IB is the bane of my existence

Oh, would you look at that? Look who sauntered back into the blogosphere with their tail between their legs. That’s right. It’s me, Epiphany.

Am I here to stay? Probably not, but I thought an explanation for my sudden and indefinite disappearance has been long overdo. The explanation is IB. This, of course, stands for International Baccalaureate, an curriculum which drew its origins from frequently uprooted military families. Because the kids were always on the move, army parents wanted an international system which was tough enough to be accepted at any post-secondary institution, but would also be available wherever they moved next. Now, studious children from all over the world have been taking this program to A) Prove to themselves and others that they are super brainy, B) Earn transfer credits for university, or C) Get away from all of the idiots in normal stream.

Here is the thing; I’m procrastinating right now. That’s right, as I type this short blog entry I am going insane because the thing I love most in the world (writing), is distracting me from doing the thing I hate most in the world (Biology homework). For some reason, even though I overtly chant, “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this,” while I write about phagocytic lymphocytes and lysozyme, it is still ranked extremely high on my to-do list.

How do I get good grades, something which I’ve trained myself to believe will make or break the rest of my life, while still having the time and energy to write, read, draw, and have fun? Sometimes I feel like it’s impossible, and I question what is so important about school when ‘preparing for your future life’ makes your present life suck. That’s why I say that IB is the bane of my existence.

Yet just watch me, I’ll continue to do it, I’ll continue to copy notes until my hand feels like it will fall off, I’ll continue to slave away until it’s over, because they said it would be worth it. It will be worth it.

Right?

Now, it’s 4:44 pm and the sun is going down. Maybe I’ll make another post once I’ve finished all of my homework. Expect a long, long wait.

So I Haven’t Blogged For A While…

I haven’t blogged for a while. And when I say a while I mean a month. I’ve been trying to crack down on my writers block by breaking up with the internet. It worked and I now have 100 pages written of my new story. I checked my email for the first time in ages and found that despite my terribly long hiatus I got a few new followers (hello and welcome) and was nominated for an award. Thank you for nominating me for the Liebster Award, thoughtorchardblog.

As far as I can gather, the rules are to as follows.

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you

2. Answer the questions he or she left you

3. Nominate 11 bloggers who you deem worthy (or however many works)

4. Post the badge on your blog

5. Create 11 new questions

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Look at that badge. Ain’t it the prettiest darned thing you’ve ever seen? Who makes these anyways?

1.  Which of these do you think is humanity’s worst trait: duplicity, ignorance, selfishness, cowardice or aggression? Selfishness. I think if we thought more of protecting each other instead of meeting our immediate needs we wouldn’t have problems like hunger, poverty, and even environmental problems. 

2. In your opinion, are you a peaceful person? To others I may seem like it and at times I do feel pretty chill. I’m always the one who’s looking on the bright side of things. But secretly I get very easily stressed.

3. What’s the most stupid/illogical thing you’ve ever done? In my last year of elementary school I tried to sneak a peace symbol into the class photo and the photographer totally noticed. My teacher yelled at me in front of the whole class. I never get in trouble so it was really embarrassing.

4. Do you think humans are all naturally selfish? Definitely. Although much of it relies on the person, I think it’s instinct to provide for yourself before others. Even when people have more than they need they will still instinctively want more for themselves.

5. Books or films? Books. Films are great, don’t get me wrong, but I find that books generally have more room for complexity and character growth, things I find to be extremely important in a story.

6. What are your five worst fears (between 4 and 6…see what I did there?)? My five worst fears are spiders, getting in trouble (pathetic, I know), messing up on stage, failing classes, and dark woods.

7. Do you agree that telling the truth and making someone cry is better than telling a lie and making someone smile? I believe it depends on what is making them cry. If having them smile is more important than them knowing them the truth I think it’s okay to lie. But if it’s something they really need to know I wouldn’t hesitate in telling them the truth.

8. Would you die to save someone? It depends who it is. If it were my little sister I think I would. If it were some random person I don’t think I could give it all up for them. For those who I truly love, letting them die would be giving it up anyways.

9. How do you settle arguments? I listen to what they have to say. I think that’s the most important part. Then I make it clear that I know what they mean, and rationally make my point.

10. How will/did you celebrate turning 18? Well, in dream land I’d go on a road trip across Canada with my closest friends. Because my birthday is at the beginning of the school year it would be like a post graduation trip for all of us, not just for me. But in real life I think I might go the the pizza parlor where my dad bought pizza from on the day of my birth.

Guess who didn’t nominate 11 bloggers? Me! Please, if you think I might like your blog could you comment somewhere asking me to check you out. I need new people to follow.

The Editing Process

18yearsyoung

The Art of Writing Fiction

Wr. Gauta

Standing Among Stars

Your questions:

1. What are you reading right now? How do you like it?

2. When you were in school (or maybe you still are) what was your title in the social hierarchy? Were you a jock, nerd, goth, etc.?

3. Are you good or bad at making friends?

4. What is your earliest memory?

5. Were you ever talented at something that you aren’t anymore?

6. What is your favorite genre of book?

7. Do you get anxiety over little things or are you rational with your emotions?

8. Do you know your personality type (Myers-Briggs)? If so what is it and do you believe it is accurate?

9. Have you ever had an obsession with a celebrity?

10. What kind of music do you listen to? Who are your favorite artists, songs, genres, etc.?

11. How has your day been?

Congrats you guys! Keep writing! Enjoy the new school year.

I Went Into A Cemetery For The First Time

Strange, that in my fourteen, almost fifteen years, I’ve never stepped foot into a cemetery. A few days ago my friend Anne and I were at a fishing harbour. We had finished swimming in the icy water, played cards by the beach, and read in the clouded sunlight. Anne read Gone With The Wind. I read Coraline. But finally we decided to go on a walk into the small community behind the harbour. As we went down the main road I remembered the cemetery we had passed on the way in.

When I suggested to Anne that we take a stroll through it she looked at me funny. Maybe it is sort of weird that I would want to walk through a field of dead people that I’d never met. But on the other hand I didn’t want to pass up a new experience.

So we walked through the cemetery awkwardly. Part of us just walking on the grass,  part of us knowing that there was more than dirt below our feet. Some of the older graves dated all the way back to the 1800s. That’s where you saw the many miscarriages that weren’t blessed with today’s medical technology. 

The newer ones were more extravagant, with specially carved grave markers and fake flowers to liven the place up where it’s occupants couldn’t. One of the tombs was jointed for a married couple, reading ‘What’s-his-name’ and ‘What’s-his-name’s-wife’.

Some had quotes and poetry. One quote from the deceased went something like this,

‘A seaplane doesn’t leave a mark in the water. Nor does a steam boat. They ripple. The water calms. Any proof that they were ever there is gone.’

Thinking back, it was a strange experience. Not bad, but strange. As we walked out Anne and I talked about canceled TV shows and the plot of Desperate Housewives. We were driven back to her cabin about a half hour later.

Writers Block

My curled fingers hover hesitantly over the keyboard. Maybe I should do this on Word? Okay, open Word. New document. Really, frozen? At a time like this? Alright, I’ll just create a new post.

What do I write? A poem sounds good. Ugh, but I can never write poetry on the spot. Anyways, this just sounds like a story. Well, not really. I don’t know what it sounds like. Whatever, what to write about? Not a poem, not a story. I can’t write today… Oh! I can’t write today!

Write about how you can’t write. Genius. Not that no one has ever done that before. ‘Who’s gonna read this crap anyways,’ my inner demon says? ‘What does it matter if no one reads this? Be logical, all you are is a fourteen year old girl who wanted to write for gods sake. So just write,’ my inner angel says. Shut up, you two! I’m trying to think.

Now all is quiet. Too quiet. Any second now Alexandra will come screaming down the stairs for me to get off the computer. What’s the point if I won’t be able to finish this? And when will Beverly call me back about the housekeeping? I hope I didn’t do a terrible job the first time. I’ve never cleaned a whole house before so what was she expecting?

No! I can’t think about housekeeping at a time like this. I need to write. 

Okay then. Here’s the thing. I can’t write today. I couldn’t write yesterday. I couldn’t even write the day before that. I typed my symptoms into the Google search bar and I found that my ailment is Writers Block. I tried to find a cure too, but all of the remedies were quite vague and varying. One person said that I should write anyways. Another said that I should wait it out and then inspiration would come to me. But what I’ve heard more than once is that everyone had their own medicine.

 

Holds me in it’s protective grasp

Writers Block is a stubborn creature

But maybe if I tried to fight her

This time I would write at last

Folk Fest

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The Folk Fest is a music festival that introduces people to new artists and bands. Lasting five days, thousands of people camp out outside the festival grounds or drive miles to get there every day from the city. That’s where I’ve been for the past few days. It was my first time there and it was absolutely amazing. I got to see those that I’d lost touch with from elementary school and hear great music from all over the world. 

But that ended a few days ago and the hype of late night raves and bustling crowds is starting to rub thin on my conscience. Now I’m rolling around in my bed at four o’clock in the morning, trying to find sleep that won’t come because my sleeping schedule is so out of whack. So today I made sure to have a relaxing salt bath before I got ready for bed. 

Do me a favour and pamper yourself sometime this week. Have a hot bath. Rub strange oils on your face for reasons you are vaguely aware of. Just relax. Life rushes through us like water and it’s nice to forget what it felt like to be wet with it.