Zelda and Mario

Alright, so at the moment it feels like my brain is being pulled out through my nose, so I'm going to keep this short. And yes, that does mean that I have a cold, with a headache and a runny nose, so my creative juices are pretty low at the moment. Oh and look, now I'm starting to cough, which caused my chest to hurt.

Yesterday, after work, I headed out to my friend Kyra's house for another Zelda party. (You can tell I like Zelda, right?) I met some new people, which was cool. This time we did dress up, unfortunately we were all a little too tired to take pictures, not to mention it was raining outside. However, I dressed up as Link (of course) and Kyra and her friend Brandi dressed up as Tatl and Tayl, though I can't remember who was who. The last person, who's name has slipped my mind, didn't have time to come up with a costume.

We started out with dinner of buttered chicken, which is actually much better than it sounds, and a lot spicier. The veggies looked a little... odd, and they were even spicier, so I didn't have much. But it was good, and I had chips and goldfish to snack on.

After we started playing Twilight Princess, because Kyra was near the very end, and within about fifteen minutes Brandi finished the game. Now Kyra can start on Skyward Sword, which means learning how to fly! (She can barely control Epona, so controlling the Loftwing will be brutal)

When Twilight Princess was over, since Kyra didn't want to fly a Loftwing, we played Windwaker. We got pretty far, but there was more sailing than actual fighting. Not very eventful, and when the giant cyclone picked me up and tossed me all the way across the world, I gave up. Of course, Kyra said it was easy... I suppose if you know how to aim with a bow using a joystick.

But like I said, we were really tired, so I think we went to bed around 11:30. It was around then that my nose started to get really runny.

In the morning was McDonalds, the first time I've had it since my convocation, in 2011, so over a year ago. The hashbrowns are amazing, but I've had better pancakes... I think they needed chocolate chips.

Then it was onto Super Mario Brothers. Apparently the only thing I'm useful for in that game is stealing power-ups, bouncing on people's heads, getting in the way and making people fall into the lava/endless pit. Sorry guys, I'm not very good at that game... I just tend to bubble everywhere...

And then I got a ride home. How eventual, eh? Alright, so apparently I ramble when I'm sick. Sorry for the lame post. I'm going to go... Do nothing. Ugh.

Almost done!

Alright, so the school week is halfway done for me. I finished my first presentation today, and I'm (hopefully) prepared for my second presentation tomorrow. I've finished the first copy of my essay for Thursday, and I'm saying that I'll re-do it, but I probably wont, because I'm lazy like that.

All in all, I'm less stressed than I was last week, but because I also have a reader's response due tomorrow on the Canterbury Tales, which we had to read in middle english, I'm still a little stressed about that. The question to have to respond to is "How would you connect the Prologue and the Tale, thematically." So of course, I had to look up what a theme in a story was, just to refresh my memory. I'm going to say religion, because, well... It's all about a Pilgrimage, and all the Wife of Bath talks about is how her five husbands (not at the same time) are justified when looking at religious figures. So I got my idea, I'm just setting here procrastinating by writing this boring blog post. Sorry guys, my muse had fled to the distant reaches of the Earth, so I'm just like, blah, typity typity typity ramble ramble ramble... Ugh, I need sleep.

(Not) Dead

((For anyone who is interested in reading my short story that is being published, here it is!))


     When I was still a child, my 5 foot tall grandma would climb into her olive green hulk of a Buick Regal and make the forty five minute drive from North Vancouver to Coquitlam to see my family and I. She would do this for Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving and any amount of time in between. I think she enjoyed the drive just as much as the company. In the following years she certainly talked about how much she missed her car. The husband who lived and died in Sweden was rarely mentioned. Just the car.

     During one of her trips to our house, she found out that by making roaring noises (which, to my amusement, also had a thick Swedish Accent) and shuffling along with her hands outstretched as if to grab us, she could send my friends and I into a flurry of delightfully frightened shrieks. For this reason my friends would always comment on how much they loved my grandma. Of course, it could have just been that they thought it was almost a game to try and figure out what she was saying. I can assure you, her accent was nearly as incomprehensible as her printing. I hope you can understand when I say I remember what she did more than what she said.

     If the weather permitted, she would sit out in our backyard in a lawn chair and read a magazine, her bulky sunglasses taking up most of her face, while her broad-brimmed hat cast the rest in shadow. Mostly everything I remember about her was big, except for her own body. She could drown herself in jewellery, accessories and clothing, but never make it look like she was suffocating. While at her apartment, my sister and I would play dress up with her necklaces and old clothing, stumbling around in oversized shoes and wearing shirts like dresses. She would laugh and exclaim “How beautiful!” Of course, we could have been wearing a potato sack and mismatched socks and she still would have been proud to have us as her grandchildren.

     She gave me a plain black notebook one year for Christmas. In it are my first attempts at writing. It was terrible. Complete rubbish that should be burned so that no one can read it. She never knew that she started my dreams of becoming a writer. But it’s the meaning behind it, correct? In this way, her simple gift has encouraged me more than all the pestering of my parents.

     She was so independent. She lived most of her Canadian life without her husband, raising her four kids by herself. For as long as I can remember, she relied on no one for help; she got herself dressed in the morning, made her own meals, drove anywhere she wanted to go, then changed back into her pajamas at night. She was the type of woman who I could look up to, and hoped to be when I got to her age. Her rapid mental decline was a cold slap from reality.

     “Who is this?” Her shaky voice said over the phone, many years after these memories.

     “I am Bjorn’s daughter.” I explained slowly, enunciating every word carefully, for I know that her hearing is going. “He isn’t home right now.”

     There is a long pause, which turned to babbling, and in turn became sobbing. Through her cries I can faintly make out her words; “Why did no one tell me he was dead?”

     I know that in the past year, she had started thinking that my dad-her son- was her husband, who had died about eight years ago. We had put up with it, knowing that she was at least happy thinking her husband was alive. This, however… This was heart rending. One should not hear their own grandmother cry and not feel a deep sorrow.

     “No, no!” I quickly try to correct her. “He is alive, he is just not home.”

     Another pause, in which time I could literally hear her trying to work out what I have said. She murmured incomprehensibly, as if talking to herself. “Do not tell me he is dead! He is not dead! Why did no one tell me?” She broke down into another series of sobs.

     “He’s not dead!” I desperately tried to console her. “He is alive, but not home at the moment.”

     “He… He is not dead?”

     “No, he is not dead.” I repeated once again.

     “Oh… Okay. Maybe I will call his mother then.”

     By now I had become used to her thoughts, such as this one. I could only be relieved that I had at least calmed her down. I said a quick ‘okay, goodbye.’ before hanging up.

     Tell me, would you rather have a perfect mind but trapped inside a degrading body, or be free of body and trapped by a failing mind?

((And once again, all that copyright stuff. This is my work, so don't take any credit for it.))

Do My Glasses Make My Face Look Skinny?

Alright, super quick post today, and purely for entertainment. Yesterday, before leaving for school, I was bored and decided to take a 'before and after' photo of myself. the before being with glasses and the after being without. The results are as follows:

It looks so different, am I right?
So yeah, there is your entertainment for the day. Back to doing homework! Whoo! I'm just going to go curl up and nurture what is left of my will to live.

School will be the Death of Me

Alright, so anyone who is in college or university right now probably knows how I'm feeling, especially if you're taking four or five courses. I'm going to make this blog very quick, because I have a ton of homework to get onto.

Tomorrow I have to finish a reader's response that compares Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, along with read three things, of which I have no idea where they are to be found.

Then I have to read two chapters from my world societies textbook by Thursday, just so that I can properly respond to a group's presentation on the same two god damned chapters. Then of course I also have to summarize those chapters and come up with questions about them. And my teacher only told me about this today. Kind of... We knew about it since last Tuesday, but my teacher only found the time today to tell us what exactly we're supposed to do.

Then next Wednesday I'm giving a presentation in my Early to Renaissance British Literature class about women in medieval times, which is a very broad subject and very hard to research. Luckily it only has to be between fie and ten minutes long. Unfortunately, I have to use resources that isn't a random website on the internet. That means actually finding documents or books or something about women in medieval times. And that's pretty much impossible...

Then I have a presentation for my Restoration to WWII British Literature class next Thursday, but I'm doing it with a partner, so it's a little easier. However, that also means that it has to be at least ten minutes long.

And then some time in about two or three weeks I'll have a presentation for my World Societies class with two people I don't know and have no way to contact. At around the same time I also have a research essay due for the same class.

All the while I have to reach about 5-7 prose/poems a week for Restoration to WWII, write two reader's responses a week for Early to Renaissance, including reading a story that's normally about 40-60 pages long. Then by every Thursday I have to have read several short entries from a textbook and a huge document for my Canada Before Confederation class, along with a five page reader's response due next Thursday.


So yeah, I really shouldn't be wasting my time here... And I apologize if I don't get a new blog up next week...

Mr. Sandman

((I'm being super lazy and don't really feel like typing anything new up, so here is a scene I wrote in one of my creative writing classes last year. Please note that I have not revised it, so it's still a little rough.))

“Mother, why do we fear the Sandman?” I asked as we sat alone by the light of the dyeing fire.

                “Don’t you remember the nursery rhyme?

‘Stay up late,

And meet your fate.

Past curfew’s hour

You’ll feel his power.

Meet his gaze,

It’s the end of your days.’”

I listened to my mother’s haunting voice and remembered when I was younger, when she would sing that rhyme to make me go to bed on time. As I grew up, curfew was just as natural as the sun setting. No one questioned why, but we followed it religiously.

“But why? No one has ever seen him. How do we know he is even real?” I insisted.

She gave me a berating scowl and stood up from her chair. “Come on, Ria. We should get to bed now.”

It was the same answer every time. She held her hand out for mine, as if I were still that young child she used to sing to, and reluctantly, I took it.

I awoke to the sounds of footsteps. No one every left their bed with the moon still up, and through the gauzy curtains on my window, I could still see its water light.

                “I did not mean to wake you.” a gravelly voice spoke. “But now that I have your attention, I can answer those questions you had.”

A light flared to life, and with its weak beam I could see a shadowed face. It looked gaunt, with black eyes and coarse, pale skin.

                “Who are you?” My voice came out shaky. I sat up in my bed, leaning over to try and get a better look at this strange man.

                “You were questioning my existence just hours ago. I thought I would pay you a visit.” The stranger’s lips parted in a malicious grin, teeth shining like pure quartz. “Now please, why don’t you come a little closer?” He extended a hand to me, and I involuntarily felt myself outstretch my own hand.

                “You’re the Sandman.” I breathed as I felt the rough skin of his palm. His fingers wrapped around my hand, and with one strong tug, I was out of the bed, my feet thumping to the cold floor.

                “What is wrong, my dear? You look pale as a ghost. Or perhaps as if you have just seen one.” He purred, the sound of his voice like sandpaper, making me shiver.

                “You are supposed to be a cruel, heartless being that kills on sight if your curfew is not met.” I replied and glanced back at my bed, suddenly longing for the blissful ignorance of sleep.

                “Well I can hardly begrudge you for being out of bed, now can I?” he chuckled and gently pulled me closer to the window. With the light from the moon I could see his face. It was smooth as obsidian and spotted like granite, as if he were a mould cut from stone and given life. “I wager you have never seen the moon before. “ he continued, gazing up with eyes of glass.

                “Never when it’s this dark out.” I admitted and looked up too.  “Why are you here?”

                “You asked your mother whether I was real or not. I decided I would have to prove it.” he stated.

                “How did you know about that?”

                “Darling, I am The Sandman.” He made a grand gesture of throwing his arms out for me to see him completely. He wore midnight blue robes that covered most of his body and thick leather boots on his feet. “I am the dust in the corner, the dirt on the floor. I can be wherever I want.” He gave a sharp laugh, then wrapped a heavy arm around my shoulders and turned me back toward the bed. “But curfew must be obeyed, so off to bed with you.”

                “But why-“

                “No more questions tonight.” He waved a hand, and as I fell back down into my bed, my eyes became leaden. “Have a good sleep. If you are good, you do not need to fear The Sandman.” His voice drifted off as I let myself fall back to sleep.

((Oh, and copyright and all that stuff... Not sure how to protect this work, so I'm going to say MINE! No one steals this, got it?))

Love is Not the Only Thing You Need

First off, before I continue with the post, I need to apologize for the recent lock of this blog. I realised it was because of the link I posted on Wednesday, and somewhere at Google a computer probably thought it was spam. Luckily, it's been resolved, and in defiance, I'm going to say screw you Google, I'll post a link whenever I want.

Now onto my serious matters... In my opinion.

Through the last few years, starting probably in grade ten or so, I've noticed that most girls my age have become addicted to the word 'love'. Now I'm not saying it's a bad word, nor am I shunning it, but I feel like the meaning of it has become jaded.

That's your favourite shirt? You love it. Your favourite ice cream flavour, you love it. You love shoes, make up, actors, clothing, songs, musicians, technology. Anything you have an interest in, you love. I admit, I do this too. I love books, movies, medieval times, nail polish and the list goes on. However, these are objects, and all these objects have their opposites. For example, I love medieval fantasy books, and I hate teen fiction. I love adventure movies, and I hate sappy romances. These are objects that we can easily say we love or hate, and therefore our affection towards them is not as strong as toward a person.

You can probably relate with me until this point, but if you know me, you'll probably also know where I'm getting at. Most, if not all of my friends, will say that they love each other. I just don't understand. I don't love my friends, (Sorry guys, but you'll understand... I hope.) and I find it awkward to even think about saying that I do. I love my parents because they gave me life, nurtured and raised me. Most of all, they love me unconditionally. I highly doubt there is anything I can do that will make them stop loving me. It's just something natural.

Now my friends on the other hand, although I like hanging out with them, and I would hate to lose them, I do not love. They have not been with me my whole life, nor have they done anything of particular significance to earn my love. They have made my life a pleasure to live, and for that I am thankful, but it will never be the same as what my parents have done.

This could possibly stem from the fact that I have never had a best friend for more than about five or six years. Before I can even remember properly, I had my first best friend, who moved away when I was probably four. At that point, I made a new friend in a new neighbourhood. We drifted apart in grade six, when I made my second best friend. We then went our separate ways in grade nine, where I was already making two new best friends. These two I still consider to be my best friends. But as you can see, we lose and gain friends over the years. We stop talking to people who we used to talk to every day.

Now to touch on the subject of boyfriends. If you don't know me well (or at all, to my viewer in Russia.), you may be surprised to know that I have never been in a relationship. I have been on one date, but the next day I promptly ended any chance of going further because I could not bring myself to even think of being romantic. I could stand being friends, but I honestly had no idea what I would do if it came to affection. My nearly complete lack of a loving personality may be because or the root of never really being noticed by guys. And you know what? I'm fine with it. Most girls would be pouting and crying over no one loving them or that they don't have a boyfriend. The answer is to just accept it. That's right. Damn right accept it already! Because you know what? If you are happy, there is bound to be someone out there who will love you, and when that times comes, it will be all the better if you think that it would never happen. It'll be something pleasantly unexpected.

There you are. My secret to why I am nearly nineteen, never had a boyfriend, appear to be completely loveless, but still find it hard to be sad. And of course, to all my friends, this is also why I don't like hugs. It's a show of affection that I reserve for my family and torturing my sister.

There is so much more I could say, but I find it hard to put into words. I suppose the easiest way to describe me would be reserved in love.

First Review: Sherlock

Yesterday before class, when I should have been doing homework or reading or something else productive, I instead went online to watch a few episodes from a really good TV show. It's a British TV show, but as far as I know they have about six episodes in Canada and the US. Maybe more, but they only have three on Netflix and six on the site I was one, so I'm just assuming.

The show is called Sherlock, and yes, it is based on the novel Sherlock Holmes. This show, however, is set in modern day London, so they have all the technology of today, and of course, a British accent, which makes me really love it.

When comparing it to the recent Sherlcok Holmes movies with Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law, I would most definitely go with the TV show version. The movie may be funnier, longer and in all honestly, Jude Law makes a much handsomer Watson, but the modern version is much more viewer friendly. Unlike in the movies, it makes it very clear what Sherlock is seeing, and describes his thoughts with much more detail. In fact, if the part is important, you will go into the mind of Sherlock. It's a little hard to describe if you have not seen it.

And of course, the actor who plays Sherlock is probably one of the cutest British actors you will ever see (as long as you see him only in his Sherlock costume...). His name is Benedict Cumberbatchn (pretty awesome, right?) and he also makes a brief appearance in The Hobbit as the Necromancer and Smaug's voice. At least, I'm going to assume it's brief, since the Necromancer is not supposed to be in the Hobbit at all except in mentions. Then again, neither is Legolas supposed to have any speaking roles in it, if he appears at all. Yeah, look forward to a rant when The Hobbit: Part one comes out.

Like I said earlier, Jude Law makes a better Watson, but Martin Freeman, who plays Watson in the TV show, is still pretty good, just kind of old... And guess what! He's Bildo! You new you heard that name somewhere, right? He was also in a few other well known movies, such as The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Shaun of the Dead (Along with many others). As always, in Sherlock he is the voice of reason, but he's also the comic relief, kind of opposite to the movie version.

Now, I have to quickly thank my sister for pointing this show out to me and my parents. I think they've lost interest, but whatever. They watch documentaries and home decorating shows, so their opinions don't matter. (I'm joking, of course)

So if you're interested, here is the link to the site I'm using: http://www.cokeandpopcorn.com/watch-sherlock-online.php
It's also where I watched Game of Thrones (Of which I need to do a rant about), and there are a ton of other shows, most of them pretty well known like The Simpson, Family Guy, Futurama and all those crappy teen drama things.

A Stranger Wants to Hire Me

Ah jeeze guys, you need to give me a kick to remind me it's time to do my blog.

So on Friday, after my parents got home, I found out that someone had called while I was at school concerning my resume on Monster. Since I recently applied to Chapters, we all assumed it was from them. Unfortunately, I was unable to call them back, as it was after five, and the times to call were between nine and five. Even worse, since it was Friday, I had to wait until Monday to call back.

I waited out the weekend, which went by far to quickly. (Quick note: I had a board game day on Sunday. It was a lot of fun, but it ended too quickly) Today finally came, and this morning I called back. It went to voicemail. I waited half an hour and called back again, just to get sent to voicemail again. The second time I left a message to let the person know that I had gotten their message, and all that stuff.

Around noon the phone rang and I jumped to answer it. Ends up it wasn't from Chapters. The call was from someone looking around on Monster and saw my resume (which I have not updated in a while...). They called to see if I wanted a job in communications. And we all know that means calling people up asking if they want to do a survey, or something like that. I'm still a little hesitant, but they want me to come in on Saturday for an interview (I think, the reception wasn't great and they were driving, so it was very hard to hear. All I know is that I have to go in on Saturday for some reason...) Luckily, the place is in Coquitlam, and will be a quick bus ride and walk from my house.

To be honest, it's not my dream job. It's far from it... Probably close to the very opposite. However, it could be a great opportunity to get experience, not to mention I will be earning money through the winter, and if the job is good, I might need only it, no other job.

However, that also means tying myself down to one job, without much of an opportunity to trying something that I would enjoy more. For example, I would love to work in the mall; preferably in a food place, but a clothing or accessory store would be fun too. I know for the winter season a lot of places will be hiring, but I will be too busy with this new job if I get it. not to mention Chapters. it is my ideal job (at the moment). By now it looks like I will not be offered the 5am shift (I know, I should have called them, but I just kept forgetting), but like I said, the winter season will be starting soon, and I bet they will be hiring more people for then.

There's so many choices and things to consider. I think right now I am leaning more toward taking the job, since it's there, and Chapters or any other place is just a hopeful thought.

The Norman's Were Bad-Ass

Bleh, I feel like shit. At least I got through my first week of school though. And the best part is, my parents will be home in about an hour, so I won't have to take care of my psychotic dog on my own any more. Honestly, I got home from school last night, and the computer screen was not only knocked over, but it managed to get onto the ground. I'm kind of hoping it's broken beyond repair, because then we'll need to get a new one, that isn't so full of viruses and other crap that I cannot play the Sims 3 on it without it pausing every minute.

I don't have school on Fridays, meaning that my school week was over last night. After Tuesday, everything was... better. I still had to clean up after my dog after waking up in the morning and after coming home from school, despite the fact that I dragged her out into the backyard before leaving for school. She just laid down and refused to do anything until I let her back in.

Anyway, on Wednesday I had to bus, then skytrain out to the other campus. I got there with about an hour to spare before my British Literature class. Once it did start, I took a seat next to someone, whom I quickly found out looks and sounds almost exactly like the summer student my mom had at the museum this year. It was very eerie... maybe it's her sister or something... So the teacher was talking about everything we will learn about in that class, and at some point she got onto the subject of the Normans. She asked the class who the Norman's really were, and I was very tempted to answer by pointing at myself. Instead I just said 'North Men', because I am a coward and don't like to draw attention to myself.

On my way back to my main campus, I managed to hop on the wrong Skytrain, sending me to a completely different city than I wanted to end up in. Luckily I was able to get back to the right sky train station, and the right skytain showed up only a couple minutes later. It was kind of my first time taking the skytrain by myself... But I got back to the campus with plenty of time to get to my Astronomy class.

Astronomy is probably going to me more fun than I thought. The professor outright said that it's a science class for people who don't like science. However, it is not a class for someone who utterly fails at math... On the first day we had to remember what scientific notation is, then a bunch of new rules were thrown in, of which I was unable to write down because the teacher seems to think that we can write a hundred words in a minute... So we got tat all out of the way, and as soon as it looked dark outside, we went down to the lake to look at starts. It ends up the stars we were trying to find were in the West, where the sun had not quite fully set, and therefore the sky was still too light to see anything. Not to mention the college and a bunch of clouds were in the way. So that night we only saw three stars, and a few airplanes...

So that was Wednesday... On Thursday I had my World Societies class again. It was pretty uneventful, until part way through a movie when we found out that there might have been a chance that some very early forms of different human species would wave and 'be chummy' with each other when passing by. I kid, of course... Probably... But it was entertaining to watch.

Then there was another six hour break, in which time I realized I forgot the two textbooks I was supposed to be reading from for two different classes, so I didn't get as much homework done as I had expected. Then it was off to Canada Before Confederation. In this class I know one person, which I am happy for, and there just so happens to be another Hanna, though I think it's actually spelled Hannah. The teacher seems a little... eccentric... She made us say her last name, hand movements and all... Luckily we got out about an hour early, so I got home earlier than Tuesday.

My dog left me three puddles of urine and a pile of crap. I was in a better mood at that point though, since Brittney had offered to stay late at school and bus home with me.

So yeah, that was the rather unexciting last two days of my first school week. Now I get to relax for a bit before starting my homework.

First Day of School

Okay, so yesterday (Tuesday) was my first day of classes at college. I'm just going into my second year, but I'm still taking three first year courses; Two history and one Astronomy. My two second year courses are two English's. Anyway, onto how I just had a completely mental breakdown...

First of all, you should know that I've been babysitting my dog while my parents are on vacation. For some reason they get it into their heads that the first school of school is the best time to leave me alone with a psychotic dog that will almost refuse to eat, drink or go outside to do her business. She will also keep me awake until two in the morning by barking, whining and howling. (Although she's silent now.)

**WARNING TO THE MALES: This content will include female problems that might gross you out**
I woke up this morning with a stomach ache. I wasn't quite cramps, more like pre-menstrual cramps, just to say 'hey, you're still a female, and you still need to suffer before, during and after your period!' However, last month I had such back stomach aches that I could barely eat or drink without sharp pains. If it's the same this month, I'll probably go to the doctor. And of course these stomach aches would appear on the first day of classes.

Anyway, I had to walk to school, since I have had no interest in getting my N. I stuffed my book bag full with my laptop, water bottle, Ipad, lunch/dinner and all that stuff. Since my first class starts at 10:30, then a six hour break before my class that starts at 6:30, I had a ton of time to kill, so I brought all the Harry Potter's, and a couple other DVD's.

I got to my first class and sat down, thinking it would be the most interesting one. It's World Societies 3000BCE-1500CE. Apparently we'll only be learning about the middle east and a bit of Eastern Asia. The teacher went on and on, and on and on and on and on. I think I was zoned out for most of the 'introduction;. I swear, he was trying to prep us for the midterm and final at the same time. Luckily that class is only two hours long, so the boredom will be spread out between two days.

By then I was getting hungry, so I set out to the cafeteria to eat my goldfish crackers. They helped for a bit, but then the pain started up again, though now it just felt like I had had a cup of stale milk, and it wasn't sitting properly in my stomach. I started watching Easy A, then Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. Luckily my friend Brittney was able to come visit me between her classes, but she went home around 4:30. (lucky ass.)

By 6:00 I headed up to my next class and met up with someone I knew that was in it. So far, British Literature: Restoration to WWI is my favourite class. The teacher is awesome, and I could hardly feel my sleepiness. I actually had a lot of fun analysing a couple poems, despite the fact that my friend and I got the first one completely wrong.

We got out around 8:00, since it was the first class and there wasn't much to do. I went to go catch the bus, and despite the fact that the paper on the pole said it was suppose to come at 8:27, it actually came around 8:41. From there I caught the bus home, that came around 9:03. I got home around 9:40, because of the long convoluted route the bus took, not to mention the train. By then I was feeling sick, hungry, tired and very worried for my dog, as she had been home alone for over twelve hours and she had refused to go outside this morning.

When I turned the corner onto my street, I could hear her whining and howling. She calmed down a little when I got into the house, but the second I walked in, I could smell crap and piss, very strongly. I searched around for a while, but didn't see anything in the living room or kitchen. Finally, when I went to go feed her, I found the shit outside the bathroom, then a puddle of pee not far away, then another larger pile of shit in the study, along with something that might have been barf...

By this point is where I had the breakdown, and I was nearly throwing up from the smell, I began to cry. Yes, I am very ashamed that I would break down over something so small as cleaning up after a dog, but I think it was from all the stress of the day. Had I not woken up feeling sick, and had I gotten a ride to school rather than walking with a bag that's nearly half my weight, or if I had packed more food, or if I had gotten home earlier, then I'm sure I would have been fine. But with everything today, and the thought that I have to bus out to the other campus tomorrow, then bus back for another 6:30 to 9:30 class at the current campus, and then do the same schedule as today on Thursday, all the while leaving my dog home alone to crap and piss on the floor because she refuses to go outside, just kind of sends me over the edge. I swear, when my parents come home, I'm going to have to tell them that I cannot take care of the dog during my first week of school, especially with a five class course load and over an hour's bus ride twice or three times a day. I know it's selfish, and they do deserve a vacation, but I don't see why they cannot take it before school starts.

And now I'm sitting here, typing this up, because I can't sleep because I'm too frazzled. Oh, and did I mention that my dog knocked our computer off the desk, along with almost all the papers. Then, right before I was about to walk up to get ready for bed, I noticed that the trash can and recycling box was still on the curb. Despite the fact that my mom told me not to go outside at night because of bears, I had to go out to bring them into the backyard. While dragging the recycling box in, I notice a giant spider next to the gate, and stood there hyperventilating for about fifteen seconds. As soon as I was able to get changed into my pyjamas and brush my teeth, I realized it was either a lot hotter in my house than I previously thought, or I have a fever. Although I've cooled down a little, I'm still not feeling great.

Now, off to try and get some sleep. The only good thing about tomorrow is that my first class is at 2:30, so I have to leave around 12:00 to ensure I get there with plenty of time to find my class. Blah, my stomach hurts.

So enjoy my suffering! I honestly don't think anyone could have a worst first day of class. (Except maybe you Kyra, even though you had surgery instead of school.)

The Grand List of Nerdiness

Oh my, I completely forgot it was Friday. =/ Although I was also busy sleeping in and working, so I've only now had the chance to type this up.

Alright, so I'm being lazy, and since school is about to start, I'm just going to have some fun with this. So here it is, my list of nerd types! (Yes, you read that right)

1) Academic Nerd: The type who takes all math or sciences classes, often four or five at a time. They spend twice as much time on homework or studying as they actually spend in class.

2) Book Nerd Also know as a bookworm. They enjoy English classes, and in some cases will aspire to become a writer or editor. They are rarely found without a book with them, and can easily hold a conversation about their favourite novels and authors.

3) Medieval Nerd: These nerds have an unusual addiction to the medieval or middle ages. They can often be found at medieval fairs or at real life roleplaying events. Even in real life, they like to have an aspect of medieval times around them, normally in the form of clothing. Despite how pathetic they may appear to everyone else, usually they are quite skilled with at least one weapon. If not, they are likely a bard, in which case a lute is quite painful to be hit with too.

4) Gaming Nerd: These will often be pale and slightly overweight from never leaving their room for sunlight or exercise. They will have almost every console and several dozen games for each, of witch they have beaten at least once. Most of these games will consist of first person shooter or something else violent. Many hard core gaming nerds will play from their 'pimped-out' computer.

5) Sport Nerds: Also known as jocks. These ones will have a heightened sense of self and finds amusement in beating others in competitive sports, whether it's as simple as badminton or as rough as American Football. Most often male, they have way too much testosterone for a sane female to find attractive. (In my opinion, at least...)

6) Gym nerds: Sometimes called gym junkies. They spend at least an hour a day at the gym, and although they claim to be happy when someone attempts to get into shape, they secretly wish that the gym was only for their own kind.

7) Stereotypical Nerd: Almost always found in cartoons, movies or TV shows, this nerd will be wearing glasses, braces, waist high pants and shiny black shoes. Quite often they are very short or unusally tall, with curly red hair and a pimply face. They are a mixture of the Academic Nerd, the Book Nerd, and sometimes even the medieval nerd, with not a trace of the Gaming, Sport or Gym nerd.


Please note that this list is purely for fun, and any coincidences toward your own life should be laughed at. I do not mean to insult anyone... Unless you are amused by being insulted. If it helps, I consider myself a Book Nerd, with a sprinkle of medieval nerd and just a tiny dash of gaming nerd (I like Legend of Zelda and any such games).

Now, I'm not feeling too great, so I'm going to leave it here. Hope you had fun reading this one.