From school :P

Yeah, this one is coming to you directly from school.
We have a work assignment, and being the procrastinator I am, I'm blogging.
I'm sooo bored that most of this is probably going to be blabbing with no apparent subject.
So right now, I've got a substitute teacher, Ms. Johnston, sorta nice lady, a bit strict at times, but overall, she's pretty good. I've got Jacob to my left, Becca to my right, Brendan to the front, Renee and Candace behind me, Brianna to the diagonal back left, no one to the diagonal back right, Pascal to the diagonal front left, and Brody to the diagonal front right.
The keyboard is black, as is the mouse, and the computer. The moniter is white... actually, kinda off-white. My friends are complaining about Kristen sitting at a spot she's not supposed to.
I look out the window and see the Special ED kids biking and playing around on the pavement... I feel bad for their lack of proper brain/muscular development. Pascal is talking with Brendan about some of the functions on the computer, as is Brody. Becca is bored out of her mind, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say the feeling's mutual. Now some grade 7's are playing basketball outside. And Becca just hurt herself, elbow on table.
Not a single person I can see atm is actually doing their work, so I'm not alone here.
Did you know that John Hamilton Gray from P.E.I. is scottish; from Glasgow.
Everyone is talking, and I'm guessing the first person to read this will be F.G. (you know who you are, those are your initials)
The teacher is right behind me....
She's gone, and my eyelash is twitching, it's done.
G2g, work or something should be done soon, and I think the teacher is catching on to me..... *shifty eyes*

sooo sad

this may be in mandarin, and I only understand a couple words or so, but it's sooo sad anyway

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cg0wruwlglE

Poems

Yeah, so this is just a bunch of random poems I composed over the last week or so

Sun
A watchful eye high
In the clouds, observing us
Waiting eternal

Her
A drip, a drop,
a patter, a splash,
the rain drives down
with a thundering crash.
Roaring up,
to fill my ears,
running down my
face like tears.
Drowing out the
churchbell toll,
her death, it hurts,
runs through my soul.
Standing up,
to leave her grave,
her life, it's gone,
to late to save.
I'm all alone,
left in the dark.
I walk away, and leave my mark.
A bouquet of flowers,
their petals soaked,
I part at last,
my sadness, uncloaked.

Sky
Just look at the sky,
so true,
so blue,
what a beautiful hue,
But you cannot do,
only see.

Why?
Death, it stalks,
fills me with sorrow,
for I may not live,
to see the 'morrow.

Sleep
The words,
enchanting,
slow,
deep.
I start to
sigh,
lay,
sleep.

You
As I look upon
your enchanting face,
I lose myself.
Lost in the vibrant hue
of your eyes, glistening,
shining out like beacons.
Your hair is gold and brown,
it shimmers
like silken strands of coffee
caught in the light
of a caribbean sunset.
Your body,
it is without equal,
for such beauty,
extravagant beauty,
is as rare as
your smile, lighting up
a room, heating the soul
to a point of frenzy.
You are my life,
my one reason.
For without you,
what is there left?

Twloha
To write love on her arms,
to show that you're there,
to show that you care,
to protect her from pains and from harms.
(Twloha is an non-profit organization that works toward building self-injury clinics, and to raise awareness about suicide)

Love
A colourful hue
A sunset of pink, gold, red
to make bare, the soul

Nature

I was out biking and walking today, with gorgeous weather, when I decided I should write a poem about what I saw.


I look up at the sky,
so blue,
a glowing sapphire shade,
so true.
Straight ahead, a forest,
so green,
a wall of emerald hues,
a screen.
Looking at the moist ground,
so brown,
covering the whole earth,
a gown.
I see the beauty of
everything,
a song of joy and bliss,
I sing.
To live on earth in all
its glory,
using trees, ground, the sky
to tell its story.

En francais, pour quelque chose different

S'il vous plait, comprenez que je n'ai pas d'accents sur mon ordinateur.

Je suis fatiguer des personnes qui ne peux pas reliee sur leur propre actions pour resolver un probleme. C'est toujours, "ben, j'ai un probleme, aide moi", ou plustot "Pourquoi tes idees n'on pas resovler la probleme? Je pensait que toi, tu pouvais m'aider!". Ca me fatigue. Je vais exploser s'ils ne commmence pas a comprendre que la facon la plus facile a resuler un probleme ou conflit et de le faire toi-meme. Arrete de me deranger chaque jour, je ne dise pas que je ne veux pas t'aider, ca, c'est pas un probleme, mais le faire de jour a jour, semaine a semaine, c'est ennuyant. Laisse moi faire!

J'espere que si toi, t'est un de ces personnes, tu penserait un peux plus avant to chialer puis demander l'aide de tout le monde.

Grammar

To my, and others probable, dismay, one of my greatest irks is poor grammar. With all of today's citizens getting more and more lazy, the qualities of the english language are quickly slipping from our grasp. All the contractions, the abreviations etc. are getting to be quite annoying. Most people don't even bother speaking in full sentences anymore, just short jabs at the english language, no more speaking the language than chewing it and spitting it out. Don't let this lead you to believe that I cannot take the occasional accidental grammatical or spelling error, these occurences are common enough, and I have nothing against them. But please, at least TRY to use correst grammar, it does the whole world a favour, and alleviates some of the stress from my life.

Ohhh, scary story

This is a ghost story I had to do for french class... it's in french of course, so if you can't read it, well, too bad. :D

Des années et des années passer, il y avait une petite fille qui vivait avec son père et sa mère dans une grande maison au centre de New York. Elle avait aussi une grand-mère qui vivait proche d’elle, dans un appartement. Sa grand-mère était toujours une personne gentil et calme, mais un jour quelque chose est arrivé.

Dans le matin, la fille se levait, à brosser ses dents, puis elle est allée en bas pour manger le déjeuner. Ses parents se levait toujours tard, alors elle n’était pas surprise quand elle ne les voyait pas quand elle descendait en bas. Elle a commencé à faire la déjeuner; un peut de toast, un peut de céréale, puis une orange. Elle s’assoit sur une chaise et mâche sa nourriture lentement en contempla ce qu’elle voulait faire ce matin. Il y avait un travail pour école elle devrait commencer, puis elle avait aussi des travails qu’elle devrait autour du maison. Soudainement, dans son bol de céréales, elle voit un petit point de rouge dans le lait blanc. Elle le regarda quand un autre point forme dans le lait. En regarda vers l’haut, elle voit du sang qui coulait du plafond. Elle était peur, mais elle était aussi une fille curieuse, alors elle devait savoir d’où venait le sang. Elle montait l’escalier jusque en haut, puis elle va dans la direction d’où elle a vu le sang couler, la direction de la chambre de ses parents. Elle ouvre la porte lentement, doucement, puis elle voit, sur le lit, couvert de sang, sa grand-mère avec un axe; les têtes de ses parents sur le plancher, séparer de leurs corps. Sa grand-mère se levait vitement du lit, puit elle courait vers la fille, axe au-dessus de sa tête, puis en un vite mouvement, sépare la tête du fille de son cou.

La petite fille s’appelait Jeanne Deschamps, puis ses parents étaient Marie et Jean-Yves. Ils étaient les victimes de Monique Deschamps, une vielle femme qui souffrait de la schizophrénie. Ils étaient découverts le prochain jour par un ami qui a était invité pour le souper quelque jours avant.

Quelques années plus tard, une vielle homme avait acheté la vielle maison des Deschamps. Son premier nuit la, il était tuer, sa tête enlever de son corps. Il n’avait jamais de la preuve pour trouver qui l’avait tuer. Encore des années plus tard, un jeune couple a acheté la maison. Les deux aussi, était tuer mystérieusement, leurs têtes séparer de leurs cous.

A ce jour maintenant, rien d’autres personnes n’a acheté la maison. Ils était tous peur d’être tuer pendant la nuit. Et la maison est encore la, tout noir, avec des fenêtres briser, au centre de New York, avec les esprits de 6 personnes tuer qui marche les corridors pour l’éternité. Toutes les victimes de l’esprit psychotique de Monique Deschamps, un gentil, vielle grand-mère qui était devenue folle.

Hypocrite+Insults

People are so judgemental these days about other people that they don't even bother to step back and realize they are doing exactly what they are complaining about. My friends, I'm talking about hypocrites, who seem to abound in every damp corner, and brightlit clearing these days. They are everywhere, complaining and judging for the mere sake of it, so they can feel as if they know better than others. But in reality, (somewhere they aren't exactly in tune with), they know less than they could possibly imagine.

And the previous paragraph brings me onto insults. I am tired of them. Not just directed towards me, but all of them. They hurt, they make people feel bad about themselves, and they last a long time, longer than most people can imagine. Just because you say it as a joke, as something not to be taken seriously, does NOT mean that the person you are talking to will take it the same way. My friends are being hurt because of "innocent" words that aren't being taken seriously by others. It can destroy someone's life, ruin it, so that there is only one way out, and it is not easy. What I want to leave you with, is that people are aware to everything that you say about, whether positive or not, so actually take at least a minute to think about what you are going to say to people before you do. It could have disastrous results if you don't.

I'm sad, but I can change things...?

Well, I'm a newfound vegetarian, and I'm a bit tired of the rampant destruction of humankind.
So, now I feel like I need to say something about it. People need to change their eating habits, meat takes more land, more energy, and more money to raise than edible vegetation. We need to cut down, or eliminate our intake of meat so we can save the planet. We are destroying the planet with our greedy ways. And for the skeptics, we can get all the nutrients we need from plants, vegetables, fruits, nuts, beans etc.

Some people would say, "Hey, you're only one person" but when you think about it, presidents and prime ministers are only people, Mao Tse-tung, Hitler, Stalin, and Ghandi were only one person, (not that I put myself at Ghandi's level, or approve of Mao's, Hitler's or Stalin's methods), and look at what they managed to acheive. I believe that if whoever reads this blog thinks about, and changes their diet to a more enviromentally friendly one, they can in turn spread it out to their friends, and this chain could make a difference.


One
Within trees grown old and twisted,
lies one with emerald leaves.
It sees the death among its friends,
rolls out its golden sleeves,
With patient grace, a branch comes out,
shakes out a couple seeds.
They all spread out amongst the gloom,
away, the darkness bleeds.
Up from the ground, some hope comes out,
a young tree grows, new, pure
The life takes over, sets all free,
it is bliss, joy, a cure.
The hate is gone, now warmth remains,
in the sky, a shining sun.
The tree spreads out, basking in life,
knowing its job is done.
For it knew that it would succeed,
despite very high stakes.
Deep down inside, the knowledge brewed,
that one is all it takes.

Procrastination

I'm here, right now, in front of my computer, procrastinating. I should be doing my ghost story, but I don't feel like it and I have friends to talk to, so what the heck? I might as well enjoy myself tonight instead of slaving over a keyboard doing something I don't want to.

I was sitting there, looking at my msn page thingy, when to my utter horror, I saw a [french-ing] tag on someone! I thought at first, my god! that's sexual, but then, I was astounded that someone was actually talking about procrastinating! Fateema, her name was, and irresponsible, she was as well. But I was procrastinating as well, so hypocrisy was inevitable.

It seems today that we all lack that certain quality necessary to focus on one task that we find repulsive, horrid, or just plain boring, and finish it. Because of that, we are constantly flowing from one task to another, never finishing, like an impatient sumo wrestler going between meals.

But here and there, we have the odd person with the determination to continue with even the most daunting task, and finish it at a level close to perfection. These people may be able to sow their qualities throughout the general populous and allow us to bask in the ability to succeed and follow through.

So I just finished sorta ranting on that topic, so I think I'll let one of our greatest faults slide for now...