Wednesday, March 31, 2010

I like this 11:

Dear Globlets,

This is my 100th post!!! How exciting.
Now, here's a quote I can relate to:

"Those who speak most of progress measure it by quantity and not by quality."
- George Santayana

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

On Writing.

Dear Globlets,

I like to write. Although it is not always easy to do - sometimes because of writer's block, lack of a good starting point, etc. - it is something I feel I can always go back to when I need to. I can confine my darkest secrets to an electronic piece of paper without the fear of the page spitting the words back in my face and asking how I could even think of doing or saying such a thing. Furthermore, there are times when I need to let something out that I do not have anyone to tell. By "let something out" I mean a kind of burning itch that is located somewhere between my brain and my chest. It can last up to several days. At this point it might be wise to consult a physician seeing as "itchy, burning sensations" for long periods of time are often regarded as special clues, or as I like to call "symptoms" or "side effects" depending on the kind of medication you take. However, I do prefer to wait until it goes away OR write. On paper, I can be as clear or as vague and as literal or as figurative as I see fit; therefore, writing is by far the best medication for my mind.

I am truly grateful to have the opportunity to share my writing with other people. With services like The Internet and Blogspot, along with readers and followers, my writing seems to be worth more. If I can make you laugh, hell, if I can make your lip twitch in an almost-smile, I'm accomplishing something. If I can make you think, or better yet, if I can make you feel, then I'm accomplishing exactly what I should as a writer.

Knowing that someone, somewhere, might read this makes me feel as though typing away on this digital typewriter means just a little bit more. I cannot really explain why. I suppose if I were writing novels that no one read, I would be disinclined to continue writing. In a similar manner, if no one sat in the audience, I would also be disinclined to get on the stage. Nevertheless, once in a while, one might need to realize that the show should go on. Even if you find yourself sending seemingly unimportant messages to the incredible, invisible, infinite Internet without a single soul to give you a mere thumbs up, you should still write. I did.

I have always written. I've probably written thousands of pages by now, although that may not be saying much. I started with poems that I would send to my grandma from Chile and then went to songs which had such special meanings that I frequently found myself unable to understand where my own ideas came from. This carried out for years past my return to Canada. Of course, I thought that it was all garbage. Nevertheless, I continued writing and had something like 13 chapters of a intensely detailed novel by the time I was between 12-14. My favourite English assignments were when I had to write a story based on a picture, and I still love doing that. Writing may be in my blood, after all. My mom is a great writer and a fantastic editor whom I would undoubtedly die without. My grand-uncle on my father's side is also a very well-known Chilean writer. My great-grandmother on my mother's side also used to write poetry. In addition, I have tons of artists in my extended family.

Writing has always made me feel good when I found that justice had to be made, however small or personal; when I was examining the preposterousness of religion; when I couldn't fall asleep because my pillow had become too damp from my crying; when I couldn't say aloud what my heart or mind was screaming; when I wanted to set the record straight; when I needed to complain about some outrageously mundane thing that happens to everyone; or when I simply had something I wanted to say. For these reasons, when something obstructs my path to writing when I need to, my heart sinks. It is a similar feeling to when I miss my bus, my plane, or my ferry. These things never happen, with the exception of an occasional ferry, but the feeling I get for having almost missed my ride of whatever sort is nearly equal to that of missing the opportunity to write. I hate it when "the ship has sailed" without me, especially when I can never get it back, when there is never another sailing again. It's like having your heart broken a tiny bit.
Note: this is why they invented notebooks and tape recorders.

If I were stranded on a deserted island, naturally, I would want a raft with oars, maybe a couple dozen full water bottles, some sun block, a telescope, a lighter and a knife. However, provided this was impossible and I was trapped on a deserted island and could not ask for nourishment or any devices that might aid in my survival, rescue or escape, I would wish to have a pen and some paper. They would be the most use to me if I knew I would not survive. I could stab myself with the pen or slit my wrists with paper. "Death by paper-cut it shall be!" Well, no, you know what I meant.

When I write, it is as though my thoughts are solidified onto a page from the gaseous state they can originally be found in as they exit my ears in white clouds of thought. They are extracted from my brain, and, once extracted, often go about their day in the untouchable World Wide Web OR remain forever hidden on my hard drive. In doing so, my brain is significantly less affected by these thoughts, and then I too can go about my day.

There you have it, Globlets. Another post that turned out to be about something completely different from what I had intended it to be. Oh, and it's long too!

Monday, March 29, 2010

I like this 10:

I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
- Augusten Burroughs

Sunday, March 28, 2010

One Earth. One Chance.

Song of the Glob: "Union" by The Black Eyed Peas.

Dear Globlets,

There's something I never did manage to understand about certain people. Why do some leave the lights on when they're not even there? When I was little, my parents would constantly remind us (my brother and me) to turn off the lights when we left a room. Ever since then, we don't forget to. Not all people, however, were brought up with this kind of attitude. It's a rather simple "don't waste" attitude and my family applies it to many things in our lives. We try our best not to waste electricity, food, water, heat, and so on. In being conscious of our consumption, we not only help the environment but we also help reduce the amount we have to pay on bills. You can't go wrong with saving money.

I remember going to a friend's house a long time ago, and she was NOT brought up with the "don't waste" attitude. She didn't need it, of course. She didn't need to save money because she and her family had plenty. What would be the point? The point would be to help the environment, and even though she may not have felt like saving money was important, you can never go wrong with it. Saving money = having more money, and who doesn't want that? This friend of mine hardly ever, almost never, remembered to turn off the light when she left a room. She would also sleep with the TV on. I suppose it might have helped her sleep, but there had to have been a more eco-friendly solution. I remember walking around her house and turning off the lights wherever I found one on in an empty room. If I walked down the hall past the bathroom and the light was on, it would take me all of one second to lean in and flick the switch, and I would every time.

One second of your time may be worth too much to spare, and the effort it would take to raise your arm up to reach and flick/push the switch would likely be overwhelming. Even so, if you did take the time and you did make the effort, would not the impact humans have on the earth then be slightly less catastrophic?

You may think that throwing your gum wrapper or empty bag of chips away on the street instead of in a garbage can is such a tiny thing that it doesn't have a great impact at all. You may also think it is too annoying to carry your trash for a few blocks before you find a garbage can. Of course, you probably won't want to put your trash in your pocket until you find a garbage can either, so what harm is there in tossing your trash on the street? After all, you don't do it ALL the time. Well, neither does that guy. Or that woman. Or THAT woman. Or that man. Or that girl. Or that boy. Or her. Or him!

That's interesting. If multiple people feel the same way and do the same thing (that is, litter), then the amount of litter in the world accumulates. If nobody puts their trash in the garbage, then the world is being severely polluted. It all adds up. You keep adding pennies, pretty soon you'll end up with a dollar. You might think that all you're doing is throwing away a penny's worth. In reality, you're adding your pennies to the huge pile of dollars, or pollution, that we have created.

This applies to electricity as well. In the following analogy, dollars are good. Turning off a light in a room in your house in your neighbourhood in your town/city in your region in your country in your continent, is still one light-on-for-no-reason fewer in the world. It may be but a seemingly worthless penny, but the more pennies you add, the more dollars will be made.

It always confused and bothered me when I saw an office building or a car dealership with lights on after hours. These are dollars in themselves that could be saved but are not, on a daily basis. Although they cannot be bothered to turn off their lights at night, why don't we? Why don't we teach children to save energy too? I'm not asking anybody to grow their hair long, forget to shave, and go vegan. I'm asking for people to contribute to saving energy, even if they don't "believe" in Global Climate Change. (Whether it's something you can "believe in" is another story.)
Even if there is no risk of GCC, even if we're going to be able to happily, blissfully and ignorantly use up the Earth's natural resources, would it hurt to turn off the lights in an unoccupied room every day? Would it hurt the environment to participate in Earth Hour? Regardless of the devastating amount of pollution we have little to no control over (the pollution produced by certain factories, companies, etc.), is doing nothing better than doing something? No. When is it ever?

But Earth Hour is at such an inconvenient time!
That's partly the point. 8:30-9:30 is the peak time for electricity usage. Any earlier and it would disrupt dinners and working people, and the fact that there would still be daylight would deplete the need for turning on lights. What time do you watch TV, usually? What time do you use your computer at home the most? Any later and most people would be sleeping, and therefore NOT using electricity. The point is to reduce electricity usage when it is being used most so the impact of Earth Hour is that much more beneficial.

My mom brought up an interesting point today. She said she thinks Earth Hour should happen more often, several times a year. And why not? It could become a routine thing, a habit, that more people could become better aware of and accustomed to. This way, if you missed one Earth Hour, you'll have another chance to participate next time. In doing so, think of the number of pennies and dollars that turning off lights would add up to.

There will always be people who will think like the man in the comic above. That will not stop others from trying to make a difference. Sometimes it seems like the difference is too small to bother, but that isn't true. The tiniest drop in the bucket is still a drop in the bucket. All you need is a few more to see some change.

I believe it's our responsibility as human beings to help preserve the earth, to take care of the earth, to give back to the earth, because it's the right thing to do. We take and we take and we take but we give nothing back. Instead we dig and we pollute, we destroy and we take over. We're like a parasite, sucking the life out of the planet until there is nothing but a useless carcass left to rot. This is not fair, and it's my responsibility to do everything I can to help. I'm not a superhero, I'm not going to change the entire world because I turn off the water while I brush my teeth or unplug the toaster when it's not being used, but I do help when I get the chance. I help. That's all. It doesn't take much time and it doesn't take much effort. There is nothing stopping us from helping even the slightest bit. It is our responsibility to. It's our earth. There's only one. If we fuck up on this planet, where will go? We won't get a second chance.

We have one chance to do some good and this is it. This is it.

Now go watch Wall-E.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

What's my age again?

Song of the Glob: What's My Age Again by Blink 182

Dear Globlets,

I am 18. Did you know? And 18 is the number before 19 but after 12. According to my former imbecile landlord, not only am I "Adriana," a hybrid of myself and my brother, but also "16 going on 24." Maybe in the world of real estate people don't age; I was 15/16 when I met him. Maybe he looked at my school credentials. FVDES considers me a student of grade 10 because I never technically graduated from it or from any grade after the sixth for that matter. It amuses me that they’ve never bothered to ask why I've been in grade 10 for so many years. It amuses me when strangers call me “lady,” and when hostesses ask how many kid’s menus we need between me and my brother, and when I get offered wine or other alcoholic beverages without question, and when I get charged $11.99 (which is the price for kids under 13) at Silvercity theatres when seeing a movie in 3D. So, obviously, 18 is the number between 12 and 19.

I probably could have been upset from having the girl at the theatre think I was under 13 if I weren’t so frugal. (In other words: a Jew!) As long as I’m saving money, I’m a happy camper. The fact that I was seeing Alice in Wonderland among tons of youngsters, as well as my almost-as-tall-as-me-but-four-years-younger brother, probably lead her to believe what she believed. The OTHER fact that I was wearing high-heel boots, boot-cut dark-wash jeans, my fabulous, red, form-fitted jacket, bling, makeup, and quite possibly a push-up bra (not that you could see it, but the girls were... happy) seems completely irrelevant. However, like I said in this globulation, it is probably ignorant of me to think that those kinds of things would make a difference in how people perceive me. Even so, I cannot imagine very many 12 year-olds with boobs like mine. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.

Sometimes this age thing gets to me. I try not to let it, but it happens. I want to be taken seriously. I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I might not be. It’s because I’m cute, it’s because I’m short, it’s because I... that’s all I got, but I guess that’s enough. It gets frustrating sometimes. I could be taken more seriously if I were just short, I guess. I don’t really think I’m cute, but small things do have a tendency to be cute. Puppies, for example, are extremely cute - in case you didn't know. I rarely feel short, though. Even when I’m with my very tall man I don’t feel like he’s that tall. I know he is, but it’s not noticeable to me. It is if I look at us side-by-side in the mirror, of course, but not when I look at him and not when I’m around certain other people.

The same day that I was granted access in the theatre as a child for $11.99 (which is still way too much for a god damn movie), I’d gone to the library and was denied the privilege of renting Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Heartbreaking as it was, my mom took it out on her card.
I am 18 and a half. In 6 months I will be 19. Just the other day I was 12. I have the benefit of doing more than I could a year ago, but I’m still restricted.

I wish minors were restricted from Lady Gaga videos too. Her name should be "Lady Gag..." for several reasons, all of which you could determine on your own by watching her bizarre and exceedingly sexually explicit music videos. She gives new meaning to the term "barely legal," and not in the age sense. I just didn't want to say that she is probably incapable of gagging thanks to years of practice, and watching her nearly grotesque videos makes me want to gag, because I would sound like a bitch if I did. Oh. Oops.
Need more? Click. See minute 2:20-2:25.
And it's really great that young girls see this. I can't get over that... It bugs me so much.

On an unrelated note, I don’t think it’s worth three extra dollars to see a movie in 3D. I don’t think you get that much more out of it. We had to watch movies in black and white, remember? Well, maybe not “WE.” *wink*

Friday, March 12, 2010

I Have a Dream.

Dear Globlets,

I have a dream.

I have a dream that one day, when I am rid of FVDES once and for all, I will send the paperwork from the courses I've been enrolled in over the years to a factory. I'm not talking about just any factory, oh no. I'm talking about the kind you see in movies like Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Wallace and Gromit, and Chicken Run.
I dream of machines connected to long metallic conveyor belts inside these factories. The conveyor belt of each machine will lead whatever object is on it through a series of steps. These steps often include crushing, grinding, slicing, burning, tearing, sawing, skin-stripping, laser-frying, and reality show-watching. In other words, things that are sure to destroy anything within seconds.
I have a dream that one day all my coursework will go through every single one of these body-destroying steps so that it there will be nothing left but some burnt confetti. I can almost see the pieces of paper, trembling on the conveyor belt, hoping for just enough wind so it can be lifted and set free. Alas, even if it did lift off, it is likely that this factory I speak of is a recycling plant. In that case, anyone NOT wanting to go to hell would pick up the paper and put it right back on the belt, where it could then reunite with its equally doomed siblings and cousins.

It's true. God knows when you don't recycle even though it doesn't say so in the bible, just like how St. Nick knows when you've been naughty. Come to think of it, why didn't he mention it?! Hmm... Maybe he doesn't love us. Maybe he's against recycling! Maybe he thought the only paper worth existing is inside the bible! Nah...

Yes, it is quite bad form to write "LOL" in a globulation, but I was afraid of sounding like I was serious.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Tomorrow, tomorrow...

[I thought this displeased Lucy nicely complements the displeasure I speak of in this globulation.]

Dear Globlets,

Getting globulation overload yet?

It seems like every time a little clarity comes my way, a wave of uncertainty follows. It might be for the sake of balance, because you should never be too certain about anything. You should always have a decent amount of doubt and a little bit of certainty.
Wait, that's not balanced.
What I mean is I feel like I'm constantly taking two steps forward and one step back. Sure, at least I'm moving forward to some degree, but why can't the degree be greater? You're probably expecting an example or two, but I don't know if I can give you any. I apologize for being vague.

For the most part, I'm referring to school. I'm not even certain if that's all I'm referring to.
Man, I need a hug.

Maybe I can give you this:

Several weeks ago I looked at the Camosun College website and it said that I could get into the Creative Writing program with EN11 or EN12. I have EN11. Now it says I need EN12 or to take the English assessment test. This was a very tiny step back, but it's the best I can provide at this time. It even has a solution! Since I refuse to work with FVDistanceEdSchool (see previous post for more details) and the sample test looks doable, I think I can do the assessment test. They have a test-taking session every month, so I think that even if I fail, I could take it again. I don't think I'd fail.

I've hated discussing school matters for years, for more reasons than I'd like to bother you with in this post. I cannot tell you why I don't have EN12. Technically I could, but it wouldn't make any sense to you OR to me and I would need to do a hefty amount of research on my past whereabouts and activity. I have a hard time remembering what I did two days ago or even what I said two minutes ago, never mind what I have been doing for the last few years. I can tell you that I'm embarrassed by it, though. - The amount of time unaccounted for. I can tell you that I've had countless encounters with people who have asked me about school, encounters that have made me wide-eyed and tongue-tied. I can tell you that many times I've experienced weird feelings in my gut when people looked at me, even if they were just looking at me and not necessarily with judgement, because I felt like I was a disappointment to them. It felt like their expectations of me were dropping right before my eyes, inside their eyes, and that has made my eyes water and my chest feel heavy too many times.

That was a while ago. Since then, I've been doing better. I'm still taking those two steps forward, one step back, but I've been advancing noticeably and it's feeling good. Maybe my steps are bigger, even though I'm clearly not growing! *Five feet forever.*
Then, as you already know,
Along came a sign-y
That sat down beside me
And showed me that I'd be okay.
(Who the fuck eats curds and whey, anyway? Seriously...)
The sign was a paragraph on the Camosun website stating what requirements you need to register for certain courses.

However, an "external idea" penetrated my thoughts today and I am back to a state of semi-confusion. Nevertheless, I have decided that tomorrow will be a day for asking questions. Correction: it will be a day for seeking answers. Double-correction: it will be a day for finding answers to most, if not all my questions regarding my academic plans. That's why one of the lead characters for Tomorrow is an ACADEMIC ADVISOR. Hopefully they will do more advising than acting.

Pshh! Actors...

Why do I so frequently get the feeling that only one, maybe two people besides me could ever even dream of understand my blabberings on here? Sometimes I wonder if even they'll get it. I guess that's why the readers have their own special name, eh? Globlets. It's also why the blabberings have their own special name.
"Globulations. If saying it doesn't always make you think of vomit, you might be able to enjoy it!" *ding!*

You should help me come up with a tagline!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Just one cause of EHMES.

Dear Globlets,

I need to write something.

I feel really shitty.

Want to know something amusing? If you really wanted to, you could probably determine my menstrual cycle just by looking at my Facebook statuses and Globulations. TMI?
Perhaps. <3

I will be meeting with a Camosun College Academic Advisor this Thursday. They have drop-in times; no appointment necessary!

On Sunday I took the third-last English exam which I hope will be the third-last exam I ever take with FVDES. Ever. Ever, ever, ever, ever! EVER! Please. Please don't make me deal with Those People any more. Please? I'll do anything! ANYTHING! What? I won't have to? Oh, thank Lucy! I would have quite willingly jumped out the window if that was the only way to not deal with them again. You might think I'm exaggerating, but honestly, I am only very slightly...
One question on the test was to "Find two examples of onomatopoeia" in the poem that was provided. 2 marks. There was not a single example of onomatopoeia in the entire thing. I went over it countless times, I re-confirmed the definition of an onomatopoeia, and still I could not find it. Click the first link and tell me where the onomatopoeia is. I'm going to e-mail my teacher and bitch if no one finds it.

In case you hadn't noticed, which would be strange because if you're reading this you're probably my mother or my boyfriend and would know, I am a Grammar/Spelling Nazi. I'm not a pro, but I try. Now, when I take a course that helps me get important shiny pieces of paper, a course that teaches and tells me to check my spelling/grammar (AKA: ENGLISH), all while littering every single page with at least one huge, hypocritical typo, I become somewhat cross. I'm also sad and frustrated to the point of enraged-Hulk-muscle-expansion syndrome, or EHMES, to say that it is often more than one typo per page. On an English course website. Where the first module is all about proof-reading and part of the second is all about grammar. On an English course website. Where they don't seem to understand the power of Microsoft Word. Microsoft Word, for those who don't know (because they've lived under a rock for several decades) is a rather well-known computer program that automatically checks spelling in every document.

I just find it a little hard to take courses seriously because of this. Actually, I find it difficult, if not impossible, to respect ANYONE who can't be bothered to capitalize the word "I," to write out the word "you," or to add a comma or period here and there, especially when they are a teacher or are writing to you regarding a matter of some importance. I don't expect everyone to write beautifully composed messages to their friends, but a little more effort would be nice. If I have to read a simple message more than once to understand what it's saying, there's something wrong. i find it so hard 2 read msgs writen by ppl 2 lazy 2 writ out da hole word in sentenc's like this 1. da SqUiGlY red line mens ur speling bad it takes me longer 2 rEaD n writ da weerd "sHoRtHaNd" ppl seem 2 think is fastr then it wud 4 propper english 2 bcome write.
You have no idea how hard writing that was for me. I spelled "then" as "than" before I realized that was right, and right is not what we were going for. Writing it was like petting a cat backwards - painful and wrong, but kind of funny to look at afterwards.

Respect is a two-way street. To me, writing something in such butchered language shows a lack of respect towards the recipient. It's like you don't have the time to give a shit when you write to me. Consequently, as a recipient, I often feel a lack of respect towards the sender. Depending on the context and gravity of the errors, my expectations of that person will also drop.

The difference between a Grammar Nazi and a Nazi-Nazi is that I won't brutally murder you if you make a couple of mistakes. Again, depending on the context and gravity of the errors, I might consider it. I proof-read everything, often multiple times, even when writing to people I don't respect.

On an unrelated note, this always happens: I begin writing with several topics in mind and end up writing an entire novel about only of them. On the upside, this leaves more topics to write about in the future!

Thank you. I feel better now. Funny how complaining about things does that. The Midol probably helped too. I felt like crying and throwing up before, eyeing the last of the chocolate goop, but now I feel like declaring my love to you and prancing around with ponies in Lollipop Land. Well, almost. I am, after all, allergic to hay. But what if the ponies don't eat hay! I mean, they live in...
That's enough, Ori. That's enough.