Home Sick

I'm not homesick, as you may think, but home from school sick with the "idontwannagottochurchwithmyschool" pox. I don't like going to church with my school. I hate not being able to sit beside my friends. I hate that people talk and don't respect anything there. I hate taking the bus there and back, so I am playing hooky.
This is the second full day of school I missed in this semester, which is better than in grade nine or ten where I missed ten days per semester. It could just be that I am in grade 12 now and need to be at school for my classes in order to pass them. Maybe.... Probably.

So I am racking my brain trying to think of how to put together my story (right now the working title is either Life is Easy or Beachcombers - the first would be because the main character's sister is a "beautiful person" who has things easy, and the second title would be because the main character's cousin wants her cousins to help her scour the beach to look for seashells that she makes jewelery -- and her living -- from. Since I recently found out that The Beachcombers was a show {Gimme a break, I'm only 17! How could I possibly have known that?} I think I like Life is Easy.) and I'm having a real fun time. Yeah right. By the way, I know the stuff in brackets could have been its own sentence and probably shouldn't have gone on that long in brackets, but whatever. Get over it.
Anyways, I have a lot of ideas. It started off as just a teenage girl's whining about how the boy she likes doesn't like her back, but I think I've turned it into more. It has turned into an obsession story really, how Rachel is obsessed with Owen, and Leah is obsessed with fulfilling every minute want, and that kind of stuff. Rachel likes Owen. Leah likes boys. Carlee is innocent. Sabrina wants Elliot to propose but his family has a problem with her. Jerome and Rachel can't look at each other now that they've had sex. It's really a fun story in a kind of depressing way, especially the way it ends. Ooo, I don't know why, but in every story I write, someone has to die.
In the very first story I wrote (which I can't remember the name of), Donna's family was murdered.
In Waking Evil, Stephanie dies three times (sacrifice, sacrifice again, and finally exhaustion from being evil).
In Beautiful Blue, nobody died, but Kim's spirit and her trust for Catalan died.
In Distorted, the main character killed her family and boyfriend, then Salem killed the doctor that raped her.
In The Clone, Leigh died of a heart attack in her car.
In Just Flowers, Jen committed suicide.
But I guess the death wasn't always the inciting incident, so my stories are all different! Yay! In Life is Easy, Carlee is going to die. Sorry kids, but that is just how it is. I think I'm just at that point where the only way I know how to end a story is with someone dieing. That's not a bad thing, I guess, since death is the ultimate end. No coming back (except in Stephanie Raye's case, she was special though, brought back to life by her sort-of-boyfriend and father) from death.

So speaking of homesick (ha ha ha, I know I did it again!) I remember last week I was really homesick. Before I went to John's house where I saw my brother, I was feeling really sad and wanted to see someone I was related to, preferably in the form of one of my siblings. It is weird being one of five children because I tend to feel really sad sometimes, mostly after just spending a weekend or a holiday with them (Christmas was a bitch, I was surrounded by 8-10 people every waking hour for 4 days, then in Sherwood Park, I was around my sisters all day for the last week and a half. When I came back to Veg where there was only my grandma and uncle, neither of which I really talk to or hang out with, I was so almost culture shocked. Maybe it was social shock.). But yeah, anyways, after Kass dropped KC and I off and started on back to his home, I really wanted to hang out with him or Laura or Caitlyn. I hate feeling homesick, mostly because it's the closest thing to depression I've felt in a while. There was always that feeling in my gut that told me, "You're all alone, you're all alone."
Good news though. After I get home from Europe (YAYAYAYAY I am acutally going!) Caitlyn and I are sharing a room again, as long as Touer's staying with us. He's taking her room and she has to stay with me. We shared a room before and it was fun, so this'll be fun too. Hopefully. And what's even better is that when I live there for college, I will get to see my sisters every day! Yay!

So now more about Europe. I actually get to go. It seems like it's mostly going to be in Italy, which is cool, but I was kind of hoping for it to be in Ireland or England. But oh well. Maybe next time.
Laura, Caitlyn and I decided that when we all have enough money, we're going on a trip to Ireland. That's not for a long time, though seeing as I don't make nearly enough money to go anywhere out of province for longer than a week.
That was designated our "Sister's trip." One of the many things we plan on doing as sisters. Tattoos, trips, and whatever else.

Heh heh heh....
I'm going to Europe.

Your Heart is an Empty Room

I don't know why I put the title as a Death Cab song when I'm listening to Muse, but whatever. So the weekend was fun. Kass turned 17 and I got drunk. I met Kass' friend Colin (which makes me have a whole new view towards people named Colin - Janelle's Colin is kind of a whiner) who Caitlyn has a crush on.
I got to plan where I wanted to go in Europe this summer. It is looking like Italy. I kind of wanted to go to Ireland, and I told Tammy this, but she had her heart set on Italy. Since I'm not paying for any of it, I guess it's fair that she gets to choose. I have to tell her what I want to do in Italy. I have some work to do.
So spring break is in four days. My grandma is going to Saskatchewan for two and a half weeks, and I'm pretty much alone (I don't really count Michael, he doesn't really come down from the attic anyways). Laura and Caitlyn have both said they wanted to come down from Sherwood Park and stay here (Laura to see her friends and Caitlyn just to hang out here I guess) for a couple days. I'm planning to have a party, but I have to play it on the sly. Grama said she didn't want any drinking (sorry, but that's gonna happen whether or not she wants it to), drugs (as if any of us would anyways) or sex (I wouldn't want to be around anyone who's having sex... AHEM SUSAN AND CHRIS) in the lame way that adults do. I just have to find a way to trick Michael into not coming downstairs while we're all drinking.
Good news : I am getting over my cold. I figure it'll be a couple more days and I'll be healthy again. My throat is fixed. It's just the runny nose and coughing that are still bothering me. Being around all that smoke at John's house didn't help either, but I'll get over it. Oh my, and my no tobacco pledge! Kidding, I didn't smoke anything, so secondhand smoke doesn't count, does it? Nah.
More good news: I am very quickly coming up with storylines for my second novel. I know, I know, I haven't finished the first one completely, but there are many deciding factors. I have to be in Sherwood Park (and I know I won't be there for at least a week and a half), I have to print 109 pages (paper and ink become a problem here) and that's pretty much all. After I have it printed out, I think I can manage to revise and edit it, add all the new scenes I've been talking about and so on. I will make a timeline for myself to follow (for planning and then writing). Actually the writing is pretty easy. Once it's all separated into scenes, I just write one scene a day until it's finished. At least that's how I did JF and that was done in under two months. Of course, I did take a six month break between writing it and rewriting it. Oh well. That's just how I fly.

I will have to catch up on my homework during spring break. That blows. But whatever.

My Life as a Teenage Melodrama

I've decided to give up my story with no story line. I missed yesterday's writing and have fallen too far behind (yes even at this point). There wasn't any love in it, I wasn't psyched. I have to be psyched to write something I want to continue. I guess I didn't care and that's why I'm giving up so quickly. Plus the story was going nowhere.
On the upside I'm going to (probably, most likely) start planning my second novella type story, My Life as a Teenage Melodrama. This is merely the working title, and I don't read teen fiction so I don't know if there are any other books with the same title, though the story line will probably be somewhat the same as many teen fiction books. Hey, I've been taught to write what I know (though I don't always, especially with the second short story I wrote called Distorted, which was about a girl who killed her family and ended up in a mental hospital) and all I know, all I've experienced these 17 years and 11 months and 8 days is adolescence. What I can remember has taken place in my teenage years and as lame as it is, some of the things that have happened to me (mixed with my own imagination and the things I would want to say in situations I didn't say them in) could make for a mildly interesting story.

So anyways, the brief synopsis:
R (don't have any name yet, but the letter represents the name of the person I'm modeling the character after) and C have a friendship break up with K and the whole bitchy world of teenage girl revenge takes place. I hope it'll be more interesting than it sounds, but I am kind of psyched about this story. I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking of things to write. Heh heh heh. I'll do that tonight or this weekend or something.

My Pathetic Social Essay

I finished my essay, and boy do I suck. I think I am better at writing essays for English because at least that way there is no facts to remember or feel stupid for stumbling over or getting wrong. I hate social studies. I wish I was taking only English courses, but high school just ain't like that. And next year I am taking all science related courses. Humph!
Oh well, here is my sad attempt at a social essay.

Democracy: An Example of Choice in the Political System

Topic: To what extent should governments be formed through competition among political parties?

Running a nation is, by no means, a small task, nor is the decision of who should be ruling. The question of what system of leadership should be put into practice is one that many established nations have already answered. If the country in question is Canada or the United States, the answer would be democracy. If the country in question is Sweden, the answer would be socialism. If, however, a country is revamping the government, or even just starting out as a new, perhaps independent nation, it must find an answer. It has worked well in the past that democratic governments, that is to say, governments that are formed fully through competition among political parties, have faired well.

Everybody wants to have their opinion heard, and with a government with competing political parties, there is a better chance that more people will have their wants realized. A "majority rules" mentality is simple, true, but it has the interest of society (or at least the majority of society) in mind. For over a century, Canada has been the exemplar of working democracy. Rights and freedoms of Canadians have been protected over the years, and Canada has proven to be a nation capable of doing many great things. These great things are in part because of the government, a government that the people chose.

Having choice of government and freedoms in suffrage is not only good for people because it allows them to pick the candidate they feel will best represent them, but also because they feel as though they are part of the system, that they have a place in the nation and in the political process. Being given a leader, whether elected by a group of "higher ups" or someone self-elected, has shown to be a poor way to run a government in the past. Take for example, Nazi Germany. Hitler, through propaganda, scapegoating and scheming, was able to rise to power and rule the country, as well as a few others, as a dictator. That lasted just over a decade, which compared to the long standing life of democracy in North America, is nothing.

Democracy has flaws, as does every political system. It is naive and impossible to believe that every person can be completely satisfied with their government. The truth is that many people, sometimes the majority of people do not get exactly what they want, but some aspects of what they want are fulfilled. Having a choice in voting is good for people. Just as in gambling, there is a chance, if everything goes right, that you will win - that the political party you voted for will now become the government - and there is a chance you won't. Compared to a dictatorship or totalitarian government, democracy looks pretty good.

With many political parties to choose from, there is a better chance of people openly accepting the government. Democracy is the prime example of people choosing a leader. It is not every day you hear someone say, "I wish we lived under a dictatorship."

An Hour's Work, New Novel 1.0

No title yet, just a little writing. I got a couple of ideas while I was writing (I guess that's how it works when you don't use an outline) and I hope they take me somewhere. I wrote for an hour, as the title of this entry may suggest and have no idea how many words. I don't have a word count on this computer (I'm forced to use Word Pad instead of the preferred Microsoft Word only because it isn't on this computer) and I'm not going to count each word individually. It's not the word count that counts for this, just that I write a lot and every day. So here it is.
Warning, this sucks so far, but whatever.

1.0

Amanda sat in the kitchen, the back door open to the cold of winter outside. The heater was working overtime but she didn't care. Leo was gone, that was all that mattered. He was all that mattered.
Two years ago, when he had asked, she had turned him down, explaining she had better things in life to do than to be married to a gossip magazine's photographer. He was good, she remembered. Both with photos and with her.
"It's not like he's dead, Amanda. Stop acting like he died. He lives three houses down. Just go see him," Rylee urged. She stood to close the door. "And stop leaving the door open. The pipes are gonna burst."
"You didn't know how bad it was, Rylee. I told him I didn't love him. If you'd seen the look on his face, you'd be just as sad."
"Wait a minute. You broke up with him?"
Amanda nodded solemnly.
"Then what the hell are you moping for?"
"I don't know. A week ago it seemed like a good idea - the only idea. I guess I just didn't know how much I needed him."
Rylee sighed. "Well you really messed up didn't you?"
"I guess."
"I don't know what you can do, I really don't. Maybe ask him to get back together with you. Would that work?" Rylee offered.
"No, he'd never take me. I rejected him twice. The first time he bounced back pretty well-"
"You mean when you said you wouldn't marry him?"
"Yes," Amanda growled. "But when we met up again at Christmas, he seemed so happy to see me. It was like it was meant to be."
"But you're the one who broke up with him."
"I'm aware."
"So you're just going to wait around until he comes crawling back? Or are you just waiting for Christmas or another national holiday to 'accidentally' bump into him at the grocery store?"
Amanda didn't answer. She watched a tiny fruit fly walking the perimeter of her cereal bowl.
"Sorry. That was harsh. But you need to move on."
"It's only been a week."
"Time's not gonna go any faster when you're sad. Here, help me with these boxes. I need to get them to my mom's house before she leaves."
Watching her friend leave for the garage, Amanda dressed herself in proper outerwear complete with mittens and a toque. She picked up a box and followed the deep impressions in the now to the open door of the garage. She found Rylee leaning in the trunk, moving things here and there to make room for the last box.

Rylee, seeing her friend's condition, knew she couldn't leave her alone. She invited her up to her parents' house for the night (as it would be dark before she got back if she chose to drive back, but both knew she wouldn't) and Amanda accepted with no expression.
"So what's in all the boxes?" Amanda asked, turning to face the objects she inquired about.
"Just some things my mom asked me to make. Doilies and mittens and scarves. My mom and dad go to craft fairs all over the province trying to sell off my handiwork. There are a couple of places that actually buy."
"So you spent, what, all winter making things for people to wear in the winter, but as soon as the first spring thaw comes, you sell them?"
"No, not usually. It just happened like that this year. Last year I worked all summer and fall to make a thousand scarves and pairs of gloves - do you believe it, a thousand! - and they sold pretty fast. This year I was busy all summer. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember you and your summer romance in Europe."
"You say that like it's so bad."
"Well you didn't even invite me," Amanda said sulkily.
Her friend smiled. "I can't help it if they only took one person. You put your name in there more times than I did."
"Not that it did anything. As far as I know, you seduced the Dean to let you go."
"I don't think the dean had any say in who got to go on the summer exchange program. Besides, I'm sure he had more important things to do."
"Sure, sure. Lie all you want. Everyone knows what happened," Amanda said, smiling.
As their laughter subsided, Rylee acknowledged her friend's new state. "See, things get better."
They drove on for an hour, until the sun had started its long descent into the horizon.

The town of Willows was old, as were many of the inhabitants. The entire place reeked of something long forgotten and Amanda loved it. She had grown up in the city where drugs flowed as easily as water from the dirty pipes of her shower. She loved this old place and everything in it.
Willows was the place that the McKinneys lived. Rylee's parents, Darius and Helena had lived there with their only daughter for eighteen years, and before Rylee was born, they had lived there six more. The home they had built was strong, a foundation upon which, Helena hoped, there would be more little McKinneys (if Rylee would keep her name, if Rylee ever got married).
When Rylee's car arrived, her mother was standing on the porch. She quickly put out a cigarette where the hand rail and the porch beam met, where other cigarette butts had met their end. She waved to her daughter and her daughter waved back.
"So you finally get to meet my folks. Nervous?" Rylee asked, unbuckling.
True, the two had been friends for nearly five years, but Darius and Helena had only heard about this girl 'Amanda'. Amanda had seen pictures and felt as though she knew them, had grown up with them.
"You must be Amanda," Helena said, taking her hand. Amanda could smell the smoke on her but it was pleasant. It suited her.
"I am."
"Oh, is that Rylee?" a male voice called from inside the house. They could hear him walking to the door, his black rubber boots stomping as he moved. "Hey, it is! And who is this?"
"I'm Amanda."
"Oh, the infamous Amanda."
She smiled, trying to hide that she was uncomfortable. Seeing this, Rylee stepped in.
"Why don't you guys come help me get these boxes in. Oh, is it alright if Amanda stays the night here? I thought it'd be cool for you all to finally meet."
"Sure, sure. Of course it is." Darius took his daughter's friend by the elbow and led her to the house. "I'll show you Rylee's room. I guess now it's the spare bedroom now."

Up the stairs (impressive, wide, family stairs) and down the hall to the right past pictures of stern faced men and strong faced women. Black and white photos of women sitting, holding their children while their husbands stood behind them lined the walls. It was as if every picture was the same, and Amanda made a note to come back out while everyone else was sleeping to look at them.
"So you don't have anything better to do than stay with an old couple on a Friday night?"
"Yeah. I guess. My social life is kind of messed up right now."
"Hmmm. I might know a few people. Maybe you and Rylee would like to go to the bar and meet up with some of her friends from high school. A lot of them still live in town."
"That sounds cool."
"Great."
Rylee entered. "I hope he's not boring you."
"No, actually," Amanda said, surprised. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. "Your dad-"
"Please, call me Darius," Darius interrupted.
"Okay," Amanda started slowly, hesitant to call somebody's parent by their first name. "Darius was saying there was a bar around here. Maybe some of your friends are still around. I think it'd be pretty cool to meet the people you grew up with."
Rylee's smile faded. "I don't think so. I have a lot of work to do."
Amanda furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
"You're welcome to go on your own, I just have a lot to do. I have to sort all the scarves and mittens into pairs and sets, and there's even more to do after that. I just don't have the time," she said, leaving.
Amanda looked at Darius who looked back. "What's with her?"
"I don't know," she answered.

An hour later, when all the boxes had been carried in and Rylee had been sorting for a while, Amanda felt it was the right time to bring up getting out of the house again.
"Hey, you hungry?" she asked her friend who had been consumed by a pile of crocheted hats and matching gloves.
"Yeah, kind of."
"Let's go get something to eat then."
"Can't we just make something?"
Amanda knelt next to her. She thumbed one of Rylee's scarves and asked, "Why don't you want to see any of your friends?"
"I'm gonna start supper," she answered, alluding the question.
"Please, tell me."
"No. There isn't a reason, so there's nothing to tell."
Rylee exited to the kitchen, leaving Amanda in a room filled with boxes and knitwear.

My New Novel

Since I've finished the write up of JF, I have had a lot of extra time, most of which I spend watching TV. As much as I love TV, and we all know I do, I feel it a waste of time to spend days (if I count up all the hours I spend watching TV in a week, it can work out to be something like a day and a half) watching television. I know I could be outside with the fresh air and birdies, but if you don't live in central Alberta, then you don't know it is cold and snowy with interludes of warm snaps that end up melting the snow but freezing it all back overnight.
I have decided to write.
No, not my next novel, for I wish to plan that one, plan it until I have nothing left. I want it to be better because it is closer to my actual life than JF, though I love JF just the same. I'm going to do a condensed version of National Novel Writing Month. From today until March 22 (the day before spring break) I will do my best to write, as they say, quantity rather than quality. But moreover, I hope to write something coherent, even if dull or melodramatic or fantastical.
Who knows what will happen? JF started out as a test novel and now it is the first novel length story I've ever written, even if it can only be counted as a Sweet Valley High length novel. I'm so happy!

Don't Wake Me, I Plan on Sleeping In

I tried to study for Bio, but I just can't handle that much information all at once. This is my break (approximately an hour) and then I'll study until I go to sleep. Yipes!
Anyways, good weekend.
Susan, Hayden and KC came over. Susan, KC and I got drunk off shots of Royal Reserve and pineapple flavoured Malibu mixed with pineapple slurpees. I slept on the floor and it was uncomfortable. I didn't do my laundry.

I've thought about planning my second novel. I remember planning the first one was hard, but I had a book to help me through the process. I think this time I'm gonna fly solo. Maybe after this week of tests I'll do some on the weekend. Probably not though... I might just be playing the Sims 2 (once I get the Seasons expansion pack) the whole time. Lordie, I'm a loser.

Ah well... people still love me.
I'll get on with life.