magicinmyshoes

After three years of breathing pretty clean air, Stanley Park, busses with a schedule, bikes, constant rain, awesome sunsets, mountains, green, local music, CBC, free shows, festivals, silence, school, and very nice and awesome people, yours truly will be going home to see mamma and pappa and sistahs.

Albeit, I’ll have to wait till mid-August, but I just decided I should post this on the internet to strangers that I’ll probably never meet. ‘Cause only my family knows about my trip back. No really, if my friends from high schools had cared about me through these three years, they could have used Facebook for more than changing their relationship status and posting pictures of themselves (and oh goodness, stop manipulating their pictures - just because it’s kind of blurry and horrible unsaturated doesn’t mean that it’s safe for the human eye!).

But yeah. Home.

The slow and painful path to finding out that, underneath the results of being a couch potato, muscles exist.

And they are inflicting pain on you because you forgot about them for too long.

Far too long.

I found this on the second copy of Will Grayson, Will Grayson that I’ve bought. It’s for my sister who can’t seem to let go of vampires/werewolves/hunters kind of books. Not criticising the books, but a little bit of variety won’t hurt her. Much.

Dear Nerdfighter who left this note on a Will Grayson, Will Grayson copy at the Book Warehouse on Davie St., you are awesome.

The movie, you know?

I know most people consider it a romantic movie and all of that…

BUT DUDE

Almost everybody dies. And then the dude also dies (not even sorry for that spoiler, might as well brace yourself for the moment), and then more tragedy…

Nightmares, the movie gives me nightmares. 

A friend made me watch it the other night. We had argument before hand because there was no way in the world I was going to watch the movie in 3-D. Now, if the 2-D version of the movie only gives me nightmares, imagine 3-fracking-D.

So I am now gathering up courage to see the last instalment of the Twilight things. ‘Cause I am THAT good as a friend. (And because they’re paying for me and getting me pop corn and candy.)

Creative writing, that is.

People thought I’d make a career out of it. Heck, it got to the point where I considered either an English or a Creative Writing major (sssssshhhh it, right there.) But technically, I haven’t stopped writing. I mean, I now write papers on media and democracy, and globalization, human rights and world economics. The regular stuff.

And I’m kind of fine with it.

Yes, I miss writing about anything but what other people have said, and I could do it in my spare time, when I’m not procrastinating, but it doesn’t really happen. I could, but I don’t. It just doesn’t come out naturally anymore. And I’m still fine with it.

I don’t even know if I’m on the right career path because heck, every time somebody asks what I want to do after I graduate (or grow up, whatever comes out first), I really can’t answer it. Yes, I’d like to save the world and everything that makes super heroes super - except the beating the crap out of bad guys/gals part because chances are, I’d stop, drop and roll, and then maybe go into fetal position and cry myself to sleep. But really, you can’t always get you want.

And if I knew what I wanted, I wouldn’t be wondering, especially on a blog post, which might or might not be read by actual human beings. Hey, you’d never know whether cats can actually read because all they say is fracking meow. And sometimes they hiss. And sometimes they purr. Fine, cats scare me. Sometimes I think they’re trying to take over the world with their cuteness and fluffiness. Very scary.

Lesson learnt: None yet. Except that I don’t regret the path I’ve taken so far. I’ve met awesome people, and discovered the wonders of not procrastinating all the time, though this doesn’t mean that I do, either. I’ve also discovered the whole being able to laugh ordeal. That’s probably the best thing I’ve discovered so far. Laughter.

I love teachers. 

There. I said (typed) it. Teachers are awesome. 

I would never try to tell that to their faces because, dude, street cred and all.

Granted, sometimes you wonder if one of them is going to fall asleep before you do during a class. But, from time to time, there were those teachers who kept you awake and encouraged to not suck that bad in their class… And there were those exceptional times when you had a teacher who just inspired you to do something. Anything. 

I had teachers of every kind back when I was in Peru. My Physics teacher was so entertaining that I was very thankful that his class was at 8am, so I could have a nap, courtesy of his class. My socials teacher thought that Pearl Harbour was a pretty good film on WWII, and that Wikipedia was extremely reliable. My biology teacher thought that our class would be interested on how she had to go the hospital to get her nail cut because I had grown too long and had taken over her flesh. My chem teacher had such a weird moustache that I paid more attention to it rather than his class. My English teacher never found out why we called her Shakira. My math teacher made me sympathise with numbers, but numbers didn’t really sympathise with me. My religious studies teacher (aka, Catholicism studies - yes, I went to a Catholic school) was a priest. My Chinese teacher could not speak Spanish, so really there wasn’t any point in trying to teach us Mandarin. My psychology teacher was a bit psycho. My literature could never bring herself into saying ‘Shrek’ or ‘Shakespeare’ more than 3 times in a class because they never sounded like they were supposed to sound. My computing teacher thought I was really good with computers and programs and all of that - and they’ll never find out why one their PCs died. My graphic design teacher reassured me that I could draw - I proved her wrong. My home ec teacher thought I was a great cook - I mistook salt for sugar and ruined the entire dish. 

My teachers never told me they’d give up on me, and I’m glad they never did. Yes, even in the science department, where I really was just a lost cause. Never understood Physics, I still don’t, and probably never will. But at least my teachers tried to make me understand everything I couldn’t, and it is this process of trying and failing (sometimes miserably) that has gotten me into the way I am today. It was because of my teachers’ hope that we’d learnt something (anything, really) from them that kept them doing what they did.

But, most importantly, they taught me how to bicker and banter and complain and complain some more. I LOVE to complain. If there was a job entirely for complaining, I’d get it in the blink of an eye. I. JUST. CAN’T. HELP. IT. And, believe it or not, I also learnt this from my teachers. At least from those whom I actually talked to. 

Whenever there was something wrong, they encouraged me to speak up. Heck, they encouraged me to SPEAK UP. Before my last three years of high school, me and raising my hand did not match. Speaking up was more of a matter of fainting or not fainting to me. I really hated it. But my teachers knew that I should share my ideas with the rest of the class (who frankly didn’t really care). But they were there. And that really is what I want to do with my life - give people a voice.

My point is: TEACHERS ARE IMPORTANT; THEY’RE HIGHLY INFLUENTIAL. 

If you think that education matters, then fund it. I know you have to bleach your teeth and pollute the environment a little bit more just to see how fast polar bears are going to drown, but FUND EDUCATION. 

I will probably never understand why politicians tend to cut fund for either the education sector or the health sector or even both whenever they’re a bit freaked out about budget deficits. Dude, you brought it upon yourself for being overconfident, now deal with it. I mean, do you really need to have a salary that doubles the teachers’? Do you really think you can be more influential than those human beings in front of the classroom, trying to teach kids and youth how the world around them works? Aren’t you even the least worried about the fact that teachers might love what they do? Do you really care about citizens more than your own bank account? Or the relationship you’re holding with a certain microwavable-kitty killer? *cough* Harper *cough* Have you actually asked teachers what they need to improve education? How you even bothered to ask what students are expecting from their teachers? How you TRIED to imagine the way that students are suffering because you have decided to turn a blind eye on them? Do you care at all?

Dear Christy Clark, thank you for turning education into a game.

Dear students, thank you for studying. Now, try to take advantage of it as much as you can, for it might not last long.