Here's the deal. Hallways are made for walking. If I catch you standing in the middle of a hallway, surrounded by a million of your little grade 9 friends, blocking my path to a class I'm already late to, I will give your name to all my grade 12 friends, and we will eat you alive. You need to move. Its not that hard. I understand that it's hard to get to your locker at peak traffic hours, but there are corners all over the place; stand behind one and wait a while instead five people deep in front of your locker, where you're going to get pushed a whole lot more, and you probably will get trampled, pre locker excursion.
Secondly, when you're walking down the hallway in mad traffic, and there are people on all sides of you, and it finally dawns on you that instead of walking towards the portable stairs, you meant to go to the civics classroom, on the other end of the hallway, it is not okay to 180! I don't understand why you don't understand that if there are people in front of and beside you, there are probably people behind you too; therefore, when you turn around, you will not be met with a clear path and smiling faces but 120 angry, and already late students, unwilling to let you through. When you figure out that you're going the wrong way, you need to duck into a corner, an alcove, a classroom, anything you want, I don't care, and creep back out into the correct direction. It takes 4 extra seconds, and ultimately may actually save your life. I know that grade 9 is hard, I did it once already, but the faster you learn this the easier life will be. I promise.
Last one, and this is a biggie! Mass. I am not Catholic, nor have I ever claimed to be Catholic, nor do I ever really want to be Catholic. But for the teachers and students that are, talking in a Mass about, oh I dunno, the hot girl in English, or how much you absolutely loath Mr. Annear, is not okay! You have 75 minutes at lunch in which to talk to your friends, and let's be honest, you talk through every one of your classes anyway, so I don't understand why you feel the need to stomp on someone else's sacred ritual by not keeping your mouth shut for an hour. AN HOUR! That's not even a long time! And wouldn't you rather be told by a grade 12 with a little bit of righteous anger than a teacher with 30 years of power trip built up behind all that crazy white hair? I'm holding the long end of the stick out to you; take it!
I will never understand why grade nines are the way they are, but they are. I was, we all were, and everyone will be at some point, but grade 9 does not have to be synonymous with the things it's normally synonymous with! Take your intelligence back, grade nines, learn the rules, follow the rules, and don't get eaten alive. It's the smarter option, and that you can trust me on.
Okay, I'm done.
Maddi.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
The Thing From Another World
The Book Of Awesome has acted as a catalyst for a new social trend; leading not towards the traditional, the finer things in life, but in fact the very opposite: the simple. While at first this seems an excellent movement, grass roots in nature, I do believe it is in fact tragic. There's nothing wrong with small pleasures: seeing the bus turn the corner towards you on the coldest day of the year, correctly guessing which pocket your keys are in on the first try, finding the remote, etc, but I hate the thought of what this could mean for society. Instead of a society appreciative of all things, large and small, we are in fact moving towards a society that expects little more of itself than small pleasures; too simple minded and simply pleased to really appreciate the finer things in life.
Today, I received an invitation to a party, as well as an invitation to enjoy the company of an old friend over a Starbucks. I say this not to inform you of my raging popularity, but to segue into the tale of what I actually did with my day. After a quick cup of tea with the most lovely people in the world, my mother and I made our way, very slowly, to Hamilton, where we endured our final uniform shopping trip of my high school career and laid on probably close to 20 matresses before finally choosing one for my soon to be refurbished bedroom. Two Tim's stops and a trip to the grocery store later, we were home to make my favourite food in the entire world: French onion soup. We made our soup, enjoyed our soup, and now find ourselves sponging our way through an evening of laughhter and vintage sci-fi flicks. While at first this day may seem a large collection of simple glories, we must remember perspective. Instead of following the oh so recent cultural norm of looking to the small glory, we must remember to evaluate as a whole: a brilliantly busy day with my mother that turned out to be an incredible gift. It's all about the big picture.
In the same manner, I have begun to evaluate the concept of "quality time". I have friends who seem to have the wise idea that quality time can happen in an instant and continue as long as one wishes, which in fact is not true. I have come to understand that quality time does not come into being without it's necessary predecessor: quantity time. It requires years of attempt and incredible persistent to get to a place where ten minutes can become quality time. One does not exist without the other, just as simple joys should not exist without the finer things in life and the trials of life serving as their experiential ancestors. Does that not make a bit of sense?
I'm not trying to say that there isn't a place for the shiner beacon of hope that is the city bus on a cold winters day, or suddenly remembering where you left that other shoe, but I do believe we need to remember the big picture: where is it that the bus is going? Aren't you glad you bought those shoes in the first place? The fantastic day that is built from an hour over a pot of onions, a sci-fi flick, and what seemed to be endless shopping. Big picture people, big picture.
Today, I received an invitation to a party, as well as an invitation to enjoy the company of an old friend over a Starbucks. I say this not to inform you of my raging popularity, but to segue into the tale of what I actually did with my day. After a quick cup of tea with the most lovely people in the world, my mother and I made our way, very slowly, to Hamilton, where we endured our final uniform shopping trip of my high school career and laid on probably close to 20 matresses before finally choosing one for my soon to be refurbished bedroom. Two Tim's stops and a trip to the grocery store later, we were home to make my favourite food in the entire world: French onion soup. We made our soup, enjoyed our soup, and now find ourselves sponging our way through an evening of laughhter and vintage sci-fi flicks. While at first this day may seem a large collection of simple glories, we must remember perspective. Instead of following the oh so recent cultural norm of looking to the small glory, we must remember to evaluate as a whole: a brilliantly busy day with my mother that turned out to be an incredible gift. It's all about the big picture.
In the same manner, I have begun to evaluate the concept of "quality time". I have friends who seem to have the wise idea that quality time can happen in an instant and continue as long as one wishes, which in fact is not true. I have come to understand that quality time does not come into being without it's necessary predecessor: quantity time. It requires years of attempt and incredible persistent to get to a place where ten minutes can become quality time. One does not exist without the other, just as simple joys should not exist without the finer things in life and the trials of life serving as their experiential ancestors. Does that not make a bit of sense?
I'm not trying to say that there isn't a place for the shiner beacon of hope that is the city bus on a cold winters day, or suddenly remembering where you left that other shoe, but I do believe we need to remember the big picture: where is it that the bus is going? Aren't you glad you bought those shoes in the first place? The fantastic day that is built from an hour over a pot of onions, a sci-fi flick, and what seemed to be endless shopping. Big picture people, big picture.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Smtimes U Peple & Yur Gramar Driv Me NUTS
The original version of spell check was created by William J. Tobin in 1978. He invented it for a company called Software Concepts, Inc. and in doing so, revolutionized typing, which was more or less a revolutionary concept to begin with. According to recent statistics, in the US, 76% of the population are computer OWNERS, not just users. In todays society, conjested with unimagineable technologies barely dreamed of in 1978, i believe we've reached an impass. Those on one side, the side forever taken by the human race, include Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte, Robertson Davies, and of course, William J. Tobin. On the other side, we find ourselves in the faces of such people as Bill Gates, Tony Faddel and Steve Jobs. On one side we hold tight the classical English literature that guided our nations through war, famine, draught, genocide, tragedy, victory! The poems, novels, biographies that, while they may have been written decades prior, still hold truth and value, and promise! On the other side... Well, they have cell phones.
Maybe I'm being dramatic. That's a silly statement, i know I'm being dramatic, because I'm always dramatic, but I'm very fired up about this! I fully believe that if Charles Dickens ever read some of the posts i find on my News Feed, he'd roll over in his grave. What have we come to? It seems that the easier attaining information, sharing information, and being lazy becomes, the less interested we are in the foundational English that our society thrived from for centuries. To be literate is to be enriched, but our society has redefined literate, and it no longer equates to enrichment, but in fact, quite the opposite. It now equates to text messages and Billboards, which in turn equates to lower functional literacy rates and lower educational standards. It, ultimately, will redifine success in the business world, the literary world, and the general public. Now, is that really what you want?
In the past summer, I've carved out the time to read a few novels, none of which i didn't like. I read The Joy Luck Club, The Kite Runner, Rachel's Tear (The Spiritual Journey of A Columbine Martyr), Gone With The Wind, and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Five novels in two months is not really an accomplishment, but it's certainly not something to scoff at, either. While it might sound a little unrealistic, i read these books in the midst of a four season Scrubs marathon, a ten season Friends marathon, moderately intense church comittments, and a part time job. Oh, and there's a two year old in my house. You don't need to cut out every other aspect of your life to make a little time for a book.
So, i challenge you, blog reader, facebook user, texter. Read a book. Any book, just one, more if you'd like. Read a book and absorb everything you can from it. Enjoy the grammar and the propriety. Welcome the foreign world and the foreign characters, and love every second of it. Then, translate this book to your life. The next time you go to post a new status on Facebook, proof read it. Or, if spelling isn't your thing, there's this really neat button on your keyboard called a Shift button, which allows you to access entirely new realms of punctuation outside of a period and comma, imagine!
Bottom line, we truly have reached an impass here. Either we learn to entwine modern technology and literary theology, or we don't, but think of what we lose if we don't make the effort; Is centuries of progress really outweighed by the tiny piece of plastic that your friends live in?
Blessings,
Mads
Maybe I'm being dramatic. That's a silly statement, i know I'm being dramatic, because I'm always dramatic, but I'm very fired up about this! I fully believe that if Charles Dickens ever read some of the posts i find on my News Feed, he'd roll over in his grave. What have we come to? It seems that the easier attaining information, sharing information, and being lazy becomes, the less interested we are in the foundational English that our society thrived from for centuries. To be literate is to be enriched, but our society has redefined literate, and it no longer equates to enrichment, but in fact, quite the opposite. It now equates to text messages and Billboards, which in turn equates to lower functional literacy rates and lower educational standards. It, ultimately, will redifine success in the business world, the literary world, and the general public. Now, is that really what you want?
In the past summer, I've carved out the time to read a few novels, none of which i didn't like. I read The Joy Luck Club, The Kite Runner, Rachel's Tear (The Spiritual Journey of A Columbine Martyr), Gone With The Wind, and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Five novels in two months is not really an accomplishment, but it's certainly not something to scoff at, either. While it might sound a little unrealistic, i read these books in the midst of a four season Scrubs marathon, a ten season Friends marathon, moderately intense church comittments, and a part time job. Oh, and there's a two year old in my house. You don't need to cut out every other aspect of your life to make a little time for a book.
So, i challenge you, blog reader, facebook user, texter. Read a book. Any book, just one, more if you'd like. Read a book and absorb everything you can from it. Enjoy the grammar and the propriety. Welcome the foreign world and the foreign characters, and love every second of it. Then, translate this book to your life. The next time you go to post a new status on Facebook, proof read it. Or, if spelling isn't your thing, there's this really neat button on your keyboard called a Shift button, which allows you to access entirely new realms of punctuation outside of a period and comma, imagine!
Bottom line, we truly have reached an impass here. Either we learn to entwine modern technology and literary theology, or we don't, but think of what we lose if we don't make the effort; Is centuries of progress really outweighed by the tiny piece of plastic that your friends live in?
Blessings,
Mads
Saturday, 16 July 2011
The Wright Brothers Were Right... Flying Is Absolutely Incredible!
I feel sandwiched in between the clouds. Above me there's a paper thin layer of snow white, hiding a crystal clear sky. Underneath me is a much thicker cotton ball layer of clouds, covering miles and miles of farm land, rivers, sky scrapers and people. We seem to be in an odd space between the two layers, soft and blue, and what a space it is.
To normal people, flying is tedious and frustrating. They make you empty your stuff, they charge you fifteen dollars for a bag of Skittles, and they steal your gold flecked, only sold in mid-Western Austria, 189$ a gram facial cream, because its 130 ml and it doesn't fit in your over-stuffed government issued plastic baggy. But to me, flying is the most romantic, exciting, magical experience ever to be enjoyed.
The clouds under the plane look like a flat, perfect sheet on a crisp, newly made bed, with tiny little pin-prick wrinkles, like mini mountain tops. What about that is frustrating? It truly is an experience I find to be enchanting, in a word. I know it's crazy, but it's true. I love flying! My flight took off at 6 35, and is 3 hours from it's destination. Instead of seeing that as the most boring three hours of my life, I think of it as a fantastic opportunity. I can finish my book, start the next, engage in potentially life changing conversation with my neighbor, play some Bubble Shooter, write a letter... The possibilities are truly endless!
On the way into security, I noticed a sign... Rowdy passengers will be reprimanded! This sign led to a thought, which rolled around in my head a little bit, and turned into a question. It rolled around a little more, and eventually, like a pearl in an oyster, is ready to make an appearance. You're 5000 feet in the air: is being rowdy really the smartest choice at this moment?
My best friend has a massive and unthinkable fear of anything in the air, which basically boil a down to airplanes and elevators. She truly cannot handle being on an elevator. I made her come with me to a doctor's appointment one time, and forced her to take the elevator up to the office, and I truly thought she was going to run the second light shown through those constricting steel doors. Airplanes are 100% out of the question. I do admit though, her fear is logical. "Why, in the name of all that is good in the world, would I get on a 6 million ton aluminum fridge that flies with FIRE?" its a good question, I admit. Why would you?
I'll tell you why. He's almost 2 and a half, and his name is Phillippe. He has curly, gingery brown hair and beautiful eyes, and named his toy dinosaur Roar. Or, a better reason, a 28 year old woman whose loved you since you were born, who used to give you all her old clothes, and paint your nails, and teach you which products would really get rid of the zit on your chin. That's why I'm sitting in a 6 million ton aluminum fridge that flies with fire, 5000 feet off the ground and counting, because I love my family more, and let me tell you, when i see my sister and my beautiful nephew, and get to wrap my arms around them, which is something no phone company, no skype call, and no facebook message will ever offer, it will be completely worth it.
So, Ashley, suck it up baby girl. Get on the plane, because its not about the flight itself, it's about whats waiting on the other side.
To normal people, flying is tedious and frustrating. They make you empty your stuff, they charge you fifteen dollars for a bag of Skittles, and they steal your gold flecked, only sold in mid-Western Austria, 189$ a gram facial cream, because its 130 ml and it doesn't fit in your over-stuffed government issued plastic baggy. But to me, flying is the most romantic, exciting, magical experience ever to be enjoyed.
The clouds under the plane look like a flat, perfect sheet on a crisp, newly made bed, with tiny little pin-prick wrinkles, like mini mountain tops. What about that is frustrating? It truly is an experience I find to be enchanting, in a word. I know it's crazy, but it's true. I love flying! My flight took off at 6 35, and is 3 hours from it's destination. Instead of seeing that as the most boring three hours of my life, I think of it as a fantastic opportunity. I can finish my book, start the next, engage in potentially life changing conversation with my neighbor, play some Bubble Shooter, write a letter... The possibilities are truly endless!
On the way into security, I noticed a sign... Rowdy passengers will be reprimanded! This sign led to a thought, which rolled around in my head a little bit, and turned into a question. It rolled around a little more, and eventually, like a pearl in an oyster, is ready to make an appearance. You're 5000 feet in the air: is being rowdy really the smartest choice at this moment?
My best friend has a massive and unthinkable fear of anything in the air, which basically boil a down to airplanes and elevators. She truly cannot handle being on an elevator. I made her come with me to a doctor's appointment one time, and forced her to take the elevator up to the office, and I truly thought she was going to run the second light shown through those constricting steel doors. Airplanes are 100% out of the question. I do admit though, her fear is logical. "Why, in the name of all that is good in the world, would I get on a 6 million ton aluminum fridge that flies with FIRE?" its a good question, I admit. Why would you?
I'll tell you why. He's almost 2 and a half, and his name is Phillippe. He has curly, gingery brown hair and beautiful eyes, and named his toy dinosaur Roar. Or, a better reason, a 28 year old woman whose loved you since you were born, who used to give you all her old clothes, and paint your nails, and teach you which products would really get rid of the zit on your chin. That's why I'm sitting in a 6 million ton aluminum fridge that flies with fire, 5000 feet off the ground and counting, because I love my family more, and let me tell you, when i see my sister and my beautiful nephew, and get to wrap my arms around them, which is something no phone company, no skype call, and no facebook message will ever offer, it will be completely worth it.
So, Ashley, suck it up baby girl. Get on the plane, because its not about the flight itself, it's about whats waiting on the other side.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Pee Pee Dancing and Eliminating Your Bathroom Hog!
Happy summer friends! Well, I have 5 days of school left including exams, so ALMOST happy summer. I hope everyone is sufficiently excited, I know i am. This may be a short post, because I have to get back to studying, but its one I feel the need to write. Something that drives me up the wall, when i do it, when other people do it, when anyone does it really, is this: the pee pee dance.
Everyone's seen the diaper commercials, and the YouTube videos, but I don't mean any of that. I mean like honest-to-goodness-my-bladdar-may-actually-explode pee pee dancing. There's a few different ways to do it, of course accompanied by their corresponding degrees of I-must-pee-ness, so here we go!
I HAVE TO PEE A LITTLE - movement of the hips, side to side, in an attempt to contain urine
I REALLY HAVE TO PEE -general hip thrusting in various directions; sometimes movements are used that would not, under any other circumstance be used in normal life (somewhat chicken-dance ish) accompanied by flailing of the arms, and potentially exposed teeth (I'm not sure how this helps maintain pre-wetting yourself status, but it does)
I MIGHT BURST - knees clenched tight enough together to juice various citrus fruits, legs bending in unnatural way up and down to lift feet from floor without unclenching knees. Arms now waving somewhat violently, and potentially profane words are expressed by the subject of the dance, through clenched teeth (try it- say COME OOOOONNNNNNN without unclenching your teeth- it's surprisingly accurate!)
I'LL BURST, I SWEAR - LITERALLY SECONDS FROM WETTING YOURSELF - knees clenched tight enough to break bricks, teeth clenched tight enough to break bricks - potentially the same bricks? - arms in full flail, now beating people off on either side, legs bent to lift up feet in such a manner that you'll feel it in the morning, and entire body wiggling side by side.
AND THERE IT GOES - no one's dancing after that...
So there it is. The 5 degrees of pee pee dancing. But, of course, The cause of any good pee pee dance is someone spending hours in the bathroom. I've developed various methods for removing stubborn individuals from all kinds of bathrooms, including both home and public, and both genders: after this list, your brothers and sisters may actually ask you before they use the washroom.
PUBLIC WASHROOMS
public washrooms are tricky... You don't need all 8 stalls, but you need to separate yourself from the 14 other people in line for a stall without being crazy enough to get kicked out... Or send to the bathroom with the little white man on the door. Sometimes just exaggerating the pee pee dance to it's fullest can get the job done effectively, assuming that the people you're in line with are at all polite. If they're not, you must take it one step further. Pretending to be crazy usually gets the job done - throw yourself across the bathroom, with unbelievable force, making strange noises, such as barking, singing at an unprecedented decibel, etc- but if it doesn't, your last resort is to put those grade 9 drama class skills to work, and pretend to be sick. You wouldn't believe the velocity at which those people will clear you a path.
HOME!
Home is your home base. It's like your home court, or your home land if you prefer. Either way, it's where you can be crazy without getting kicked out, so go for it! There are a few ways to get your siblings, parents, etc. Out of the bathroom, and here are a few of my favorites: start small, as with public bathrooms. Bang on the door with both hands until it opens. It's not actually going to make the door open, it just annoys the sense out of whoever's on the other side, and forces them to move a little quicker. If this doesn't work, start going through their stuff. I know it sounds a little nutty, but we've done it, don't lie to me. Grab a notebook from their bedroom and start reading pages out loud at random, or grab a hand full of underwear, and describe each piece in great detail at the top of your lungs. If this doesn't work, you've got a serious bathroom-hog problem, and need to take severe action. The least severe of these would be to grab as many pots and pans as you can, and just go nuts outside the door. Its only bearable for so long before they give in. If this doesn't work, run outside. Grab the closest garden hose to the bathroom window and fire away. It's probably tile anyway, so it's a fairly easy clean up, and other than the shower, there usually aren't too many places to hide. If this doesn't work, walk confidently into your target's bedroom and grab their favorite article of clothing. Take said article to the kitchen, cover with water, and stick in the freezer. the whole time, screaming play by plays to your subject. If this still doesn't get them out, it's time for the action you should only take when you have no action left. Your seconds ay from cleaning up a puddle on the floor, and your at your wits end. Grab the nearest lighter, and hold it to the nearest fire detector. If this doesn't get them out, you're out of luck: learn to pee outside.
Hope you appreciate the tips and tricks, as well as my descriptive degrees of the pee pee dance. Hope everyone's exams go well and you're all prepared - if not, stop reading blogs about pee and pull out a textbook!
Blessings,
Maddi.
Everyone's seen the diaper commercials, and the YouTube videos, but I don't mean any of that. I mean like honest-to-goodness-my-bladdar-may-actually-explode pee pee dancing. There's a few different ways to do it, of course accompanied by their corresponding degrees of I-must-pee-ness, so here we go!
I HAVE TO PEE A LITTLE - movement of the hips, side to side, in an attempt to contain urine
I REALLY HAVE TO PEE -general hip thrusting in various directions; sometimes movements are used that would not, under any other circumstance be used in normal life (somewhat chicken-dance ish) accompanied by flailing of the arms, and potentially exposed teeth (I'm not sure how this helps maintain pre-wetting yourself status, but it does)
I MIGHT BURST - knees clenched tight enough together to juice various citrus fruits, legs bending in unnatural way up and down to lift feet from floor without unclenching knees. Arms now waving somewhat violently, and potentially profane words are expressed by the subject of the dance, through clenched teeth (try it- say COME OOOOONNNNNNN without unclenching your teeth- it's surprisingly accurate!)
I'LL BURST, I SWEAR - LITERALLY SECONDS FROM WETTING YOURSELF - knees clenched tight enough to break bricks, teeth clenched tight enough to break bricks - potentially the same bricks? - arms in full flail, now beating people off on either side, legs bent to lift up feet in such a manner that you'll feel it in the morning, and entire body wiggling side by side.
AND THERE IT GOES - no one's dancing after that...
So there it is. The 5 degrees of pee pee dancing. But, of course, The cause of any good pee pee dance is someone spending hours in the bathroom. I've developed various methods for removing stubborn individuals from all kinds of bathrooms, including both home and public, and both genders: after this list, your brothers and sisters may actually ask you before they use the washroom.
PUBLIC WASHROOMS
public washrooms are tricky... You don't need all 8 stalls, but you need to separate yourself from the 14 other people in line for a stall without being crazy enough to get kicked out... Or send to the bathroom with the little white man on the door. Sometimes just exaggerating the pee pee dance to it's fullest can get the job done effectively, assuming that the people you're in line with are at all polite. If they're not, you must take it one step further. Pretending to be crazy usually gets the job done - throw yourself across the bathroom, with unbelievable force, making strange noises, such as barking, singing at an unprecedented decibel, etc- but if it doesn't, your last resort is to put those grade 9 drama class skills to work, and pretend to be sick. You wouldn't believe the velocity at which those people will clear you a path.
HOME!
Home is your home base. It's like your home court, or your home land if you prefer. Either way, it's where you can be crazy without getting kicked out, so go for it! There are a few ways to get your siblings, parents, etc. Out of the bathroom, and here are a few of my favorites: start small, as with public bathrooms. Bang on the door with both hands until it opens. It's not actually going to make the door open, it just annoys the sense out of whoever's on the other side, and forces them to move a little quicker. If this doesn't work, start going through their stuff. I know it sounds a little nutty, but we've done it, don't lie to me. Grab a notebook from their bedroom and start reading pages out loud at random, or grab a hand full of underwear, and describe each piece in great detail at the top of your lungs. If this doesn't work, you've got a serious bathroom-hog problem, and need to take severe action. The least severe of these would be to grab as many pots and pans as you can, and just go nuts outside the door. Its only bearable for so long before they give in. If this doesn't work, run outside. Grab the closest garden hose to the bathroom window and fire away. It's probably tile anyway, so it's a fairly easy clean up, and other than the shower, there usually aren't too many places to hide. If this doesn't work, walk confidently into your target's bedroom and grab their favorite article of clothing. Take said article to the kitchen, cover with water, and stick in the freezer. the whole time, screaming play by plays to your subject. If this still doesn't get them out, it's time for the action you should only take when you have no action left. Your seconds ay from cleaning up a puddle on the floor, and your at your wits end. Grab the nearest lighter, and hold it to the nearest fire detector. If this doesn't get them out, you're out of luck: learn to pee outside.
Hope you appreciate the tips and tricks, as well as my descriptive degrees of the pee pee dance. Hope everyone's exams go well and you're all prepared - if not, stop reading blogs about pee and pull out a textbook!
Blessings,
Maddi.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Two By Fours and Point Shoes
Ever walk into a room and feel your shoulders curl up a little from all the tension? Ever talk to someone and just want to shake and tell them to relax? I'm not normally like this, but holy cats am I ever sick of people who take themselves too seriously. You're not Oprah, take a chill pill and laugh a little bit.
I just got home from a dance audition for our school's production of Fame. I'm not a dancer by any standard, but I'm a singer and an actor, and I'm desperately hoping for Carmen (after that audition though, it might be a pretty long shot). I've been spending the week patting down my emotions and settling the butterflies, trying not to get my hopes up for this part, but some of these girls.... My goodness, just calm down a little. Some of them are so high strung that they forget to smile, and when they do smile, it's so forced that it looks like something out of a horror movie. Is it really that horrible to remove a little makeup and relax your face long enough to genuinely smile at someone? It costs you nothing, and it may make someone's day.
Joe and I spent the audition laughing at our horrible improv dance moves and sweating buckets, but basically maintained a smile most of the time. May I just say that you could be the most incredible dancer in the entire world, but if you don't smile, I don't care. I'm sorry, but having "the whole package" (singing, dancing, acting, looks) isn't the whole package unless you have the personality to match it.
As i've mentioned before, I grew up a little bit in the dance community. Not that I could dance, but my brother could. I remember thinking exactly the same thing about those girls then, and it hasn't changed.
In grade 10 math, I met this girl named Kristen. When I found out Kristen was a dancer, I was a little surprised. She was nice, and not just nice, but nice to me. She was a little crazy, but in an amazing, fun kind of way. She has what I would call a magnetic personality. Her energy is so invigorating, and energizing and fresh that you just want to be around her. I'm still friends with Kristen, and i love her to death, and I wish her all the best with her Fame auditon (which she rocked, by the way).
She's very, very different from a lot of the girls i've met through dance. don't get me wrong, some of them are just as wonderful as Kristen, but some of them... If given the opportunity, I would want to pick them up and throw them in to a big bubble bath surrounded by aroma therapy candles... Anything to calm them down.
And its not just dancers by any stretch of the imagination. Its people in general. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake, or taking a night off, or smiling at a stranger, or just being calm. You don't need to be moving and running and being successful 24 hours a day; that's a recipe for a burnout, and real quick. I've met people who are like this about school, music, dance, sports.. The list goes on and on. And to all of you who are like this, so up tight that at any given moment of the day, your entire body is clenched, I have a message for you: just relax!
My mom used to say you can roll through life like a stone, or you can clunk through life like a two by four. So roll, folks! Just roll!
Blessings,
Maddi.
I just got home from a dance audition for our school's production of Fame. I'm not a dancer by any standard, but I'm a singer and an actor, and I'm desperately hoping for Carmen (after that audition though, it might be a pretty long shot). I've been spending the week patting down my emotions and settling the butterflies, trying not to get my hopes up for this part, but some of these girls.... My goodness, just calm down a little. Some of them are so high strung that they forget to smile, and when they do smile, it's so forced that it looks like something out of a horror movie. Is it really that horrible to remove a little makeup and relax your face long enough to genuinely smile at someone? It costs you nothing, and it may make someone's day.
Joe and I spent the audition laughing at our horrible improv dance moves and sweating buckets, but basically maintained a smile most of the time. May I just say that you could be the most incredible dancer in the entire world, but if you don't smile, I don't care. I'm sorry, but having "the whole package" (singing, dancing, acting, looks) isn't the whole package unless you have the personality to match it.
As i've mentioned before, I grew up a little bit in the dance community. Not that I could dance, but my brother could. I remember thinking exactly the same thing about those girls then, and it hasn't changed.
In grade 10 math, I met this girl named Kristen. When I found out Kristen was a dancer, I was a little surprised. She was nice, and not just nice, but nice to me. She was a little crazy, but in an amazing, fun kind of way. She has what I would call a magnetic personality. Her energy is so invigorating, and energizing and fresh that you just want to be around her. I'm still friends with Kristen, and i love her to death, and I wish her all the best with her Fame auditon (which she rocked, by the way).
She's very, very different from a lot of the girls i've met through dance. don't get me wrong, some of them are just as wonderful as Kristen, but some of them... If given the opportunity, I would want to pick them up and throw them in to a big bubble bath surrounded by aroma therapy candles... Anything to calm them down.
And its not just dancers by any stretch of the imagination. Its people in general. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake, or taking a night off, or smiling at a stranger, or just being calm. You don't need to be moving and running and being successful 24 hours a day; that's a recipe for a burnout, and real quick. I've met people who are like this about school, music, dance, sports.. The list goes on and on. And to all of you who are like this, so up tight that at any given moment of the day, your entire body is clenched, I have a message for you: just relax!
My mom used to say you can roll through life like a stone, or you can clunk through life like a two by four. So roll, folks! Just roll!
Blessings,
Maddi.
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Exam Week: The Rules Of
Exams. Exams are the real life equivalent of Sandra Bullock in the begin of The Proposal: Evil. No one likes them, but we all have to do them. Except homeschool kids, but they don't count (sorry Garrett! And Hannah... And Michael... Wow, I actually know a lot of homeschool kids... I apologize to you all).
I share a locker with this boy named Joe, who i've been really close with since grade 9 geography, second semester. That class sucked... Anyway, Joe is the definition of a study bug. He didn't go to bed last night because he had a chemistry test this afternoon, that I'm sure he got 100% on, cause he's a genius. Joe has kind of set out personal exam week rules that I thought may help to keep the peace a little during exam week. So vie taken joe's unspoken (kind of spoken..) exam week rules, elaborated upon them, and have decided to present them to the public:
1. Arriving at the library En Masse with 50 of your closest friends and then taking a 3 hour break to grab Admirals is not an effective way to study. Don't do it.
2. It doesn't matter what the teachers tell you, pulling an all-nighter the night before Ms. Mosher's math exam is definitely going to get you a better mark.
3. The one and only time that not showering is acceptable is exam week: that's half an hour worth of information you're missing out on.
4. Food is too timely. Ultimate fat burner: exam week. If you simply must eat, Danino works wonders... As does cold pizza, twizzlers, and little green mints.
5. There are times in a person's life that they're covered under what we call The Grace Period: The death of a loved one, child birth, inexplicable medical turmoil... Exam week. Anything you say or do CANNOT be held against you later in life.
6. Chores can be done later, exam week comes twice a year, and is clearly more important than the mountain of garbage bags, waiting for you to take them out.
7. No one cares if you're pasty. Those with 10 page essays due do NOT have time to tan.
8. If you have time to get the headphones in your ears, you're not dedicated enough.
9. Every second counts. No one is allowed to test you for bringing a textbook into the bathroom.
Lastly...
10. Daydreaming about the summer is an ineffective use of your time: absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Alright Internet, this blog has now taken me 26 minutes to write. That's 26 minutes of studying i could have gotten in, or... A shower. I could really use one of those. Good luck with your exams, I shall blog again soon, but it may be very, very short.
Blessings
Maddi.
I share a locker with this boy named Joe, who i've been really close with since grade 9 geography, second semester. That class sucked... Anyway, Joe is the definition of a study bug. He didn't go to bed last night because he had a chemistry test this afternoon, that I'm sure he got 100% on, cause he's a genius. Joe has kind of set out personal exam week rules that I thought may help to keep the peace a little during exam week. So vie taken joe's unspoken (kind of spoken..) exam week rules, elaborated upon them, and have decided to present them to the public:
1. Arriving at the library En Masse with 50 of your closest friends and then taking a 3 hour break to grab Admirals is not an effective way to study. Don't do it.
2. It doesn't matter what the teachers tell you, pulling an all-nighter the night before Ms. Mosher's math exam is definitely going to get you a better mark.
3. The one and only time that not showering is acceptable is exam week: that's half an hour worth of information you're missing out on.
4. Food is too timely. Ultimate fat burner: exam week. If you simply must eat, Danino works wonders... As does cold pizza, twizzlers, and little green mints.
5. There are times in a person's life that they're covered under what we call The Grace Period: The death of a loved one, child birth, inexplicable medical turmoil... Exam week. Anything you say or do CANNOT be held against you later in life.
6. Chores can be done later, exam week comes twice a year, and is clearly more important than the mountain of garbage bags, waiting for you to take them out.
7. No one cares if you're pasty. Those with 10 page essays due do NOT have time to tan.
8. If you have time to get the headphones in your ears, you're not dedicated enough.
9. Every second counts. No one is allowed to test you for bringing a textbook into the bathroom.
Lastly...
10. Daydreaming about the summer is an ineffective use of your time: absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Alright Internet, this blog has now taken me 26 minutes to write. That's 26 minutes of studying i could have gotten in, or... A shower. I could really use one of those. Good luck with your exams, I shall blog again soon, but it may be very, very short.
Blessings
Maddi.
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