tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80578989520298392792024-02-08T01:59:32.575-08:00SoulsentJustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-65638731440785141282009-11-18T20:55:00.001-08:002009-11-18T20:55:36.049-08:00The Odd Ones.<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Noah turned to his brother Eric in the tree they had just climbed to gain a vantage point over the whole park they were playing in. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"I wonder why they keep coming back."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"Who knows, but they look dangerous, maybe we should keep our distance."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Another pack of those strange animals had appeared on the luscious green grass where they had been running around earlier. They had been coming to the brothers' regular are more and more often, and disturbing the tranquility with the obnoxious snorting noises they made to each other. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"I wonder if that noise their making is even a language." thought Noah aloud.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"Probably not, i bet they just think the person who makes the most obnoxious, ugly snorts will be the alpha male." Chortled Eric. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The brothers watched as the strange animals came to a stop and dropped themselves onto the bed of grass. They really were a strange breed. Only a thin coat of fur covered their bodies, exposing their pale pink skin, which stretched generously over their large frame. Their beady eyes moved constantly, and seemingly unfocused while nearby, their mouths opened and closed repeatedly to emit a string of snorts. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The brothers were captivated by the animals and their odd ways. They were scared. Not because the animal's looked rather threatening, in fact, they were rather clumsy. But they were such an incredibly alien, awkward species that the brothers couldn't help but want to stay far away. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Eric thought quietly to himself for a short while before recounting, "I remember one of my friends heard from his mom a couple stories about those creatures... He even told me what they were called before, i just forgot it. Did you know that at night they're dirty and disease-ridden? They're always in such close contact with each other that whenever one of them gets sick, all of them do. I don't think we should let them get near us."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"That's really disgusting. I don't like looking at them, but i really can't look away. Maybe we should start getting back home, Mom must be getting worried."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">As they were walking, Eric and Noah both took a last double-take look at the pink monstrosities which had started to play fight with each other. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Eric couldn't help but to remark one more time. "Gross, i can smell them all the way from over here. Do you see the way that they try to run after each other? They're pathetically slow, really. It's a wonder they don't fall over more often hobbling along like that... oh yeah, i just remembered what my friend said those nasty animals were called... humans." The two squirrels gracefully pranced their way home. </span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-7808277992748969902009-10-07T10:38:00.000-07:002009-10-07T16:34:55.645-07:00update.October 7th. Exactly one month from the day that classes started. As far as lecture hours go, i'm pretty sure this would be just past the 100 mark. And then there's tutorials, labs, and study groups. That's a lot of school.<br /><br />I say this, not for sympathy, but just to give a grasp at a length of time, because, i think that it's just about now that i'm getting used to university life. Now that i've been through multiple weeks of university courses, and that i'm approaching midterms, i've fallen into that repitition pattern, and now what used to be a whole new world, feels a little more fitting and comfortable.<br /><br />I'm doing well in my courses, not for lack of pain, sweat and tears, but nevertheless, i'm coming out on top. My attitude towards the workload is changing to a much more positive aggressive, and the few hours of sleep are taking less of a toll on my days (i still fall asleep when Mr. Monotone lectures).<br /><br />It took a while, but now i know i'm going to survive, and more than that, i'm having a really great time. Studying, unlike in high school is nearly enjoyable nowadays, i don't know if it's just that i'm more interested in what i'm learning, or that it's a hell of a lot less structured, but i never used to have this kind of initiative. I've gone to Gernstein library study areas at least once a day for the past week. It's like my home away from home, except i'm actually allowed to talk. Something else that's also happened once a day is me getting yelled at in Gernstein study areas because me and my STUDDYBUDDYS (i like that :D) are a little too excited about learning, and can't contain ourselves. So the really serious quiet studiers like to come by and give us a piece of their mind.<br /><br />For some reason, it's always the six foot tall 200 pound white males who are telling us the shut the *inappropriate word* up.<br /><br />The only thing that's not quite jiving with me about university is those sausage stands, chinese food trucks, and french fry servers that are nearly everywhere. They're preying (props nikko) on us poor, weak, self-control-lacking students at every corner. I've survived so far, but i swear they're blowing the fried-food smell my way deliberately.Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-89754187911214423882009-09-30T12:37:00.000-07:002009-09-30T13:02:05.301-07:00secret.<span style="font-family: verdana;">I forget how, but i recently came across this blog called "</span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/">Post Secret</a><span style="font-family: verdana;">"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">This blogspotter simply publishes secrets that readers send in to them on the back of a postcard. Simple, and effective. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's interesting the kinds of confessions you can get from people as soon as they know its anonymous. Soon as people realize that no one will know it's them, they're glad to pour out their deepest darkest secrets. But the average person would be embarrassed to stand up at a karaoke bar. It's pretty remarkable how many people have sent in, and how much effort they've put into their post cards. It almost seems a bit ironic, seeing as no one will even know it's them. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I need to clarify, it sounds like i think negatively of this blog. On the contrary, i very highly respect what this author has created. And how the readers respond to it, embrace it, and keep it going. It's really cool. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Check it out. </span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-60351040919985211832009-09-24T07:25:00.001-07:002009-09-24T07:48:03.282-07:00smallpeople.<span style="font-family:verdana;">People are really small. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I had lecture this morning in Con Hall today, meaning that my class had about 1,400 people in it... give or take. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Unfortunately for me, like always, the lecture wasn't heading in a particularly interesting direction (we were learning how to cooperate as a team, or something along those lines. I'd almost rather do real work than have to learn about team work.). Furthermore, it was progressing pretty slowly. I looked at the projector screen maybe once every two minutes, and i still didn't miss any of the content. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">This all lead to me being quite bored. So i amused myself.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've always had a fascination with people's little physical habits. When i'm at wrestling practice teaching a move, at church serving on altar, or counselling a summer kid's camp, i always catch myself staring at the crowd of people and just taking in the crowd as a whole. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don't really know how to explain it, but when you look at something, you're really only percieving that one thing, and everything else that you see, even though you see it, it's all just background. Because you're focused on that one thing. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">In Con Hall today, i was sitting in one of the upper levels, and so with all the hundreds of people below me, i stared, unfocused, and there was a perpetual sea of movement. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">At any given time while i was amusing myself with this, at least twenty people of the hundreds would be moving. Whether it was them raising their head, craning their neck, playing with their hair or nodding off to sleep, there was never a second of break in the constant movement. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And i kind of had a personal poetic moment. If I were to be staring at one person during this time, most of the time, they're actually not moving. But because i was looking at this huge crowd, of hundreds of people, there was always activity. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It was like hundreds of ripples on a small pond. Very cool. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">There are so many people out there. And i still don't think i can even accurately percieve just how many people there are, and how small i am in the world. In my class of one hundred people, i feel small and unnoticed by the prof as i discreetly nibble away at my sandwich. In my larger class of 1,400 people, i can sleep in a contorted position and drool puddles and no one would say a word. All of these 1,400 people belong to the engineering department of U of T, and there are still another 600 or more engineers in the faculty, meaning there's over 2,000 of us. That's just the engineering faculty. In first year at U of T, accross all the disciplines, i bet there's at least 5,000 students. Multiply that out by four years, and you have 20,000. Consider that there are many more students in the university for post-grad degrees and you have even more. And then there's maybe 10 other major universities in ontario, plus colleges. And then accross Canada, North America, the Western Hemisphere, the World. The numbers are already beyond me, and i'm only talking about university students here. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">As of september 23rd the world's population has hit 6.786 billion people. In my head, that number doesn't translate into an actual perception of how many people that is. I just know it's a hell of a lot. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">All of a sudden, i don't feel like such a hot shot any more. I don't feel like i'm the center of the world like i admittedly do sometimes. But i'm not trying to be depressing. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It humbles me, but i like it. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Summary/Realisation: I'm really freakin' small. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-28225075958232825722009-09-21T07:21:00.000-07:002009-09-21T07:23:11.389-07:00chem.<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" >CHEM IS THE DEVIL'S SUBJECT.<br /><br />Chem is my least favourite subject.<br />Every time a go to a lecture, there's about one or two slides that i can actually say i'm interested in, but in the sea of hundreds of slides, that's not a very impressive number.<br /><br />Not to mention that i'm convinced the prof is TRYING to put me/the rest of the class to sleep. I mean really now... do you HAVE to read out the equation that you just put up on the projector? Every single variable and subscript? We can read thank you very much, your redundancy is not in the least bit constructive.<br /><br />I wonder if i've grown to detest chem as a result of the experiences in chem i've had over the past two years because of a certain two teachers *ahem*. It's possible. Or maybe, as i continue to pursue the subject (not as a result of my own enthusiasm, i assure you) I just continuously discover the vast amount of information that i could never find interesting.<br /><br />Buut, i'm getting through it... painfully slowly.<br /><br />Oh no, i just realized that i'm already ranting about this course when i've only had four lectures/one tutorial.<br /><br />I'm a university student now, be ready to hear me complain more and more :D<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-16896861719555417652009-09-17T19:03:00.000-07:002009-09-17T19:25:41.029-07:00awholenewworld.<span style="font-family: verdana;">I had that song stuck in my head today, and for the life of me i could NOT get it to go away. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then out of nowhere, it stopped playing as just a tune in my head... and i actually heard the lyrics as words instead of some musical jumble. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">A whole new world<br />A new fantastic point of view<br />No one to tell us "no"<br />Or where to go<br />Or say we're only dreaming.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first thing that struck me was that the lyrics are incredibly cliche and cheesy... Yet i haven't grown tired of this song which has stuck with me since i was 4. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Secondly, and a little more significantly, i noticed that those five lines are pretty applicable to where i'm at right now. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just two weeks ago, i was sleeping soundly in my comfortable bed, with those familiar four walls and my organized chaos of objects littering the floor. I was sleeping in every day, and doing nothing but enjoying the last couple of days that i would have to just do that... nothing. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now, i'm living in a room one quarter the size of my old one, in a never-sleeping city that reeks constantly of mystery-odour, and surrounded by an army of unfamiliar faces. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Although i'm sure it sounds like it, i'm not complaining. I'm actually having a really great time in my "whole new world". Yet sometimes, it's nice to have something around that's </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">familiar.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> So, last weekend when i went home for a visit, and i was all chipper to get back to </span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">my own familiar room</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">, i was flabbergasted when i saw that kevin had moved all of my crap out, and claimed his territory. My room is now his. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh, and i'm not mad Kev, you more than deserve that room, since it is bigger than yours, and i'm not living there anymore. But, now i'm kind of stuck in a bit of a limbo. My new home doesn't quite feel like home yet, and when i go home, it doesn't feel like home either because my room no longer feels like my room. So i have this constant unnamable emotion that is best described as me just feeling lost. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm sure that i'll be get used to this place soon enough, and then this closet that i'm typing this blog out of, is going to be like my new niche in the world. But for now, i'm still feeling that tiny bit of uneasiness. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">All of that aside, university life is amazing. It feels awesome to be on my own agenda. With no one hounding on my every move. I get to take classes in real pretty buildings, and there's a ton of clubs/teams/services all available to me. Not to mention the people are (for the most part) extremely nice. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh how i love aladdin. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-73252201087708946592009-07-31T21:45:00.000-07:002009-07-31T21:59:16.649-07:00Complab.<span style="font-family:verdana;">Well it's only been like two months since i last blogged... </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">A couple hours ago, i was just sitting at home, not knowing what i was going to do with my weekend, when my dad popped the idea to spend a couple nights downtown. We called up the older of the sibs, and they were down for it, so within a couple hours, we were all together in toronto. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Unfortunately, everyone kinda had different ideas of what a night in toronto actually means, so the 2AM chinese food outing that i was looking forward to became an impossibility since my parents were snoozing within half an hour of walking in the door of the condo. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Jason came ot the rescue. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Wanna go take a look around u of t? i'll show you where the engineering buildings are" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I was pretty tired, and i was going to say no, because i haven't had more than 6 hours of sleep for the past week, but he kept insisting that it would be fun, so i gave in. Kevin decided to tag along.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After showing me ONE engineering building (The mineral engineering building, which wasn't particularly mindboggling), he swiped his card in the entrance of some shady small doorway... I wondered where the hell he was bringing me. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After walking up a couple of flights of stairs, and around a couple of corners that reminded me of my run-down elementary school, we came to a set of double doors. I did not know what lay beyond them, but when Jason gave me that overly-excited face, i knew it could only be good news. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We opened the doors.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Some EIGHTY computers in one room, nearly a quarter of them filled with people seemingly working their asses off, staring intently at their screens, cursing at the difficult work at hand. Or that's what it looked like. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">They were playing DOTA. And not just the majority of them... each and every single one of them was playing dota. It was like i had taken a step into a corner of heaven. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Long story short, we played a game, and I took great delight in repeatedly killing mini cartoon heroes. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After all of that, i can't help but be extremely excited about next year. I know it's not going to be anything like this, in fact i'm probably going to be almost radically different, considering the work i'll have to do... but i can't wait. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Here i come. </span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-63979396344811888042009-05-31T18:50:00.000-07:002009-06-01T14:43:23.475-07:00prawm.<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tons of anticipation,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">and a wake up call.</span><br /><br />Xavier prom 2009. I spent many, many weeks preparing myself for this mentally, physically, financially... I think i had to go shopping a total of 3 different times to end up with my actual outfit. And I bought like 4 out of 5 of the things at H&M, so i don't know why i had to go back two more times after the first...<br /><br />In a way though, it's kind of understandable. Right from the get go, when they announced that tickets were on sale and that prom would be on May 29 (my birthday. andnates.), people had already started panicking, brainstorming on what they should wear, and what they should wear with what they've decided to wear. The fact the prom only happens once in a lifetime, for most people anyways, (excluding those ppl who get to go twice cause of an older gf/bf. GOLDIGGERSjustkiddin.) is probably a major contribution to the early havoc. I know it was for me anyways. All of you probably know me as one to not spend generous amounts of money on things other than food, but this was an exception. I constantly caught myself telling myself that it's okay to spend money, "it's prom afterall, might as well." (say myself again. Myself.).<br /><br />So after having been lucky enough to not get rejected by Sally as a date, i set out to spend over one hundred bucks on prom (can you believe that the ticket was 80 bucks? highwayrobbery.). But i also made sure to only buy things that i would definitely use aga</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">in. For example, that navy blue skinny tie that i ended up getting, i'm pretty much in love with.<br /><br />So they day of prom, unlike any of the girls i know who started getting ready at like 3 am (which obv. paid off cuz they looked really good. reallygood.), i started getting ready at like 1 pm, and left the house at 2 pm to go and grab the corsage and boutonniere. Which was pretty much because i spent the entire morning attempting to cut my hair and make it look presentable. I ended up just shaving chunks off of it in the end and just cleaning up what i had ended up with.<br /><br />So anyways, after picking up the purrrty white roses, i ended up at sally's house where it took us as a team about 5 minutes to figure out how to work a boutonierre. Well, how can you expect us to know how to use one if we've never used one in our life? Maybe other people are just born with the skill...<br /><br />The following two hours were spent taking pictures at kelly's house, which at the time seemed extremely tiring and verging on too much, but in retrospect, was absolutely necessary and probably could have even gone longer. Because when i look back at the pictures, they make me smile a lot, and i kinda wish there were more to look at.<br /><br />Man oh man, kelly's dad was so funny when he was taking the pictures, going from every angle, every type of lighting, and capturing every expression. He was the definition of a proud parent, and it was really cute and now because of him i have tons of pics to look at. Thanks kelly's dad. lol.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">In case you're wondering what me and sally looked like, feast your eyes on this goodlookin pair (i'm not usually this cocky, but i think we looked pretty decent.)<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs005.snc1/4159_1053514312001_1650090168_174514_5265983_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 579px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs005.snc1/4159_1053514312001_1650090168_174514_5265983_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Before i start talking about prom itself, i have to say that i didn't have extremely high hopes for it in the first place. I was all excited to dress up and to see everyone else dressed up, but i didn't expect the event itself to be particularly engaging for me. Which is mostly because i'm not much of a dancer/partier/clubber.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Boy was i surprised. Although the food took forever to be served and there was a bit of an awkward "what do we do?" two hour time period before the music got going, we killed the time really fast just by taking lots of pictures. Most of which i do not look prsentable in because i just don't know how to take a serious picture, but that's alright, it was fun (there's like two pictures of me with a unibrow, about 7 doing the ginyu force pose, and countless others of me making up faces, howattractive.).<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Only a couple of hours later, i found myself dancing my ass off on the dance floor. Albeit, not well, but i had a ball. For some reason,i just came outta my shell and started breaking it down. At least 10 people made fun of my dancing within the hour and a half that i wiggled</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">, shimmied, and shook it, but i never slowed down, except to take a break and grab a drink. Dancing really badly really isn't that big of a deal anyways when everyone else around you is dancing badly as well. No offense guys.<br /><br />When everything died down, the ppl in my car (nikkoriasallyandi) decided to head over to Bubble Republic on Hurontario (the ol' hangout spot, soasian.), because we thought it would be funny if all of us in our formal attire were to be in the middle of everyone else in casual.<br /><br />We were not disappointed.<br /><br />Although ria had changed into a less formal-more-casual dress; nikko, sally, and i were all still head to toe in prom-worthy clothing. I still had on my vest-o, sally still had her nice dress on, and nikko turned on his swagger.<br /><br />As we walked in the door, the whole room stopped to stare.<br /><br />Hell-a-fun. I definitely recommend it if you find yourself at the end of a formal event with nothing to do, and feel like being a bit of a dork. Oh yeah, and the bubble tea itself that we had while we were there was pretty good too.<br /><br />(insert here 24 hours of chillage at nathan's house, too much to even put down.)<br /><br />Those two days (prom and afterparty), went by way too fast. And i didn't sleep for more than half an hour, because it was all just too much fun.<br /><br />Right from the beginning, it all felt kinda like a dream. As soon as we started taking the pictures of everyone all dressed up, with their dates, and nice corsages, the first thing that i thought when i looked at all the pretty and handsome faces was: "Everyone looks amazing, i really can't believe how everyone has grown so much in just four long/short years."<br /><br />And even though this still wasn't the end of the school year, or the end to anything really, i had a bit of that feeling the entire time. Or more accurately, the kinds of thoughts that people get at the end of something.<br /><br />I couldn't help but think the entire time about just how much i'd come to love each and every one of my friends, acquaintances, not-so-much-friends and even those random people that you see around and school, and don't even know. Because i have spent the last four years of my life with them, going through every day with them, experiencing very similart things with each of them.<br /><br />In a nutshell, i've just become comfortable with everyone. It's like for the past four years, i've been shimmying myself into that little niche, and now that i've finally found a way to sit comfortable into it, it's coming to an end.<br /><br />It was really priceless, to just see everyone i know, and everyone i don't know, beaming away. When you break it down, what is prom?<br /><br />It's a bunch of people in a hall with food and music.<br /><br />So what was making everyone so happy, and so energetic? It wasn't the hall, becuase i don't know anyone who is particularly impressed with le Treport. It wasn't the food, because i was hearing disapproving grumbles in the tummies of everyone around me all night long, and it probably wasn't the music because no one likes the song "save a horse, ride a cowboy" (whoever you are, you're really not as clever as you think for making that one up, reallynow.).<br /><br />So what was it? The people. A gathering of everyone in your grade from school really only happens once in a blue moon, or less. So when it comes to pass, the disputes, dislikes, awkardnesses, and hatreds all seem to take a backseat so that everyone can just spend a couple hours enjoying each other's company.<br /><br />I'm sure everyone can relate to me when i say that at the end of the whole affair, when i got home post-afterparty, i felt like i'd been hit by an eighteen wheeler and just needed to sleep for 17 hours. But i also thought to myself "feeling THIS crappy is definitely worth it considering what i was up to for the past 24 hours".<br /><br />Prom and afterparty have made me realize that there's nothing we can do about the time that passes, whether we like it or not, everyone's still going to get older, and it's going to happen only faster and faster. The only thing to do is enjoy it to the fullest, even when life hands you a pile of crap.<br /><br />Oh yeah, and now i'm 18. Hands down best birthday of my life.<br /><br />If you got this far, please leave a comment, let me know what you thought of the whole experience. One word, or one wall of text, i want to hear it.<br /><br />Bye-bye.<br /><br />Song: Thinking of You - Katy Perry<br /></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /><br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-89452538364961856332009-05-16T09:47:00.000-07:002009-05-16T11:56:17.546-07:00windingdown.<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Six out of eleven completed,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm almost there. </span><br /><br />As of Thursday, i finished my math paper 3 exam. Putting an end to highschool mathematics forever. By now i am completely finished with physics and math, until we meet again in university. I'm hoping though, that all the IB alumni rumours of breezing through first year are true. As per usual, i'm skeptic.<br /><br />All that remains is chem and french, and these two compared to the physics and math papers, i predict will invoke far fewer emotional breakdowns than the the latter. That mean's i'm done with the worst of it!<br /><br />Because there's been a lot less class for us recently, it's meant that everyone's gotten to spend a lot more time together. Even though the majority of this quality time was spent worrying and studying, and propagating each other's nerves, it's been really nice to get to know everyone just that much more. Once again, i've noticed how anxiety can really unite people. Everyone's been pretty supportive to each other, helping each other out in their own way. It's a necessity when there's 10-13 papers to be written (Kudos to Zain. howdoyoudoit.).<br /><br />So even with the pervading anxiety, joking around with people about exams and homework has been a ball.<br /><br />Exams are winding down now, and there's even more down time coming with it.<br /><br />Last thursday, since my little brother had to perform in the spring concert, i had to hang around so i could be his ride home. He needed picking up at 9, so i had to occupy myself between the end of school and then. So since glenn and i were pretty much the only ones not IN the concert, we just hung out for like 10 hours.<br /><br />This ten was divided up into floating around Long and McQuade, just playing on every guitar and drumset we could find, being a mall rat, eating junk food, sitting on the bleachers outside and sneaking in the the music room.<br /><br />It makes me feel like such a teenager.<br /><br />Can't wait until everyone's done all the exams. It's just going to make way for even more time to spend with everyone. Even if that time consists of being a mall rat, or sitting around having nothing to do. Boredom isn't boring with you guys.<br /><br />G'luck to everyone on their remaining exams.<br /><br />Song: Fifteen - Taylor Swift<br /><br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-56007284870707776472009-05-07T17:39:00.000-07:002009-05-07T20:38:58.547-07:00unprepared.<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I was almost as prepared as possible.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Apparently not. </span><br /><br />Today was my first IB exam of eleven exams in total. Being the first, and being math, i have recently been regarding the exam as extra-important to me. I wanted to start off the string of tough exams with a bang. Plus, i've had trouble with math before, so i really wanted to prove to myself that I can do it if i try.<br /><br />So, as much as i detest studying, and as hard as it is to keep myself focused for long periods of time on school work, I've been biting the bullet and digging my nose in those terrible smelling texts. When i could be blogging away, strumming away, or pwning newbs with Balanar the "Night Stalker", i exercised self control and forced myself to study.<br /><br />This has been going on for a while now, because i really wanted that feeling of success.<br /><br />So this morning, when i believed that i had done mostly everything i could to prepare myself, when i could do nearly every question in the review package, and actually understand why i was doing the steps, i was happy as a clam. I was under the impression i was going to go into that exam, and do decently. Maybe not ace it, but pass for certain.<br /><br />Before the exam, everyone congregated in the hallway outside the library. Everyone was anxious but not scared. We were worried, but not hopeless. After all, we've spent three full semesters, a full year and a half preparing for this exam.<br /><br />After recieving the exam package, i was actually excited to get started so that i could get it over with.<br /><br />The exam went terribly. None of the resources available to me helped in more than a miniscule manner. All of the focuses of our three semester course were completely overprioritised by other very obscure topics on the exam paper. In no way was i prepared for the exam that i recieved.<br /><br />I'm quite livid right now. I feel almost misled. I've been studying past exams for so long, workign into my mind what i should expect, and what i recieved was completely different.<br /><br />And now, i don't know who's to blame for this impossible exam. Usually i'd blame myself for not being prepared, but seeing as every other math student, even the super-geniuses, have the same mentality as me right now, i honestly do not feel like it's my fault any longer. I think i prepared myself as best as i could.<br /><br />Sometimes life just does not go your way.<br /><br />I'll just have to deal with it.<br /><br />Another math exam tommorow. Yay. this should be fun.<br /><br />Song: Miss Murder - AFI<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-38186660590873482542009-04-18T20:44:00.000-07:002009-04-20T19:48:15.897-07:00uglysue.<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Everyone laughed and jeered at </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">her.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But she just beamed with confidence.</span><br /><br />Picked up the newspaper this morning, and from </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">the front page of the entertainment section, "Ugly Sue" stared back at me. She simply looked like an all-around unimpressive person. Late 40</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">s, not particularly attractive, and grinning devilishly, it was hard to take her seriously. And that was before i saw the "Britain's Got Talent" video which made her famous.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">If i thou</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">ght she loo</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">k</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">ed awkward in</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> a pictur</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">e, then seeing her in live action was five times worse. That grin never left her face, and she acted a bit obnoxiously. Apparently the judges had a similar perception of her, because they had to stifle chuckles at the things she was saying. The crowd was outright jeering and pitying her. Somehow, Susan Boyle remained unphased and confident.<br /><br />As soon as she belted out the first note of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables, Simon Cowell's cynical grimace evaporated and became a genuine, wide smile. The man was impressed. And so was I.<br /><br />At first i thought it was a joke, that someone had done a voiceover or that this hadn't actually happened, but i was wrong.<br /><br />The way this woman sung, was pretty darn good, maybe not as breathtaking as Paul Potts was, but she was really good. Maybe even broadway worthy.<br /><br />At least once in my life, i want to pull off an "Ugly Sue". I want someone, or even multiple someones to tell me "you can't" and then i want to make them eat their own words.<br /><br />As she was singing, everyone cheered like mad, and the look on her face was filled with triumph: "yeah, that's right. I CAN SING.".<br /><br />It might be a bit of a stretch but it reminded me of those times at wrestling tournaments when my opponent would look at me, judge me, and then go on to scoff right in front of me. As if to say that i would be no sweat off his back. I'm telling you right now. The feeling that you get when that cocky *not nice word* cries that single tear when you make him eat the mat, is <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">UNPARALLELED.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br />So i'm guessing that's the kinda feeling that "Ugly Sue" was having as she performed, except her moment caused no harm to others, and actually invoked joy and happiness. I'm pretty happy for her.<br /><br />Apparently she's got a record deal now.<br /><br />It brings back the memories of Paul Potts. He was amazing too.<br /><br />Song: I Dreamed a Dream - Susan Boyle<br /><br />PS. Here's a link to the video clip:<br /><br />Susan Boyle:<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk</a><br />Paul Potts: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA</a><br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-3962352308274050972009-04-10T18:48:00.000-07:002009-04-10T18:54:30.492-07:00plusone.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">a quick announcement.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">a possibly chaotic future.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Little brother Kevin has officially been added as an other to my secondary blog "Kinkeejou's Garden of Spontaneous Scribbles". </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">This means that as of now, said blog has four authors; Kevin, Glenn, Sean and I.<br /><br />Since that blog was started, it never really took off as what it was meant to be; an overly casual space for me to drop a bunch of thoughts without having to actually conduct any planning or put any effort forth.<br /><br />Since Kevin and I were saying that we wanted to start a joint blog anyways, we decided to start in Kinkeejou's Garden.<br /><br />Have a nice Easter!<br /><br />-Justin.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-36733659063892244572009-03-31T17:46:00.000-07:002009-04-05T11:29:26.057-07:00rememberthename.<div><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >A little stupid something... </span></div><em><span style="font-family:Verdana;">He remembered my name.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">It's time for a quick warning: I just re-read this post, and it made me kinda sad, it may or may not do the same for you. But be warned. happy reading. ;D </span><br /></span></em><div> </div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;">In chemistry class recently, Mr.A was called on to sub for mrs. C. Apparently she had to be away for the badminton tournament, and left a heap of work for us to do while she was away.<br /><br />And this is what opened doors for a perfect display of contrast. The teacher who took the first shift for "teaching" our class was a lady i've never seen before in my life. She pretty much sat at the teacher's desk, buried her nose into some magazine, and quickly became completely oblivious to the fact that the 18 students in front of her were not doing their work, and were in fact indulging in various card games (not that we complained. yay"literature".).<br /><br />The bell rang, and in came Mr. A. The first lady bolted out the door like lightning, and neglected to even say bye to the class. She made it feel like a CHORE.<br /><br />Mr. A quickly took a look around, and took in what he was seeing quite quickly. He wanted everyone back to work, and sitting in their places. I, not wanting to move, decided to give him a teensy bit of lip. "Is that right? You arrrrrreee doing your work well and thoroughly... (and here, he gave me a quick look up and down as if refreshing his memory) ... Mr. Justin?"<br /><br />It took me by surprise. This man has not taught me for years. In fact the last time i was in a class of his was in Grade 9 religion, a class in which i consciously and actively maintained an under-the-radar status. I was most definitely not expecting him to remember my name at all. As I would expect from most other teachers.<br /><br />Now, i'm not necessarily a huge fan of this teacher. In fact, i would say he's pretty average, but having had awkward confrontations with many of my ex-teachers during which they stared at me absent-mindedly... evidently trying to work out what my name was, even though they had taught me just last semester, I was happy to know that some people don't completely forget me. It was a tiny thing, him calling me by name, but just like many other small things in my days, it set off a chain reaction of thoughts.<br /><br />It's a really dumb fear, but one of my biggest paranoias in life is being forgotten. And i don't mean "when i'm gone, will anybody care?". I'm going to be arrogant and say that at least one person would care. I'm thinking more along the lines of, will i fall into the <span style="font-style: italic;">background</span> of people's minds, and just become another face that they've come across during their highschool years. Instead of that, i'd much more like to be remembered as "the guy who spent a lot of time with me just going out for an after school snack, even if it was just for an hour and a bit" or "the guy who failed miserably at school, but he failed along with me".<br /><br />I'm petrified of having the people who are important to me, not see me as someone important to them somewhere in the future.<br /><br />I don't know what i'd do if one day i was walking around in the Eaton's center, and i saw one of the guys and they just walked right past me without even noticing. That would just do me in. It would make me feel old, and maybe even a bit insignificant.<br /><br />And then there's me, i can't put all the pressure on everyone else, i really hope that i will never be the one to act like that, to go so far as to forget one of the people that stuck by me throughout the years. Whether we drifted, or got closer, or fought all the time, i don't ever want to forget anyone.<br /><br />As embarrassing as it is, i think about this almost every single day. And now with grade 12 coming to an end, it's recurring only more often.<br /><br />Every day is one day closer.<br /><br />I'm constantly thinking of doing the best i can to be one of those people that you guys will <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> forget. And i greatly doubt that i'll ever forget you guys. Even when i'm mad at you, i'm not.<br /><br />So: rememberthename. ;D</span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Song: You Told Me You Loved Me - Cinematic Sunrise<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-7832634301037702822009-03-24T19:02:00.000-07:002009-03-24T20:05:51.701-07:00amostlytruestory.<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Paranoia must be at an all time high.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ><br />Or at least in a certain small Hamilton neighbourhood...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Last weekend, to end this year's ridiculou</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">sly short-lived M</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">arch Break, the family (Minus Jason who got substituted for Ja-Poa. cuzshe'sabetterhiker.) went on a mini hiking trip at a small park in Hamilton. There were a couple waterfalls to see, and just some all around nice-scenery. We took some pictures and mostly loafed aroun</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">d enjoying the view.<br /><br />During one of the conversations which arose, we</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> started talking about how my dad, the acoustic engineer, often works in Hamilton, and "Did you hear about the funny story of two years back?" I coul</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">dn't say I had, and so i was told it by my sister who was interrupted multiple times by her own laughing fits.<br /><br />Here's my attempt to</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> recount it for you, best as I can from the facts i've gathered. Remember, this is a MOST</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">LY true story.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">One day, Justin's father, the acoustic engineer received a</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">n assi</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">gnment at work, it was nothing special, he'd be going through the same motions as any other project he'd done in the years he'd been doing his job. So he def</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">initely did not expect the events which would come to pass.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">He drove down to Hamilton, unloaded his equipment, and upon a nearby lamp post, he perch</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">ed a harmless sound level meter. </span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">It</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.emovendo.net/images/T/t-16400-253.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 145px;" src="http://www.emovendo.net/images/T/t-16400-253.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> looked something like this...</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">His intentions were simple, to leave this meter installed for no more than couple nights, to take a string of measurements so as to determine whether the level of sound being produced by a nearby factory was excessive in relation to this neighbourhood. A complet</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">ely good-willed act I'd say. [I'd like you to note at this time, regardless of how simple this instrument may appear, it is a deceptively pricey tool. The picture provided was some random model i found on the net, probably coming in at around $150.00, but the meters used by professionals are in the price range of an order of magnitude greater than $150.00] </span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">After arriving at work the next day, J</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">ustin's father received a telephone call. The news he received was definitely not what he was expecting. Through the telephone, Justin's father was informed of some intriguing facts.<br /><br />He was told that team of people now had his sound level measurement equipment in their possession... This would be unsettling news for anyone who was responsible for expensive equipment, but what was even more unsettling was the fact that they looked a little something like this:<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.spartanburgso.org/Images/Bomb%20Squad%20002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 297px;" src="http://www.spartanburgso.org/Images/Bomb%20Squad%20002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">... i never did see the bomb squad as very elegantly uniformed. This poor fellow looks like his head is being engulfed by a mutant venus fly trap. I shouldn't make fun. They save lives. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Apparently, a worried resident of the neighbourhood being sampled had thankfully made the decision to notify the authorities of the explosive device installed on the lamp post across the street. Naturally, the best of the best were called in, and they wasted no time plotting a strategy for making this neighbourhood a safe place once again... This meant disabling the unkown device.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Fully adorned in their protective gear (refer once more the the above picture. can'tstoplookingatitlol.), the team took all precautions, remembering their thoroughly rehearsed training. But, when it was deemed too dangerous to approach the device, a new strategy was adopted. They called upon the heavy machinery:</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.downtownbeatclassics.com/Web/June072008/Robot_cutout.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 104px;" src="http://www.downtownbeatclassics.com/Web/June072008/Robot_cutout.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">[they sent in Wall-E's cousin]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Using this technologically advanced robot, the team began their approach. Slowly, accurately, repeatedly, the offensive was taken as this sophisticated robot was commanded to toss water balloons one by one at the unknown device. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">As one of the water balloons struck the device and sent it hurling towards the ground, the squad braced themselves for the explosion. It didn't come. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Hearts beating fast, the team approached the apparatus, tools in hand, ready to rapidly diffuse the device, ready to cut the red wire, cut the black wire, thwart a terrorist ploy, to SAVE LIVES. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">The first of the team arrived at the spot where the apparatus landed, frantically looking where to being, quickly but carefully lifting the device and inspecting it. When the squad leader discovered the phone number to an engineering firm, he dialed it right away. He soon discovered that he and his team members had spent many long hours shrinking away from, escorting civilains away from, and hurling water balloons at... a sound measuring device? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">The good news is this. Were it not for these everyday-heroes, who knows what could have come from that unknown device? Who knows what terrible terrorist plot could have been followed through? How can we possibly repay them for the work that they have done in keeping our neighbourhoods dangerous-apparatus-free?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I actually have a lot of respect for bomb squads all around the world, and the work that they do. Their lives really are put on the line every day in their lives. This story was not meant to downplay anyone's line of work, or poke fun at certain people. It was just a fun, laughable misunderstanding. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But it does make me wonder how we got to this point. What has been happening lately that has brought us to constantly question our safety these days? It must be a pretty crappy world out there if a person was honestly led to believe that someone would choose an innocent neighbourhood as a bomb site. And that this person felt that it was necessary to notify the authorities. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've gotten pretty paranoid too, after having heard of some of the crazy things that have been happening. And i'll say it now, i probably would have donned one of those venus fly trap suits before going anywhere near that harmless sound measuring tool had i not known what it was. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Butistillfinditallfunny. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Song: Eat You Up - BoA. </span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-84953898554661128272009-03-05T18:15:00.000-08:002009-03-05T18:31:10.282-08:00crashpicture.<span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;">I'm a mentor!</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;">No i'm not... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The group picture for the Xavier Mentors was today. According to that picture, Ria and i are Xavier Mentors :D. We thought it would be fun to crash the picture-taking party. We weren't mistaken. Well, we both were Mentors last year so it wasn't a COMPLETE lie. I can't wait until the year book committee has to write out the captions for the picture, and them comes to our faces. "Uhmm... who the hell is that... and that?"<br /><br />This simple occurence brought to my attention my inability to keep up the busy schedule. School should always take priority. And it has, believe me it has. I've had to give up on a lot of things that i wish i were still doing to keep open time for homework, and working the job.<br /><br />Mentorship, Futsal, Soccer, Wrestling Club, Badminton, and (kinda Band). Have all taken the fall to keep me free for work. And i guess it was the right decision to have dropped them for the work, because if i were doing all of that, then my grades and performance in school would be MUCH worse than it is right now. But since i'm not getting 100% on nearly as many tests as i would like to, I can't help but feel like i'm not getting the return for the sacrifice. I'm a bit bitter.<br /><br />All of those things that i have had to drop, even though i might not want to admit it, were all at least a bit enjoyable for me. And i miss all of them. There's so many times in the day that i just think to myself that i wish i had more time to be able to do the things i want to do.<br /><br />My parents have already expressed multiple times their wishes for me to give up on wrestling. Because if i get injured during university because of wrestling, it would affect my work. And i don't deny it, in fact i completely agree with them. But it doesn't make it any easier to swallow. Any way i look at it, wrestling was an escape for me. I don't want to give it up.<br /><br />What i'm trying to say is, if i feel like i'm being starved of the extra-curriculars as of now, i'm gonna be crawling on my hands and knees in a year's time, lamenting. There's so much that i could have done if a day had twenty FIVE hours.<br /><br />It feels like i've been thinking a lot about time recently. I need to cut that out.<br /><br />Song: Can i Have This Dance - HSM3<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-70158964939734417282009-02-26T17:57:00.000-08:002009-02-26T18:52:15.965-08:00Februarypast.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It ran away behind my back...<br />Without me.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Time is passing so fast. It's the end of February, and i only realized that<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> a </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">few minutes ago when i was confirming the date of my piano competition.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the back of my head, i was still thinking that we were in the teens of black history month.<br /><br />Maybe it's because of all the things that keep us busy so often, but i have very little bearing on time these days.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Seeing that number 26 was a wakeup call for me. And then I realized that February only has 28 days, and then that woke me up even more.<br /><br />Having a lot of stuff to do eats time up like crazy. First of all, I waste time </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">worrying </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">about the things i have to do. And then i waste time <span style="font-style: italic;">stalling</span> so that i can put as much time between me and the thing i have to do. The thing that i have to do in itself comes along sooner or later, and for obvious reasons, that takes up quite a large part of the agenda. And then there's my absolute NEED for some kind of rebound period. I do this thing, where as soon as i've finished a big project, or assignment, i have to do something to reward myself. Whether it's a short game of cellphone-Sudoku, or a less-short-game of DOTA with the boys, it still takes up yet more time.<br /><br />When you take all of those things into consideration, and toss in the fact that February is the most important month of the wrestling calendar, the result is a completely baffled Justin.<br /><br />I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">scared</span> of time going out the window without my knowing. I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">horrified</span> of it. because i really don't want to be saying to myself in June; "I really didn't get to enjoy those last months of my highschool years". Actually, if school were to end right now, i <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> that's what i would be saying to myself (that's a do not want. donotwant.).<br /><br />So i guess i'm deciding to pay more attention to every day, instead of just looking ahead to that 2:25 bell.<br /><br />Song: Half Alive - Secondhand Serenade<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-25391089724467247442009-02-14T19:21:00.001-08:002009-02-22T18:18:42.271-08:00peejeethurteen(thezombiestory)prt.2.<div><em><span style="font-family:verdana;">Impossible odds. </span></em></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>annnnd.</em></span><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:verdana;">Wannabe Heroes.</span></em></div><em></em><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The door slammed shut the instant the four of us were out. The first step outside felt like the complete opposite of relief (whatever the word for that is. idunno.). </span><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In the street ahead of us, there were already dozens of zombies making their way towards the oasis. They must have known that some people had left the safehaven. And here's where it all starts to parallel with gears of war two.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We all hid behind the wall of sandbags, taking turns reloading, then giving cover fire, then targetting the bigger, more menacing zombies. Every once in a while, one of us would toss a grenade in, and 4 seconds later, we'd hear the zombies shrieking with rage.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">This all went on for around fifteen minutes, when it all finally slowed down, and the last zombie hit the ground. Our hearts still racing, we hopped over the barricade, avoiding stepping on one of the disgusting carcasses, and with great difficulty.<br /><br />It was about then, that we started to realize that the zombies were not all just of random form. We started to notice classes of zombies, ones that looked the same, acted the same, walked the same. Some of them even had special abilities. I remember there was one kind of zombie, it looked kinda like a floating-demon-cow-head with red eyes. And it had these tentacles coming out from behind of it that could latch on to a victim to induce hallucinations.<br />There were skinny, claw-armed zombies who could run ridiculously fast... and all different kinds. Again, it was extremely video-game-esque.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We made a run for it. We'd just finished fighting off a wave of them, and we didn't want another confrontation if it was possible. The mall was a long way off, and we needed to get there asap.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We kept running. Somehow, it seemed like all of the zombies had gone into hibernation, or we'd just scared them off, because everything was eerily silent, and there was not one in sight. And then we turned the corner.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was the city-center-square. A tall clock tower stood on the right hand side, and opposite was an old, deserted playground, surrounded by high brick walls. And opposite of us, was a mass of zombies so dense, it was impossible to tell how many there were. We turned around and rounded the corner, going the way we came from, but somehow, we'd be flanked. It was jam-packed with zombie-monsters as well.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sean lost it, and turned around, sprinting into the square with his army-style rifle firing into the fray. The rest of us headed in his direction as well, Glenn and I hanging back to give cover fire, but Kelly sprinting ahead, too worried to leave Sean to take the point by himself.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We were fighting for our lives, even though we knew we had no chance. We were pretty much just trying to take as many down with us as we could. But no matter how many we killed, more just climbed over the pile of bodies to have at us.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">For one second, Sean took his hand off of his gun to reload, and a hallucinator-demon flew at him from above, latching onto his temples, and resting on his head. Kelly raised her gun to try and rescue him, but realized that she might end up blowing his brains out. But as she too released her gun to try and bat away the demon, another one shot out of one of the dead zombie bodies and took away her consciousness. The pair fell to their knees, clawing at their hair, and shrieking like babies. It was like they'd instantly lost their sanity.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Glenn pulled out his pistol, blasting away the zombies that were converging on the couple, while i hung behind with my rifle still blazing, giving coverfire. Finally, Glenn was able to tear off the demons from their heads, and tossed them away, shooting them as the flew through the air.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">All the time we had lost had allowed for us to be almost completely surrounded. We had no choice but to fall back into the old playground... we were cornered. Now that the zombies were coming from every direction, it was even harder to fend them off as we fell back. And Sean nudged us backwards as he took the front of the line. "Go! I'll hold them off!" We turned around and booked it into the playground to find cover.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">He stood in the gate of the playground, his hand never leaving the trigger, belting out a frustrated roar at the never-diminishing numbers of monsters. No matter how many he took down, more continued to climb over the pile of bodies until they completely engulfed him. All we could see under the mass was repeated flashes, as Sean struggled. And then we heard him say "EFFF THISSS.", followed by the unpinning of a grenade. The zombies were thrown everywhere by the blast.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Kelly was helpless. We could see on her face that she was defeated, too tired to go on. She pulled out a grenade of her own, holding it high into the air, and running into the crowd of monsters, pulling the pin, and tears streaming down her face. There was a second explosion, but they just kept coming.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I was perched on top of the jungle gym with glenn behind it at the base, using the bars to rest his arms. There was no hope.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I fired off the last bullet that i had, and i threw my gun at the nearest monster, bringing it to the ground. As they surrounded me, i flailed, trying to throw them off, but it was no use. I made a last prayer for Glenn before everything went black.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">~~</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br />haha. what a weird dream.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Song: Wherever You Will Go - The Calling</span></p>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-33546850934522930072009-02-08T15:57:00.000-08:002009-02-10T18:21:07.066-08:00dinnerdance.<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Dressed up. Nervous as hell.<br />But proud and content.<br /></span><br />Just in case you don't know; I was recently informed that i was the winner of the annual scholarship awarded by my dad's company. It's given to four children of employees from anywhere in North America each year. There are more than 1000 applicants yearly.<br /><br />I was invited to the annual dinner dance that my dad's work holds each year, so that i could receive the scholarship and give an acceptance speech. When i was told this, it seemed harmless enough.<br /><br />But i found out later, that unlike i'd initially thought, there were to be not only 4 or 5 hundred people, and i was not to sit with just anyone...<br /><br />There were 1650 people in attendance that night at the Westin. Also, because of my "scholar status", me, both my parents, and Sally who agreed to accompany me that night, were placed on a table comprised of important-retired-people. Not to mention, the founder of the company was sitting at the table just next to us, with all of his high-roller friends.<br /><br />You can imagine that it was all a bit nerve-wracking.<br /><br />As soon as we arrived at the Westin, even just waiting in the lobby, my nerves were starting to take hold of me. Just seeing everyone all dressed up with heels, pearls, ties, bowties... It suddenly made the whole event real for me. And when we entered the banquet hall, i realized just how large an event this actually was.<br /><br />1650 people in my mind is nothing like 1650 people in real life. When i think of the number 1650, i think... that's less than the number of people in my school, and there's already not that many people in my school. But seeing 1650 people under dim lights in a banquet hall gives the feeling of something similar to a wave of crippling fear about to engulf me at any moment. Nevermind, it was that <span style="font-style: italic;">exact</span> feeling.<br /><br />Only a couple of minutes after we were in, the introductions began. I met just about every person i could imagine. The CEO, the founder, the MC, the organizer, my dad's old friends, and even a ton of people my dad had never even heard of before.<br /><br />I can't lie. It was extremely flattering to have a horde of impressive people praising me, telling me that they're impressed <span style="font-style: italic;">by me</span>. But that didn't make it any less awkward. I was constantly at a loss of words. I had no idea what to say to a person after they complimented me. Now, after thinking back, i <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> have no clue what i should have said. I didn't want to agree with them, because that seems narcissistic, i didn't want to disagree with them, because that would be unconfident, and i didn't want to say nothing, because that would just be rude.<br /><br />My vocabulary of the night consisted mainly of the following words:<br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Thank</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">You</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Very</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Much</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">It</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Was</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Nice</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Meeting</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">[You]</span></li></ul><span style="font-family: verdana;">Even later on, i started just belting out the same words even when i couldn't hear the people talking to me over the loud music.<br /><br />Regardless of how much my ego had been stroked, sitting at the table and just waiting for the time when i'd have to deliver my speech with the rest of the winners, was nothing short of difficult. It's a good thing that Sally was there to distract me. "You're gonna turn so red :D" , "You're gonna stutter so much :D". Surprisingly though, even with the truth in her comments, it was relaxing to have someone to chat with, and get out some of the nerves.<br /><br />Finally the time came when Mr. John James called up the winners so that we could be introduced. "Our first winner, Justin Hugh..." he trailed off into a list of my extracurriculars, and interests, while i held back the nerves. As soon as he finished his intro, and motioned for me to take the podium, I swallowed hard and then made my way to the podium. "Thanks for the intro, JJ" and then i continued on with my speech.<br /><br />I got exactly the response that i was hoping for. Some sincere laughs, and no background murmur, meaning that i actually had everyone's attention. When i finished my speech, i took my plaque, took the picture, and fell into the background.<br /><br />The rest of the night continued on, and i actually got to enjoy my dinner, now that i'd gotten over the hump. And it was quite nice to recieve even more compliments from people about my speech. Although, i feel a bit guilty that i've left the poor MC with a new nickname he probably doesn't like (i saw him multiple times that night talking to people, i didn't hear a single one call him anything else other than JJ, hehehefun.).<br /><br />It was a good night. Even with many of the awkward introductions, I came out of it actually feeling really good about myself. I mean, really good about myself. And although i wasn't able to mention it in my speech, i wanna thank all of you guys for being so supportive of me. I really do appreciate it.<br /><br />And i'd especially like to thank Sally for putting up with the same number of awkward instances to support me.<br /><br />Oh i forgot to mention the old couple i saw dancing. They danced to almost every single song, and they were like, 75. I hope one day my wife and I, at 75 will be dancing happily to Billy Jean at the company's annual dinner-dance.<br /><br />Cheers.<br /><br />Song: Tongue Tied - October Falls<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-29152681434807856752009-01-31T14:17:00.000-08:002009-02-01T13:10:30.091-08:00peejeethurteen(thezombiestory)prt.1.<div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Zombies. Monsters. Grenades.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Oasis. Guns. Barricades.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've been meaning to write this one up for about a week now. One night recently, i had just gotten home from a wrestling tournament, taken my hour long shower, and collapsed onto my bed only to fall asleep immediately. Whenever i am completely worn out, i always have really epic dreams. They end up feeling like a whole day in my mind, and they feel so real, that in my head, it never even crosses my mind that it might be a dream.<br /><br />Caution: the following is quite weird. (For some reason the entire thing took place in a setting which resembled Gotham city.) Come to think of it, it reminded me of this <a href="http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=oHg5SJYRHA0">Left 4 Dead clip</a> i saw on youtube.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So i had just finished school on a friday and everyone met up at the lockers. Sean, Kelly, Glenn and I had decided to go for a bite to eat, and then meet up with a bunch of friends at the mall.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So everyone split up. It was just us four together, and about an hour later, after we'd finished eating, we were walking in the streets. For some reason, it was ridiculously dark for that time of the day and the streets were REALLY quiet.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">All of a sudden, all the lights went out in all of the buildings around us, and the only light came from the dim streetlights. It was all really movie-esque. In fact i'm pretty sure this dream came mostly from movie scenes and a couple of video games.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Mutants appeared, and i choose the word mutants because these weren't just some ordinary zombies, they were all out arms-coming-out-of-their-eyes, forked-tongues, long-sharp-talons, glowing-red eyes and everything. The didn't look anything like humans rising from the dead, but for some reason in the back of my head i knew that those "mutants" were the product of a human infestation. It's weird how in dreams there's always these things that you </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">just know</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Scared poo-less, Sean, Kelly, Glenn and I fled before they saw us and headed straight to "Guns! Guns! Guns!" a nearby hunting store that Sean knew about thanks to his dad's hunting hobby. After a quick baseball bat to the window (don't ask me where it came from, there's a lot of continuity holes in my dreams. moretocome.), we slipped in and stocked up, filling our pockets with more than they could hold (literally. it'sadream). I think i had something like 6 handguns in the back pocket of my jeans. And a huge stock of ammo. I actually don't remember where i kept it... it was on me somewhere. And after me belting out an extremely cliche "lockandloadppl". We headed towards the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">oasis</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">which we knew existed somehow.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It was a helluva journey. The entire way there, the four of us moved in a tight formation, Glenn watching our backs, Kelly and I watching the flanks and Sean taking the point. It took us something like two hours to get to the oasis, having to deal with small groups of zombies rushing at us. By the time we got near the oasis, our ammo reserves were completely depleted, and we were lucky enough to be saved by a team of people armed to their chins with machine guns and ammo, taking cover behind a 5 foot wall of sandbags.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">As we ran towards them, bullets flew over our heads, mutants leaped at us from above, only to be answered with a flurry of bullets, and we ran with our eyes fixed forwards. Finally we clambered over the sandbag walls and into safety.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The oasis looked like something that had been built specifically for such a disaster. It was made of white marble, and shot high up into the sky, at least 20 stories high. It's white shine was impressive against the darkened day that surrounded it. It really did seem like a true oasis.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">As soon as we entered through the main portal, the entire atmosphere changed completely. The air wasn't heavy, or musty, it was crisp and cool. And when i started to really look around and take in what was surrounding me, i realized that it could have been a beached cruise ships. There were multiple restaurants everywhere, japanese, chinese, caribbean, and every kind of specialty food you could imagine. There were dining halls, music rooms, karaoke boxes, even wrestling mats. Being inside the oasis made everything that was happening outside disappear. And i just knew that there was enough food in the place to sustain it forever. You could just relax, and go on a permanent vacation, and you'd never have to even believe in such a thing as a mutant zombie. Most imporantly, the front portal was heavily guarded. Supply rooms spanned the entire area surrounding the door, and guards with guns bigger than themselves faced the door with an unwavering stare.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Us four were dirty, sweaty, and bloody. A nice woman showed us to a vacant room and we took turns washing up in the shower, and changed into fresh clothes that were given to us. When everyone had settled down, Sean and kelly were playing cards, Glenn was lying on the bed making shapes out of the patterns on the ceiling, and i was sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the streets, littered with mutant bodies, moving and lifeless alike.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My cellphone rang. I'd forgotten that i even had it with me. It was Sally.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Where are you guys? Do you even know what's going on? Everyone got split up at the mall, i'm with Ria, we don't know where anyone is."</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Wait, wait, calm down, are they there?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Whatever </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">they</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> are... yeah. They're everywhere"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The line went dead. By the looks on their faces, i could tell that the other three had pieced together the look on my face to figure out what had happened. I stood up and threw on my shoes, slamming the door behind me as i exited, only for it to reopen just a second later, with the three of them on my heels.</span><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;" ><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"We're going to help them, right?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I didn't even answer Kelly, i was too busy preparing myself for what us four would have to do. But she knew what my answer was.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The supply rooms beside the front entrance gate were much bigger from the inside than how they seemed from the out. For the second time within only a few hours, we loaded ourselves far past human capacity (again, carrying physically impossible amounts of weaponry in pockets, feltlikemasterchief). We were prepared within a couple of minutes, and made our way to the gate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The men there tried to convince us to stay within the oasis, and just wait for everything to pass. It was incredible how they could just let go of their whole worlds, and hide with their heads buried.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"I don't know how you can just sit on your asses here, while all of this is going on outside"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Isn't there a single person that you care about out there? You're leaving them to die."</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"We're not going to watch our friends die like you"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I forget exactly who said what, but Sean, Glenn and I sure told those guys off. They looked like they were completely disgusted with themselves as we walked out the door and into the dank, musty air...</span><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;">>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<< </div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />* okay so that's enough for part one. If i don't do this story in parts, you're all going to faint from boredom. There'll be more to come later. :D<br /><br />Song: Cut the Curtains - Billy Talent<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-26518949570002034082009-01-30T19:03:00.000-08:002009-01-30T19:25:42.934-08:00hecan'tbelieveit.<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">He's astounded.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">These types of things happen to others.<br /></span><br />He walked unlocked the door, and hobbled into the house, limping on his left leg. Every step he took sent a light jolt of pain through his calf, constantly reminding him of the muscle cramp that took him out of yesterday's wrestling practice near the end.<br /><br />He couldn't complain about being unhappy. Yes, out of four matches in one day, he'd lost two, but those were to two Ontario champions, both more experienced than him, both stronger, faster, and heavier. Besides, his other two matches made him proud enough to forget his losses for the day.<br /><br />"Hey bud, how was the tournament?"<br />"Same ol', same ol' "<br /><br />His dad smiling profusely in the background, he ignored the expression and threw open the fridge for something, anything, to kill his hunger. Soy milk. Thank God. It always hit the spot. Grabbing a glass, and pouring out more than a full serving, he tapped his foot on the ground, testing out his leg. As he began to wash his cup, he became aware that his dad was <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> smiling profusely.<br /><br />"One of my colleagues called me today."<br />"K."<br />"She's the president's secretary."<br />"K."<br />"And she called me"<br />"oookayyyyy."<br />"looking for you."<br />"who?"<br />"you."<br />"yoru?"<br />"your who?"<br />"not your who, yoruuuuu"<br />"NOT YORU, YOU."<br />"why..."<br />"well, she wanted to talk to you"<br />"why would <span style="font-style: italic;">she </span>want to talk to <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>"<br />"because."<br />"because WHAT dad?"<br />"you won the scholarship"<br /><br />His blank stare told his father that it had not yet processed in his brain. Five seconds later, a sound comparable to a train whistle let loose. Except it was him screaming, not a thousand pound instrument. As his cheer slowly died down, the reality only continued to sink in.<br /><br />All of those hard hours that he'd worked on his application had finally turned out to pay off. Of all the children of all the Hatch employees across North America, he could say with confidence he was at least the second most impressive according to the evaluation committee. Even that was a huge morale booster to him, without the money. Of course, the money was well welcomed.<br /><br />With a new energy, he raced upstairs, threw his two bags on the floor (one for wrestling, one for school. hellaheavy.), and raced back down, tripping at least thrice, but catching the railing each time. He grabbed the telephone receiver and dialed the familiar phone number he'd memorized by heart.<br /><br />"heyyyyyy siiiiissstaa."<br />"whut."<br />"guess what?"<br />"whut."<br />"i got the scholarship"<br />"awwww! Buddy, i'm so happy for you, good job!"<br /><br />Then he dialed out the other number he knew by heart.<br /><br />"heyyyyyyy brooooooo"<br />"whut"<br />"guess what?"<br />"CHICKEN BUTT"<br />"no, but close... i got the scholarship!"<br />"doooooooooood!"<br /><br />Content with himself, he treated himself to another well-deserved glass of soy milk. With a few simple conversations, his entire day had been turned around. No, his entire month. This one event lifted tons of weight off of his shoulders. Not only his, but his parents. Now they could enjoy at least a bit more of their money to themselves, and not have to use it up on their son.<br /><br />For him, this meant that he was much farther ahead of schedule with his savings, and it even meant a good chance at a summer job that he hadn't dreamed of getting offered until at least the end of his first year of university. It felt to him that things were starting to actually look up for him, for once.<br /><br />Finally, he smiled so wide, he felt like his cheeks would rip, and then hit his computer so as to blog away some of the overwhelming joy.<br /><br />yay :D<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">note: all preceding conversations were almost purely fictional. I just wanted to make them more interesting. And i haven't said "chicken butt" in years.<br /><br /></span>Song: I Hate This Part - Pussycat Dolls. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-5830380447209761692009-01-09T18:44:00.000-08:002009-01-13T19:10:48.210-08:00abreathoffreshair.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">After a long run of withdrawal, i've finally gotten my fix.<br />A shame it's a little bit late.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Heart Lake Secondary School</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">i</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">n Brampton. The home of the Hurricanes. Their wrestling team is very well known in the wrestling community as one of the largest, and one of the more successful teams. In fact, three years ago, two of their grade nine boys took Ontario championship titles. That's a nearly unheard of feat.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Probably due to their impressive rap, Heart Lake's annual "Hurricane Hammer Wrestling Tournament" hauls out the second most wrestlers in the region of peel every year. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's no surprise that the tournament runs from 8:30 AM to about 6:30 PM. With around 600 wrestlers, that's still impressive time.<br /><br />Knowing all of this, the night before the meet, the gears were still turning fast in my head even when my body was ready to take a rest. All i could think about was what was going to happen the next day, what i didn't want to happen, what i wouldn't let happen, and what i would beat myself up for letting happen. Unfortunately, each of these topics were jam packed with substance and i didn't find sleep until around 2 AM.<br /><br />Walking into a wrestling meet for me is always like being hit by a train. As soon as those gym doors open and you cross the threshold, the atmosphere changes dramatically. First of all, it physically changes (this is a kinda gross part, i'm warning you. nastysrsly.). Because of the huge numbers of wrestlers present, all pushing themselves hard on the mats, trying to stay warmed up for their match, the gym always feels like a sauna. A mixture of a ton of body heat, and like sweat in the air. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nasty i know. </span>But nothing gets me more pumped up for a wrestling match than that kinda atmosphere. Secondly, the mental atmosphere changes too. Contrary to what you would think, everyone is generally in a pretty damn good mood at wrestling tournaments even though half of them are about to get their face ground into the mat. These two things combined are what i'm always preparing myself for the night before every meet, but it still knocked me off my feet when i opened those doors on Thursday.<br /><br />Since i had gained upwards of 6 pounds over the break, i'd tragically pushed myself up into the next weight class. So when i looked at my bout sheet (it tells you who you're going to face, and when. boutsheet), i didn't know a thing about any of the people in my category... a change from knowing every single person on the sheet like usual.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The first match</span> was against a tanked white guy with a tattoo and bigger arms than my legs. I honestly do not know how i could have possibly weighed as much as him but i wasn't so concerned about that so much as not getting my collarbone crushed when we locked up for the first time after the referee blew his whistle. Luckily for me, he was a rookie meaning i had a good technical advantage, and i was faster. After a round of 8-2 in my favour, i was feeling pretty good, and even though i had to continue backing away, i managed to take him down twice, and finish with a pin for the second round. That first win of the day made me feel pretty darn good.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The second match</span> was against another guy with a similar build to the first guy, but he had longer hair. Again, my strength was really not my advantage, and i kept pretty far away from him, and lunged in for a shot when he tripped up. It was actually a really fun match, i used a bunch of different moves and even cross-ankled him three times in a row for the second round and match win.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The third match </span>was not quite as good as the first two. I had been preparing myself mentally like mad for this one, because had i won it, i would have earned my way into the finals of my category, guaranteeing myself at least a silver medal. The first round was one of the most epic rounds of my life. The guy i faced (Sam. areallyniceguy), dealt with my setups really well and built off of one of my mistakes, leading to a nice trip and taking me down for one point. I had to defend pretty hard against his attempts to tilt me on the ground for two points. When the ref called us to stand back up, the score was 1-0 in his favour, and so i was desperately in need of points. Knowing this, i starting shaking him up and moving him around, looking for an openeing. Eventually i found it, and took him down as fast as i can for my one point. The ref awarded me my point with <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">one second</span></span> left on the clock. And though the score was 1-1, since i was the wrestler to have scored the last point, i won the round. The second round began pretty well for me. Since i knew how he wrestled from the first round, i knew how to act, and react, but i got too cocky, and made a move when he was still on balance. He picked up on my mistake and made me pay for it. Pinned me and won the entire match.<br /><br />You could imagine i was pretty depressed after having lost when i was so close to my goal. But i realized that it was a fair match, and there really was nothing i could do now but shoot for the bronze. And i did.<br /><br />I was pretty damn pissed. I threw all that energy into my next two matches, and they were easy as pie.<br /><br />The first guy, before the match was talking to his friends about who he was going to be facing (me. ofcourse.). I like to kinda scope out my competition before my matches since i have nothing else better to do, and so i overheard the conversation. I ended up seeing him nod in my direction and then scoffing to his friends as if i would be an easy match up.<br /><br />I made him cry.<br /><br />No exageration. With his chin locked in my elbow, and my other arm bending his leg back to almost touch his head, he was lucky i wasn't holding on to his arm so as to not allow him to tap out like i usually do against the people that piss me off. Ohhhhhh how satisfying his grunt of pain and tears of shame were to me. The ref had to pull me off of him, and he shrunk away from me when we had to shake hands at the end of the match. Even his coach had a look of satisfaction on his face when i went over to shake his hand, and his remark "good job, Justin" really put the cherry on top of it all.<br /><br />I promise i'm usually not this sadistic, but i don't tolerate people judging me on my wrestling ability just by looking at me, and before we've even entered the ring. I think i can safely say i made him eat his words.<br /><br />The final match was for the bronze medal, and there was no way i was going to lose this one. The guy i was facing, decided he would try to psyche me out by flailing his arms all over the place and almost dancing around me. It makes me laugh every time i watch the video of this match because i was just standing there, like a rock, staring at him, and as soon as he made a move, i grabbed his chin, threw him to the ground and pinned him. It was all over in about 20 seconds.<br /><br />So. At the end of the day. Even though i came out with <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">just</span></span> a bronze medal, i'm pretty proud of myself. I outwrestled two wrestlers who were <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">much</span></span> stronger than me by relying on my skill and speed, i made a last minute comeback, i taught a jerk a lesson, and i didn't allow someone to scare me on the mat. It was a good day.<br /><br />To me, the medal really isn't just an award, it's actually more of a souvenir, and a reminder of everything that happened at this Heart Lake meet. The fights that i had. And that's a good thing because i don't want to forget them.<br /><br />untilnexttime<br /><br />Song: Headstrong - Trapt<br /><br />PS. I have videos of every match that day, i just have to get a hold of them from various people. They'll probably be uploaded on facebook when i do. (it'll be nice to have some videos of me not losing on the internet for once. idowin.)<br /><br />Here's some of the videos:<br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=44968498215&subj=512318215#/video/video.php?v=44968253215">Match 2, Part 1</a><br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=44968498215&subj=512318215#/video/video.php?v=44968408215&ref=nf">Match 2, Part 2</a><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-9184789299466398722009-01-02T10:53:00.000-08:002009-01-03T08:57:27.560-08:00timber.<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It came down like a flash of lightning.<br />In a second all the glory and splendor was absent.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">My christmas tree. It was more than a little bit depressing to see it come down. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">And here's a confession: while i SHOULD have been helping pack away the ornaments, or heaving up the giant tupperware boxes for the lights, or sweeping the floor of stray scraps of garland, i was simply hiding in the back ground and just thinking. Thinking about all of this stuff:<br /><br />A christmas tree almost always takes a much longer time to set up than to take down. Even though you have to search for all the right boxes and spots in which all the ornaments should be carefully placed, and there's extra cleaning to be done, i could swear we finished in half the time it took us to put the thing up. My hypothesis is that it all has to do with the attitude.<br /><br />When the tree is being put up, everyone is nostalgic. We all take time to look at those ornaments we so dearly missed, and that remind us of the time that we ate way too much ice cream cake at Aunty Eileens the previous year. Or the giant ball ornament that doesn't even fit on your tree because your piano teacher's husband decided to go a little bit overboard three years ago. But you're thankful... My point is, all that time spent standing back to admire each and every segment of the tree takes up quite a bit of time.<br /><br />And then there's the fact that it actually has to look good. Kevin and i spent about an hour just putting the lights on the tree. First of all, the stupid outlet was seemingly a mile away, with large buffet cabinets filled with fragile china, and various other objects. And then, after having dressed her all the way up to the neck, we realized that the other lights were a different colour than the first set. So if we continued on like that, we'd end up with a white bottom and a coloured head. It wouldn't have looked good. So we stripped her right down and started all over again. And then we realized that everything was tangled and one set of lights did not work, so we stripped her down all over again. Luckily the next time, we were successful. I wouldn't go so far as to say it looked good. But it was acceptable.<br /><br />I'm also guessing that since the christmas tree is somewhat the symbol for the beginning of the season, to me it's kind of a time to savour. It's a good feeling putting up the tree no matter how tedious it is. And no matter how ugly i'm beginning to realize a lot of the ornaments i've made are.<br /><br />Alternatively, in the removal of the tree, this sense of nostalgia has already faded away, and the action represents the ending of our holdiays. It's not quite something that one would like to draw out. It was actually pretty sad to see all the ornaments back in their boxes, the tree on the floor ready to be packed away (it's a fake tree. muchcheaper.).</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's really a shame that holidays are coming to an end but in a way i guess it's a good thing. I've been getting incredibly lazy and played around way too much. I'm sure a bit of school work will be good for me. Maybe get back into the good work habits. Not to mention it will be nice to see everyone at school again. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Hopeyourholidayswereawesome.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Song: Collide - Howie Day<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-7217199564660124012008-12-27T18:04:00.001-08:002008-12-30T19:17:41.731-08:00fourjuicyworms.<div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>Fingers crossed, pulse racing, penny at the ready.</em></span></div><em><span style="font-family:Verdana;">High hopes, pessimist predictions, some guilty amusement. </span></em><br /><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></em> </div><div> </div><span style="font-family: verdana;">At one of my family xmas parties, we played one of those games where everyone brings a present, and then everyone walks away with one. I'm not sure what it's called actually, it's not quite secret santa, but similar. Anyhow, since i wasn't too keen on walking out of there with one of the 7 clock radios that people had brought, or any of the bottles of wine or champagne for fear of giving relatives the wrong idea, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">and</span> since the "Dark Knight" dvd, $20 Tim Horton's card, and sony headphones had all been permanently claimed, i was left with one choice. A pack of four lottery scratch tickets, and chocolate chip cookies.<br /><br />Before i'm accused of being a gambler, i'm going to explain myself. If you don't know, i'm a cookie fiend, a chocolate fiend, and a chip fiend. So it would make a ton of sense that i chose the chocolate chip cookies. Right? The scratch tickets were just a bonus, <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">and</span></span> a potential fifty <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">thousand</span></span> big ones. Plus, it wasn't my money either, i couldn't lose.<br /><br />I lost. Well two of the four. I ended up winning two dollars on one card, and four dollars on the other card. So half of them i won. But the cost of all the four tickets together was ten bucks. I'm pretty glad it wasn't me who paid for them. The ironic thing is, that both of the wins that i got, were on the cheaper $2 cards as opposed to the more expensive $3 ones.<br /><br />I officially have a tiny bone to pick with Keno (the cards that i lost on. boounfun.). For those of you who don't know how Keno works (ie. me a couple of days ago. it'ssimple.), this is how:<br />You have a bank of about twenty numbers, and underneath those twenty numbers, about ten lines of random numbers, the first line with two numbers, the second with three, and so forth. As the line increases in number of numbers, so does the prize for that line. For every line you win, you get the money prize. As you scratch off the numbers in your twenty number bank, you scratch them off in the lines, and you hope for the best.<br /><br />Now the reason i've got <span style="font-style: italic;">beef</span>... is this. They gave me false hope. On <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">both</span> of the tickets, i was <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">one </span></span>number away from winning the jackpot. That was potentially two times fifty thousand. It's like i was the fish and they were dangling that big juicy worm right in front of my face. But i guess that's how they get everyone else to bite, right?<br /><br />As for now, i'm pretty sure I won't be a big time gambler anytime soon. I've come to appreciate the amount of time i need to work for my money quite a bit, too much to just throw it away.<br /><br />My older brother went to the casino last weekend, and actually came out 80 bucks over! I'm pretty impressed. I get too excited over things to be able to keep a cool enough head to gamble properly. I'm one of those people who get so excited over one win that i'd throw a thousand on the table in hopes of another big one. Good thing my brother's not like me. Calm and cool's the way to go.<br /><br />I guess gambling is pretty much all about knowing when to quit. Sometimes, it's cutting your losses, and sometimes it's about calling enough, enough. Even though too much of it is most definitely a bad habit, it seems like there's a lot to be learned from gambling. A lot of times, i really wish that i had better self control.<br /><br />One of these days, maybe i'll just get lucky and win the 649. Oh what i wouldn't do with 67 million. I know the first thing would be to grab a venti peppermint mocha and a mint brownie at starbuck's without feeling guilty. That would be nice.<br /><br />For all of you, good luck with any gambles you encounter, but heed my warning. Even in those four tiny chump change scratch card games, it was hella fun.<br /><br />maybenexttime.<br /><br />If I Had a Million Dollars - The Barenaked Ladies.<br /></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-35027217120604072902008-12-22T20:13:00.001-08:002008-12-25T21:09:46.707-08:00vroomzoomvroom.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For the thousandth time.<br />Sorry to the bunch of you who already know the story.<br /><br /></span></span><span><span style="font-family:verdana;">A couple of weeks back i had just returned home from a long wrestling meet at which i had busted my lip, got my ass thrown all over the mat and stubbed my toe quite hard on a moronically placed step (it was probably actually me who was the moron for kicking it. badjustin.). Furthermore, on the bus ride home, i was subjected to long rants from a person who will remain unnamed about their various ex-girlfriends who (sorry, but it's true. mybad.) probably do not exist and therefore do not interest me. </span></span><span><span style="font-family:verdana;">That on its own really wouldn't have bothered me that much, but having already had a pretty bad day, and being tired as hell, requiring vast amounts of shut-eye... iwaslivid<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /></span></span><span><span style="font-family:verdana;">When i parked my unreliable car on the driveway, i realized that one of the others was gone.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>And so i assumed that one of my parents were out. I was half right. I quickly realized due to the lack of delicious scents wafting my way from the kitchen, computerized gunshots and dramatic voices announcing a <span style="font-style: italic;">KILLING SPREE</span>, that <span style="font-style: italic;">both </span>of my parents happened to be absent. The first thoughts that went through my mind were:<br />1.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ohnoes.i'mnotgoingtohaveahugetastydinnertomakemefeelbetteraboutgettingmyasskickedtoday.<br /></span>2.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />ohnoes.i'mnotgoingtohaveagamingbuddyintheofficeforwheni'mplayingdota.<br /></span></span>Fortunately, i am quite a trooper and i survived without them (i ate cereal for dinner. notacook.).<br /><br />I guess i was too busy beating myself up for having done craptacularly at the tournament, or too involved in my game of dota to ask myself what exactly my parents were up to. In my mind they were just "out".<br /><br />All of these things just kind of built up a quite down and depressed mood for me, and just as i was headed off to bed, my parents came in the door, with huge grins on their faces.<br /><br />"Justin, we bought a car. Automatic, Mazda3sport."<br /><br />umm...<br /><br />Funny how a mood can just be torn to pieces in just a split seconds. I've had many moments like that before. I could be having the best of days; I just ate a cookie, i got up without feeling tired, the sun is shining... and then i get my math test back from last week. When that happens... everything else just falls away and that stupid test just consumes my mind.<br /><br />or,<br /><br />I could be licking away at my rolo caramel chocolate swirl sugar cone, i'm watching an episode of DBY, Rainie is smiling away... and then i drop the stupid ice cream on the floor.<br /><br />Bliss turns into pissy quite quickly, but apparently, as proven by that day, pissy can be reverted to bliss as well.<br /><br />"weboughtacar."<br /><br />It took me about a full half minute to register that sentence in my mind. And even when i did, i heard it like this:<br /><br />"weboughtYOUacar."<br /><br />I was most definitely not expecting this surprise considering the crappy day i was having, but all those negative thoughts and worries were shredded up in an instant by this new arrival. After a bit of inquiry, i found out that my parents hadn't planned on buying the thing that day either. Musta been some really good salesman there, my father isn't easily swayed.<br /><br />So i drove the car for the first time on monday. I tell you, for someone who's been driving a van that's as old as him (that's right, a 1991 Toyota Previa. mytrustyvan.), driving a decent car feels like you're floating on a flying nimbus cloud. Except this one had a gas pedal. It's a shame though, that the shiny, shiny exterior got all caked in slush and dirt. damnyouwinter.<br /><br />I was originally gonna throw this post up the day after the news, but my dad had this great idea; that he wouldn't tell my sister or brother about the car, and let them find out themselves when they go into the garage. So, for fear of one of the two stumbling upon this little post and ruining the whole shabam, i just waited.<br /><br />You should have seen their faces when they saw the car. Neither of them had a look of surprise like you'd expect, but more one of confusion. One that said "what the hell is that thing doing in our garage? but ohh... it's sexy."<br /><br />that'sit.<br /><br />Song: Shut up and Drive - Rihanna<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /></span></span>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8057898952029839279.post-72806578779473129742008-12-10T21:28:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:29:51.343-08:00chapterone.revised.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Book Antiqua"; panose-1:2 4 6 2 5 3 5 3 3 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-CA;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";">Chapter 1: Abandon<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span>She sat in silence. The only sound was the piercing crackle of the fire before her. The flames danced like miniature crimson whips in the night, softly illuminating her young, tired face. At first, she was still, but finally she let loose a great sigh, willing the sorrow to exit her body. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span>The old iron gate that lay at the foot of the mountain was one of the two entrances to the village, its opposite border leading into the desert. On either side of the gate, a living wall of great oaks and vines spanned outwards beyond the reach of the eye, impenetrable by anything larger than a squirrel.<span style=""> </span>In the tops of the trees ran multiple planks of wood tied down by thick cords, creating an intricate network of lookouts and posts. Ropes and vines were knotted here and there to allow mobility between the different levels of the network. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";">She glanced behind her through the open gate into the village, as if to verify that it was deserted, but she already knew she would find no one. It was wonderful, but saddening to see the village, that was usually teeming with energy in a state like this; completely empty and abandoned. Old barrels lay on their sides, doors were left open, broken crates littered the dirt street. And nothing moved. It was as if time had stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span><i style="">Just hours earlier, it was children that had filled the streets and cats and dogs that were lain on their sides, their tongues suspended from their mouths, panting in the heat of the fine summer day. But the peace had been interrupted by the scout who ran like a wildcat through the open gates and into the village, searching frantically for the mayor. When he finally found him, he relayed his message as best as he could, being breathless from journey. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span>“I’ve come from the valley post. We’ve sighted a team of Gor making their way over the far mountain top. They are heading in our direction!” <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span>Immediately a council was called into meeting and the elders of the village congregated in the city centre. Around them, the people buzzed with confusion, speculating at what could have occurred to require a council.<span style=""> </span>The mayor took his spot, standing upon the gigantic tree stump, towering above the people that looked to him for answers. He took a moment, and then addressed the crowd with a booming, commanding voice. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span>“The Gor from the West are heading towards us. They are unfamiliar with our terrain, and were seen a far distance off, so, the mountain and forest will slow their advance, but we are still left with only hours <span style=""> </span>before they will arrive here. We cannot stand and fight. Our only option is to flee to the east. We do not have much time. Gather only what you need and we will leave immediately..” <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";"><span style=""> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua";">She looked to the hills, where a ripple of movement was passing quickly through the trees. But the wind was not blowing. Suddenly the realization set in. <i style="">They have arrived s</i>he thought to herself as tremors of fear shot through her body, shaking her to the core. She reached for her lance and took hold of it. The cool steel slipped comfortably into her grasp. With her lance pointed the night sky, she looked to the mountaintop, ready.<br /></span></p>Song: Lies - Billy TalentJustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07330460986422858373noreply@blogger.com0