As of Late

Yesh, it's yet another post on my blog. I imagine it might be a little hard to keep up with all of these somewhat long posts, but I suppose it'd be good to take care of boredom. What can I say? I'm bored, stressed, have thoughts I have to write down and have a blog. It fits. Plus I'm a writer. And writers write. I hate to break it to you people, but that's what they do.

Speaking of writing, my mom read(s) my blog. She is probably even reading THIS sentence. Then she of course had to talk to me about my  blog, and now she knows like everything. But she mentioned that she noticed I wanted to write a book. Which I do. And so she said that this, this blog, was my book. And yeah I guess it sort of is. It's sort of acted as my journal, my outlet for when life gives me limes. Yeah I'm still waiting, life. I'll tell you guys about it when it happens. I've been waiting for them limes for a while now. Actually, I haven't hadOK back to what I was saying, she said I could publish this book and sell millions of copies or whatever. (Chuckles) That's a good joke, mom. No but yeah. I'd have to revise it and stuff... but you know what? Just whatever. I'ma just keep writing on here and see what happens. If anything. But I do also want to write a fictional book. I have a few ideas and yeah but yeah.

Hockey practice. There was this guy near the crosswalk that we passed that gave us a freaky look as we drove by. He just stood there near the road, giving us a blank/slightly mad/confused look and followed the car with his head, which along with the 9-o'clock darkness created a somewhat unnerving sense. But I was still excited. I mean, hockey. But I was tired. And I was going to get like 7 hours a sleep tonight. 

The practice was awesome. That other woman wasn't there so I had a whole locker room to myself. We did some passing drills and stuff, some of which I sucked at. Then we played 5-on-5 which is always awesome. I gave up the puck a lot and made a ton of mistakes, but whatever. And, let me remind you, these guys are like at least 6-foot and can skate friggin' FAST. And then that one guy is like teh Doctor Deke. If you don't know what I'm talking 'bout, just look up "hockey deking" or whatever. 

But hey it was still fun. I ran into this guy on my team by accident. It was like I deflected the puck back into our offensive zone, and so I just drifted closer to the offensive zone when suddenly there's white in front of me, and I fall down. I heard a loud, "OOHH" from the benches, and I smiled. The guy said sorry and asked if I was ok in a French accent, to which I replied with, "yeah sorry no I'm ok". And I was ok. I just got up and skated back on the defensive. It takes a lot to make me give up in hockey. 

Sometimes, during the 5-on-5, people would be hesitant on my team to take the face-off. I never did, because me on face-offs = no. I've never actually tried taking a face-off in ice hockey, but I mean, seriously. My chances would be close to zero in girl's hockey, but here they're like a negative number.

Also during the 5-on-5, this one guy said my name to tell me to change. I was like, "How do you know my name?!??!" but I didn't mind. That was cool. I almost feel bad for this team though because some "small girl" with like no skills has to be on their team. But whatever. Girls hockey will be easier when I come back... maybe.

So then we got to stay a few minutes after taking penalty shots. I didn't score on mine, (that would be pretty much impossible) but I wasn't even really trying to. I was just trying to practice skating and going up to shoot. My aim = no. And my slap-slot also = no. I actually hadn't tried before that night, but I didn't want to kill myself. I tried a few slappies. I didn't die. They weren't that powerful or aim-ful, but I didn't fall over like this one guy did. There were only like 5 guys on the ice after the original practice ended. It was like 11:30. Was I going home? HEX no. Me + free ice rink + puck and stick = no limits. That's like my favorite thing ever; just doing whatever on the rink with a puck and stick. I practiced skating and shooting, which was mediocre at best. But I was surprised how non-sucky I was at skating with the puck. But my wrist shot needs work. So does my transition from backwards to forwards. But I had fun. My dad had borrowed a stick from someone and tried skating with the puck with it. My dad... is not the best skater. But he has potential. 

I got to bed at like 12:30. My stick needed a new taping. I'm using white tape this year, because it matches my blue and white stick. I used to use blue, then black. Then I used both. Melted ice was dripping off the end, along with my forehead. I was tired. But I still wanted to have my eyes open because it's just better to see those lights. That was a weird sentence. But I wanted to still see the red and yellow streaks on the lake, see the dots in the middle of a black windshield. I did go to sleep eventually when I got home, but was really tired when I woke up. I did NOT like that alarm clock one bit. 

Turns out I was even too tired to go to school according to my mom. She wanted me to sleep in a little, but my dad, for some reason, disagreed. I WAS quite tired. And my brain would not process like anything. And it's bad for you not to have sleep. Also I was 13. So I went back to bed, setting my alarm for 9:20 for my 10-o'clock French histoire-geographie class. 

It felt so great to sleep. To not have to move my tired body and just be enveloped into the soft void that conjures up odd images and thoughts. But also drags you incidentally to a dark, red cutting place that gives you disturbing/frightening ideas. To just fall into the sheets, re-fueling your used body. Interesting stuff, sleep is.

I slept in too late. I woke up at like 9:45, which was when I was supposed to be there. So uh-oh. My mom wrote a note saying I had a headache. This was technically a lie, but her excuse is that she didn't know how to say "I would have gotten a headache", which I would have gotten, she says, if I didn't get enough sleep. So ok. It was ok. The nice lady at Vie Scolaire told us what to do next time and I went to my next class. I sat next to someone at the back who luckily spoke English. We were talking about justice I think. I had to hastily write down some French sentences, some of which made some sense to me. Then I had English, which was cool. I had enough confidence to answer a few questions, something I didn't really do in any other class. Then I had math in English, which was ugh. There was a sub; she was ok. I got some homework. And did the classwork like all wrong. It was percents. I did most of the work by hand, so that's why my answers were like screwy probably. 

I hurried home for lunch, reaching out my right hand to skim it against the wet little green leaves of the hedge. They were everywhere. Then I had an apple and some other stuff for lunch and hurried back. I saw some of my classmates at the kabob place and wished I had friends to hang out with. 

The rest of the day was awesome. Technologie was literally fun, since I was really happy and laughed. This English guy (Quinn) sat next to me and was just as clueless as I was, which was refreshing. We got on the computers for some reason and had to make these like signs or whatever. I sat with Olivia (Claire's friend) who was cool. Claire was with ValentinClaire (or whatever her name was) who had sat next to me in tech and life sciences before. ValentinClaire told me and Olivia she actually had like 5 names, and for some reason I laughed. Not meanly, but I was just happy. It was like I actually belonged in a group. The people talked to me and listened to me. It was cool. The class was sort of boring, considering all I did was sit next to Olivia and watch her struggle. That sounds mean. But considering I didn't even know what the hell we were doing, I couldn't really help. We eventually did something, I dunno what, while Claire and ValentinClaire were having a good time on the computer. I glanced over occasionally, making me laugh. 

Then in Spanish, although we got lots of homework, I got to sit next to Jess and I wasn't called on. Jess is pretty cool. She doesn't know that much French either I don't think and she's pretty funny. Answers a lot of questions in English. English accent. So yeah. Then I walked home, did my math homework then took a break, which is where I am now. 

As of late, 

school = improving

my old friends = still miss them like hell

my new friends = I'm becoming more like myself and fitting in I think

trumpet = hard to practice

Zach = in Seconde, where he's supposed to be, which is good

my friends = most of them not reading my blog

my overall view on this whole thing = still stressful, stupid, sad, sucky, and leaving me dreading the next day, but I'm trying to not to care so much. Hey, 'cause I mean, I want to live.