So!

School has caught up in it's unnerving way, which probably accounts for the significant lack of updates.

I set myself the goal of not achieving a mark under 100% for the month of September- not too ambitious, I hope- and managed to maintain it......well, at least until Monday of this week when I received a chemistry quiz mark that broke, nay shattered my previous record.

In the words of someone who heard of this, frowning at all that is pathetic about my goal, "Do I hate you?"

No! You don't!

Well, hopefully anyways.
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When I was at Costco- the place of all that is good- the other day, I happened to notice a father and his son. The father looked benevolent, protective, wearing what seems to be the uniform of young fathers- a plaid shirt tucked neatly into pants. The little kid looked innocent enough, still sucking his thumb despite his age. The only aberration amidst the entire tableau, the reason the pair had drawn my eye in the first place, was that the father was wearing one of those "HELLO! , My name is.." tags.

Scrawled in bright, red letters was "SATAN".

Who does that? With his kid no less? Maybe he just wasn't being subtle.
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The other day, I was really bored, and happened to log onto MSN to have a talk with Kiff. For some peculiar reason that I could not divine, she would not respond. This is , of course, a foreign sentiment (detect a note of sarcasm?)

In any event, I did not let Kathryn's apathy affect the fact that I was overenthused. So, the following (one-sided) conversation ensued in the form of a story that I wrote for no particular reason, and then duly saved.


Aran felt the wooden door open slightly. He swivelled aorund to stare at the blade-thin beam of light that suddenly shone into the room. He raced towards the door where small fingers were reachiing through and shut it with a resounding bang that seemed to echo through the building
Cursing under his breath he barricaded the door with his chair, table, day journal and golden fountain pen. For good measure he also told the door to stay closed if it wanted to live. Of course that was an embellishment, but the door didn't seem to mind.
Aran realized that he had to move fast if he had any hope of living. Trying to be quiet, which he realized was difficult when one was wearing ice skates, he crept across the room and opened the window. The cool night air gusted in, making the curtain billow out. Shivering, Aran peered over the edge. The building seemed to extend downwards forever. He stopped for a second
and wondered how he had originally intended to go out the window. He wasn't quite sure- in the stories, the writing almost always left off as soon as the hero spied the window ajar. Biting his lip- as he did when nervous- he took his sheets and began to tie them together. This isn't an easy thing to do- it requires perseverance and the ability to tie strong yet versatile half-knots.
His long, thin fingers worked quickly, creating a long rope that would extend out the window and hopefully reach the ground or come close enough. He sat down as he finished the task, humming softly to himself. He was excited, he realized latently, because tonight he was going to Temptation 2004. All he had to do was get out of the building and away from the monster that was behind the door to his room. The monster who incidentally was taking his sweet time.

In the stories, the hero always had to rush when getting out the window because the monster was rattling the door in a threatening way. He frowned and let his little project drop to the floor. He came close to the door , which was firmly shut, and placed his ear against the door to see what that non-threatening monster was up to. "He's in there" a deep voice came, muffled from behind the door. It sounded gravelly, kind of like..well...gravel. Aran froze with fear and recoiled from the door, his eyes dilating because they did that when he was afraid of something. He swept back to the rope he was making, finished it after some quick tying and launched it out the window. It went through the opening, and sailed downwards- Aran realized, a little bit late, that he hadn't tied either end to someplace in his room. The whole rope was at the bottom of the building, coiled up. Aran growled in vexed frustration. Sighing, because he hadn't really wanted to do this, he snatched up the one sheet he hadn't used (in case this happened). Carefully taking all four corners (two in each hand), he walked to the window ledge. He hauled himself up and crouched there, teetering on a precipice. The drop seemed to extend even further than it had appeared before, and Aran gulped trying to assauge himself of his worries.Unfortunately, assauging is not easy by any means and an annoying bit of phlegm made his gulping more uncomfortable than anything else. Shaking his head, and closing his eyes, he launched himself over the window. The sheet abruptly slipped from his hands and sailed gently above, much slower than his own considerable bulk was advancing towards the ground. He saw the ground come closer and closer and he thought he heard himself scream, but he couldn't tell- not over the din of the wind rushing around him. A hair of a second before he reached the ground, a large, blue gym mat appeared. He hit it hard, but rebounded , flying into the air some ten feet. It was almost like a trampoline. "Hello," the man who had brought the mat out said. His voice was gravelly. Aran's breath caught in his throat (and met the phlegm halfway). The monster/man grinned and Aran realized that he was going to be late.

Maybe that would all only be funny to Kiff. Nevertheless, I'm sure my imaginary audience will appreciate it.
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I'm quite fickle with my screen names on MSN. I always try to reconcile the appropriate level of intellect with humor. Given the words used in the previous sentence, neither the former nor the latter are achieved and I'm left with some names that are, in the likely words of Ellen, "lame".


My favorite screen name, of all time, is likely the following-

Instant Pond! Just Add Water!

The worst? Let me assure you, before I list it, that it's difficult to find anything mediocre among my work. Do I need to tell you that's sarcasm again?

A rubber duck is a rubber duck and that's that.

It wasn't even remotely funny, it didn't even trigger the vaguest sensations of amusement. It was just...dumb.
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I'm daydreaming about graduation. I'm dreaming about congregating outside the theater excited and barely able to restrain from screaming with exultant joy, with those lovely golden sashes tied around our necks, and graduation hats (these may or may not be actually used, but they fit nonetheless). I want all of that...now! I want to get out of highschool, graduation, study something that I want to study in the way I want to.

It's kind of hard waiting, and realizing that it's still only October 2004, that the end is very, very far away.

Terry Fox etc.

We had our Terry Fox run today- (for the plethora of imaginary American readers out there, it's a run to celebrate a man who was suffering from cancer, and ran most of the way across Canada with an amputated leg in an effort to raise money for cancer research).

Of course, for me it was more of a walk then anything else.

Running isn't exactly my kind of athletic endeavour- if there even exists an athletic endeavour that is mine. I'll be more willing to swim for 3 hours straight rather than have to run even small distances.

Luckily, for the last school Terry Fox run I didn't have to worry about running at all- mostly because I'm not in Gym (so I don't have to run for marks) and also because I was assigned to take care of an elementary buddy. Admittedly, the buddy turned out to be too fast for me to keep up, so I kind of had to hand her off to K, and walk- breathless- behind them a little ways.

This, I am informed, is nothing short of pathetic. So what if a 6 year old has better stamina and physical capability than me? I'm in shape.

Round is a shape.

That joke is getting tired, but that won't stop me from using it. I'm too unoriginal and bland to come with something funny, right?

_

Remember when you were little and there was that myth about boys and girls having cooties? Or at least one of the genders had it, and the other was supposed to stay far away. Of course, things apparantly change in Junior High when kids seem to want to do anything but stay away from one another- quite the opposite actually.

In any event, Kiff informed my innocent elementary buddy who was incidentally a girl, that I had cooties because, well, I'm a boy. Horrified, the small child tried to jerk her hand away from mine. Her friend joined in the effort, pulling her away from me bodily. Scared- it seemed- the child wiped her hands on her shirt.

I can't believe kids actually believe that- we're all human beings. Well, most of us.

_

You should be Canadian. It's cool.

You get:

- Peter Mansbridge
- Molsen Beer commercials which are not funny and try to inspire vague sentiments of patriotism, which sadly don't exist in Canada
- mountains (except in Saskatchewan)
- trees (except in Saskatchewan)
- grass (you know the drill)
- to have a life (maybe in Saskatoon)
- CBC Radio. And a whole host of engaging personalities
- also our citizenship/permanent resident cards are very spiffy. Aesthetically pleasing.

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HOP (Humanitarian Outreach Program) is completely changing this year at school. We're actually doing things which is thrilling. I'm really looking forward to raising awareness, funds, trips and all the rest. If you happen to go to a school called Strathcona-Tweedsmuir School and harbor a desire to help then talk to me.....

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Stuart McLean is so funny.

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I have a lot of work to do, so I'm afraid I'll have to sign out at this point. I hope this weekend is eventful in a good way- I really need a break.

A New Laptop (among other things)

I got a new laptop!

This is obvious cause for excitement- somehow, I doubt it would be quite as infectious as I imagined.

If you are interested, my laptop has 2.8 ghz speed, on a Pentium 4 Processor with 512 MB of RAM, an integrated LAN, CDRW/DVD, beautiful wide screen and a surround sound system.
Plus, the laptop includes the software OneNote by Microsoft, which makes taking notes on a computer possible.

It's really a much needed update (in my estimation)- a new school year demands a PC whose screen won't fall off with alarming regularity.
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I'm really nervous about the new school year. It's Grade 12, everyone is gung-ho about school, but I feel like I have a lot to live up to given the previous year. How can I even hope to live up to my success last year when so many things have changed this year- harder classes and harder teachers to be specific. We get our first mark of the year back on Monday, and I know that if it's bad I'll feel distraught and likely assume it's a bad omen (surprisingly, I buy that stuff).

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I've been tossing some ideas for my book, around in my head lately. I really like some of them, but I've come to one essential snag- it'll probably sound absurd to anyone who doesn't understand Fantasy, and perhaps rightly so.

How does my magic system work?

Of course, every fantasy must have magic- that's a tenet as important as brushing your teeth int the morning. The process of inventing a system of magic that is not too close to unrealism that it's ridiculous, and not too scientific that it's not magical, is a tiring experience, and often fruitless at that.

Maybe I'm just too young to even try writing a book.

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Guess what's happening on October 1, 2004 in my city?

Temptation 2004.

The tag-line of the event (to be found on all the promotional posters):

Are you ready to take a bite?

Some out there might percieve this as the kind of concert that is inappropriate for anyone under 18- something which can certainly be ruled out, given that I'm interested in attending it.

Temptation 2004 is a concert, more of a show, of famed Bollywood stars who have deigned to go on tour and present themselves to their adoring fans, in the flesh. Previous concerts have been marked by overly loud music (it's not a rock concert for God's Sake), cheesy special effects (once the local producer attempted to create an effect which involved a plethora of bubbles floating down over the stage and onto the audience. The star looked up, clearly aggreived, and demanded that the flow of bubbles be stopped) and a smarmy host who hovered at the back of the stage instead of stepping off when the star's came on.

So why am I compelled to go? Because I love indian music (I'm really down with the italics today, eh?). So I present, here on The Chronicle of an Overachiever, the opportunity to listen to bona fida, genuine Bollywood music!

Click here and, if you'd like, here.

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I've decided I need more focus/direction in my life. As such, the following, are my goals (to be achieved in an indeterminate period of time):

- to be a doctor (i.e. to help people)
- to be a writer (not quite sure how I'll do the two in tandem, but that can wait)
- achieve street credibility well enough that I can rival even P.Diddy
- to exercise
- to be hunted daily by the Paparazzi

Gah

As the title surely should have made obvious, school has begun.

A new headmistress, a slew of new teachers, and a new, final school year which may prove more daunting than any before it.

To tell you the truth, distilled from my usual attempts at ambivalence, I embrace these changes. From what I've seen/heard of our new headmistress, she appears to fit perfectly with our school- she is affable, clever (always something I admire) and appears to be competent and qualified to direct our school. The Head's at our school seem to have a usual pattern of having fleeting tenures- I truly think that this one will achieve the much needed longevity.

I have the most wonderful new teacher as well, someone born with a fiery passion to teach.

So why, given my seeming optimism, does the title of this post read "Gah"?

Mostly because I have entered the final year of the International Baccalaureate program- a program that has significant merits, but unfortunately taxes my time to the point that the phrase "Free Time" makes me shake my head with disbelief. On the third day of the program, I already have enough homework to last me a week at my usual, procrastinating best. A chemistry lab, for example, due tomorrow.

Yes, this means that my blog will contain more of my futile sighs on workload, and less of the more glamorous content you've been seeing of late. Surprisingly, there are even deeper layers of boredom.
_

I was sick yesterday, lying by the fire, sniffling and feeling my forehead periodically to ensure that I had a fever, and that I was indeed sick. Because lying down and ordering people around is the most ideal situation for me, I freely exercised the power that comes into one's grip when one is sick.

"Rosh, " I said to my twin, not moving my eyes from the television and lifting a hand dismissively," please go get me some water and tylenol." There was a pregnant silence.
"I'm sick," I said, sighing, and coughing heartily to emphasize my point.
Heaving a great sigh of his own, Rosh went on up the stairs.

When he came back it was indeed with a tall glass of water, a shimmering layer of condensation around it. One of his fists was clenched around what I presumed to be a pill.

He had a glittering, malevolent look in his eyes. The fist was tightened around the pill surprisingly tightly, his knuckles white with tension. Suspicious, I reached for the glass and put my palm outstretched for him to drop the pill on.

A small, oval-shaped pill fell to my palm. I recognized it for what it was, instantly- the vitamin pill I have to take daily.
"That's not Tylenol!" I said, throwing the pill somewhere into the kitchen. He grinned.

I knew what this was about- Rosh is doing an essay on the so-called Placebo Effect. Placebo's are effectively pills with nothing in them. They are often given to patients with illnesses, as a way of seeing if the mind is convinced that being given a pill it will heal- and manifest this healing physically.

So by giving me a fake pill, he hoped I would convince myself I had taken Tylenol and would apparantly heal myself of this sickness.

Do I look like an experiment?

Don't answer that.

A Touch of Wind

Some wind would be nice.

Something cool, and breezy to breathe new air into my too routine-like life.

I suppose I'm realizing- now more then ever- that I feel an urgent need for change. I'm ready to leave high school- or at least I feel ready- and very much looking forward to university.

Unfortunately, there's the small matter of Grade 12....

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...which begins tomorrow, at 9 AM. I'm apprehensive- what if I falter in the homestretch? This has always been an unfortunate habit of mine, in the majority of my endeavours. I build everything up, reaching my maximum in the middle of the journey and then , near the end, as success feels more and more assured I falter, and my hand brushes short of the prize.

Grade 12 would be an inopportune time for this routine to manifest itself, surely. To ward against it, I've displayed the prize around my room, pinning the prospectives of several universities around my room: Harvard University on my closet, Yale on my desk, Brown on my door.

All courtesy of Ellen, of course, who display's an unusual inclination to order american college applications for other people.

I'm venturing forward with no little trepidation, my usual propensity for caution amplified, because I'm scared. I'm scared of making missteps, even the tiny ones.

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In other news,my family and I officially have Greencards - i.e. an American visa for permanent residency. A strange and startling development, to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. It was a difficult process to procure said Visa, executed over the last few years, but now that it's firmly in our hands we feel more ....valid...when we vacation in America. That's probably a ridiculous sentiment, no doubt fostered by American Patriotism that seizes you as soon as you cross the border.

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For a month, I have been writing a Business Plan for a competition that I entered. After a great deal of work (a potent understatement) I finally finished the 105 page, 24 000 word+ document. Click here if you are interested- at the very least to see the stunning diagrams.

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I organized my whole Grade 11 year. All my notes, papers, everything- all into nicely labelled folders and the rest. I'm never organized- that's Rosh. You know, the other twin. The one with nice handwriting. The one who's smarter. The one who is nicer.

Where did I go wrong?

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I recently vacationed in Phoenix. The heat is blistering- always this unrelenting, molten gold sun bearing down on you with scorching temperatures. I suppose I'm not really suited to the desert, but I really can't comprehend how initial settlers thought the area inhabitable.

That said, I am moving there after Grade 12.

I don't mind deserts, just as long as I'm safely tucked away in a sheltered, air conditioned haven.