It's the last day of school today. We were told we only had to stay till ten, but as it was April fools, I was sure we would get there and be told we ended at 2pm. Surprisingly, they did not. We watched Stardust then collected reports. My friend Alison fell asleep. On April Fools. She was asking for it.
Celia got out her scissors and was about to cut off a piece of hair, but Margo stopped us. Instead we unhooked her bra (who can sleep through that?!). When she woke up, Celia, Margo and I told her we cut off her hair. We didn't tell her we were lying for fifteen minutes. The results were hilarious.
Anyway the Report card;
Life Orientation; 82% (not surprising)
Social Sciences; 80% (I'm especially proud since the grade average was 50%)
English; 75% (disappointing but expected since our English teacher could barely speak English herself, Thank god we have a new one)
Afrikaans; 55% (I am terrible at it, so the fact that I passed is impressive)
Maths; 70 %(Impressed that I got this much)
Natural Science; 73% (Margo's mom teaches this, which is nerve racking)
Technology; 75% (eh)
EMS; 73% (Impressive since I don't know what's going on with accounting at all)
Art; 72% (I love art but despise the teacher)
Drama; 84% (Apparently I'm a pleasure to teach...)
All in all a good term for me, but the most exciting thing is I have a B average which means I can apply for an Exchange program to the USA!
Hope you all enjoy Easter.
Wednesday, 1 April 2015
Monday, 30 March 2015
It's a long way till cleavage
Just a post for all the flat chested girls out there. I know what you go through. I am friends with girls who can spill their cleavage into magnificently sexy double D cups, creating a mountain range envied by the Drakensburg. Meanwhile, I have to stuff padding down my A cups just so they fit in.
It's pretty humiliating changing for gym in front of other girls. But whats worse is boys aren't intrested in you if you aren't at least a B cup.
It's like the cut off cup size: "Sorry you must be this size to be noticed". But do they care that we cant help it? Do they care that I stand in front of mirrors obsessing over it? Do they care that I wont take pictures with my friends because I know I don't qualify as Society's idea of beauty, and I don't want to be the "Ugly one" in the photo?
No, they do not.
But, flat friends, you must prevail, for most of us will either grow up and stop caring, grow into their bras and if you don't, plastic surgery is always an option.
It's pretty humiliating changing for gym in front of other girls. But whats worse is boys aren't intrested in you if you aren't at least a B cup.
It's like the cut off cup size: "Sorry you must be this size to be noticed". But do they care that we cant help it? Do they care that I stand in front of mirrors obsessing over it? Do they care that I wont take pictures with my friends because I know I don't qualify as Society's idea of beauty, and I don't want to be the "Ugly one" in the photo?
No, they do not.
But, flat friends, you must prevail, for most of us will either grow up and stop caring, grow into their bras and if you don't, plastic surgery is always an option.
March Recap
March
This month, I've written tests that determine what subjects I'll take next year, I'm hoping to do History, Drama and either Art or Biology (comment down below if you wan to help me choose, or tell me what you did in high school)
I've started sitting with a different crowd
I started blogging
My March Favorites are;
Music; The wombats-Give me a try
Noah and the whale-Blue Skies
The Beatles-Blackbird
Books; Paper Towns-John Green
The Hitch Hikers Guide to The Galaxy
1984-George Orwell
Movies; I haven't watched anything new
I hope April's better
Happy April fools (p.s nobody can be trusted)
This month, I've written tests that determine what subjects I'll take next year, I'm hoping to do History, Drama and either Art or Biology (comment down below if you wan to help me choose, or tell me what you did in high school)
I've started sitting with a different crowd
I started blogging
My March Favorites are;
Music; The wombats-Give me a try
Noah and the whale-Blue Skies
The Beatles-Blackbird
Books; Paper Towns-John Green
The Hitch Hikers Guide to The Galaxy
1984-George Orwell
Movies; I haven't watched anything new
I hope April's better
Happy April fools (p.s nobody can be trusted)
Sunday, 29 March 2015
A Goal?
I hate it when we're doing Science project and they ask for the Reason, or Aim for the project. I feel like typing 'How am I supposed to know why we do anything?' But my teacher wouldn't like that. So anyway, what I'm trying to say is not that I'm going through and existential crisis (even if I am), I'm just trying to figure out what the theme is for this blog, because right now it seems a little random...
My Options so far are;
1. Diary Style, which I really like but my life isn't interesting enough for random strangers to come back day after day...
2. Books and Poetry, since I am pretty set on being a writer
3. Danisnotonfire type thing, where I choose a topic I care about and persuade people to share my opinion
4. A mixture of all the above?
Well thanks for reading, be sure to comment down below either on what you think I should do or just a plain "Get of the internet you pretentious c*nt"
My Options so far are;
1. Diary Style, which I really like but my life isn't interesting enough for random strangers to come back day after day...
2. Books and Poetry, since I am pretty set on being a writer
3. Danisnotonfire type thing, where I choose a topic I care about and persuade people to share my opinion
4. A mixture of all the above?
Well thanks for reading, be sure to comment down below either on what you think I should do or just a plain "Get of the internet you pretentious c*nt"
Origianality
I realized I come off really badly in my past posts, if you read them, I apologize, I've just been getting some stuff off my chest.
They weren't very original and that's something I care about; Originality. Imagine living your life mirroring everybody, never thinking of an original thought, going through life quoting some body else. I think there are two types of people in life; those who quote others, and those who say quotable things.
In my fifteen years on this planet, I may have never thought of something Completely Original. Think about it, there have been something like 107 Billion people that have ever existed. Early on it was pretty simple to think of something new, spears, fire, paintings, then wheels, music, writing, cameras, clothes, leaders, etc... But now every thought you have, somebody's probably thought of something similar. That's why I like Bukowski so much, he was original.
I'm waiting for my Eureka moment, the moment when I think of something new, something 107 billion people never thought of, imagine how amazing that would be, complete originality, not a shadow of something some one else thought, not some spin off an old idea, something completely new. I think when I think of it, the thought will be more solid than the rest, brighter than anything I could imagine, I just hope that day comes soon.
They weren't very original and that's something I care about; Originality. Imagine living your life mirroring everybody, never thinking of an original thought, going through life quoting some body else. I think there are two types of people in life; those who quote others, and those who say quotable things.
In my fifteen years on this planet, I may have never thought of something Completely Original. Think about it, there have been something like 107 Billion people that have ever existed. Early on it was pretty simple to think of something new, spears, fire, paintings, then wheels, music, writing, cameras, clothes, leaders, etc... But now every thought you have, somebody's probably thought of something similar. That's why I like Bukowski so much, he was original.
I'm waiting for my Eureka moment, the moment when I think of something new, something 107 billion people never thought of, imagine how amazing that would be, complete originality, not a shadow of something some one else thought, not some spin off an old idea, something completely new. I think when I think of it, the thought will be more solid than the rest, brighter than anything I could imagine, I just hope that day comes soon.
My Dream Destination
I would like to live in My Head, because in My Head, I am pretty, no, I am Beautiful, I receive Romantic Gestures of Epic Proportions, the boys I like, like me back, I live through Movie Deserving Adventures, people know who I am.
Doesn't that sound amazing (If a little bit like a Marvel villains monologue) Imagine if you could just back up your things, and take the next Grey Hound to My Head, watch the scenery grow brighter, stranger, quainter(I know quaint usually has negative implications, but there are a few word like quaint who's definition I love better than the word, Quaint means unusually attractive), till you wind up in a town, with white picket fences where people love you or a murky forest where you can conquer your fears.
Tell me in the comments what You're Head would look like.
Doesn't that sound amazing (If a little bit like a Marvel villains monologue) Imagine if you could just back up your things, and take the next Grey Hound to My Head, watch the scenery grow brighter, stranger, quainter(I know quaint usually has negative implications, but there are a few word like quaint who's definition I love better than the word, Quaint means unusually attractive), till you wind up in a town, with white picket fences where people love you or a murky forest where you can conquer your fears.
Tell me in the comments what You're Head would look like.
Saturday, 28 March 2015
My first post
My First Post
I'm probably going to come off really pretentious to everybody that reads this. But my adoring audience must put up with a teenage girls ramblings. *tumble weed quietly exits*
I'm writing this because even though nobody will read this, at least I'll have left a foot print, a terribly small footprint on a road already covered with bigger foot prints, but a foot print none the less.
I want to have something that I know is mine and I turned to words. *Tumble weed turns around silently and shakes his head at my folly*
Oh god, I should just stop writing, this is pure, unadulterated crap if I've ever seen it, and I've been on tumblr once.
I should probably tell you about myself first so you don't end up hating a ghost.
I am the type of girl who laughs at my friends when they talk about celebrities as if they know them, or blatantly scoff over there Boy Issues but at night I'll lay in my bed and answer an imaginary interviewers question with witty remarks, and decide what I'll wear when I meet "the one".
I am the type of girl who will joke with boys and make them laugh, but will never turn their head.
I'll tell you a sad story. I am friends with this girl, lets call her Margo. She is the type of beautiful that gets guys, the curvy, pouty lipped, blue-eyed sweetheart type of beauty. I was with her one day and we where walking through a supermarket when I notice a pair of cute guys staring. I never get a second glance when I'm alone, not me, skinny, frizzy haired plain, me. But when I'm with Margo, every boy stares at her, then glances at me, then back to her. Don't get me wrong, Margo isn't a raging, man-eating bitch, she is really nice but I cant help but hating her when complete strangers call her beautiful.
Now, as we walk past these boys, one of them says hey. To Margo of course. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I told Margo he had greeted her, and she turned around and waved. He gets her number quite easily, he is cute in a dorky kind of way, and this is a small town with limited boys, and he seems like he's from out of town.
He doesn't greet me as he asks for her number, he doesn't ask for mine. I start to realize what the word spare means. I feel like the walking, talking definition of spare.
Anyway, I know this is not the most original piece, but this is it, my first post, I'll update soon.
I'm probably going to come off really pretentious to everybody that reads this. But my adoring audience must put up with a teenage girls ramblings. *tumble weed quietly exits*
I'm writing this because even though nobody will read this, at least I'll have left a foot print, a terribly small footprint on a road already covered with bigger foot prints, but a foot print none the less.
I want to have something that I know is mine and I turned to words. *Tumble weed turns around silently and shakes his head at my folly*
Oh god, I should just stop writing, this is pure, unadulterated crap if I've ever seen it, and I've been on tumblr once.
I should probably tell you about myself first so you don't end up hating a ghost.
I am the type of girl who laughs at my friends when they talk about celebrities as if they know them, or blatantly scoff over there Boy Issues but at night I'll lay in my bed and answer an imaginary interviewers question with witty remarks, and decide what I'll wear when I meet "the one".
I am the type of girl who will joke with boys and make them laugh, but will never turn their head.
I'll tell you a sad story. I am friends with this girl, lets call her Margo. She is the type of beautiful that gets guys, the curvy, pouty lipped, blue-eyed sweetheart type of beauty. I was with her one day and we where walking through a supermarket when I notice a pair of cute guys staring. I never get a second glance when I'm alone, not me, skinny, frizzy haired plain, me. But when I'm with Margo, every boy stares at her, then glances at me, then back to her. Don't get me wrong, Margo isn't a raging, man-eating bitch, she is really nice but I cant help but hating her when complete strangers call her beautiful.
Now, as we walk past these boys, one of them says hey. To Margo of course. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I told Margo he had greeted her, and she turned around and waved. He gets her number quite easily, he is cute in a dorky kind of way, and this is a small town with limited boys, and he seems like he's from out of town.
He doesn't greet me as he asks for her number, he doesn't ask for mine. I start to realize what the word spare means. I feel like the walking, talking definition of spare.
Anyway, I know this is not the most original piece, but this is it, my first post, I'll update soon.
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