Thursday, June 3, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
"Say cheese!" You casually run your fingers through your hair, immediately getting rid of any unwanted fly-a-ways or tangles. The corners of your lips turn upright into a broad smile. You overact how happy you actually are with a smirk that feels as if it stretches past your ears. Amongst many, you show off your gorgeous pearly whites in an awkward pause. Last moment you look into the lens and try to look happy, however your grin begins to decline as the moments pass. There is an unearthly silence until you see the snap, hear the click, and finally, flash goes the camera. It has just captured an indefinite moment of your life.
And then the moment is over. Everyone shuffles away from his or her uncomfortable stances, letting out faint expressions of relief, and time makes it mark while life continues on. Despite the fact that the instant has passed, on the tiny screen of the camera is that very same instant displayed. It seized the expressions, and feeling of that particular time in what is now classified as history. Phenomenal!
Photos can capture more than just a moment; they are also more than just a printed pattern of ink pressed onto a glossy piece of paper. Me myself, I have over 20, 000 photos in my iphoto library of faces plastered against lenses, various group shots, nature beauts, and never dull moments with family. I'm sure I also have many more loose ones floating around on my desktop as well. They all tell stories, jokes, and declare emotion. As soon as I glimpse at a certain picture, I can reminisce that specific place, that moment. It still exists even though it has disappeared as a faded event in the past. Forgotten, yet remembered through the illumination of the colourful pixels that assemble the photograph.
Ever hear the saying,“a picture's worth more than a 1000 words”?
I reckon you all have, however if one were to flip through my entire iphoto library, it would basically describe my life in pictures, since no words are able to.
Photography is an unusual thing. There is so much you can do with a simple camera. So much can evolve from the point when you firmly press down on the familiar shutter button. Some, follow the camera manual like a bible, and experiment with different settings to get that flawless shot and ideal balanced image. Around their neck, their camera stays with them as a fifth sense, almost like they are inseparable until death. For others, it's just a common tool for memories, and countless recollections of amusement with friends. For me, it records my life in pixels. Either way, a picture is nothing without a story. A picture is the image of the words that cannot describe the moment.
Monday, May 17, 2010
I am going to tell you upfront, this is an extremely long post. I wouldn’t blame you if you think reading this is waste of time, because it is.
OHMYGOD. Can someone please tell me where the year has gone? Date check: Monday May 17th 2010. Besides the fact that our world is supposed to end in 2012, our last grade eight moments are crammed into officially ONE MONTH. That’s it. We have one month left to make our mark. Our mark as leaders, people, and our creatively expressed opinions. So, what exactly has our grade eight generation left behind as our legacy? Fact is, I have no idea. We might have only made the same mark an invisible marker leaves behind written on a crisp sheet of line-white paper. Then again, maybe we ourselves have brought out the inner freak in everyone…
I can’t really describe how I am feeling right now. Part of me is stunned that in what felt like just yesterday, I was a naïve ‘sevvie’ about to begin my year as a grade eight. A nervous, and overwhelmed child. How could those thought to be endless exhausting school days, be coming to a near finish line in such fleeting time? Then again, I recollect all the beyond unforgettable wild moments and memories that have been packed to the peak in the year’s experience.
I have grown to know my classmates incredibly well, maybe a little too well. I can assure you that none of us are afraid to pretend who we are alongside each other. Let’s just say we let our personalities run a tad wild within our classroom walls that in some cases, act like a livestock fence. At some points in the day we may even appear to be untamable, savage-like, or just plain deranged.
None of us think twice if we suddenly hear Cassie burst out in tune, singing lean on me in math class. We actually automatically hum along, while a few of us possibly join in on the ballad. We have gotten used to Wyatt’s abnormal alternate voice he uses to answer questions, and Andie’s creative back up game adventures. From Fabe’s odd voodoo dolls (?), to silly putty fingers (yes Lizzie), and even the undying love connection between Mitch and Cassie. Please note that I am absolutely joking Mitch :) .
Point is, is that if any other person were to walk into our classroom, they would undoubtingly think we were all as mad as a hatter. It’s plain, simple, and possibly the truth. But where would my year have gone if we were all the same identical boring, and uninteresting people? The answer is nowhere. This year was primarily based on the delightful people that make up our class.
I had no idea what surprises and opportunities lay out before me as I walked into that chaotic school hallway on the first day of grade eight. I had no conception of where I would end up, or whom I would be when I ended up there. I now, can see the end of the road before my eyes, and almost grasp an understanding of the questions I had once asked. Even when I venture off down the halls of high school on another first day, asking the same guileless questions, I will and always remember this past year. I have encountered many unique one-of-a-kind experiences that you could only acquaint in our class.
As my class has taught me: I think that we all have an inner freak. Even if we don’t plaster it all over ourselves like Lady Gaga, it will always remain a part of us. Like the streak of an invisible marker, although it may not be noticeable, it is still entirely there….. Unless of course, it’s washable.
“ You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”– Alice in Wonderland.
Lately, I’ve been late. And that infact is a true fact. As I currently write this introduction, I am listening to Alejandro by Lady Gaga struggling to write a decent post about my unpunctuality. Not only that, but I am in the car traveling to school. I guess I should also mention that I will probably arrive later than expected for that too. You may ask why I am so unorganized, and unaware of my surroundings. Or maybe why I fail to meet deadlines, such as ones like this blog. I’m definite you’ll find that answer soon enough if you peer into my cave of a desk or try journeying through my lovely locker as well. Please note that an abundance of sarcasm was just applied.
So why exactly is it, that if you ever ask me for that signed permission slip I’ll ask for another? Well, my monstrous pile enclosed by the sturdy metal walls of the desk that help contain them, has clearly devoured it. Mounds of loose papers, a multitude of lead-less pencils, and implements you could only find in Olivia’s desk. By this, I mean things like Floam (yes, a 6 colour pack!), silly putty, elegant vintage Halloween princess earrings I picked up at value village, a dissembled wooden toy car that I have not yet had the time to assemble, a plastic coloured baby, a fake Santa beard from a grade three Christmas French play, and I’m sure many other surprises, that even I haven’t discovered yet.
Next stop, my beyond orderly locker. Usually, a locker is place to store non-necessary books, possibly your gym bag, as well as your lunch. My locker is classified under another definition. My lock is growing tired after endlessly attempting to contain my desperate needs of storage. One day, that lock will break due to the pressure of the contents of my locker. I constantly find myself cramming more and more bags into the already overflowing area of the storage. This only leaves a compact capacity of space for schoolwork. Once this happens, my organizational techniques suffer from failure. No room for books indicates the process of me wedging them in any available cracks in my desk.
Although I have only shared the many imperfections about this issue, I can list several beneficial bonuses about the cluttered state of both my mind and space. If you are ever in need for an extra sweater for chapel, don’t anticipate a trip to the lost and found. A brief visit to my locker is literally all it takes! I genuinely have a heap of 5 extra changes of navy. They range from cardi’s, to pullovers, to vests, take your pick. Likewise, if on any occasion, you observe yourself in a sorrowful shoe-less situation, I can also provide for you too. There are several assorted styles and colours to choose from to fit any genre of style. Not only uniform articles are found on the handy shelves of my locker. As you unearth the multiple layers, you may stumble upon a few extra sweaters here and there, a couple raincoats, a medieval queen costume, and lovely jewellery attire. You can also acquire many sources of entertainment, such as a ball that expands when you throw it, and an inspirational poem written by Cassandra, that always helps me get through the day.
These are secrets most of you probably haven’t uncovered of me. Quite personally, I may look evident on the verge of a hoarder. I will probably have to change my negligent care of my belongings before next year, because this structure of organizational skills reflects negatively on my personality. However, I do know that many of my classmates quite enjoy spending time making intricate sculptures out of my Floam, fabricating a family of coloured babies (Baby Force Five.), or stopping by to see the heavenly gifts my locker bears.
Monday, May 3, 2010
The rhythm keeps you in tune, while an avalanche of instruments indulge you. You feel alive, and on top of the world. Just a mere few seconds ago you were struggling against the irksome, unbearable noise, but this, this is a different noise. It’s a noise you actually want to listen to. Suddenly, the moment becomes livable again.
And what is music really? We hear it everyday, and find ourselves humming to the catchy and creatively put together melody. It can consume time, or help pass excruciatingly boring occasions. Music can sooth us, and can even aggravate us. It can instantly trigger a familiar memory, somehow associated with the song. A 3 minute rap can even get us to remember word for word lyrics after not once listening to that rhyme in five years. Music can do that. :) Many times, I can find myself relating to the passionate words as they loosely ring from the stereo. Sometimes music can entirely change a persons’ mood. I know it can adjust Cassie’s in a split second to pure delight after hearing a single beat of Justin’s hot new single. Then again, it can drive a good half of the class’s temper infuriated.
You eventually arrive at you destination, but are lost, unconscious within the deep tempo. As you slowly withdraw the headphones off your ear, your perception returns to the natural state of the bus. Complete pandemonium. The door is now closed, and out of reach, as you carefully place the key in your backpack pocket. Part of you wants to let out a cliché sigh. You realize it’s not the same, and won’t ever be the same without music.