Dot Dot Dot, Dash Dash Dash, Dot Dot Dot

What, do I owe you?

You gave me ugly and made me fat.

You took support and you way of being a good parent is driving me around and cooking.

You never see.

See, that I am always on the brink of tears.

See that I want to understand.

See, that I never do.

One day, one long, tiring day, when I woke up you were gone. I had a mound of homework and chores to do. I did my chores. I started on my homework. But then it got cold. So unbearably cold. So I took to my room and wrapped myself in my duvet. And then I woke up. It was dark out and cold in. I had slept, for four hours. So I walk into the living room and there you are, just sitting there, watching the telly. "Do you not understand how far behind I am" I want to scream at you. "Do you not get that every day I come home to mounds of meaningless papers, which I am supposed to complete but do not understand?" But no, you do not understand, you do not see. I look into the mirror and see a fat, unhappy girl, falling behind in school, and in life.

No drive, no power, helplessly buffeted by the currents of fate, her big brown eyes; always filled with tears, tears that are threatening to spill out and drown the world in sorrow and pain and emptiness.

“Am I really this shallow?” I wonder, “To be obsessed with doing better when what I have is what most kids in Africa dream of?”
But it is not easy, being in a group of academics, always doing better, always reaching higher. I know I must work to achieve, but the days stretch out into nothingness, and the paper is blank, meaningless, sitting there, mocking me.

I hate my life, I want to end it, but I’m too pathetic to even kill myself.

And life goes on, dragging me with it.

Damn. I have been writing really depressing stuff lately, haven’t I? But this is how some kids feel, and it is those kids who my heart goes out to, because at least in Africa they don’t have little miss sunshine pageants.

Nowhere

When I was little I couldn't wait to be fourteen.

Well here I am, fourteen and nowhere.

I want to reach into the past and pick up my younger self, and rattle her until she's dizzy. "YOU HEAR THAT", I will say, "THAT IS THE SOUND OF A LUNATIC, THE SOUND OF SOMEONE WHO HAS NOTHING TO LOOSE".
Then maybe, my younger self could go and jump off the roof, an action fueled by fright, perhaps she could save us the trouble of having to do it later, prevent the tears and the bloodshed.

My life is filled with stars, sparkling from the sky, and I am a tree, rooted firmly to the ground, and only the wildest storms can fling me to the heavens. I am rooted down, down with the nowhere kids, with the poor and homeless and stupid. I walk around like a cuckoo clock, wandering in circles till I'm dizzy. Open and close the doors. Push in the chairs. Un -blinking, staring off into space, a million miles from anywhere and nowhere. I am a robot; for obey commands, no real purpose, there is no life inside, I am just an empty metal shell.

I was up shit creek, and I had found my shovel, but then there was a landslide and I am now without a spade again, caved in and fighting to survive.

Time goes on. Tick tock on the clock, where is the party that don't stop no, oh oh whoa, oh oh whoa. My wanderings have taken me to the yard and a cold breeze rustles me from my trance like state. I hold up my hands, and flex my fingers as if for the first time. Such a simple action moves me to tears, and suddenly I am lying in the grass, sobbing helplessly into my red tee shirt, my shoulders hunched over and shaking. This is me at fourteen. This is what my life is. Trapped by my tears.

You must lie in your bed the way you made it, they say.

Well my bed is nowhere to be found.
The only place I can lie in is my grave.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hope you liked it, no worries, completely fictional, this post is dedicated to all the depressed and down teenagers in the world.

Potatoes and a Pocket Full of Coins

peice I did for english, I hope it's okay :)

Ross isn’t usually a smiler. But today he smiles at every cyclist, jogger and ice-cream stained toddler he sees as he strolls down the bustling avenues of Dublin city. He grew up on a potato farm just out of the city, with his mother and older brother James, but now he has a small farm of his own. He never married, for Ross is the kind of person who is just content to watch, not join in. Despite being alone and on the wrong side of sixty four, he smiles as the bright silver coins jangle in his pocket, the morning well spent.

In appearance, he resembles one of Santa’s elves, with his round, cheerful face, squashy strawberry nose, twinkling eyes and cheeky grin. He never made it beyond five foot four, and despite being a farmer, he rarely wears clothes that portray his rural background, choosing comfy jeans and woollen jackets over coarse overalls and chequered shirts like many of the men in his neighbourhood choose to wear. Wrinkled and balding, he is kind of man you would expect to play an elderly grandfather on a TV programme.

The old bus gives a grunt, and with surprising agility for a man of his age, Ross leaps onto the side ladder as the bus chugs off toward his neighbourhood. As the bus is passing through the outskirts of Dublin, there is a sound, and look, up there on that balcony, there is a young boy – no older than seven or eight – singing. I used to sing like that, Ross thinks and suddenly he is overcome with nostalgia, and longing for the old days. Yes, life was hard, but it was happy.

He can still remember the warm summer evenings, when their small community would meet in the old barn for food, music and idle chatter. He can remember the cold winters, when he would curl up with his mother and older brother in the big bed, covered in blankets and fighting to keep warm. The autumns, spent playing conkers with the grocers boy and the neighbours sons, golden and brown leaves falling off the trees like snow, covering the forest floor in a cloak of majestic red and gold. There are also things he’d rather forget. Like the time he grew some lettuces in a spare garden patch, and he went around to doors to sell them, but the when the lady answered the door he’d been too shy to say more than ‘would you like these’, so she thought they were a gift, and with a polite thank-you, took them. Then he went home and drew a green car, flying across a purple sky.  There was also the time he had to sing a solo in church, and was so frightened that he had simply apologised to the congregation and fled the church. Ross has always been terribly shy, and it has done more to hinder him than help him.

The bus has finally arrived at his stop, and so, thanking the driver, he hops off and strides up the path to his cottage. He unlocks the door, pulls open the curtains, and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a golden light. “SURPRISE” cry the people situated in the kitchen, and look, there’s his mother, his brother and family, the neighbours and all of his childhood friends. There’s the grocer and the postman, and every single one of them has an identical grin from ear to ear. As they break into a chorus of happy birthday, he wipes a tear from his eye. “I didn’t know you cared” he whispers, as he is enveloped by the sea of arms.

Competition (continued)

I walked up the stairs and grinned like a lunatic. You know that moment when you have to walk up for an award, but are dreading it, but when you’re on stage you can't help but smile? Well that’s how I felt, and head held high, I strided on to the stage, happy as Larry. The choir came on to tumulus applause, just wait till they hear out first piece I thought, nearly laughing out loud at the idea! Then the audience went silent and Mister Stewart picked up his conductors baton..........

"JOSEPH"
We yelled, shrieked and sang our hearts out in that wild, crazy song, and the audience, was whispering and nudging the whole time, caught completely off guard. I hope I didn't miss any cues though. The next piece was The Seal Lullaby, a nice, mellow piece about a baby seal. But that made no difference to the amount of applause we got, and at the end of Mai Glochen, the audience were ecstatic (they were for every choir, but it's nicer to think that we got an extra special applause). Then it was over, dinner break, oh joy.

The Cantala girls were going to eat together at a place called the Beijing, and after changing shoes (superman chucks! - which got some nice comments) and into a hoodie, I shouldered my backpack and tagged along with the others. They walk so slowly! I could have walked to Readings in the time they took!

Dinner was weird. I don't really know anyone, so I was just standing around like a loony until I was offered a chair at a table. So why didn't I just sit down anywhere? Well, those girls are all friends with one and other, so I wouldn't want to be a seat snatcher and piss anyone off, would I? Dinner was a merry affair, with, you guessed it, laughing, chatting and goofing around. My table group had lots of fun with the lazy Susan, putting their cell phones on it and spinning it around a few times before snatching them off the still rotating platform. It was fun, but I just read until Molly texted me with her and Francesca’s location, so I shouldered my backpack, and sauntered out of there like it was completely normal to go to dinner, then leave half way through without eating anything. The next twenty minutes was spent chasing Molly and Francesca around town, and we eventually ran into each other outside fix. Then, we proceeded to head on up to the bridge above civic square, and we sat there for a bit before Molly and I set off to the ice cream place, because it closes late on weekdays. The ice-cream was good, but we had to eat as we walked to ensure we got back in time. The gala concert was good. More entertaining acts, only one song from each choir this time, plus, this time I was actually kind of sitting with Cantala. Not really though. Time flew by, and before I knew it, the East choirs were called for warm ups (minus junior choir). It was good. Multi and senior were there, and everyone had a laugh. Then senior went. Then Multi. Then one of the FBI guys came in and said we had better head up there because it the Cantala/multi girls were probably finding it a tad awkward standing up there on stage by themselves, and so smiling away, the lovely girls of Cantala indulged the audience in another performance, and it was fab.

Not the greatest entry, but hey, now I can put more interesting stuff up for you guys to read. Final word from me is a HI to Sherrianna who did not go (you missed out on heaps), and a word from the music prefect Rebecca13 who says that everyone enjoyed themselves. Hope you guys don’t mind me mentioning you in this post (IF you two read this, which I sincerely doubt)
Laters!

Competition

Big Sing, at last.

I really can't find all the words to describe it. So for now, I'll just go with wow.

And even that word in all its epic proportions can't fit the bill.

It started at nine thirty, when we all met in the civic square, and everyone - looking fab in their winter uniforms- was doing the usual, laughing, chatting, goofing around and chasing the pigeons. I got a bribe to wear my hair down, and now have a ten dollar Australian bill to add to my collection.
After meeting with my friends and being excitable and what not, I set about finding people from the junior choir to sign the cards I had made for Susanna and Niamh, our choir Directors. It took ages, and it was quite a feat getting it done without them noticing. We had already (we being Francesca and I) dealt with most of the signing at school, because I thought it would be good to give them the cards on the big sing. Eventually, we got let into the town hall, and wow that place is ginormic. It has plaster walls with little Victorian (?) ornamentations, a marble floor in the foyer, and schmany looking pillars scattered all over the place. After the usually talk by the stage manager, the first choir went out to perform. I was amazed. Never bored, constantly on the edge of my seat, and always in high spirits.

In a surprisingly short time, it was lunch break, and we were all shooed outside for a five minute lunch break before the junior choir sound check. I speedily ate my cookie (there isn't much in the way of nutritional stuff at Fix), and then hurried inside to wait for everyone else.

Then, just after one, who should come up to talk to me but Rowena (?). Apparently I was wanted on the hall, something about Cantala.

I swore, and then sprinted of into the hall, my friends’ laughter echoing in my ears.

I leapt onto the stage and scampered up the choir rises, just in time too. I don't think (hope) that Mr Stewart was that mad.......

Holy night was okay, but as soon as it was over, the other junior choir girls and I hurried over to the west foyer place, the other year nines had arrived. Pretty much, this year it became compulsory for year nines to join junior choir, resulting in much messiness. I felt SO sorry for Susanna and Niamh; I'll have to admit they did a great job though. We were the first to perform after lunch break, and it would be nice of me to say that people were punctual but as usual, there was the usual dribby drabby. Junior choir totally impressed me. I expected carnage. We sounded okay. Good. Great. Well, great may have been pushing it but it was fun :)
And if I do end up getting kicked out of Cantala at least I'm still in a choir.

Then it was rush rush rush to the changing rooms to switch into my Cantala uniform. Can I just say ugh. It isn't a bad uniform; just I ain't accustomed to wearing skirts. Because we had left partway through a performance, I waited for the year nines to finish so I wouldn't go in on my own in the middle of something. They. Took. Ages.
I shouldn't be surprised, but I was anyway. The performances flew by, and they were just as amazing as the one in the morning session. Instead of joining the Cantalians like the year nines did, I went back and sat with my year Ten pals, which made the performance that bit less enjoyable because I had to keep an eye out for when the others left to go backstage.

Finally, it was time. We hurried backstage in our fantastic (apart from my skirt issue) uniforms, and several people asked me "Where are your shoes"?!?!For, being the person I am I had carried those foot eaters instead of wearing them. I did have them on me though. No way would I turn up to the big sing without part of my Cantala uniform! The idea makes me shudder! Warming up was - unexpectedly - fun, and everyone was excited and bubbly, as per normal. Then the call came for us to move into the green room. May I mention that some people (I won’t names names) chose that time to have a potty break, fantastic timing guys :)
At first glance everyone was cool, but the twitching limbs, sweeping eyes and trips back and forth to the water cooler showed that most of them were just as nervous as I! I was going to be fist to walk onto stage, and believe me I was not looking forward to it. Then one of the FBI people (called because of their black clothes and earpieces) motioned us to come and wait by the stage steps. And it was show time.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! I cut it off just at that exciting moment! Just like those irritating TV programmes! This has been a really bad blog entry, but I think that it's allowed, because it's only a recount of the epicest day ever. To be continued shortly........

Be

I have now been told, by numerous peoples that my blog is weird.

Should I give it up?

The answer is clear, no.

I have been told I'm not going to make it, or, I'm a loser more times than I can count in my life, and if I stepped down from the plate every time someone passed a snide comment, I wouldn't be here at all. I would just be an empty shell, a plastic bag, drifting in the wind.

No, I'm not that good at school. I'm not thin, blonde or beautiful either. I can go to the extremes at either end of the sociality scale, and I can't dance to save my life.

So what should I do?

Should I hang myself? Shut myself in my room and refuse to come out? Turn to drugs to block out the pain?

No.

There are thousands of beautiful, smart, talented people out there.

There are millions of others who are not.

And it is those millions of others that the media targets everyday. We have been brainwashed, and all just so that the big corporations can squeeze a few extra bucks out of us.

Being different doesn't make you a nobody. Thinking or acting differently from others doesn't make you a retard. And everyone has the potential for greatness, just on different scales.

I will not submit, no matter what. Because I am not a rug, and will never, Ever be one.

Involving cars, Ke$ha and really deep puddles.

I do enjoy writing fictional things, as you may have noticed from the two posts below.

But this story is 98% true.

I'll pick up the tale from us leaving the homestead, on Saturday the twenty somethingth of May. Us being the Cantala girls (hopefully you have had the decency to read the postings below). At this stage we didn't actually have the donkey cart, and so, being the awesome people we are we walked. It was a fairly interesting walk. We went through mud and leaves, over grass and gravel, and past some quite a bit of caca de caballo. Eventually, after much walking we came to a puddle. I don't mean puddle as in 30cm diameter 1cm deep pool of water but as in about....... okay, lets just say it was about the size of a small swimming pool and very deep. Very being 26/30 centimeters. Then Mister Stewart (jammy git :D ) drove up in his car. People had all sorts of suggestions for getting across, including "ride on the car". I assumed we'd have to stick it and walk, but to my surprise Mister Stewart actually told us to climb on board. No way was I going to pass up on an opportunity like that, I scrambled on with glee, and was shortly joined by Rebecca(jnr), Amanda, (?), (?), and Rose. With much cheering we proceeded to drive our way across the gargantuan puddle, whooping with delight as water sprayed off the wheels. Then we clambered off the sides and happily waved as the car backed over to the other side. To our credit, spirit ran high all the way through, with the never ceasing cheering reaching its peak as the last person was ferried across the water. Then we all continued walking, with the car driving becide us, playing Ke$ha's ticktok really loud. People were singing along and having a great ime in general, I don't think ANYTHING can get these girls down! Then suddenly, with a plume of dust behind it, the car took off down the road, with much cheering accompanying its finale.

Well, that's all folks! If anyone in Cantala happens to read this and thinks I did not do it justice, feel free to post a comment, include much swearing, exclaimation marks and capital letters.

With love from Cat Shoes,

AvatarKid ;)

Mist

Walking the dogs in the rain. They skid and scuffle their way along the foot path, urging the walker on, pulling at their leads as they playfully bound along, their coats slick with raindrops.

She allows herself a smile, a small, sad smile, rarely seen on her stormy face. Her sister, and teachers, her friends and parents are always nagging at her to smile more. But who are they to tell her what to do? There is no law against frowning, and if she gave in she'd be doing just what they wanted her to do. There is a snap, and her head jerks upwards, her daydream bubble gone. But the streets are deserted, as if the heavy torrents of rain have washed everyone away.

That would be nice, she thinks, if the rains actually did come and wash everyone away. No more shifty looks at you, for not complying with the unspoken dress code and no more queues to wait in. No age laws, no crowds.... and no school.

School, oh how she hates it. The bustling corridors, always filled with people, squished up against each other, no respect for personal space.  The tisking, tutting teachers, always expecting more and putting her on the spot. She could read whatever she wanted, without feeling embarrassed, and could paint the whole town red - literally. She hates the ties and the baggy jumpers, the bullies and the bitches; she sometimes wishes she could melt into the floor.

But the world is filled with people, and their rules and low standards, their ugly choices of buildings, furniture and clothes, and like it or not they would be there for as long as the earth remained.

The dogs give a yap, and her head jerks up, and look, there is someone else, someone who, like her, has braved the rain to make sure their dog gets enough exercise. "Hey," she thinks, "I know her". They have never talked but her face is definitely familiar. The other girl breezes past with her dog, not even turning her head. And all too soon she is gone, disappeared into the mist like some kind of phantom.

Slowly, the girl and her dogs start off again, until, they too, are swallowed up by the mist.

The Lot

Walking the dogs. Old converse sneakers, battered and fading, wearing thin at the heels and drooping at the soles,  faded from a brght crimson to a dull pink colour. Swishing through the drass, dew soaking throgh to her favourite pair of socks, well loved and filled with holes. But her gaze is not directed downwards, down, to the long, unmown grass and old peices of litter, but upwards, up to the grey sky, a swirling mass of colour and light, spattered with raindrops that fall on her face and hair, drenching her from head to toe. She looks down to watch the dogs, wandering around the lot, sniffing the bushes and playfuly nipping one and other, only stopping to turn when she gives them a shrill whistle of warning. Not warning to herself, but them, communicating the need to stay close. The lot. Large and abandoned, surrounded by a mass of overgrown bush and with long, uneven grass, that has been negected for goodness knows how long, it's the perfect place to take the dogs for the occasional bout of exploration. Mist seeps through the trees and swirls around her feet, snatching at her heels as she walks languidly across the lot. "It would be bautuiful here at night", she thinks, as she stares off into the distance.

Cantala, camp, comp', crazyness continued (again) *again)

Sunday. Same old same old, sat with the 13’s and Rebecca, more icky porridge, more reading under the bed. Practice, about the same but, not quite. When I auditioned for the choir, all I wanted was to be in a choir with amazing singers. When I had actually joined Cantata, I was so freaked out of the others that the only thing keeping me on was the thought of Disney land. But there were times, like the time I was asked to sit at Rebecca’s table, and the time everyone said thank you for the gummy worms, that I actually felt happy. The last day of rehearsals was like waves of song, crashing down on the world, glorious and wonderful and overwhelming. It was actually fun. For the first time ever since joining Cantala, Disney land was not my only motive to say in the choir. It was absolutely incredible; I hope that Cantala makes it to the big sing finale. So, we practiced till lunch, rode back on the donkey cart and had lunch. Then, my fear returned in all its glory and I wilted. After lunch there was a clean-up, and a rather interesting but short conversation stared by yours truly about the damage to a human after jumping off the fire escape balcony. Then the 'rentals showed up, my mom was helping out with carpooling to she was there too, and we dropped Susanna, Niamh and Ayshani home.

Amazingly enough, the car was not completely trashed, so I was happy. To make it even better we stopped for ice-cream on the way home. I had mint choc chip, Susanna had Jaffa, Niamh had rocky road and Ayshani either had peanut butter or hokeypokey. It wasn’t the best time, but dissected into little bits there were parts I enjoyed. Line tag. Niamh and Lilly playing their ukuleles and singing. Riding the donkey cart. I’m never going to fit in but there will always be fun times to be had.

AvatarKid Signing off, peace J

Cantala, camp, comp', crazyness continued (again)

After everyone had dumped their stuff we all congregated in the down stairs hall. It was a large, rectangular room with a half carpet half wooden floor, white washed walls with a wooden trim, tables and chairs, a canteen area, an empty bookshelf and a roaring fire in the old stone hearth. It also had various uplifting Christian slogans such as "Peace be unto you". Very cosy. All the tables had been stacked in a corner and the chairs were spread out in choir positions, and this gave me just a slight inkling of what we were going to do next. Yupsidoodle, straight after the roll call the keyboard was taken out and the rest of the evening was spent rehearsing. At about 9ish (?) we stopped for a supper break before being shooed of to bed. I grabbed a cookie bear shortbreadything with jam in the centre and nipped upstairs.

It is quite interesting hearing what other female adolescent life forms talk about. There was a fair bit of nostalgia, some speculation about the bugs, probably a joke or two. There was even some talk about years 12 and 13 English being really dirty! If only you could see what most guys my ages (unfortunately me included) read about now.... And I also believe that Rebecca (senior one) said something about "this is the quite room and you must not keep talking after lights out". In the morning, I awoke at about 7:15, which was okay. Then I spent the next sevenish minutes waiting for everyone else to wake up so I could drop some eaves as Samwise Gamgee puts it. I am not a stalker, I was bored. They can't have talked about anything interesting anyways, because otherwise I probably would have remembered it. Then, everyone was up, and skipping merrily down the stairs to have breakfast. Breakfast. I sat at a table by myself and got joined by Ayshani and some year nines. Had porridge. Was awful. Stewie loved it though, pilled his bowl high and ate his way through steadily before going up for seconds. I hope this says nothing about the places we'll be eating at in the Europe trip..... The Porridge, made with water, oats, no salt. Ick. Not trying to sound fussy or anything but, these guys are a bit odd when it comes to porridge. After breakfast, reading under bed till it’s time to go, dropping some more eaves, Niamh played some ukulele and sang some songs in Japanese, including county road, was joined by Lilly. Very pretty, but It just pushed me further into that category of nobodies. Felt nostalgic, I <3 whisper of the heart and other films by the epic Hayao Miyazaki. Time to leave, and so began the epic journey which involved cars, Ke$ha and really deep puddles. More on that later. When we at last arrived at the hall, we were rather muddy, but nothing gets the cantalians spirits down, except perhaps voice matching. We then played some line tag, before doing the usual warming up and roll call. We devoted each hour to a different song, and every two or three hours we got a fifteen minute break. I'd be lying If I said I had enjoyed myself immensely, but it was so much better then the usual practices. At lunchtime, we all trooped outside and found a strange vehicle waiting for us outside. It much resembled a carnival ride, one of those cars they attach to a horse and dive you around the fairground on. It was bright yellow, blue and red, and up front there was a tractor with the camp dude happily gesturing for us to jump on board. We wasted no time in embarking on this strange vehicle, but I waited till last to I could jump on the back and hang off by one hand.

It. Was. Epic. We raced down the hill, jostled up and down with every bump, splashing through the puddles and skidding around corners. Then some girls stated to sing a chorus, and everyone else (except me) joined in! It was just like I imagine riding the sun chariot of Apollo would be like. Then, when we arrived back it was a fifteen minute break before lunch. I stayed under the bed, reading until the last possible moment before going down stairs and joining the others. But imagine my dismay when I saw there was nowhere to sit! Save a few seats at tables with other people. Luckily (or unluckily?) Rebecca in my year invited me to sit at her table, which - wait for it - was also occupied by....the year thirteen’s! Well, not all of them, only the REALLY intimidating ones, Rebecca the music prefect, senior choir co director, and Susanna and Niamh, junior choir co directors. Thank god I had my book! Lunch was okay, actually quite interesting because rebeccainmyyear asked Rebecca13 about school ID cards, and so Rebecca13 and Niamh pulled out three of their old ones. Niamh looks pretty much the same all the way through, but in freshman year Rebecca had long hair (!). So, lunch over I headed up stairs and dropped some eaves until it was time to go, and also gave away my gummy worms and some chocolate. Then, practice - just a repeat of the morning - and then donkey cart, then dinner. I ended up sitting with the same people for dinner, but this time I asked if I could sit there. Yay! I deserve a medal, don’t ya think? Kidding! Dinner, same as lunch, with me going up first with the other veggos, eating fast, and as soon as finished washing up and sprinting back to the safety of under the bed. After dinner there was rehearsal, and then a really fun game!!! Firstly we all went up to the other upstairs room, and played space jump for a bit, and then Mister Stewart came up and announced that the game was ready! We were split into teams and then given lists with various items on them, brooms, breadbins, Lydia's sleeping bag, and even a giant can of pears! He then picked out two taggers, Lilly and Lydia, and a spot lighter, Naidi. The objective of the game was to find these items in the house, and then bring them back to the room without getting caught. You were allowed two team members in the blackened house at a time, no torches were allowed but cell phones were, and you were only allowed to carry one item at a time. The taggers would be blindfolded and I you got caught by either one of them or by the spotter you would have to go back to the start, no item, all the while calling I’m out I’m out! In my team were Victoria (her dad is chairman of the board), Freya, Laurilie (?) and of course, me. Then the same started, with much excitement, and very soon more than half the items were found! My team kept on coming up blank, and then victoria snaffled a pillow! I was determined to get upstairs, so every time I went out I tried to make it up the stairs, but to no avail. Finally, I made it UP the stairs only to get caught and sent back to the beginning. There HAD to be something up there of value, otherwise why would both taggers be there? The game was nearly over, and as my luck had it all of the enemy were occupying the down stairs hallway! I crept upstairs, sneaky sneaky, and met our pianist, Charlene at the top. Them, after combing the room I felt something cylindered, and metal and heavy. I FONUD THE CAN OF PEARS! And heading down to the other end of the room, as my luck would have it, Lydia’s sleeping bag was their too! Charlene took that, I wasn’t really fussed, they were both worth the same amount plus the sleeping bag was too noisy! We were just making our when someone suddenly spoke, “I know you’re there love, come out come out, no point in hiding”! It was the taggers! Shit shit shitty shittyty shit, there was nowhere to hide! So I hunkered down In a corner for what seemed like forever, then made my escape while they were in the bedroom, I was safe!!!!! Not much happened in the rest of the game. I stole a rug from Rabecca13 when she got spotted on the stairs and someone found a vacuum cleaner. Then the only items left were Mister Stewarts Crocs, so they went up 30 points in value! In the end they were found, the points were tallied, and team one was declared the overall winner and we were sent to bed.

Wow, yet another really long blog entry! Will start afresh before continuing, :)

Cantala, camp, comp', crazyness continued

Cantala Camp came all too soon.

It wasn't long before my bags were packed and the Friday of doom dawned. I had helped to make a macaroni cheese for one of the dinners, and as I retrieved it from the freezer and took it down to the car a million and one worries were racing through my head. Who would I carpool with? Would the mac n cheese taste okay? In which room with whom would I be staying? Will it rain? Should I have taken a second packet of gummy snakes? Should I even have brought along the first?

The whole school day my head was filled with worries. I couldn't concentrate on anything. And when the time came to go and wait with everyone in room one until we left I was practically melting into the floor. It turned out to be not so bad. I just sat in a corner with my bags pretending to read while everyone bustled about, laughing and chatting. I ended up carpooling with Rebecca (the one in my year)and Ayshani. It was okay, but I was mostly staring out the window, counting white cars. In all I saw 276, which proves the theory of white cars always winning 'the car game'. I saw two purple cars and no yellow ones. When we stopped at burger king I stepped eagerly out of the car. We were first there, and so we waited for some others to show up beofre ordering. The other girls (Rebecca, Ayshani, Naidi, Holly, Kervill and some other 'rentals) got burgers I think. Being veggo I just got fries. Yuck. And double yuck. Mcdonals, eeh, KfC, double eesh, burger king, cool furniture! Have you heard about the horrible way that fast food joints treat their animals before slaughter??? More on that later. Oh, and lydia, lilly and the-girl-whose-name-I-can-never-remember were there too I think. So, we all to booths and ate, duh. It was all talk and laugher exept for me, I just read my book. Thank god I hadn't taken anyof my other book I usually read, 'cause on the occasion someone asks me what i'm reading, i'd be like uh....awkies!

By and by the other girls poured into the carpark and stormed the resteraunt. By te time the last of 'em were arriving there wasn't much room to sit, some girls (high ranking, imposing, year 13 girls!!!) asked if they could sit with me and I was like no way jose and skiddadled out of the booth calling over my shoulder "you can have it". If only my friends were there.... So, while I was being a loner and doing a good impression of a floor tile the others were eating, chatting, mucking about and in general having a swell time. Later on some went to check out the playground and others went to check the arcade. Just before we left, one of the cars broke down!!!! The passengers were split up between the other cars which took forever, and this time we were the last car leaving. Seventeen minutes if I remember correctly.
And whoop de doo were were heading onwards, off to mount doom we go!
I stopped the car game after we left burger king. There was lots of interesting stuff out in the dark wilds of *insert name of place here*.  I spent the rest of the journey moodleing, and before I knew it we had passed down a little windy road, signposted *Pine Tree Lakes, ?00m. Then I had a rather good time, listening to the others as they recounted how last year they had gotten lost.

The Homestead itself looked nothing like I expected. It was an old, 1920/30ish style house, and with its pastle yellow and green paintjob, it looked like it belonged. Inside, it was old, little bit tacky, but a really good place to hire out to kids. One in, everyone set about dibsing rooms, Ayshani and I lost Rebecca (younger one) and spent ages looking for her. She had gone upstairs, and bagsied us three beds in 'the quite room'. This room was different from the other rooms, which consisted of square boxes with two sets of wooden bunk beds and one metal bunk bed, plus a little wall cuboard and sometimes a sink. Very little house on the prarie. The upstarirs room however, was a long, oblong shaped room, with single beds all the was along apart from a spacesaver bunk which was second from the door end. The walls were washed a kindof creamy yellow, and the slanted ceeling was white. There were large numbers of spiders, moths, and as we found out later on, ladybugs??? There was a crooked wall trim and a faded old carpet, home sweet home.

Eeep! Yet another really long blog entry! English exams will be my downfall.....
And just for the record, this isn't a pity party, it's just a recount of what happened since I doubt that any of the other girls have blogs. I hate pity parties. Yuck, yuck and tripple yuck.
* Not the real name of the homestead.

Cantala, camp, comp', crazyness

Well hello hello hello.

It has been AGES since I last blogged.
Well, since I last tapped away at a key board a lot has happened. In particular, I have finally been accepted into my school's auditioned choir. I remember my first audition, which went pretty horribly. I couldn't stop shaking and stumbled and stuttered my way through the national anthem, my heart like a stone in my chest. My second audition..... well, it never happened, a mere week before the audition I fell ill and couldn't sing for AGES. My third audition was no better. I was SO convinced I was going to fail, but hey, don't count your chickens before they've hatched. However, I must have done better than I thought, because one day after school I opened my email account and there was something from a certain Mr Stewart. And once I had read the email I read it again. And again. And again. Just too make sure. Then with a shriek like a banshee I leapt into the air and stared doing a crazy victory dance.
It was the best moment of my life.
It was epic.

The first practice was awful. I'm crap with people skills. Wasn't always, but two years in a bottom of the barrel public school can do that to you. I came in, late as usuall, and got a scolding from the choir master. Not a great start. I completely stuffed up the test thingumabob in which your vocal range is checked. I didn't even turn up to the first few group music lessons.
I. Was. Terrified.
Still am. The last term has been an absolute nightmare, with Mondays and Thursdays being my least favorite days of the week. And the other girls, wow. They are ALL* incredibly charismatic, incredibly good singers and most of them are older then me. If any one of them had to run for priminister I'm sure they'd get it. I'm NOT a lesbian (though there's nothing wrong with being gay) but these guys are so awesome. Its like being in the same room as the queen. Who has been meshed with Sauron. And Gandalf. And some amazing opera singer. But THEN after surviving my first half term we had a choir camp. I freaked. Sure, I had done the practice, learnt my lines, not gotten sick. Well, not THAT sick anyways. But we were going on a camp, a sleep over camp, in which I would be miles from anyone I knew and trapped in the same house with three dozen terrifying teenaged girls. And my music teacher. And out scary as choir master.Not cool.

Oh, wow. I sure have babbled on alot about this and that, but not about the actual practices.
What's to say?
So, every morning or afternoon we have practice, everyone hangs around outside 57 until someone with a key turns up (or sometimes the door is left open), and then we all storm the room, dump our bags and shoes; grab our music and then hang around until six of our number have gotten up and positioned the benches and piano. This is then followed by a warm up, roll call and sometimes a game. Line tag is my favorite. What line tag is, is a game where you have two taggers who are holding hands, and whenever they tag someone, that someone must join either end of the 'line'. The objective of the game is to be the last person who is not included in this human chain. It is quite a ruckus, including much squealing, yelling and falling over. Once we have done a few warm ups, we are given one of the songs we have been doing to work on, and this continues for a good half hour/ forty five minutes, sometimes an hour or even a whole session! Once this is done we can all head off in our separate directions.

Well, that being a rather long blog entry, I guess I had better stop there.
Until next time :)

* well, MOST of them