First off, I have to give love to Ryan (http://muscle68.blogspot.com/) whom (I think I used that correctly... I can't for the life of me remember the grammar principles I learned last year) I know through Niketalk, the great shoe board. If basketball shoes interest you at all, you should check it out. His great blog, amusing photos and tireless crusade to become a rock star make me feel like I know him personally, though I've never met him and probably won't (barring a world-wide Niketalk summit) ever meet him. He claims he knows who I am on Niketalk. Recognition, whooo. Whatever.
Anyway, back to my purpose here, which is to recount my life. Today, I woke up at 6:50. I got up, had breakfast, neglected to shower because the bathroom was so damn cold (up here in Montreal, it was -40C with the windchill, and inside the house wasn't all that much better, at like 18C or something. But I digress.) and then got dressed in my school uniform, packed my shit into my schoolbag, brushed my teeth and headed. The walk to the bus was frickin' cold. It's a good thing I had gloves and a toque, or I would've frozen stiff before I got to the bus stop, which was two blocks down and one over. I caught the bus, and, well, it was pretty boring, seeing as, 1) I was fucking tired, and 2) this girl that goes to my school was sitting across from me. Now let me make it clear, this girl is, in my eyes at least, fucking beautiful. She has this odd charm that I can't describe for the life of me. And she's pretty damn smart. But she's a bitch and she hates my guts. So I spent the whole time deliberately looking anywhere but in front of me just so she couldn't have another reason to detest me.
So I get to school, and nothing much happens. Bell rings, homeroom, bell rings, French class, and me and my pseudo-friends Mark and Anthony pretend to work on our what, third, fourth French project of the year? Something like that. I swear, Mme Prachar takes pleasure in assigning us projects. Anyway, bell rings, time to head to the third floor for Enriched Biology. Me, Anthony (same guy) and Haran, his Paki friend work on a lab we're finishing on clams (weird little buggers, I tell ya) and then start one on octopi, (yeah, that's right, not octopuses) which, I have to say, are pretty cool, all things considered. Bell rings.
Recess. My best subject, ha, ha, as if that isn't a tired enough joke, nothing much happens, let's move on.
Third period. Almost halfway through the day, whoo hoo. Computer fucking Science. Where we learn C++. Now, ordinarily, this would be cool. Except that I suck, and insecure people make fun of me for it. I should've switched out at the beginning of the year. One in a line of many, many mistakes. Anyway, Mr. Hodgson has a great mind for computers, but that's about it. And I have a mind for pretty much everything else. Except music. Of course, you could say to yourself, music doesn't require a great mind, and you'd probably be wrong, but who the fuck would be reading my blog? Anyway. Bell rings. History class. Ahh, my favourite. Mr. Scrivener's pretty damn funny, most of the people in the class are turning a little smarter than I gave them credit for, and I sit at the back of the class by myself, so no one can stare at me and I can't imagine them whispering to each other about how fucked up Alex is for a variety of different reasons. So, yeah, I'm semi-paranoid. It's one of my idiosyncracies. I live with it. Bell rings. Lunchtime.
Generally my worst subject. Few teachers around, no set agenda, lots of time and room to fuck up and make a fool of myself. And believe me, I'm good at it. So, I eat my lunch (peanut-butter bagel, carrot, lemon-lime gatorade) in the cafereria with Richard, who's fatter than fat itself, Anthony, (same guy again) Mark from French class, Haran from Biology class, Ryan Chan, who's cool with everyone, if a little slow, and Elliot. Elliot's one of the few people more socially inept than me. It's always good to know I'm not the LEAST cool person in the school. Gives me something of a buffer. Anyway, after finishing my lunch, I head over to the school library with Dan from the bus, and there we discuss black holes and quantum physics. Pretty interesting stuff, IMO. Event horizons, space-time and such. Anyway, nothing much happens, so that was cool. Bell rings.
Physical Science class! Oh, God. Physical science is a nightmare. Our teacher, Mrs. Darouach, has neither English nor French as her mother tongue. I don't know what it is, but either way, she's not the most adept person at communicating, and this is somewhat problematic, seeing as most of the people in the class are either dumb, or they just don't give a damn. It can get a little hectic at times, though it's always great to hear her say 'proutons' or 'soolvaunt' or write 'they' instead of 'there.' This class goes pretty well, though, and we get back our Science Theory exams... I got 93, which was a big surprise, seeing as I was expecting in the 70s. You never know, I guess. Not to mention Science counts for 6 credits. Then we go over to the Lab to listen to Ms. Kastanakis, who's easily the ugliest teacher in the school, ever since Mrs. Comptois got fired last year, tell us about acids and bases. It was worth it, though, just to hear her pronounce Hydrochloric Acid as "Haitch See Ell." Then we all started using our heavy Quebecois accents and speaking in joual. It was mildly comical. Then the bell rings. Next is Math, which I don't think is possible to like. Mr. Zion made us go up and do logarithm problems on the whiteboard. I can't go up in front of peope and do anything, so it's a wonder I managed to write anything down at all, really. I ended up getting the problem right, though (x = 7) so it wasn't so bad, but I was still shaking five minutes later. Pretty sad, I know. Eventually, the class ends, and after some debate over what to do about the Bio homework, I decide to screw it and just go home. I can't find either Anthony or Haran, either, so whatever. My sister, after forgetting to change out of her school shoes, returned inside, changed and managed to catch the bus, which was impressive, to say the least. The bus ride home was funny, but only because Dehui was hyper from having eaten some chocolate again. She'd say anything, and I'd make fun of it, and then she'd laugh really hard and smack me. Then Dan would do the same, and she'd laugh and not smack him. Then the whole cycle would repeat. Somehow it never got old.
When I got home, I watched some television (The Simpsons and Smart Ask on CBC) and then had dinner (sausage and penne) and then headed out to my hockey game. We won, 8-7, after a ten-goal third period, and afterwards I was feeling really weak and a little queasy, so I was last out of the dressing room. Getting home was a fiasco, because I kept on having to switch the bag from one shoulder to the other, I had a bunch of fiberglass splinters from someone's stick in my hand but I couldn't locate them in the dark, and it was fucking cold like you wouldn't believe outside.
So here I am now, typing the first post in this new blog. Happy belated New Year everyone.
The death rate is 100%, and you can't rape the willing.
Good night.
