| Because I Spit Hot Fire. |
[Feb. 9th, 2006|08:48 am] |
It's been far too long.
Christmas was awesome and now the second semester has descended upon us all and unleashed her fury.
More to come later. Time for class. |
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| One more day.. |
[Dec. 12th, 2005|06:44 pm] |
Well one more day and semester one is officially in the books. Thankfully.
This semester has pretty much owned me. Although I did alright, I still thought I was going to do better. Oh well at least I have something to strive for.
The game show, thanks to some wicked teamwork and excellent directing by by M&M, went off perfectly. That HAS to be an A, and if it's not I don't know what is. The exam was alright, thanks to my amazing study weekend (a whole 2 hours of which where spent outside), I feel fairly confident with my PR knowledge. Now only an Ad exam lies between me and my holidays which are more than ever merited. And although I probably should be studying, I have a hockey game tonight, and we all know what's the most important thing to do in a time like this. Aside from school, nothing, not even Christmas has been on my mind (despite the 1000 Xmas songs I listen to EVERY day) and I can't wait until I can finish my shopping and drink some hardcore eggnog. |
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| So Long and Goodnight... |
[Dec. 6th, 2005|04:59 pm] |
So last night was the best concert I had seen in a LONG while..
Although Thrice's set was a bit of a downer (as is their latest album, if you accept it as another Thrice album and not an attempt to discover themselves as a band (compared to my last Thrice live experience) MCR more than made up for it. I totally did not even expect that or see it coming. Although the fans were mainly grade 7-9 (smoking pot! so weird)and the fact that I felt like I had more in common with the parents standing there waiting for their kids and worried if anyone got hurt. And so what if I wore earplugs for a bit? I'm concerned about my hearing!
And then there's the scene kids.
I usually have no problem with Scene Kids. I'm totally down with the ability to express yourself the way you want. But why they wear some of the stuff they wear I don't get. I mean most of the bands don't wear that stuff so why would you? It's not like they're emulating their favorite band..its like MM told me, how its super weird how its so enforced within the scene. I just don't get it.
But yeah, today is looking up. I'm not going to fail PR (so far) and apparently I've got "good juices" according the infamous PR instructor which merits a more than adequate professionalism mark of 9/10. Very nice. |
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| i was searching for some legal document... |
[Nov. 30th, 2005|02:21 pm] |
so apparently to write creatively i need to write a one way phone conversation. thats not going too far.
i wish some exciting things would happen to me so my posts don't start becoming a play by play of my life, but actually stimulate some sort of discussion...
I guess i'm kind of upset about this upcoming election, as it really doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me...Nothing is going to change. That's my bold prediction, and you can take it to the bank.
Hrm. What else. We really need another whole bunch of snow. I can see the grass beside the road on some spots.
Thats not acceptable, seeing how Xmas is in 26 days. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 28th, 2005|09:26 am] |
so desktop publishing isn't really all its cracked up to be.
three hours to make a black and white ad. that would be the final exam. how easy is that. anyways.
funeral on friday was good. pretty sad but i swear half of ile des chense was there. so much food and family helps too.
coffee on saturday was better. i hadn't seen hilary in far too long and i was reminded how fun she is.
hockey on sunday was the best. beating the only undefeated team in the league 5-1, one of the funnest games i've played in a while. not to mention the most amazing grey cup game i've ever seen. HD on a 72" TV.
i feel so special. |
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| short stories. |
[Nov. 23rd, 2005|04:51 pm] |
so i have to edit my short story. after putting in some effort to rewrite a new one, i think my lighthouse one is going to work. now for some alterations...
frick.
i can't believe i left school early, thinking i was so cool. I missed the wicked fire. At least one of my friends called me and told me about how cool it was. |
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| When I Get Where I'm Going... |
[Nov. 21st, 2005|11:29 pm] |
Sunday night served as an eye opener for me, and what I've been putting off.
Today, the of it reality set in.
On Sunday, with my family surrounding my grandfather in his cramped room, I felt death close to me. It was in the faces of my uncles and aunts, of my mother, as they watched their father lying helplessly on the bed he had laid on for the past two years. Taking turns holding his hands, turning blue from the temperature shift in his body, they prayed, and told stories, hoping that he could, despite his state, still hear us reminiscing. His breaths would quicken, then slow, sometimes, almost stopping, forcing everyone keeping watch to catch their own. Those not in the room sat outside, flicking through makeshift photo albums my sister had put together earlier, as well as other albums from his room. My Uncle Joe, the youngest of the siblings sat at the foot of the bed. His eyes fixated on the man who once taught him everything he had ever known. How to skate, how to love. He was slipping from his grasp. His eyes, wet with tears caught mine, and I couldn't help but break down, knowing that one day, I would be looking on my own father in the same postion. Helplessly. I couldn't stay in the room for long. His body, worn from his many years, had changed from what I last remembered. My sister decided to make a coffee run for everyone so we headed off to Tim Horton's. I couldn't even go inside. The anger I held against myself overwhelmed me. The last time I had seen him before this he was hunched over in his wheel chair, delusional from his morphine patch and calling out for his mother. I'm glad he's with her now. I came home for a bit, to do some homework, take my mind off of things. It was only while pulling in the driveway had I realized that I lacked a key to get inside the house. My pent up rage getting the best of me, I destroyed the snowman Kim and I had made a day earlier. Finally, after a night of observing, at 1:15 my sister, my dad and I came home. My mom stayed overnight, keeping watch.
I went to school, with pepere on my mind. I wasn't suprised to get a phone call at 3:30 saying he had passed. It had only been a matter of time. The world seemed muted. Things weren't as loud as they once were. The grey dreary landscape seemed suitable. I got onto the bus and started to cry. This was bigger than me. As soon as I saw my mom she ran up to me, and hugged me. I cried again. I hate seeing my mom and my family like this. I hate this feeling, this pit in the bottom of my stomach, or the lump in your throat that serves as a constant reminder that someone is gone. I started eating the random chocolates on the table outside of my room along with a few of my uncles, trying, in vain to get my mind of things. I peered into his room and saw my grandmother by his side. How she must feel, the love of her life for 49 years now gone. I can't imagine. I look at the body lying on the bed. This isn't my grandfather. Too sparse and losing colour, he holds a rosary, clasped between his two hands. He is with God now. I look at his chest and I swear to myself that it's still moving, rythmically, up and down as it always had. But its not. His eyes closed, mouth opened and facing upwards, he has already gone to a better place, already on his way home. This hits me all too hard. I head for the stairwell quickly, no one noticing my absence. There's a recliner there. I sit and eat my smarties in silence, wondering what his last thought was before he was called up. What image flashed in his mind. Did he remember me? Nothing can stop the tears. My dad enters a few minutes later. I'm sitting there, sobbing in my hands and he pulls me up and hugs me. Now me and my dad are close but I hadn't felt this before. He whispers to me, this isn't going to be easy you know. I hold him close, embracing him like only a son could. We leave shortly after. I look in once more, a quick glance is enough.
My family is more than close and this makes for a relaxed evening. We head to my uncle joes house, built where my grandma and grandpa used to live. My uncles and I pick up 100$ worth of chicken and the entire family is there. All of us together, like those Sunday nights so long ago, drinking beer, playing with our cousins and talking hockey. They write the obituary and talk of the funeral. The crying has for the most part stopped, we all knew this was coming, and it's better if we get everything organized and do it the right way. Jokes are cracked about what we're going to do with the wheelchair my grandfather graced for the four years after his anerysum. My auntie monique says we're putting it in storage for my grandma. They finally finish, hours later, and being the communicator I am offer to run over to my uncles auto shop to quickly type it up.
I walk out the door. Although the house my uncle built after tearing down my grandparents is vastly different, i still see it as i remember all those years ago. I see my grandfather too. Yelling at us as we jump precariously over his precious flower beds, or telling us to close the door because the air conditioning's on. Or the way he wore at least three layers despite the fact it was 20 above outside. The way he always seemed busy with something, cutting the grass or starting up the fire. The way he talked to memere.. AWW Adrienne.. The way he loved Montreal no matter how bad a season they were having (that rubbed off on me too). Playing on the school bus he used to drive. Walking over to my uncles shop i stop dead. The highway, with no traffic and the cool breeze allow for a moment of peace. I wonder if this is what heaven is like. I type it up, make a few alterations and bring it back. They like it.
I don't know where you are pepere, but I hope there's a good hockey game on up there.
I'll see you around. |
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