From Small Beginnings

Just a place to get out my thoughts and ideas.

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

Umbridge De Vile

Let me tell you about my grade 12 principal. She came into our school at the beginning of the year. All of the students were suspicious of her from the very first assembly. We weren't sure what to make of her. None of us trusted her. She was waaaaaaayyyy to happy laid back.

And then we discovered how awful she actually was. By the time October rolled around we had started calling her Cruella Deville (her hair was half black half white) or Umbridge (I assume that this one is an obvious one).

I'm sure your thinking I must be exaggerating. No. I'm not. It was the middle of December and I had first period spare. I came into the school out of the snow and she just happened to be walking down the hallway and the first thing she asked me was "Why aren't you in class?" I told her I didn't have class. Then she asked me why my pant legs were in my boots (we had a uniform and the pant legs couldn't tucked into our socks or shoes). She said that I wasn't in uniform. HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO BE IN UNIFORM WHEN MY UNIFORM SHOES ARE IN MY LOCKER AND I JUST CAME IN FROM A WORLD WHERE THERE IS THREE FEET OF SNOW AND YETI'S ARE WALKING ABOUT??? I DON'T WANT THE BOTTM OF MY PANTS TO GET WET!!

And that is the story of Umbridge Deville

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

DJSir

I've found that in High School that there are teachers you hate and love. But then there are also those teachers that make your experience the best it can be. I met my special teacher in grade ten. I didn't realize at the time that he would be such a big part of helping me figure out what I wanted to do with my life.

The class called him Sir, or DJSir if we felt like it. He came into the school as a communications and technology teacher. Our comm tech class had really crappy ancient PC's that took ten minutes to load and log into. DJSir was one of those teachers that let us believe we could achieve anything.

By the end of grade ten, because of our hard work and creativeness, we were able to convince the school board that if we could do amazing work on crappy PC's it would be in our interest to get a Mac lab.

We always thought that it was because DJSir that we got the lab. But now I realize that he just gave us the tools and confidence to achieve our dreams.

Teachers shouldn't preach to you and make you not want to learn. Teachers should give you the tools to build yourself up and the opportunity to prove yourself to yourself. Because that's what school should teach you.

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

Secret of Life

It took me a long time to figure this out. It's okay to be selfish. In fact it's mandatory to be happy in life. And before you say "being selfish is bad, think about others" but like all things its okay in moderation. We spend so much time thinking about others. What can I do for others? How can I be a help to the greater community? etc. All those people who do things for others because they know it will make their life easier or better, good for you. Keep doing that. People appreciate what you're doing.

But you still need to be selfish sometimes. Taking on something to make things easier for someone else only makes life harder for you. Especially if you're like me and want to help whenever you can. So I'm selfish and I ask myself the same question every day. What was the last thing you did for yourself?

Me, I'll do your favours, help out around the house, cover for a shift at work. But this is all for other people. So, whether it is convenient for other people or not (and its never convenient no matter what day/time it is) do something that is solely for your sanity, pleasure and happiness. 

I write. And for one hour, when ever I feel I've done things for everyone but myself, I will ignore anything asked of me and I will write. I'm not here to do everything for others and I need time for myself. So every so often I will be selfish and I will do what I want, because it's my life.

[451seconds]

He calls you late at night, and you can’t help holding your breath, waiting for a drunk confession of love, because this must be the time that daydreams become reality. His voice is barely an exhale, but you hear every syllable because that’s how you always listen to him: so very closely. “Can you come pick me up?” It’s slurred, though his voice is just a whisper. He’s drunk, but he isn’t in love. So you slip out of your house, and you start the car, easily agreeing because it’s him. It’s him and it’s him and it’s him, and that is any and every excuse you’ll ever need. Street lights pass in a blur as you get closer and closer to him, and you don’t know why it’s always like this—why does every road and every map lead to this boy? You like to think that it’s fate. Your road ends where it always begins, and you stop in front of a bright house in the dark night, and various bottles and different people are scattered across the lawn, and there he is, walking toward you, and he’s drunk and he’s exhausted and he looks like hell, but it’s him—it’s him and it’s him and it’s him. He gets into the car, and he slumps in the passenger seat, and you want to say something—you want him to say something—but silence swallows you whole as you start the car and pull away from the curb. And you drive, and you drive, and you try to focus on the yellow lines in the center of the road rather than his ragged breathing or your erratic heartbeat, but the lines are blurred and your heart won’t still. Finally, he mumbles something, and you wish that you didn’t hang on to every word he says. You wish that this wasn’t fate’s plan because this is not the ending you’d always dreamed of. You wish that you weren’t listening close enough to hear him say her name, to hear him mumble, “She’s beautiful, and I don’t fucking deserve her, but god, I wish I did.” Because he’s drunk, and he’s in love. He’s just not in love with you.

H.L. // excerpt from a book I’ll never write #42 (via 451seconds)

[mute4art]

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

The universe coming together for the last time

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

Scientists: Eating oranges is great for your health.

Three Months Later...

Scientists: Eating oranges will shorten your life by ten years.

Three MORE months later...

Scientists: Eating oranges will help you live forever

Me: The moral of the story? Eat whatever the hell you want! You're going to die one day anyway.

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

So my Mother bought my siblings and I each a chocolate bar. These three bars were left on the kitchen counter. Today I went to get a piece of my chocolate bar. Both of my siblings were marked and I pick up the last bar, my bar....HALF OF MY BAR WAS GONE AND I DIDN'T EAT IT!!!

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

Of Earth And Water

I am daughter of Earth and Water,

And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the oceans and shores;

I change, but I cannot die.

              -Percy Bysshe Shelley 'The Cloud'

  Born upon one

Composed of another

My skin is that of terra cotta

Veins run red with life

Oh! For if the Earth is my mother

Then surly I am her daughter

Father sea gave me life

And when I greet him

He hold's me close like an otter

I am the daughter of Earth and Water.

Water dries

Earth crumbles

And what then?

My body will return to the Earth

Blood washed out to sea

What is left will soar high

Far above mother and father

An endless vastness

I am a bird without ties

And the nursling of the Sky.

Seeds have been planted

The harvest has come

And I, I shall go

I leave those behind

And they do weep

And the scores

Of tears shed lead to unknown depths

That is like my father

Upon which my mind floats and with these oars

I pass through the pores of the oceans and shores.

Memory fades on the wind

All that was is gone

Reunited with my mother

Forgotten to all but her

I lay in her womb where

Tears once shed are dry

Awaiting a time for rebirth

I will come back and

Like clouds in the sky

I change, but I cannot die.

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

Some days I want to give up on fashion and just sew my own clothes but then I remember that I can't sew...

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

My group might have won the lip sync battle but the teachers were the real winners.

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

The Darkest Hour

The darkest hour of night

blooms right before the dawn,

awakened by the echo

of a shadow's silent song.

 Its melody of whispers

is sung before the cries

of darkness lurking closer

under guarded skies.

 An infinity of cycles

revolves the brightest stars,

holding on too tightly,

opening their scars.

 In the darkest hour,

there is no place to hide,

for even the snow white moon

has its own dark side.

 Far over land and sea

when night and day are torn,

will come a time of sleepless rest

where twelve hero's will mourn.

 The darkest hour of night

soon obscures the dawn,

when all the light will sing

the shadows' silent song.

 -'Casting Shadows' by Esther Fisher

[my-sicparvismagna-things]

It's sad to find out that the group you were a part of doesn't exist anymore.

Me