Surfing the Web, Otherwise Known as Procrastination

Let me give you an idea of what the weather is like outside. Hailing. Hailing so loud and so hard that I can barely hear myself think. I kid you not, these ice balls of death are the size of marbles. Luckily Alexandra (my sister) and I arrived home before the storm hit. Wait? Did it stop? It sounds like it. People are emerging from the shelter of stranger’s houses and walking on their disgruntled way. 

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to post in a few days. Exams are upon me and I have to study. Or, I was trying to study. Out of my five classes for this term we are either at an extreme low level of work because all we’re doing is review, or the opposite, working our asses off to finish off whatever we have to before exams. Or, even worse, actually doing an exam. I woke up more tired than I usually am because I couldn’t fall asleep (I’ll explain later). I trudged to school in my new haircut (quite nice if I may say so myself). Then after half an hour of my friends gasping at my new bob, I started my first class, English. The English exam runs from Monday until Friday for a total of five hours. That’s five hours too many if you ask me, especially at the very end of the year when I’m ready to quit everything. The topic of the exam is entertainment, and how media desensitizes us. 

A few hours later I did my last Geography test, which I was barely awake through. But before we started scribbling wildly at our bubble sheet Mrs. Zix explained what we’d be doing for the next three days, a project worth ten percent of our grade. Yippee.

And now I’m home, ready to pass out. I can remember about ten thousand things I should be doing right now, but first I need to tell you about yesterday.

The started off with me making my mom coffee, because she said that she would cut my hair when she woke up. So she got up and a few hours later she took a good five inches off my previous do. I haven’t had it this short since when I was learning how to print. Dang, I looked fine.

Next I read the book Anne (my friend) lent me. It’s the Darkest Powers Trilogy by Kelly Armstrong. It’s quite good, but it gives me strange dreams if I read it before bed. Later I went on the computer, completely ignoring the fact that I had a test to study for. I checked my e-mail, because my friend Cindy still has my book from half a year ago and I want it back. She didn’t reply but I did find something else. It was a message from Stumble Upon. I signed up for it years ago. My password dated as far back as I could remember. So I started stumbling through the web, finding the most interesting things. Like a website where there was a play list for every situation and a site that made hipster text posts easy


 But I also found a website full of the freakiest urban legends that drifted around the internet. This I will not link to, because it was scarring. One depicted the story of a Sponge Bob episode where Squidward committed suicide. Then I tried to go to sleep. Then I tried harder. And then I gave up and went downstairs for some tea. Then I read a book about vegetable gardens, went back upstairs, and still couldn’t sleep. When I woke up I felt my soul was crying for the bed like a lost lover. 

Well at least I’ll learn never to do that again. That’s the good thing about mistakes, you seldom repeat them after you’ve tasted the consequences. For instance. I’ve lost half of my study notes for Geography because I’m so disorganized. I’ll make sure to keep them all in the same place next year, but in the meantime, I’d better go find them. 

My High School At A Glance

Since I prefer not to mention names, I’ll call my school Kaluga Heights. It’s a large school, with perhaps one of the best curricula in the province. The teachers are great, it’s nestled by a beautiful field full of tall grasses and forest, and it has a terrible reputation. Nobody likes Kaluga except for the teachers who have been their for half of their life. It’s not even that bad. Still, no one has anything good to say about it. “The druggies go there” and “it’s too big, the teachers forget your name” are some of the things you here flying around. So I was a bit scared coming in this year as a freshman. But after a few months, I realized I had nothing to worry about. And as the year comes to the close, exam jitters start to creep up on us, and the summer smells like mowed grass and chlorine, it only seems right to look back on this past year and all of the memories it brought with it.

Like my English class for example. You may be surprised that English is my lowest mark. Currently a 93, I’ll give you that, but still four marks away from ruining my strait 90s. His name is, hm, let’s go with Mr. McDowell. Mr. McDowell is loud, obnoxious, and takes every chance he gets to start on a meaningless rant that takes up two whole classes. It was all fine and dandy before second semester started. But then kids failed and classes changed. Three kids transferred to our class, my friend Nancy, a boy named Derek who is (as far as I know) in jail, and a boy named Melvin. Let’s just say this, Melvin is either a genius or an idiot. I cannot begin to explain all of the stupid things he’s said, from calling Lysander from A Midsummer Night’s Dream Salamander, suggesting that Athena’s Roman name was Minervana, and going on about winning the lottery as a 50-50 chance, because you either win or you don’t. These aren’t even the bad ones. The reason I think that he’s a genius, is because it works every time. Mr. McDowell goes on a half hour rant about how stupid he is and how if he wrote down every stupid thing Melvin said, he’s have a best-seller. Melvin and about four other boys yank the gingerly held steering wheel and drive the gullible Mr. McDowell off course. 

It’s hilarious. Even after you’ve told us about every single time you’ve punched a guy in the face, I hope you’re my teacher next year. And Melvin, well, I just hope you make it to grade ten English.

Math is the hardest subject for most kids in freshman year. Every class we sit down and take pages of notes, an hour of homework everyday after that. Mr. Christie is a retired fire fighter who says ‘the dilemma is’ and ‘so as a consequence’ in literally every circumstance. He also says ‘yesterday’ like an American. Brayden and Daniel are two boys in my class (also in my English class) who have an ongoing joke where they burst into fits of laughter whenever he says ‘dilemma’ or ‘consequence’. It’s the most ridiculous thing ever. Along with that they keep trying to convince Mr. Christie that -0 is a number. They tape ‘negative zero’ all over the classroom, tape his computer mouse to his desk, and wrote on the board, ‘SO AS A CONSEQUENCE’. It’s been there for a month or two. Mr. Christie doesn’t even seem to question that his room now reads, ‘negative zero’. 

The Official Wall Of Negative Zero is at the back of the classroom. Posters, made by Daniel and Brayden, cover the wall, and a t-shirt reading ‘❤ -0, because real numbers are doing it wrong’, is stapled on. It was designed by Daniel and paid for by Mr. Christie.

So sure, we all remember that fight that made everyone in the cafeteria rise like a wave in unison, scrambling to get a better view. And we all know that everywhere smells faintly of marijuana. We all make sure to stay out of that one hallway without the camera, and we all complain frequently about everything Kaluga Heights has to offer. But to tell you the truth, Kaluga is my home and my family. It’s a family that isn’t perfect, but what family is?