This is a blog post…I think…? I don’t even know what this is but it has colours! HOORAY! Colours are the best! This title is LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG: A blog post by a 22 year old kid who hasn’t slept in a while and is sick and had to do exam and is now done school hahahahahaaaaaa…pizza.

Just finished my exam…gah. This cold is really starting to get on my nerves. I could barely think straight and unfortunately I had to be that jerk who sniffles and coughs every other minute. Yikes…I’m just glad it’s over.

That’s it for this semester. I can work on MY stuff again. No more teachers, no more books…oh right I’m pretty much a teacher now huh. Guess I can’t say that. I can barely remember how that saying goes.

There are these really awesome mugs at Chapters right now that are for teachers and I really want one, but like I’m just starting teachers college. I mean…I’m a teacher in training right? I can totally have a mug. I taught singing lessons before…and I do tutoring and stuff. I’m basically a teacher already. I think I should get a mug for my graduation present. This is a hint. You know who you are. Graduation. Mug. Chapters. The one I held up and shoved in your face and was like “YOU SHOULD TELL YOUR PARENTS TO BUY ME THIS” even though we have the same parents. I mean YOU kid. It is your duty to make sure I get that mug okay? Don’t fail me friend…or you will be demoted back to normal sibling status.

Everyone else reading can ignore that…ha…ha…ha….I haven’t slept properly in like two weeks and had to wake up early this morning for my exam even though I couldn’t sleep all night. I think I’ll have lunch and go to bed now. This post is just getting sloppy eh?

Oh no my inner Canadian has been unleashed! EHHHHHHH!

I have problems….I think this stupid cold thingy is messing with my brain or something. I’m laughing waaaaay too much. This is how I type when I’m talking to my buddies. I don’t have many friends actually. My best friends consist of my siblings and my six year old niece. I’m very popular…with elementary schoolers. I’m the teacher that draws stuff. Cats, people, cars, pizza…I’m that teacher. They think I’m lying that I’m not a famous artist. I’ve never won an art competition. My sister did. Twice. She writes comics. She’s a cool kid. She might be 10% cooler than me which is hard to admit…but I’m really nerdy and spend my time eating cereal and watching cartoons…while she watches people livestream stuff. Livestreaming is cool I guess…but people always stream when I’m in class for some reason. Least the people I care to watch. I’m totally almost a full fledged adult cause I can cook for myself…like real food…like I can make steak and potatoes and stuff….and I know how to clean stuff both properly and the cheat way that you clean when your parents are suddenly dropping by…and I do laundry good and I can like buy groceries and stuff. I’m like almost an adult. I just don’t want to be that adult like yet. Like being an adult is so much work. Like I’m not supposed to start every sentence with like. And I can start sentences with and because that’s bad grammar but you know what I have a degree thingy now that says I know how to read and write good so HA! I can start sentences with and and but and all the three letter words of disapproval that would’ve gotten me really bad marks if someone was marking them and stuff. And I can say STUFF! WOO! School is over. SCHOOL IS DONE…and…and guess what? GUESS WHAT!

I have pizza.


Um…so the author of this blog has totally lost their marbles…and will be needing a mental break for like the next 24 hours before…as in they should eat, sleep and get their sanity back for the rest of the day. This is what happens when you’re over stressed and then the stressful stuff is finally over.

–R (the still sane portion…the other half of me…my alter ego…yah they left the moment they remembered that they made pizza last night and have leftovers)

Why is everything so colourful…?

Okay. Bye.

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Hopes and Fears

In our lives there will always be hopes and fears popping in and out of our heads. Some nights they dance about as I try to shut my eyes and scatter about the room as I toss and turn, trying to settle my mind. When I wake up I’m in a daze before they come rushing back.

I try to wake up feeling excited versus anxious, about the things to come. I try not to think of the ever-growing list of things I need to do for the day and take my time getting ready. Still by the time I realize I’m running behind schedule, these hopes and fears are there waiting by the door. I try to keep them locked up but they must have figured out how to climb through the window.

No matter. I can always stick my headphones in and ignore them. The music will drown them out…although I do like the hopes very much, so I let them dance while I walk to the rhythm of the morning. They’re warm like the sun and brush gently across my skin. They make my heart pound heavily, but the heaviness is nice…it lets me know that I’m still alive and as I get lost in my hopes I pull out my phone and suddenly fear sinks its teeth into me.

Being late, not having things done, forgetting something back at home…all of the little fears that poke and pick at me throughout the day. Sometimes it’s easy to ignore them and other times I can’t. I think about kicking them, or stomping on them…but at the same time being so carefree isn’t always a good thing. Things need to get done. I have places I need to go, people I need to meet, work I need to finish…and the ever-growing list of little fears pushes me to get them done. My heart races when the fears start to slither about. They slip between my ankles, wrap around my throat…they nearly suffocate me…and yet I’m still alive.

My hopes¬† tug at me and my fears start to pull back. Both clawing at my arms and legs and face. I can’t seem to decide which way to go, so I sit in the grey…and I wait. I procrastinate. I pretend everything is nothing, and that nothing is everything. It’s a numb place to be, and very boring…there’s no music or colour. There are no hopes and no fears…so I let them back in and let the battle begin, until night-time comes again and I begin to dream.

Up in my Noggin

Even when there’s no pen in my hand, or a keyboard at my finger tips, I find myself creating stories of all kinds: the socially awkward boy, who skipped out on prom because he didn’t get a date. The loyal fish. The artist who dropped his sandwich.

Random yes…but all make me laugh, cry and wonder why I spend so much time up in my noggin, versus doing what needs to be done. I suppose this storytelling¬†is a form of procrastination…but whatever, there’s never a dull moment up there. Especially when my thoughts end up with a foreign accent while I narrate, and colourful pictures start flashing before my eyes.

Yep…imagination is fantastic…and yes, I am sane. I just have an overactive imagination.

Hope everyone enjoyed their weekend.

–R.