A Difficult Decision

•January 15, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Friend (frend) – noun – 1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. 2. a person who gives assistance.

Re-la-tion-ship (ri-ley-shuhn-ship) – noun – 1. an emotional or other connection between people. 2. a sexual involvement; affair.

In-ter-ven-tion (in-ter-ven-shuhn) – noun – 1. interposition or interference of one state in the affairs of another.

Much of my life is remembered by the friends I’ve gained and lost, these two usually being linked together. I find it very hard to trust people, and I am always afraid that the person closest to me is the next one to stab me in the back.

At my new school, however, my friends sincerely like me, not what I have. I love them all very much, and I have gotten especially close to two in particular.

Two of the friends in my group, two of my best friends, liked each other very much, and dated a little while. Let’s call them Jon and Jane. They ended up breaking up, as Jane was afraid that Jon fell in love with his ex-girlfriend again (and she lives back home, not where we are). A month or two went by, and Jane felt that she had fallen in love with Jon, and when we had a sleep over at my place they decided that they would be together again because they loved each other so much.

Now, by this time, another girl had joined our friend group. Lets call her Jessica. Jon liked Jessica while he and Jane weren’t dating, and Jane was afraid that as soon as he saw her again (even after they had decided they would be together) he would think sorry Jane, no can do.

A few weeks later, Jane was forced to leave the school – she’d been having major health and depression issues, and was sent home. She still loved Jon, but something else began to happen.

Jon and Jessica started dating, almost as soon as Jane left. Even though one of my other awesome friends (let’s call him Jerry) and I tried to talk them out of it (because they were completely taking Jane out of the picture)https://i2.wp.com/blog.adolflam.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/07/heart-question-mark.gif they did it. For a while, nobody knew they were together, because they were so shy. Then, they started getting braver, holding hands through school and kissing eachother on the cheek.

Things started to progress quickly. They started hanging out with our group less and less, and started become more physical with one another (this is a boarding school, so if anyone found out they’d had done anything sexual they would have been expelled, so they didn’t do anything in that area).

Eventually, they stopped hanging out with us all together.

At meals, they would eat as fast as possible, only talk to one another, then leave. When they weren’t together (if one was in class) the other would say hi distractedly then leave to wait for their partner, even if they had to wait for an hour.

Today, Jerry told me something incredibly shocking.

Jon’s roommate went into their dorm a few days ago, and found Jon and Jessica “doing things” on Jon’s bed. Firstly, you aren’t allowed to have anyone besides you and your roommate in your room during the school day. Secondly, you are not allowed to have a member of the opposite sex in the room unless there are four people present. This raised two things.

One: Jon had found a way to sneak Jessica into his room.

Two: Even though they had both been absolutely against all things sexual (even afraid of it), they were doing things when no one was looking.

Another thing that was alarming was that Jerry had seen them leaving Jon’s dorm from the side door many times with Jessica.

I’m terrified.

Our school is very strict. If you are caught drunk, you are expelled. If you have any drugs in your room or are found doing drugs at all, you are expelled. If you have sex at school, you are expelled.

I’m afraid that my two friends are going to get expelled.

The only thing those two have paid attention to during the last two months has been eachother. They are hardly focusing on their school work, their friends, or their problems with family, or any problems for that matter. I don’t know if they are blind to everything else because of their love for one another, or lust.

This weekend, I have Jon, Jessica, Jerry, and another friend (let’s call him Justin) coming to my house for a semester sleep over. Jerry and I are terrified that they’re going to try to slip off to a bedroom and do some “things”. This is when I’m going to make an intervention.

They’re losing all their friends – if they were to break up, they would have no one to talk to or to ask for advice or comfort. I am going to talk some sense into Jessica, and hope to god she understands me.

I don’t want to watch my friends leave everything behind, especially not their dreams. I don’t want to add them to my list of friends I’ve lost.

And I don’t want to watch them destroy themselves and lose the virtues I admired so much in them.

Can’t we all just get along?

•January 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Ster-e-o-type (ster-ee-uh-tahyp, steer) – noun – 1. Sociology. a simplified and standardized conception or image invested with special meaning and held in common by members of a group: The cowboy and Indian are American stereotypes. – verb – 1. to characterize or regard as a stereotype: The actor has been stereotyped as a villain.

Everyone uses stereotypes. Everyone thinks of a group of people as a specific personality, not as many people who are different and unique. What I feel is one of the worst kinds of stereotyping is the stereotyping of people from a certain place. One of the oldest country rivalries is that between America and Canada.

I’m born and raised in Canada, but I’ve never appreciated stereotypes – especially about Americans. I’ve always thought that stereotypes are ridiculous, and that people should know better – especially the smart people. Apparently, I’m wrong, and stereotypes have infected the minds of pretty much the entire world and we can’t escape from it.

Living in Canada, I’ve seen my fair share of people who absolutely hate Americans for no good reason. I’ve always tried to convince the people I knew to stop and think about what they were saying, but they just wouldn’t let go of what was driven into their heads.

This year, I moved to America to do my last year of high school. I made a lot of friends pretty quickly, and I thought they were the kind of people who wouldn’t give in to stereotypes. As I am in many cases, I was wrong.

A couple of times I’ve found myself in situations where my friend introduces the fact that they hate Canada. I ask them why, and they say “It’s freezing, and the people there are obnoxious assholes.” I always point out to them that they’re stereotyping, and that it’s unfair to label an entire country based on a few people they met, but they refused to relent and they went on about how everyone they talked to was bitchy, no matter where they went. I still didn’t believe her, and so she goes on to say that Canada is a totalitarianist society that doesn’t help people with special needs or special illnesses and that she knows so many people who birthed their babies in America because they would get better health care.

Now, from experience, I’ve always had a lot more help healthcare wise in Canada than in America (one time I broke my toe and they got me in emergency right away, and I’ve also had pneumonia twice and am still alive). As a reply, I told her “Canada will have some things America doesn’t, and America will have some things Canada doesn’t. You shouldn’t just focus on the few things that went wrong and base your view of an entire country on it.”

Here, she started to completely bitch me out, and I decided I had enough of the conversation and left.

Stereotypes are the worst kind of harassment, in my opinion, as they don’t only target one person, but a large group of people. I just want to escape it, and get my friends to understand that stereotyping is a really bad thing to do, and these are good people I’m talking about.

Until then, I’ll just have to keep taking the blows for Canada. See full size image

Back… to the Future!

•January 12, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Future (fyoo-cher) – noun – 1. time that is to be or come hereafter. 2. a condition, esp. of success or failure, to come: Some people believe a gypsy can tell you your future.
I am in my final year of high school, and I’ve gotten in to the universities I wanted to go. Now that I know my path for the next year, I’m starting to think to myself how close the future really is.

Some people tend to think of the future as being incredibly far off. They never think of it in terms of the future is tomorrow, or later today, or even a minute from now. Also, the fact that it is termed “the future” makes it seem as though it is already plotted out and that no matter what decisions we make we would have made them anyway and therefore we would have gone on to the same future. The truth of the matter is, every few minutes our future can be changed. It all depends on the choices we make and how we go about doing things.

For example, I know that I am going to university next year. I know that in a couple months I will be wearing a funny hat in front of a bunch of people and getting a rolled up piece of paper. It took me ’til about a day ago to realize that I was nearly done high school. I was nearly finished what I had been dreaming about in elementary school. This realization also made me think that soon the future I had been working toward for four years was next September. It kind of puts things in persepctive, don’t you think?

I know it’s impossible to know where you will be from one year to the next, let alone one month to the next. The future is ever changing, and no matter what we do we can’t just sit on the sofa and never move at all, just waiting for it to come to us. We need to find the future, even though we never completely know what it is going to be.

in fact, the invisible race car was really the delorian used by Doc Brown to travel into the future...

in fact, the invisible race car was really the delorian used by Doc Brown to travel into the future...

Home Amnesia

•December 17, 2008 • Leave a Comment

House (houz) – noun – 1. a building in which people live; residence for human beings. 2. a household.

Home (hohm) – noun – 1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household. 2. the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered.

I’ve been out of my home country for months, as I am studying music in America (I’m Canadian). At first, I found it really strange to be there, in a house that was home to a family for many years, in a neighbourhood where, if one person lost power, the entire town lost power (it’s that tiny), and if you went for a walk in the middle of the night to get some air, you’d get lost in the woods.

Basically, I moved from a pretty large city where every night you fell asleep to the soothing sound of sirens, to a town that can barely be considered a township, and if you heard sirens it scared you a tad.

Personally, I’m terrified of spiders. The way they sprint accross surfaces, their long, crooked legs, and, worst of all, the way they just sit there in their webs.. staring at you… mocking you every second… terrifying.

Another thing that terrified me about my house: there was a connecting apartment being rented out by a couple I don’t really know.. that has two doors connected to my room. Just my room. It’s like that episode of Medium, where this blind chick lives in an apartment alone and this guy sneaks in through a secret door at night and watches her sleep then tries to kill her… agh. You can imagine how hard it was for me to fall asleep for a while… especially since my mom’s room (the only other person in the house) was not within earshot of mine (so many rooms and doors, if I screamed in the middle of the night, she’d continue having her sweet little dreams).

Basically, I was terrified of the house I’d moved into. Especially since I’d never moved in my life and didn’t know how to handle myself.

After about a month of school, I was used to the house, and I didn’t feel awkward anymore, or as terrified to fall asleep (keywords: as and terrified). I didn’t find myself thinking longingly about my home in Canada, or the friends I left there (I only ever felt close to a few, and the others were turning to distant memories). I found a group of friends at school, and I love them all to death, and I developped so much as a musician with all the time I had for practice and study.

Right now, it’s christmas holiday. I’m off school for a few weeks, and I’ve come home to Canada for the holidays. I knew I was excited to see my family, and to be able to hang out with my best friend (let’s call her Ashley), but other than that, I didn’t feel any other kind of excitement (except to go snowboarding… BALLIN). When I got to my house, I unpacked my things, put everything away, and it was like I’d never left… except I didn’t feel like this was exactly my home anymore. It is still my home, in the way that all my childhood memories are whispered to me by the walls, however this isn’t my home at the present. In the same way, however, I feel at home in America, but I don’t feel like it’s my actual home.

In my opinion, there is a difference between a house and a home. A house is a building that has bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, and an optional living room with optional extra rooms. You put things in it, you sleep beneath its roof, you keep your belongings in it, and you can have groups of people join you in it for extended periods of time. A home, on the other hand, is something that can be a house, a hotel room, even a bench. It’s a place where, no matter what, you feel a strong connection to it, and you are the most comfortable in that one place. When people say “Where do you live”, that is usually the first place you think of. A corny phrase comes to my mind, Home is where the heart is. No matter how dorky that sounds, I agree completely.

Sitting here in the room I lived in for almost my entire life, I think of all the things I’ve been through. I have an extreme connection to this house (hell, I had a dream my mom sold it, and I woke up pissed at her), and I would never be able to see it gone. I love this house, and this is very much a home to me, but at the present it is more the home to my memories, and a place that is very comfortable to me. It is my home, and it is my house at the same time. I guess I can say the same thing for my house (home) in America, as this is an important year in my life, and I’ll have many memories within those walls that I’ll definitely feel sad when I leave it.

I guess, in a way, this is the same for many people. When we have been in a place or been in posession of an object for a period of time, we grow memories related to it, and when we part with it, it feels as though we were parting with those memories, too. I have a very poor memory – I forget what I am doing from one moment to the next. One of the best ways for me to keep hold of memories (unless they were really really really important) is to have an object that reminds me of that thing, or a circumstance that happened around that memory. For example, there’s this episode of Family Guy where Peter is watching tv and Jaws comes on, and the shark is talking in an extremely gay voice and going dun dun dun dun mm you’re yummy, and I thought of that once while I was working on memorizing a piece of music. Now, whenever I play that section of the piece, I think of that episode of Family Guy, and it has really helped to keep it in my memory banks. The same could be said for buildings, movies, toys, anything /anywhere you’ve had time with.

In the end, I guess it both matters and doesn’t matter, what the difference is between a house and a home. Many people confuse them for one another, or think them to be the same thing, and in the end, what is connection with anything without memories and thought?

House or home - are they the same, but different impact?

House or home - are they the same, but different impact?

Love in Pieces

•December 16, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Love (luhv) – noun – 1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. 2. sexual passion or desire. 3. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour. – verb (used with object) – 1. to have a strong liking for; take great pleasure in: to love music. 2. to embrace and kiss (someone), as a lover.

Love is an interesting thing. It controls your thoughts. It effects your actions. It causes you to embarass yourself in front of large quantities of people. It can lift your spirits. It can drag you through the mud. It can fill the empty void in your heart, and it can turn that void into a space in your chest where nothing is kept.

No one ever really knows if they’ve been in love. After all, the only thing we can compare love to are other emotions we’ve felt, yet, comparatively, we may be completely off the mark. I’ve had many friends who think they were in love, however, I believe that Shakespeare knew what he was talking about. He said something along the lines of “no matter what the other person becomes, no matter what the person does, you would always love them,” and I truly believe this.

I’ve only ever had one actual boyfriend. We met each other through my best friend at the time, and she had, in a way, hired me to see if he was starting to like her. Three months after she said she stopped liking him, he told me he really liked me, and very much wanted me to go on a date with him. I didn’t know exactly how I felt about him, and I knew I would feel guilty if I did go on a date with him. However, I was going to a hockey game about a week later, and I invited him to come with me as a friend. In between periods, we were walking around the arena, and he took my hand. This same thing happened each time we walked around between periods.

When the game was over, my father invited him to come to our house and hang out a little while longer. We watched a movie in my basement, and our hang out turned in to our first date when he kissed me.

My best friend found out, and she bitched me out. She claimed to still like him, and started telling people about what a bitch I was. How was I supposed to know, I said to her, that she still liked him after 3 months of saying she didn’t, and that the first time we hung out on our own he would display his affection to me in such a way. She bitched to him about me, and he refused to talk to her as she was being horrible to me. I realized I really did like him very much, and he said he fell in love with me almost immediately.

Two weeks later, I freaked out. I’d never been in a serious relationship before, and this developped to fast for me, and I broke up with him. I’ll never forget how he looked when I said I couldn’t do it anymore, and how he felt when he hugged me. As soon as I was away from him, I thought to myself, Shit. Why did I do that. I’m really going to regret this.

I did.

For months after that, I still wished I was with him. He kept telling me it was fine, and that we were still friends. I talked to him less and less.

Then, I found out he liked one of my other friends.

My heart flipped a switch. I knew I needed to be with him, and I didn’t know how to tell him. After all, I had broken his heart. I talked to him more, and I sensed a change in how he was talking to me since I’d broken up with him. For the months after I had broken up with him, he sounded withdrawn, but now, he sounded lively again. He talked to me about how he asked her out, and how she was so good to him when I broke up with him. The night he asked her out, he told me he loved me, and he regretted asking this other girl out, even though she rejected him. We talked about how we each felt, and we wanted to get back together. As we kept talking about it, he told me how his family would notice the difference yet again, and his mother would be suspicious of me as I had made him so… horribly sad before.

We were back together, and the next day we kissed underneath the stairwell when he was saying goodbye to me. That night, he told me it would be too weird if we stayed together and our friends knew. They would think we were stupid, or something like that. So it ended once again.

We didn’t talk much for months after that. Oncce in a while we would speak, and I would feel my heart freak out.

It was summer. I left to do music stuff around the world, and we hardly spoke. My friend, who still claimed to be my best friend, even though she is a part of what destroyed my relationship with the guy who still held my heart, had a bit of a summer get together at a fair. This get together consisted of me, my “best” friend, one of our friends from school, my best guy friend, and the guy who held my heart. The entire time, he and I flirted quite a bit and everyone noticed. At the end, it was just he and I left, and we were standing on the other side of the park outside my house. I was to move to a different country, and we weren’t going to see each other for many months. We hugged, and once again, I felt his heart beat incredibly fast. “You’re heart’s racing,” I said to him. “It happens whenever I’m around you.” He kissed my cheek, and I kissed him on the lips. He held my hands tightly and kissed me back. When we parted, he held my hand in his for an extra moment, whispering “I love you” as we separated. I replied “and I you,” and I moved away.

We texted each other every day, and we told each other every day how we loved one another.

Then, the end began.

He slowly stopped talking to me, and finally he told me he liked another girl. I wanted him to be happy, so I said go for it. Then, once he’d told me he asked her out, he told me who she was. It was the other girl who attended our get together at the fair. My friend. Who had listened to me talk about my feelings for him.

That was three months ago. They are still dating. A month into their relationship, he told me that he’d bottled up his emotions for me, and that he didn’t love her. I haven’t really spoken to him since. My heart still throbs when I think of him, and I haven’t been with anyone even a year after we broke up the first time. I feel as though I still feel for him with the pieces of my heart, which are picked away at every day.

He used to call me chouette. Now that is her name.

Things that go dump in the night

•December 15, 2008 • 3 Comments

Dump (duhmp) – verb (used without object) – 1. to fall or drop down suddenly. 2. to throw away or discard garbage, refuse, etc.

I have two dogs. One, the family favourite and elder of the two, is a pomeranian-chihuahua-maltese mutt (the cutest fluff ball you’ve ever seen – Squidget), and the other is a chinese crested hairless (Willow). I know what you’ll think when you hear “hairless” – ewwwwwww. Believe it or not, she’s really cute. She’s a happy-go-lucky, has a good personality, but is a little bit of a dumb blonde. Although she is loved by all, there is one thing that slightly diminishes her cool standing.

It’s winter. It’s cold. There’s snow everywhere. This pup don’t like no snow. No matter how many coats you put on her, no matter how warm the boots are that you shove on her feet, she does not like this season for nice walks. As a result, it is increasingly more difficult to get her to accept the call of nature when she is surrounded by it. She prefers a slightly warmer climate for doing her business.

I sleep with this cutey at night in my bed. She likes to crush up against me and use me as her own personal furnace while she sleeps. Unfortunately for my bedsheets (and the bodies underneath them), this little critter just can’t hold it in for twenty four hours. She goes to the foot of the bed, scratches at the corner precisely four inches away from the port side of the bed, and lets the river flow. I always wake up at the part where I feel something cold and wet on my foot.

When she was but a pup, she lived in a house full of untrained puppies. She was nearly 6 months old when we got her, and she had never been potty trained. The manager of the establishment said she would never be fully trained to learn the difference between grass and rug, but we got her anyway. She was just so darned cute.

Having an older dog in the house that was very well trained was a big help. Our little Willow didn’t want to embarass herself in front of the great and powerful Squidget, so she did the best she could to resist peeing everywhere. Unfortunately, she found the remote spots in the house where Squidget never visited, and used those for her personal toilet areas. My mom was really pissed – we paid a fortune for this rug! she would say.

She’s been doing a lot better over the last few months, however she is not perfect. At least before she didn’t do her business on furniture – let alone my feet while I’m asleep.

In conclusion, my dog is the thing that goes dump in the night. But I still love her to the extreme.

this is DEFINITELY not how I feel about Willow

this is DEFINITELY not how I feel about Willow

On Paranoia

•December 15, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Par-a-noi-a (par-uhnoiuh) – noun 1. Psychiatry, a mental disorder characterized by systematized delusions and the projection of personal conflicts, which are ascribed to the supposed hostility of others, sometimes progressing to disturbances of consciousness and aggressive acts believed to be performed in self-defense or as a mission. 2. baseless or excessive suspicion of the motives of others.

Everyone’s had that feeling of being watched. Whenever a human being is alone, their senses heighten dramatically and allow them to better understand if danger is near. Also, people have very distinct memories of terrifying experiences, whether those experiences are related to movies, or real life things. For some people, these two things are mixed, and when they are left alone, they feel terrified, as those terrifying memories flood back and remind them of what can happen when one is alone. This is what many people call paranoia.

Personally, I’m terrified whenever I’m alone in a house, appartment building, or hotel room. I’m afraid of opening closets lest I find bodies on the hangers, being murdered by people hiding in the basements, and also of having family killed while they had me at home alone. Sometimes, I’m scared of falling asleep, because I keep seeing that part in the Grudge where that girl thing comes up from the woman’s bed and kills her (shudder). I am a truly terrified and paranoid person. I can’t even walk my dog when it’s dark out because of a scary childhood memory (was walking the dog at night, I was in the middle of the park outside my house, and I saw this six foot tall shadow running towards me from the other side of the park – never been able to go without being terrified since).

But, does my being afraid of death and injury actually mean I am paranoid, or just afraid of what so many media have driven into people’s minds?

When I am scared, my brain is whizzing through the many movies and pictures I’ve seen of terrifying deaths and fictional hauntings and murders. None of my scary fantasies are based on real life expriences (well… the childhood memory effected my dog walking, I’ll give you that). Humans are naturally afraid of other humans and things we cannot explain, but it definitely doesn’t help. Not only do our own imaginations terrify us, but the imaginations of other people which were thrown into people’s faces terrify us, and although it is a means of amusement for many people, it’s not exactly a good thing for people who have an impressionable memory.

Our greatest fear is what is locked inside our heads, our terrifying imaginations which have the power to decide our actions. Our second greatest fear is what’s in the heads of others, which, upon giving a person an idea, may cause them to take action.

scary script writers

scary script writers