Colloquial Miss

 

What a colloquial miss. We tried, we really did. This is just the I-don’t-know-how-many-I’ve-lost-count day that has gone down this way. My friends are all away, having themselves some great adventures, and I made my peace with the fact that I was going to be sticking out our weeklong break at home (sweet home). I had a highlight planned: completing the first step in the agonizingly long process of getting my driver’s license.

First thing’s first, I have to get my “green slip”- green as in go. Or Kermit. It’s mainly a technicality, an eyesight check, but you need it before you can start everything. I’ve been spending my days trying to catch up on homework, which I’m somehow still behind on, and I haven’t had any fun. At all. This was the one thing I was really looking forward to. The first step- it’s so momentous.

When you go, they make sure you don’t need glasses, take your picture (which is the one that will go on your license) and hand you your green slip. So, I purposely straightened my bangs today, picked out a shirt that makes my neck look great (just go with it) and brings out the blue in my eyes, and put on a tad of make up. I spent the whole entire day doing homework, primarily math (a whooping 65 geometry proofs and differential math equations for over vacation), making it through solely because I had something to look forward to. I was alone at home all day, with the excitement just growing and throbbing inside of me, pulsing with my heart.

My mom swooped by the house at a quarter to seven, and we drove to the mall, to the store that green slips people (awkward verb improvisation going on here). We arrive, after my long day of anticipation, and my mom and I talk about how exciting all of this is, and how it’s such a big step even though it’s a technicality. We walk into the store, tell them why we’re there and what do they say? “We don’t do that anymore”. You’re kidding me right?

We find out that as of a few days ago or something equally annoying in a ridiculous manner, a store on the main street is in charge of green slipping people. My puffed up plastic bag of anticipation started deflating. My mom and I leave the mall, get back in the car and start driving again. It was so anticlimactic. She agrees with me. We parked in the municipal parking lot off of the Main Street and start in our mad dash to find the infamous store. We’re running, running, running, (running), and we arrive out of breath as we see the overhead sign. We practically leap forward, and guess what? It’s closed. It closed at seven.

You’re frickin’ kidding me, right?! RIGHT?!

Wrong.

Closed.

That plastic bag still half full of spitty air? Punctured. Slashed. Empty. Hollow. Deflated. Depressing. Gone. Lost for eternity.

In an attempt to rebound into something positive, we brought my memory stick over to a photography store to get the pictures on it developed. All’s great, all’s well, until they let us know that because they’re closing soon, we’ll need to come back tomorrow to pick up the pictures. Yippee.

So we got frozen yogurt.

But do you know what this means? This means, that when we go back tomorrow my hair will be oily, I will no longer be wearing my perfect picture shirt, I’ll have dark circles under my eyes (because I can’t sleep when I’m upset) and I will have no spitty bag of anticipation. I will look tired and depressed in my picture. And the lighting in that store is awful. I will end up looking grotesque.

But here’s to being optimistic, eh?

As we were sitting outside the frozen yogurt shop, while I drowned my sorrows in banana-date flavored yogurt, I explained to my mom why the situation sucks so much. I was just getting to the part about how I look pretty today, and I won’t tomorrow, when someone walked right by our table. So a random woman got a mouthful about how “I looked pretty today!!!” My mom started laughing when the woman looked back at us, and tried to console me with the fact that at least it wasn’t a boy from my class. You know why it wasn’t one of them? Because they’re all abroad! I’ve got friends right now in Rome, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Switzerland, Thailand, New York… Everywhere but right here, suffering with me. Although I think J will be back from Barcelona soon. Maybe I can depress her too. Here’s to hoping.

You know what? I wasn’t planning on doing this tomorrow. This is messing up my schedule! I’m lying, I have no plans. It’s just annoying. It’s doubly sad: I need to go there again, and I don’t have any plans.

I’m just gonna go to bed now. I think it’s safe.

It’s me,

Ella

Song Quote:

The worst things in life come free to us. –The A Team, Ed Sheeran

P.s. You know what? I’m gonna wear this shirt again. Take that.

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Excavations

Copyright sickandsickofit.wordpress.com

The excavation site

Hidden beneath a pile of other important things in my drawer, lies a folder that is full to the bursting with slips of paper. Every page has some words, written at some point in my life, and when I open that folder, I travel back in time.

It’s amazing really, how I’m instantly transported to how I was feeling, where I was, and what I was doing when I wrote something down. There have been many days in my young life, but the ones that I remember the most are the ones when I had a sudden urge to write- and I took myself up on it.

Sporadically in life, pretty much from age six, I would get bouts of motivation, generally in the direction of: “I’m gonna be a writer!!! I’m gonna get published! I’m going to be in The New York Times!” During one such bout, when I was around twelve years old, I sat cross legged on my bed, and wrote something on a piece of ripped notebook paper. It was my old bedspread, the highly colorful one, and I was staring at the mirror that was glued on the back of my door (before it fell, and broke).

This is what I wrote:

   I wish my mirror were my life. When I look in my mirror, I see what I am meant to be. I see myself with a fancy hair do, all dressed up at my very own book signing. I want to be famous for my writing.

  I look in the mirror, but I don’t look the way I really do. I look like a writer, posing for a picture while she writes her next bestseller.

  My mirror is the only one that knows; knows what my life should look like.

To be honest, there are pieces written in bouts of motivation from when I was much younger than 12, but they’re slightly embarrassing, so my drawer is their permanent residence.

Besides the motivated snippets, the folder is mostly full of products of hard times. It’s sad to think sometimes that most of my poems are ones of great depression, sadness, guilt and discontent. At the same time, that’s what I use my writing for: it’s a place I can turn to when it feels like nothing else is right. To quote the great Oscar Wilde,  “Words! Mere words!… what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of flute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?”

Fast-forwarding a year, I sat after quite a horrible day and wrote this (and I’m making sure not to edit myself, even though I really want to):

Why is the world such a hard place to be?

Why can’t I just spread my wings and be free?

Be heard, be known, for the things I can do,

Let it be known, that I will make it through.

 

I don’t want to think that no one will hear it,

If I fail, I won’t admit it.

I just want a chance to be heard,

Help create a better world.

 

I don’t think that’s taking it too far,

If I just keep trying,

It can’t be too hard,

I will keep reaching for the stars.

 

But it all comes back too:

 

Why is the world such a hard place to be?

Why can’t I just spread my wings and be free?

Be heard, be known, for the things I can create,

If only there wasn’t so much at stake.

 

My hopes my dreams, my innocent will,

To help the world with the best of my skills.

I can write the poem, that comes to terms with the world,

With just that single world that will be heard:

 

Free.

 

But now a tear is tracing its track down my check,

For in writing, it certainly sounds absurd.

 

At least it  has a slightly positive edge to it. Some of these transport me to a really, really bad time. Like this one:

Let’s make the bed,

Fold the dirty clothing,

Pack up our bags,

And hang up the happy drawings.

 

Throw away the tissues,

Return the garbage to its place,

Comb through our hair,

And patch up our face.

 

Strangle all those sobs,

Dry up all those tears,

Leave not one trace of sadness

“I was never here”.

 

There was a lot going on. I had no choice: life kept moving, so I had to as well. I’m worried I might be depressing you all, but I know that I also worry too much (there’s a poem about it). I’ll only share one more with you. I wrote this just last year, when I was worrying about something:

Borders are

As borders go

Separating,

Existing.

 

Some borders are paper thin, hazy, fragile,

But hold within them

The power to destruct.

 

These borders are

Long

Thin

Lines.

 

Tread carefully.

 

But the border, the line, that

Scares me most,

Is the one I balance on when I act

By the sheer power of feeling

Empathy, love, worry.

 

Then I walk the border of

Making

Things

Worse.

A single toe out of line, and that power to destruct

Is free.

 

And on that supremely uplifting note, I will now stop the barrage of sadness, and share some facts of happiness:

  1. I now have a place to write regularly, and it’s full of positivity! I have self-discipline, and write regularly, and you are all lovely people, and leave me uplifting comments. I now can write of happiness, and not just sadness.
  2. I have a much better support system in place than I used to. My family is as great as they always have been, but I now also have a bunch of friends that really care about me.
  3. I have matured since I was 12, and though I still write poems of depression in epic proportions, I also hold on to some perspective. I have a good life, even with Fibromyalgia.
  4. My math test is over! I don’t know if you feel the same way I do, but in my book, this is definitely a fact of happiness. I was stressing out about it so much, but it went really well, so now I believe all my hard work was worth it and I am happy. Next one in three weeks.

 

I hope I have now lifted your spirits after having lowered them. Otherwise, I would feel guilty. There’s a poem about it.

Wishing you all a wonderful day and happy reading,

Yours truly,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind. –Hurricane, Ms Mr

 

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While giving my drawer a photo-shoot, I realized I was photographing one of my most prized possessions: my Song Quotes notebook. It is a beautiful little thing….

 

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A hundred points to anyone who can leave a comment below stating which books are on my shelf… (hint: there are fifteen in the picture). Let the games begin!

The Humorous Side

For quite a while now, I’ve been trying to find something humorous in every situation I’m in. It comes pretty naturally to me, in most situations at least. For example, I always laugh when doctors want to listen to me breathe, or feel my stomach. Something about those two requests that they utter makes me laugh, and I try to contain it, because it’s a little weird, but now I’m embracing it.

I’ve had an interesting couple of days. If you’ve read my previous post, you’ll know that last week was interesting too, and it seems to be becoming a theme. I’m embracing that too. Sort of.

I hate math. That said, I take it super seriously in school. My teacher has this schtick where he’s convinced that we won’t be able to finish all the material we need for the exam at the end of the year on time. Therefore, he wants us to come in on our day off school to study for four hours (that’s 240 minutes) in a row, so that we can be ready for the exam. Now obviously this is very complicated and upsetting for us because we have a day off for a reason and we don’t want to spend it doing math. We’ll get back to this later.

I was doing my homework the other day, and there was this question that I couldn’t get, so I went to my sister and asked for help (she’s studying computer engineering). She (and her friend, who happened to be there) figured it out, then taught me a certain technique we haven’t learnt yet, but that the question seemed to require. After that, I called my teacher and told him about it, but he was adamant that it could work the way he had taught us.

Okay.

In our next class, it turns out that every single student couldn’t answer that question, so he starts doing it on the board. Then he stops… falters…. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

Okay.

In class today, he “got back to it”. He said that it’s a very complicated question, we don’t need to know how to answer it, and that it is really only meant to be done with a certain technique. The very specific technique that my sister taught me. I was right. Just saying. (Correction: my sister was right. Credit where it’s due).

Then, he led the conversation to his favorite topic (this is the aforementioned ‘later’)- when is the next time we’re going to come in for our dose of torture by complete boredom? I had said all I had to say on the matter, which is that I don’t think we need these extra lessons and I don’t like them, but I’m keeping my schedule free so I can come whenever it works out for everyone to show up. Being completely sure that everyone knows where I stand, I just kept working on the question that was on the board and trying to tune everyone out. Like that ever works. Want a play by play of everything that was said? Okay.

Actually no, it would probably be very tedious to read. If I nickname my teacher Ree, I’ll just give you a general overview (and yes, I’ve now nicknamed the math teachers Ree and Ran):

-Ree told us that usually, in every school, in our entire country, in the entire world (his words), students have to come in over spring break to study math for the exams, but because we tend to travel he can’t rely on that, therefore we really need to figure out dates for when we can come in on our day off. He wants at least twice a month.

-Ree thinks we’re being childish, and need to “show some maturity” and figure it out already. By next lesson he wants a sheet with all of the dates.

-Ree: “You’re going to have to pass up on social events and family gatherings. This is important, guys. Again, show some maturity. Next time your parents offer to take you travelling somewhere in the world, you’re just going to say no because this is important.”

-Ree is fed up with us. He declares that if we can’t tell him right away that we’re willing to give up our lives for math (he’s so dramatic), he can no longer teach us. He can’t work this way. He’s going to go to the principal, and the other math teacher Ran, because it just won’t work this way.

I don’t have much to add; this sums itself up. Now comes the part where I tie in what I talked about in my opening paragraph. Humor: there is a humorous side of this. I am sure of it. I’ll let you know if I find it.

No, I’m kidding. I found it humorous while it was happening. How can you not when a grown man is being so overly dramatic about something you know is dumb? My friend mentioned later that she volunteers on her day off, and I agree with what she said: points in heaven are way more important than points on a math test. At least us students have our priorities straight.

After Ree made it very clear to us that we are the ones that have to come up with a solution, I started trying to say this and a few others chimed in: okay, we will, now can you please teach us some math? Now remember I had solved the question while everyone was arguing, so when Ree turned to the board and said “somebody do these calculations”, I said “It comes out to two and a half.” Ree snaps around, looks at me, I try not to laugh, and repeat, “the calculations. The answer is  two and a half”. Ree just kind of nods, writes it down, and I can’t even remember what happened later.

I have one thing to say to you Ree: get over yourself.

Wow, that felt good.

I have more to tell you all. I went to acupuncture for the first time yesterday, and I had an amazing experience while there. I think I’ll write about it separately though. Be sure to check back for it soon, it will be called “The First Time”*.

For now, I just have another few things to tell you. The first one is, I finished my drawing! We framed it, I took a picture of it, and it’s down below, after the song quote (as usual). Second, I have now officially been on a yeast free diet for 22.3 hours. Yeah. Third, test season is starting soon, so my plan is to write a bunch of pieces and store them for when I’m super stressed and don’t have time to think whimsically. I’m letting you know because… well, I actually don’t have a reason. Just so you know, I guess.

Be humorous!!!

Love,

Ella

Song Quote:

Someday we’ll laugh about it. –All About You, Birdy

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All done!!! The angle here is really random, but it’s the only way I could manage to show the whole drawing without showing my reflection…

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This picture was taken before I put the finishing touches on, but it shows the whole drawing much better than the picture I tried to take after it was framed… (I showed this picture in my previous post)

This drawing goes incredibly well with the theme of this post… I’m impressed with myself for not having planned it. The original photo was from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/artetetra/2401088691/in/set-72157600061371063

Pictures of earlier stages are shown in:

To Create, It’s Called Perseverance, Game

*EDIT: 10.23.13 – I never ended up writing “The First Time” (it’s not what you’re thinking, trust me), so I’m just going to kind of, maybe, sorta leave you all hanging… deepest apologies, everyone. I had another acupuncture session that unfortunately clouded over the glow of the first one, and since I just can’t seem to get back into that initial buoyancy. Again, apologies from me to you.

Game

Sometimes I feel like a bowling pin. Life is the big, scary, heavy bowling ball that comes hurling at me and knocks me down. Then something comes along and sets me upright again, and I just have to brave things out.

What a week I have had, let me tell you. In a nutshell, I had an awesome literature class, I had a pain attack in my elbow, my mom was in a car accident, I had a family adventure, I lost all hope I had of having a good year and I had the most awesome backgammon experience ever. I’m much too tired to tell you about everything, but I will write about some.

I was sitting in math class on Monday, and suddenly my elbow started to hurt. Damn Fibromyalgia. Very quickly I couldn’t move my arm at all, and I left the classroom to try and find ice somewhere. The teachers’ lounge didn’t have any, and I was in insane pain. A little while later my friend came over, and I guess my face was one of major suffering, because her facial expression changed immediately and she asked me what was wrong. It was her face that made me cry; until then I had been trying to be strong and keep it together, but when I saw her I just started sobbing. Then, amazingly, she reached into her bag, into her lunchbox, and pulled out an ice pack! I might have cried harder, but it was what saved me.

I was trying to walk to my next class (English), but when my English teacher saw me she quickly dropped her bag and put her hands on my shoulders to comfort me/ stop my shaking shoulders (sobs) that were worsening my pain. She brought me to the teachers’ lounge and made sure there was someone who could sit with me until I calmed down. So I ended up talking to a very sweet teacher who taught me two years ago, while putting the ice directly on my elbow and crying. I don’t think I stopped crying the entire 40 minutes we were there, but at least we had a nice conversation. I managed to make it to art that day, and just drew while an ice pack numbed my elbow (tied it with a bandana- nifty trick).

On Tuesday, I called my mom in the afternoon to ask her something, and knew instantly when I heard her that something was really wrong, even though she said she would be home in a few minutes. My first thought was that she had gotten really sick, that she had been in hospital all day and her cousin was driving her home. Next, I thought that she had a huge foam brace around her neck and was permanently disabled. Then I just imagined blood. She indeed made it home a few minutes later, she was on her own, and looked intact. The car didn’t though.

She had been stopped at a red light, when this car slammed into her from behind and her head flew forward. Do you know what happened next? She got out of the car, went to the man who had slammed into her, and shouted “Who do you think you are?!?! My kids need me!!!”  The man later told her his “foot slipped”. Thankfully, she’s absolutely fine, and the car is not important. The man filed his insurance report a little while after my mom, so we can get the car fixed and don’t have to worry about that. The main thing is: my mom is okay.

It was so scary. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. What’s next?

Backgammon. So one important thing for you to know is that the separation between teachers and students at my school is not very drastic (which is obvious if you actually follow my posts and read what I write)- they are our teachers, there’s that divide, but there’s mutual respect and we’re treated as almost equals. The teachers have the final say, but we actually have one.

Basically, the game was between this kid named Benson (fake names) who was playing against my friend, Maya (we keep a backgammon set in our school lobby. There used to be a Ping-Pong table, but it broke. We replaced it with backgammon.) I was helping my friend, and so was my former math teacher (not my current one), who we’ll call… Ran? If I’m to make an awkward abbreviation of his name. Ran and I were helping Maya, and the game was starting to get intense. For those of you who know the rules, every single situation that can arise in a game, did. Benson was winning, then Maya, then Benson…. Ran and I were moving Maya’s pieces when she took too long, Benson was getting vocal, and slowly a crowd started gathering. Seriously. We had an audience, watching this backgammon game. It was so awesome.

Anyway, the game got to the point where both Maya and Benson could start removing pieces from the board, and it’s all just up to luck, of who will get there first. Everyone in the audience was drumming their hands against anything available, chanting, and there was all this adrenaline in the air. Beson had five pieces in, Maya had four. Maya rolled the dice, removed two pieces. Benson rolled doubles, removed four. The crowd was going wild. Ran and I were giving each other these looks, Maya and Benson were having some weird staring contest, emotions were running high. Maya rolled, the right numbers showed up, her two pieces were out and we won!!!! Benson (jokingly) dramatically slammed his hand against the table and stalked off, while Ran and I clapped madly, the audience started to scatter and chatter excitedly, and I raised Maya’s hand in victory! Everyone was shouting, it was crazy.

I love that my school can get so into things, and we just had such a great time. Remind me some time to tell you how my friend and I caught a robber, and the entire school watched the police show up from the lobby’s window. T’was eventful. People are still talking about it. Not really, but it was cool.

Wow, I have written way too much. That’s okay though. There’s been a lot going on. So as you can see, it’s been a long and interesting week. Now, I really have to go do my insane amounts of homework. But do you see what I mean, about the bowling pin? I didn’t go into everything here, but I’m just being knocked around all the time, while still trying to have a good time in life. I really just need to sigh right now, so I will. At least I have a fun soundtrack to my life. Every now and then I put together a playlist and it ends up defining the different eras in my life. The current one is called, “I’m going, I’m going.” I love it! Birdy’s new album, Fire Within, came out this week and it is amazing, so I’m also enjoying that, especially No Angel, All About You, Light Me Up and Maybe. In case it interests you :) Maybe is on the right, if you’d like to hear it.

Love,

Ella

P.s. I know my posts lately have been kind of random and I ramble a lot. This is my official apology. I’ve had so much going on, I just don’t have time to come up with some really original, inspiring material. Honestly, when I sit down to write I just need to get all of this stuff out. The first draft of this was actually 1700 words, and I cut a bunch out. It’s probably boring for anyone who isn’t me. But, my point is, I’ll still keep working, and hopefully my stuff be back up to par soon.

Song Quote:

People like us we’ve got to stick together, keep your head up, nothing lasts forever, here’s to the damned, to the last and forgotten. It’s hard to get high when you’re living on the bottom. -People Like Us, Kelly Clarkson

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Almost done!!!
Previous photos of the picture’s progress are shown in:
To Create and It’s Called Perseverance