an essay they gave me 35 minutes for.

Just to say, this podcast I've been listening to? Pretty rad. Go here and click on Grammar Girl!

hope you're not squeamish...

2007-06-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

So, at about five o'clock yesterday afternoon, I realized that I had a headache. This is highly unusual for me, but I merely chalked it up to the change in weather and took a nap. Three hours later I had a very high, and rapidly rising, fever and a stiff neck.

The first thing I learned: this is meningitis.

Rushed to the emergency room by my very patient mother, we found that we had to wait approximately two hours for blood tests, and another two hours to actually be admitted. This was due to a shortage of approximately fifteen beds.

The second thing I learned: Stephen Harper is an ass.

They took me into the back at about one in the morning, and attempted to stick an IV in me. I say attempted because it took two nurses and three tries to hit a vein.

The third thing I learned: I inherited all the bad things from my mother's side of the family; stick straight hair, no height whatsoever, and tiny, tiny veins.

I slept for a while, not having to drink because a machine was doing it for me (very cool, I must say). My doctor came in to tell me that I had meningitis, very probably viral, which is the good kind, but they were giving me antibiotics just in case it was bacterial.

The fourth, and most important, thing I learned: real hospitals are nothing like those on House, and the doctors are not nearly as handsome.
That's all.

the weather? how lame

2007-06-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

Several people have complained to me in the past few days of the remarkable heat wave we're having, but I for one think that the weather has been beautiful.

Indeed, and part of me is only posting this because I feel like bragging, the weather is particularly enjoyable when one has a convertible at their immediate disposal. Which I do. So on Wednesday, I took the liberty of washing my car thoroughly and took down the top.

Part of me wonders if it's worth it, though.

Pros:
I don't have air conditioning, so the wind is certainly a nice change from the stuffy heat.
It's really not that cold in the early morning or late night. Quite comfortable, actually.
The sun on your shoulders is a very nice feeling.
I look really really cool.

Cons:
My brothers incessant whining over how messy his hair will be.
My incessant worrying over someone water ballooning it while I'm inside at school.
Having to make sure that there is NOTHING left inside to be stolen.
The sunburn I get from from having the sun on my shoulders.
Perhaps the fact that I look too cool? I should hire a bodyguard. Just in case.

...it's raining on Monday anyway. I can last until then.

it's beginning to get to me

2007-05-15T13:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think that I am far too much of a perfectionist.

No, scratch that. I'm always a perfectionist.

I couldn't even tell you how many blog posts I have saved as drafts, simply because I didn't like what I wrote and got frustrated halfway through. Not this time, though! However this entry turns out, I will post it.

So, I came to the realization last night that my life is growing a little old. I've let go of some good habits and replaced them with bad ones, and that's not good. Because of this realization, I am doing some mental spring cleaning. Sound fun? It really is.

It was actually a great feeling to wake up this morning. Since I went to bed last night angry at myself, and frustrated about pretty much everything in my life, I expected that today would be difficult to face.

It wasn't! I woke up far more rejuvenated than I do most mornings, and I noticed while I was running errands in my spare block that my mood was substantially happier than it has been in the past several weeks.

Can you tell? Probably not, but I can.

I'm smiling for real today.

knowledge: the comprehension of truth

2007-04-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

If I were to share my knowledge of the truth, I am sure that I would end up a martyr.

My knowledge of my knowledge of the truth is this:

-it is a tricky thing to share without frightening or offending people

-I try very hard to do this, but sometimes people just don't have open ears and think that I am not being courteous

-it breaks my heart when people ignore what I have to say, because it changed my life and I wish that other people could accept that change too

-I do not know everything about the truth, though lots of people assume that I think that I do

-try as I might, sometimes my words come out wrong when I explain something

-that does not make me a hypocrite

I could go on, but to be honest, I'm not sure that any of it would make sense.

all the things I love the most

2007-04-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

10. My collection of purses. I took the time yesterday to count, and I have somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty purses. This is not to count my messenger bags and totes. It seems somewhat frivilous, but at least I have something to go with each pair of shoes?

9. My shoes. Again, somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-ish. Well, that's a lie. I haven't counted in a while. I'm probably up to something like thirty. Yes, I'll agree that this IS ridiculous, but how many pairs of two dollar flip flops do I own? Quite a few. Either way, I have a lot of shoes.

8. My cell phone. I'm quite afraid sometimes that my phone has become just another limb; I text so often that I can do so with my eyes closed!

7. My journal. I happen to have two: one for writing class, and one for personal things... where everything I can't write in my writing journal goes! I always have my journal with me and I'm always dumping ideas into it.

6. My journals are not to be confused with my blogs. I suppose that I just like writing... five journals? Somewhat excessive. I write in three blogs regularly. Again, a personal blog, a writing blog, and this time: a hobby blog.

5. I would be unable to write in my hobby blog if I didn't have a hobby, so next we have my dolls. They're japanese and pretty cool. Pretty creepy at the same time (how many kinds of dolls can wink at you?) but still cool.

4. I also would be unable to write in my blogs if I did not have a computer, and I have to say that I sit in front of mine more than is probably healthy. My friends have often remarked on my consistency in responding to emails quickly, and this is what I have to say about that: Of course I respond right away every time... I'm never away!

3. More than I love my computer, though, I love my books. I read all the time and constantly have a pile of half-read books next to my bed. I'm always reading something.

2. My bed. It is the most wonderful place I know of, and the only one that sometimes I feel I never want to leave. In the mornings I often find myself wondering if an english test is really such a bad things to miss...

1. I sat here for quite a while pondering what my number one should be. There are plenty of objects that factor in on a day to day basis, but what affects it the most?

My music. Never will you walk into my room and hear nothing. I always have my stereo on, my mp3 player with me, or, if neither, at least a song stuck in my head. Music is a terribly cliche thing to put as number one, but it is true that what I listen to sets the tone for my attitude everyday.

Those are the ten things I wouldn't want to live without.

just a moment, please. I'm not quite done yet

2007-04-16T21:39:00.001-07:00

I'll be honest, I have trouble finishing things.

I wrote about four different versions of the blog we were supposed to write last week. None of them were to my liking so I never posted them, but I never got around to writing a new one either. Only half of my room is cleaned at a time because I get distracted in the middle of the job and end up doing things like driving to 7-11 or watching Star Trek TV marathons. Every time that I decide to begin my day's homework right after coming home from school, it is invariably left sitting on the kitchen table until dinnertime, where it gets thrown on my bed, until bedtime, when I move it to my desk and realize that I really should have started it when I got home from school. Three different knitting projects have been set aside because winter is gone, and there are currently no fewer than four novels sitting on the floor next to my bed because I have been unable to finish reading one before moving to the next.

Even before finishing this entry, I was distracted by an online game (Boomshine on addicting games, check it out!) and got halfway to beating it. During the middle of this game, I realized that I needed to brush my teeth and take my empty cup of juice to the kitchen. So I did that and left the game behind. While walking back from the kitchen, I caught sight of my hair dye through the bathroom door. I never finished cleaning up after retouching my pink streaks.

So here I sit, wondering if this is just a mild character flaw or some deep-rooted anxiety problem that I should be analyzing further. Though, I suppose it doesn't matter; I've finally finished this journal entry!

Now, back to Boomshine. Level 9 here I come!

a long day ahead of me

2007-04-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to think of something all weekend to rant about. Despite the constant nattering presence of my extended family and far too little chocolate to tide me over, I have been unable to come up with something that makes me truly angry. So let me share my morning.

Mornings are a very enjoyable time for me. Especially those mornings directly after long weekends, when I am eager to wake up and the tiredness from a busy week has not yet set in.

Today was wonderful, because I walked into school laughing. I was in a brilliant mood that the cloudy sky had not yet managed to kill on my way to school.

Keeping this in mind, it is hard for me to accept how easily my mood shifted.

When people sit on the floor in front of your locker, they should be expected to have somewhat of a polite attitude when you politely ask them to move. They should also be expected to move more than eight inches to the front when they do. They should be expected to move far enough away to be out of the doors path. After doing all of this, they should most certainly be expected to keep their mouth shut when you ram the edge of your door into their shoulder and accidentally drop your lock on them.

People who aren't nice in the morning bother me.

I bother myself more, however, when I let them get to me. While this incident was frustrating, I know that my attitude this morning has been just as frustrating for those around me.

As of this moment, I have decided that the rest of my day will be wonderful.

just to let you know

2007-04-03T18:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Leah (2007, age 17),

I have to say, you were pretty hip for a teenager. It's been twenty years since I've seen you, but I'm glad I knew you for a while.

What I remember most is that you always spent your good time making big decisions... Granted, it may have been sheer procrastination (as most teenagers are prone to bouts of), but who am I to say? I'm just happy that you never rushed important things, like post secondary school or relationships. Leaving yourself open to the possibilities was the best thing you ever did!

I won't tell you what has happened since I last spent time with you; it should be a surprise. What I will tell you is that you've got some good stuff ahead of you! I think you'll be pleased with the choices you make. Even if you're not, it's the journey, right? You always used to say that.

It's too bad that I don't have very much more to say, but the fact is that I lied earlier, you were actually kind of lame. Get out of the house more! Stop blogging!

Until never,
Leah (2027, age 37)

P.S. September 13, 2017 -> 5, 11, 20, 30, 37, 43 and 31

just long jeans for me

2007-04-02T09:41:00.000-07:00

No scars for me, I'm afraid. What I do have in abundance are bruises.

I have always bruised easily, I get it from my mother. It doesn't matter whether I have run into something, fallen down, or been hit by something, I bruise. Most of the time, I don't even know where my bruises come from! They simply show up and say, "hey Leah! Nice leg... except for me!" and laugh. Very comforting.

One bruise that I have right now, though, is of unmistakable origin. You see, I learned how to snowboard over the weekend. 'Learned' being the operative word, since I actually spent most of the time sitting on my butt, but we'll roll with it.

I was on the bunny hill with my good friend Heidi, who was teaching me at the time. We made our way down (I only fell twice!) and stood at the bottom of the hill, looking up towards our destination.

Now, shortly before this, I had mastered the chair lift. I could do that no problem, but what I wasn't expecting was a rope tow. Never having done this before, I was slightly intimidated by having to grab onto a fast moving rope to be pulled up a hill. Everyone has heard the rope tow horror stories: being dragged across the ground in humiliation being the most common. I didn't want that to happen to me!

When I asked the operator for a tip, she said to grab it very slowly. So I did. Only her definition of slowly was probably different than mine.

I wasn't dragged across the ground, no! That wouldn't be humiliating enough! Instead, and it pains me to admit this in a public forum, I was flipped over the rope head first into a sign. Only then was I dragged across the ground.

So that's the story of how Sir Fredericton came to life. Just now, from his place on my left knee, this purple and blue monster asked me if I could please wear a skirt tomorrow, because he wished to see the light of day before he faded into non-existence.

No, Sir Fredericton. I'm wearing long jeans until you go away.

so they tell me that...

2007-03-29T16:31:00.000-07:00

Wikipedia tells me that failure is: the state or condition of not meeting a desirable or intended objective. It may be viewed as the opposite of success.

I suppose that this makes sense. I know that I would love to be able to do a handstand. Heck, I'd settle for a simple cartwheel! Except that I can't do either, which means that I'm not meeting my intended objective. So yes, it's not so desirable. Who actually wants to fail?

The part I don't quite agree with, however, is that it's the opposite of success. I know that it sounds like a crazy thing to say, but in all reality, both are just building blocks for something greater. We build character in our mistakes, and confidence in our successes. It's all a learning process.

So no, I can't do a handstand, but to be honest: it's not such a big deal.

sun in your eyes

2007-03-29T11:03:00.000-07:00

When I woke up this morning (thankfully an hour later than normal, due to the glorious invention of the spare block), my room was flooded with light. It was one of those mornings where you wake up with the sun directly in your eyes but you don't mind, choosing to simply bask in the warmth of the light surrounding you.

I stretched luxuriously and threw my sheets to the side, sat up, cracked my back, and looked at the clock. The time was slightly later than I intended to get up, but left me plenty of time to stroll leisurely around my house in my underwear as I got ready for the day.

These are the mornings I love the most. Getting up is not a chore, and there is no hesitancy in leaving the warmth of my blankets. I feel ready to face the day and eager to see what is in store for me. These are the days I love the most.

resistance is futile

2007-03-28T16:30:00.000-07:00

As much as I try to prevent it, my bedroom floor seems to be a magnet for all things that should really be put away and taken care of.

From my spot here at my desk, I can see more things than I care to admit: magazine flyers in a language I do not know, piles of books that I have convinced myself I need to read, and various school supplies spilling out of my school bag, which is perched precariously on the top of a tremendous pile of clothes I haven't worn recently.

I can see no fewer than four empty purses, flung aside when I decided that they didn't really match my shoes after all, several CDs borrowed from a friend, my towel from this morning's shower, and the entire contents of my jewellery box tipped over by my dog, whose chew toys I happen to see peeking out from underneath my pile of fashion magazines.

My favourite shoes are somewhere near my door, but I haven’t seen them in a couple days so I couldn’t say for sure. Under my television stand there is a stack of rented videos, which are overdue but I can’t take them back yet because my wallet is missing.

Things tend to go missing a lot, I’ve found.

Just yesterday I was thinking that I should organize my room, clean everything up, and never have to worry about losing things again. After this thought it occurred to me that there was no need, my room was half clean anyway!

...the ceiling does count, doesn’t it?