A Shiny Apple

Well, here's the big news... again: I've been accepted to university! And, now this big news is accompanied by a big post!

I'll give you a few seconds to thank the lord for answering your prayers, and another few to applaud me adequately.

Have you applauded? Let me brag:

I had gone to Hawaii for my spring break.I was going to absorb the sun, salt and surf for 12 days without the slightest care. Everything was going to be perfect. I also was aware that I would be missing the first week of school; a notion which made my trip even more pleasurable! How lovely it would all be!

Aren't I a talented photographer?

The day of my flight, I began packing my summer clothes. A text message wishing me a safe flight inadvertently caused my mind to spiral brashly to the dark side. My "dark side", I mean serious matters. I recalled that, while on vacation, I would have one rather large cloud looming over top of me - the university cloud. This cloud had the potential to grow so big that it would block out the beautiful Hawaiian sun.That cloud, however, would only grow so big if I let it do so. I vowed to not think about it while on vacation. After all, the chances of me being accepted seemed so remarkably infinitesimal that wondering about and checking up on my application status seemed futile. 

I arrived in Hawaii. The first few days were hazy, yet the sun was still apparently dangerous. I learnt that lesson the hard way after being subject to a burn after falling asleep on the beach on the first day.

Laugh at me; laugh at my pathetic skin.

A few days passed in the fashion that I had hoped for them to: with no attention paid to university matters. Everything went well until the morning of the 26th of March, which saw my tired eyes waking up to the eye-blistering shine of the sun. (For the record, I don't, in the slightest, mind being awoken by bright sun. I see so little of it in Vancouver that it has become something of rare treat.)

As I woke up, something, presumably a higher force, prompted me to think about the dreaded subject. I was petrified and disappointed at the same time. Part of me was jolted and scared to know that the results had probably come out, and the other part was upset that I had allowed such vile things to make their filthy way into my mind. Of course, I wouldn't check the results. That would not only defy the terms of the treaty that I had made with myself, but bad news would also easily spoil my vacation.

I decided to take my mind off the evil, which had crept into my brain, by going to my email. Here, I was keeping in touch with some friends. I would read happier messages, and focus on the trivialities that we were all discussing. But it was inevitable. 

I logged on and saw a few unread messages. The first was attributed to Violetta, who was spending her spring in the motherland, Russia, and more precisely, Siberia. I clicked on the message and began formulating witty responses to her statements about the below zero temperatures. After I had written a sufficient amount of cleverness, I sent the message and returned to my inbox. I had two other messages from my peers. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind that the messages could have something to do about university. I was quite sure that they were going to be either updates on the weather back in Vancouver, or grievances about the lack of hot girls to date. Both of those subjects would have been perfectly satisfactory. In fact, any topic other than post-secondary would have been fulfilling. I would've been happy to read a detailed breakdown of my friend's fungal infection in his esophagus (does that even exist? I'm being hypothetical), if it meant that I didn't have to hear about university.

I clicked on the first message and it said "yo dudeeeee!!! check your ubc app stat... shit's been updated. i got in!!!!!" 

The terror! The horror! The gut-wrenching pain! There it was! Oh no. University updates were stalking me! I immediately pitied myself for being the object of God's fury. I was being coerced into checking the bad news, and watching my vacation disintegrate.

If I were to check the news, I'd surely have to share it with my parents and sister. They'd be tremendously saddened to know that I'd be bumming around next year. My sister would be devastated that I didn't manage to do something so important in her mind. She'd cry for the simple fact that I would be destined for certain failure. My parents would have the luxury of giving me a speech on how nothing can happen without hard work, and how now I'm going to have to work at McDonald's for the rest of my life. My parents would have the luxury of being right; how annoying! I just couldn't check it. I was now well aware that the rest of my vacation would be plagued by the knowledge that an admissions decision had been brought, but it was a sacrifice I had to make so that the rest of my family could enjoy their time. What's more? Imagine how painful and potentially embarrassing it would be to reply to my newly-admitted friend that I wasn't in the same boat as him. 

I wasn't going to check.

So, I returned to the inbox, disregarding my friend's message, and clicked on the final message.

At this point it was just a cruel joke. How was it possible that both of my friends had written the same email? OK, it wasn't the exact same. This friend just directed me to check the "app stat"; he didn't tell me whether or not he had been accepted. I felt like I was in one of those bad dreams, where you try to escape from something, but it just keeps finding you. I quickly closed my primary inbox. That action sent me to my "promotions" inbox. This inbox's purpose is to basically collect spam-like stuff. Now do you see how desperate I was? I was willing to read spam.

And then, a bright light!

In my promotions inbox, I saw a message from UBC. At first, I thought it was an email of rejection, but it didn't seem like it. I anxiously clicked it, and saw a message addressed to me. This is what it said: 

"Hello Natasa,

Are you considering your offer of admission to UBC Vancouver's Faculty of Arts? Are you already preparing for your first year on campus?"

My heart stopped. I reread the words and began scrambling. It felt like I had been accepted. (As I reflect now, I see how nervous I truly was since the message clearly indicates that I had been accepted.) I analyzed the words. "Offer of admission" and "preparing for your first year on campus" all sounded extremely promising. Could it be that, by the miraculous stroke of God, I was accepted?

I told myself that it was obvious that I couldn't run away from the app stat any longer. I had to check. So I went to the login page. I typed in my username and password extremely cautiously; I naturally didn't want to be delayed in seeing my decision by mistyping my login information - that would kill me. I wrote everything, and my fingers shook with fear as I attempted to click the button that would lead me to see if I had effectively bought myself 4 extra years of slacking. The feeling within me was caustic. I felt my skin get paler despite being blackened by the sun. I felt myself getting colder despite being in 30 degree weather. And, I felt that awful feeling in my torso. As if my entire body was engulfing itself; as if I was inverting all 178cm of skin and bone into one singular morsel of flesh. Ineffably horrible, to say the least.

But I gathered up the nerve by telling myself that I was acting like a little bitch. I didn't like being called a pussy by anyone, especially myself. In that moment, I calmed myself. My own derogatory comments towards myself instilled peace into me. I felt tranquil. I told myself that, even if I didn't get into university, it was all going to be OK. After all, for the majority of my life, I have been telling myself that things are going to work themselves out and that everything is going to be OK. Some of my friends weren't going to university; there were other things that you could do. Everything was going to be just fine. With that momentary serenity, I clicked the button, and patiently looked through the flurry of words on the page. There were some stupid notices about sending documents to the school, and whatnot. After getting through those, I came to see the title "Choice #1 - Bachelor of Arts - Vancouver". I looked below it, and I saw the "Congratulations! You have been admitted!" And that's all I needed. 

I didn't bother reading whatever else it said below; I had what I my decision and it was glorious. Unfortunately, because I had become practically vegetative prior to clicking the button, I wasn't too excited. I wasn't jumping with joy or anything else of that sort to celebrate. I just faintly smiled to myself, and looked around the empty hotel room. I looked out the balcony and told myself to take in the view because this was a special day that I would likely want to reminisce on frequently in the future. After that, I thanked God. Though I'm not religious, I always feel inclined to thank the man upstairs when something good happens. I'm not sure why. It's as if I become religious in great moments, and likewise, in terrible moments. I question the universe when bad things are happening, and praise it when the scenario is opposite. 

I began thinking about what my next line of action should be. Who should I tell? Should I tell anyone? 

My mom and sister were out, my dad was sleeping, and everything was quiet. I contemplated not saying anything, waiting until we got back to Vancouver, and then treating everyone to a nice dinner, where I would make the announcement. But I probably couldn't retain such divine information for so long. I decided that my little sister, who had been enduring and protective of me, and who had been my only believer in this struggle against post-secondary, was the most deserving. I knew that the news would make her the happiest.

When my mom and sister arrived, they did something un-noteworthy. My mom left again. She had forgotten to buy something, I presume. My sister was on her bed, and she made her customary way to mine. She wanted to chat about her fun times with mom. After she finished, I decided to share the news. I clicked the screenshot album on my phone and set everything up to show her. I wasn't sure how or when I was going to break the news to my parents yet, so I said "Mila, I have secret." and she laughed. Since I said this smiling, and due to my inability to be serious, she automatically presumed I was setting up for a joke. She played along and said "OK." I said, still smiling, "No, I'm serious. You have to promise to not tell mom or dad because it's a big secret." She, being a good sport, played along even more and said "OK, I promise." So, I turned the phone to her, and watched her skin turn pale, as mine had. Contrary to me, she wasn't at peace. Her eyes scrambled frantically, more frantically than I had ever seen. She was completely frantic; her wits were not about her.

She had seen the title UBC, and knew that she was looking at an admissions decision, but she just couldn't locate it on the page because of the chaos that was enthralling her. So, I put her out of her misery and said "I got accepted! It's good!" And then the waterworks. She sobbed of joy and hugged me while saying "I knew you could do it! Mom and dad were so mean to you and they didn't think you could, but I knew you could!"

All true words. 

When we heard the door knob shaking, we knew that mom was in the vicinity. I quickly notified my sister and commanded her to stop crying so that mom wouldn't think anything was up. She did. When my mom walked in, she noticed the remnants of tears on my sister's face and inquired as to what was happening. Generally, my sister crying led to me getting scolded for being mean to her. I assured my mom that it was all good stuff. And then broke the news to her. She shook my hand and congratulated me.

It wasn't the way that I wanted to tell her, but hey, that's not the point. She then passed on the news to my dad when he woke up, while I wrote Violetta an email telling her to check her app stat. Smiles all around. 

I probably would've listened to Declan McKenna's song Brazil for a few hours, after midnight on the beach while watching the stars twinkle, had I not been admitted, but this wasn't necessary now. As a side note: I just realized that Declan McKenna is my age. Weird.

I went to the beach and recalled the start of the year when my counselor, a chronically annoyed and tired woman, indirectly told me that I had no chance of being admitted to a respectable institution, like UBC, and that I should resultantly have, and hope for, a "back-up plan". This back up plan that she suggested was to go to community college. I guess I don't blame her for saying that because my grades are shit. But, I remembered her telling me that and I felt very proud. I felt like I had proven everyone wrong. Most teachers probably felt the same way about me, but weren't brave enough to tell me. I really think my writing was what set me apart, and I blame the teachers for not recognizing that. Moreover, I blame the teachers for fostering the most sick environment in our school, and consistently telling all of us that getting into university was so tremendously difficult that it was rather pointless to dream of admission. They should've been more realistic and supportive. After all, our school is the best public school in the province; if we don't have a chance, no one does.

Violetta replied to me later in the day, informing me that she had been accepted to UBC, but not the one in Vancouver. She got into her second choice program, which was UBC Arts in the Okanagan. She isn't interested in going to live in Kelowna, so chances are that she'll be staying in Vancouver, going to SFU, and that we'll be together for the next four years!

When I returned to Vancouver, university talk was hot. Everyone was discussing where everyone else was going. I was pleased to hear that most of my friends, who I had initially thought were going to leave for university, were actually staying at home! I still have one friend who I am trying to keep close by, so we'll see how that goes.

Things just kept getting better, honestly, and I feel like, too often, I use this blog as a medium for venting my dissatisfaction with the state of things. I think that it's only fair to also give praise where it's due. Things have been really grand, and I don't have too much to criticize - not that that's a bad thing. In fact, things become even rosier.

At school, I attended the awards assembly. I truly didn't expect an award, since I have never received one in my life. Lo and behold - Friday of my first week of school was my lucky day! As I sat through the grueling assembly where the same is repeated so many times, I made jokes to my friends about getting the awards myself. I joked that I had actually won every award presented, but that they didn't want to make the other kids feel bad, so they couldn't present them to me. My friends laughed.

As the teachers called up kid by kid, award by award, my name wasn't being called. I had rather tuned out because I was well aware that none of the information would be pertinent to me. The final award was announced - The Renaissance Award. I would like to tell you the exact definition of what this award embodies, but, like I said, I was tuned out, so I didn't hear what the principal defined it as. I'm sure you can figure it out, though. If a Renaissance Man is "a person with many talents or areas of knowledge.", then the Renaissance award is probably for that. By some strange fate, my name was called for the award. I was so tuned out that I wasn't sure if it was my name that I had heard. Then I noticed the principal making eye-contact with me, and I was elated. I turned to Violetta, with my eyes-wide and said "Oh my god!"

The other recipients of the previous awards hadn't been remotely as surprised, nor content, with their respective awards. They were all gracious. They calmly walked down the steps of the bleachers, calmly crossed the stage, and calmly shook hands with our principal. What can I say? I'm just not elegant.

I stumbled my way out of the bleachers, nearly breaking a boy's kneecaps in the process. I walked half-way down the stairs with the biggest grin on my face, and then I remembered something! This moment needed to be immortalized with a photo, so I turned back to Violetta and yelled "take a picture" while mimicking a camera with my hands. At this, the entire school laughed, and continued watching my triumphant march to the stage. Once I got to the stage, I decided to let all of my emotions pour out, so I jumped as high as I could, like this:

Thanks for the inspiration, Jo-Wilfried

Once I landed, I stuck my hand out to shake the principal's, but my principal had noticed that he had just stumbled upon someone who was especially happy with their award, and he knew that a handshake would not suffice. So, he spread his arms out as wide as he could, and offered me a hug which I gladly accepted. I almost pushed him over in my hug, but I was ecstatic and therefore unfazed by that. I took the award and the whole school cheered me on. I exclaimed "Wicked-Cool, man!" and kept smiling as I examined the award. One girl in the crowd said "look at her! She's so happy!" and I kept smiling. I really was over the moon. I stood there and posed for Violetta to take a picture. Once I was allowed to return to my seat, a friend in the front row of the bleachers extended his arm for me to high-five, many kids followed his initiative and stuck their own hands out as I made my joyous way back to my seat. There, many hands of friends went up and I high-fived everyone else. I was on top of the world. One of the boys that was offering me congratulations laughingly said "Congratulations, man! I'm so happy for you that I don't even notice the pain in my knees that you broke on your way down." I said "Oh! Haha! Sorry!" and he expressed that it was fine and that he was just kidding.

I called my mom right after the assembly to tell her the great news.

I'd like to make this noted: if I had not been admitted to university, and told my mom about receiving the award, its value would've been severely undermined, and ignored. But, since it came post-acceptance, it was greeted with open arms and happy smiles, which led me to be treated to a pleasant dinner at a cool local restaurant.

I'd like to think that I am unfazed by her and everyone else's disbelief with my acceptance, but it does naturally sting a little bit.

I do, however, really appreciate all the supportive people. How sweet of them!

There were two other really great things that happened to me recently. I'll tell you about them, and then I'll let you go. I understand that this has already gotten a little long.

At my dad's work, every few Fridays, one of his colleagues has to provide snacks for the team. This Friday happened to be my dad's turn. He asked me to make my Macarons, which I have already posted about. You can look at them here. So I gladly did. His team members loved them so much that they said "Opening a shop that serves these macarons would be equivalent to receiving a license to print money."

A license to print money. Let's let that reverberate. Oh I was so proud that they were so popular and so quickly devoured!

The second thing lies in a slightly different place - French class. In my French class, the student teacher decided to make language learning more interesting by creating a sort of "Amazing Race". We were asked to scavenge around the school and pick up clues. My partner and I got first place. Can I get a what-what?

I write about this all because I rarely have such good things like this happened! I don't know if it's just my perception that has changed, but I really hope the good times keep rolling here. So, thanks for lending an ear. It's been really wicked-cool, man.

Thus far, I only have two things I need to get sorted out. The first thing is my friend. I need to set her straight. She is still waiting to be accepted by UBC, because she has been "wait-listed". Whether or not she will get accepted, I don't know. All I know is that I already have been, and it was because I wrote a damn fine personal profile.

The second thing is the blog quote. As some of you desktop users will know, I have a quote right under my header. I change the quote infrequently. Right now, the quote is a line from Augustines song "Chapel Song" . It reads "I'm a bowl of bruised fruit/ Inside a chapel of shiny apples."

When I posted the quote, I felt bad about my chances of being accepted. I figured that everybody else at my school would be admitted, and I'd be the odd one out. Well, I can now quite proudly say that I am not the bowl of bruised fruit - I'm a shiny apple.

Look at me gleam!

I know, it's strange. Everyone at school sees me as a hippy. They thought, as did I, that my admissions decision would be completely irrelevant to me. But I think that I was just thinking that way because I was trying to comfort my notion of not being accepted. I didn't know how much it would mean to have something as simple as a piece of paper that says "Congratulations!" It's really fabulous. And, if I ever have kids like me, who think that they are careless hippies who couldn't care less about anything, I'm going to direct them to this post. Those bitches don't even know what they're in for. That being said, I do have a few friends who aren't going to university and I solidly believe that they're going to do spectacular. Of course university isn't the only path. I'm probably going to hate prolonging school for myself; maybe work would've been the right course for me. But, at least I now have the chance to test it out. University's purpose, as per the ancient Greeks, was to achieve a higher learning, not necessarily to become employable afterwards. I want a higher education, and the experience - employ-ability would be a nice bonus, though.

Hollerado may have been right when they sang about having to lose love to find it, and I had always believed that I would have to lose school to find it, if that makes sense. What I mean is that I always thought that I wouldn't be accepted at first, and then I'd have to go back, retrace my steps, find the wrong turn and correct it. But, I don't. Because, well, as much as I trust Hollerado, going to school isn't the same as finding love. ;) I know you're probably a little tired-out by all of the hipster music references, but I'm going to keep going because I'm a winner!

My last few years have played out somewhat like the chord progression in the song "Hearts Like Ours" by The Naked and Famous. Everything starts out with the makings of a sad song, but then it grows and it builds into something grand quite unexpectedly and it makes you feel triumphant. And that's the word: Triumphant! I slayed the beast of university. Yeah, man, I did. Take that! It's definitely not as big a deal as I'm making it sound out to be, but then again, it's all a matter of perception. To someone with stellar work-habits, UBC may seem like a natural next step, but to someone like me, well, gosh, it's pretty dandy.

Like my mom said, this miracle is just a second chance. I spent 13 years of high school slacking. I now have 4 more offered to me, let's all hope I slack significantly less.

And let's clear one more thing. This is important... actually. If you read my blog religiously, as I suspect most of you do, you will recall this post I wrote at the start of the year. It's all about the hopelessness I feel with regard to university admission, and how difficult it is to get accepted. It's pretty depressing. I talk about how a person is just a number to a university admissions committee, and how that basically dooms fellows in my generation to failure. I guess I lied. Why? Because UBC saw something in me, and I can guarantee that it wasn't a number.

So, it's been just wonderful. Apart from today, that is. Today I ordered oysters at The Fish Shack in Vancouver, and I got food poisoned. It's terrible. It's so bad that it's difficult to hold back the vomit from spilling onto the keyboard while I type this. Yeah, pretty gross. But I won't dwell on that, instead I'll give you another pretty picture to look at:

I know there's a lot of rock.

So yeah, I guess it's fair to say that my break was better than yours. I had a great time. It happened to be a great time filled with great news. It's like a cannelloni where the filling and the shell are yummy. Or, like a girl that is pretty and also interesting to talk to. The spring break that I feared more than any other proved to be the one that I adore the most. It was amazing.

And it came with amazing scenery too!

By the end of the vacation, my back had morphed from a terrifying shade of red to a tastefully beautiful shade of bronzey-brown. I had re-built some of the muscles I had lost since I stopped swimming. My family wasn't in shambles. And, I had been admitted to university. "Paris, je t'aime!"? I don't think so. Try "Hawai'i, aloha au la 'oe!" That's music to my ears.

Fuck Disneyland. Hawaii is the Happiest Place on Earth!

The Song-Essay Parallel

The song "Sorry" by Justin Bieber has been doing really well in the music world. It is no longer possible to turn on the radio without hearing The Biebs asking you if it's too late to say sorry now. But sometimes I catch myself wondering what exactly he's apologizing for? Is it all the atrocious past music? No, I don't think that he feels too much remorse for that, considering the fact that he made a copious amount of moola from it. 

So then what exactly? Let's take a look at the facts: we know for a fact that part of his intention behind apologizing is getting you back on him. But that is only part of the broader, more profound picture. He clearly states that he is missing more than just your body.

Fine, you can appreciate that his intent behind apologizing, though thoroughly rooted in primitive sexual desires, is not completely founded in them. And herein lies the problem I have with this song. Justin, though likely not him personally... Let me rephrase: whoever wrote the song, seems to have probably failed high school English class. One of the most important rules of proper essay writing is to elaborate on the exact statement you make. In fact, the way I learned it, one should follow the PEE acronym when making arguments in essays. P stands for "Point", E stands for "Example" and the second E stands for "Explanation". Though you're likely highly intelligent, I'd like to clearly explain what the acronym means. 

In essay writing, you're supposed to bring up an argument (the "Point"). You then need to support your brilliant point with with an example. Once you've stated that example, which may or may not be directly related to your point, you back it up with the "Explanation". That's pretty straightforward. If you'd like a deeper explanation of the whole argument-building idea, take a gander at my first post - the debate guide! As a side note: I just think that it's funny that I brought up the idea of a high school English class here and then brought up logical arguing because that's the latest thing we've been discussing in my high school English class! 

Back to the matter at hand:

What exactly irks me about sorry: I do not appreciate the fact that JB has left so much unexplained. It's like those European Indie movies (which I just happen to watch constantly - thanks, mom). They have always annoyed me, but my parents seem to find great pleasure in the uncertainty which accompanies them. In almost every European film, there is an unresolved or unelaborated ending. The screen writers leave the denouement in your hands. They end the movie, but it doesn't feel like it has ended. A perfect example escapes me at this moment, but I'll give you something general to ponder, and then I'll follow it up with a shitty example, which I will attempt to make sound valid:

1 - General: The protagonists have their ups and downs throughout. You persevere through 90 minutes of utter despair, hoping with all your heart that the circumstances become favorable to the two lovers. You pray that the realistic, real-world ending, which will surely tear them apart, does not befall them. You hope that they defy the odds. In good, old Hollywood, they always do. The protagonists always find each other in the end and share a passionate kiss and ride off into the sunset. How fantastic. It makes you happy. More importantly, it provides you with the closure you so desperately desire. Then you have the sad endings. You know, like The Notebook? They both die at the end. But there is closure; there is a definitive ending. They're dead. That's it. By far, the worst scenario is the European vagueness of the situation you vicariously live through for those 90 minutes. Your 90 minutes are rewarded with no sureness. You don't know if the characters have made it, or if they have not. You're left with the task of contemplating that question yourself. Well, frankly, I don't want to expend energy on contemplating the intricacies of the characters to unravel a definitive answer. It's just not something I feel like doing. Honestly, it irritates me, no, more than that, it frustrates me!

Here's the example: Think of a romance movie. The two leads have gone through triumphs and torments. Say, for clarity's sake, that one lead had traveled overseas to pursue a career. The other had been left alone in the original country. The separation is bitter. Jane doesn't want to move to a different country, and doesn't want John to leave without her. So, naturally, it's a very salty situation. But, after a few years, John recognizes his undying love for Jane and decides that he'll take his chances and travel back to find her. He does so, but Jane is no longer in the same place. John sets out to find her, and gathers the information that Jane has discovered a new lover. After a few months, he finds Jane and her lover in Nepal. John's presence brings stress and tumult on Jane's new relationship, as she struggles with the old feelings she has for him. Eventually, us, the audience, see Jane leave her lover, but we are unclear on whether or not she is leaving him to go back to John. Maybe she wants to just take some time to clear up the jumbled emotions in her mind. 

Anyways, the final scene of the movies is this: Jane goes to the business party John is supposedly at, but is unsure of her goals. So, she gets to the door, and rings the bell, some random person lets her in, believing that she is part of the company. She walks in, clearly unsure of her own feelings and next steps. From behind a group of people she sees John kissing some woman. At the painful sight, she turns her back and heads out, suppressing tears. She runs out into the night, but John appears to have seen her (though it is not certain that he has). He stops making out with this other woman, and goes to the table to grab a stiff drink. Looking out into the night, he sees Jane walking in distress, her face romantically lit by the street lights, which are being reflected by the puddles on the cobblestone streets (yes, apparently these do exist in Nepal). He looks down at her, and as he does, she drops something. Stopping to pick it up, she looks up, and she and John make eye-contact. To break the moment, the woman John was previously making out, walks up behind him, and says something inaudible. He turns to her to hear what she's saying, points at some other place in the room, as to tell her to go over there, and she obeys. He turns back to the window, and puts down his drink, and the movie ends. 

This is agonizing. We don't know what he sees through the window. Is Jane still standing there? We don't know why he put down his drink. Was it to go after her, or to just continue going about his party. Oh the spiritual struggle. This is exacerbating.

Now for the more specific example:

2 - Jeux d'Enfants: This is also a romantic film. It's French. The French are, in my mind, the most notorious for inflicting this kind of suffering on viewers. In this movie, the two leads have known each other since they were little kids. Eventually, after the mandatory ups and downs, the find each other again, and they decide to start making out. But it just so happens that this location they choose for making out is some hole that is about to be filled with cement. The construction workers seem to pay them little mind, and flood the hole with cement slowly. The two continue making out, completely disregarding the cement which is engulfing them. When the cement is up to the characters' crotches, we see one construction worker notice them and begin screaming at his coworkers to stop. But the movie ends and we have no closure to what happened to these two people. Did they die in the cement? Did the cement stop pouring? Did they ever get extracted from the cement? So many questions. I despise it.

So the deal is the same with Bieber's song. So many unanswered questions remain. It's oh-so confusing. And I know what you're thinking to yourself - "Man, she must have consumed a few pounds of shrooms before writing this post. Who gives a fuck what Justin Bieber meant; it's just a stupid song!" But, it really got to me yesterday. I was listening to the radio on my commute, and I couldn't help but wonder what the rest of his reasoning for saying sorry was. What in the world had he done? He wants to apologize, but what for? All we know is that a part of his goal is to get you back in bed, but what's the deeper bit? I mean, obviously, I'd appreciate knowing what he did to put himself in the position where he would need to apologize. What did he do to have his significant other deny him sex? And, please, what is the other part he wants? Does he want some riveting conversation with Selena? Or maybe he's also missing her musical input and advice? I just can't be sure, and that is what plagues me with grief. I am terribly interested in knowing what all these factors are, and what culmination of events led to this obviously heart-wrenching existence.

Gosh, my pain is too real. I so wish that essay writing and song writing were the same. I wish that Justin would be forced to explain the intricacies and complexities of his song lyrics. I wish that he had to obey PEE. But, he is just above the law. How upsetting. I don't know how I'll ever manage to cope. I firmly believe that this will be a thought which forever stumps me, while simultaneously looming ominously over me.

I'll end with this plea: Justin, please make my daily commute less mentally-occupying. Thoroughly elaborate on your thoughts, and free my mind from these horrid burdens of ponder. 

The Things I've Done

A few days ago, I updated the quote on my blog to the lyrics of a song by the band Grøenland. The Things I've Done is a great song, and the quote is the first I have ever posted that is song lyrics. I was so inspired by the song that I actually decided to close read it (in my own hipster way, of course). I must say that I usually detest close readings of anything, but this song really felt right. I think that its effect might be because it reminded me of myself. Seriously though, the lyrics are very relatable in my mind and seem to fit the events going on in my life at the moment. Below, you will find my close reading with regards to myself (narcissistic, maybe?) I guess it's a small scope into my mind, and particularly, how I feel about myself. Enjoy!

I wonder 'bout the things I've done, and I question the morality of the events I've instigated. Part of me regrets them and the other part finds justification for them. I am still so young, and it doesn't seem as if there has been ample time for me to do everything that I have, nor has their been enough time for me to reflect on events and question my actions in them. I have done so many terrible things with society as my guide. For some sad reason -perhaps because my parents have only ever tried to teach me the morally fulfilling things- I've only managed to pick up and retain the atrocious parts of society's behaviour, and I've filled my heart with so much junk. The glimmering goodness, which remains in me, seems to be withering away. It causes me to fear to what degree and how the bad things will manifest themselves in the future. I fear the possible repercussions they will have on me and those around me, if they have not already caused damage. I am honestly scared to see what my heart will become. 

I wonder about the things that last, and fear the long term, especially in human relationships. I question every part of any long term commitment. I feel as if any relationship, especially the long term ones, will result in lies, secrets and other malicious things. I have experienced it, I have done it and I undermine everyone else because of it. I don't want to be hurt because I know that deceptions hurt like broken glass. When I do start a relationship, I want it to last, I want it to come to fruition. I haven't gotten into it to lie, and hurt other people. However, I don't do anything without carefully calculating the possible consequences. I don't put effort into something to not get something out of it, I don't water trees to watch them die.
Sometimes, I sink into my own little world. I put myself behind the bars inside my mind, and I observe everything and everyone. I seem to come to peace with myself in these situations and determine right from wrong. Usually, I cannot come upon a verdict about a situations quickly and it takes me time, so, to apprehend the next sign I keep waiting in line. This line is the constant debate over everything in my head. When I do come upon an answer that satisfies me, and when I have successfully determined right from wrong, I am happy. The answers can become extremely important to me. They can determine countless fundamental aspects of life, and despite that, I am eager to come upon them. I know that when I do make up my mind, I'll take good care of what I got. Due to my stubbornness, I will never accept another person's view. Moreover, I will fight for my view and do everything I can to propagate it. When this, however, is not possible, I protect my opinion and defend it, no matter what. I'll go to the point of no return -in debating terms- I'll stay awake to watch the sun come out, if that means that my opinion will reign supreme.
I won't lie, all the things that I've done because of my pride and behaviour, have sometimes got me wandering alone. Sometimes, it's just me against the world, with regards to my opinions. Even then, I can't keep quiet, and I can't accept any differentiation from my thoughts.
I am not a total psychopath. I remember regretting my stubbornness a few times. I remember looking back and realizing what a lunatic I had been to propagate an idea in such a manner. Sometimes, like now, my eyes are looking down. They are looking down, in a way, at people in contempt. Contempt for those bold and brave enough to disagree with me. On the other hand, they are looking down in regret. It's like when you put a person in their place and they know that they've erred, so they just look down. I have put myself in my own place. I yelled at myself, because I am the only person who I will listen to. I got myself off my high horse and a little more in touch with reality. Sadly, I can't tell which is better. I don't know if it's better to just blindly accept criticism and thus, see yourself as inferior, or if it's better to feel as if you're never wrong. A part of me wants to change; to find a "grey" area, but it's a very small part. I fear myself the way I am right now, but I hate the appearance of all those other good people. It's like I fear the night (or the dark side) and hate the sun. Preferably, I could just be reborn, but time doesn't permit for that to happen, nor does the environment. I want to become a different person. I want to change the way that I speak and everything else associated with my current self and turn into something ideal. I want be free. Totally free, with everything at my disposal for a fresh start. I want to just let loose. I want to play and feel the beat.
So, what have all the things that I've done, done to me in return? They've got me wandering alone, sometimes and they cause me great stress - too much for a child of my age. But I don't know how to stop it all. How do you make a 180* turn in your life, without destroying the balance and state  of everything drastically? You don't, I guess.

Stars

Stars is a word that most people associate either with the tiny yellow things that we see in the night sky, or celebrities. Stars however, is so much more than that. Stars is a band from Toronto. They aren't words to describe the love I feel for them. Using the words amazing, incredible, sublime, perfect etc., are all understatements. Stars are beyond perfect, they are the best band to ever release music. Even their music is not worthy of being called music - it is art. Auditory flowing gold, and saying anything else would be an offensive remark. I know, I'm a hipster because I adore them, right? Sure, I don't mind, call me what you will.

I first heard Stars perfection two years ago. Changes was the first song that I was ever honoured/blessed to listen to. I watched the video, and even though she is naked, it didn't take anything away from the song. It is such a poetic song with beautiful lyrics. The music, though monotonous, is impeccable. Changes encouraged me to look into this new band, which would later grow into an obsession. Honestly, I didn't think that there was going to be any song with the ability to match up with Changes, but I was wrong. I also thought that Changes was a one off, and that maybe they got lucky with the song. Once again, I was wrong. Changes was only a gateway to some of their even more wonderful music for me.

The next song that I discovered has been my favourite for the two years now: Your Ex-Lover is Dead. These lyrics are so moving and fantabulous that they actually made me bawl my eyes out. Like a lot of their music, the lyrics deal with death. But this is not the kind of death music that you'd expect. It is so pretty and perfect. The video is also sweet. It is a little bizarre at first glance, but looking at it again makes you see more.

The final song which I fancy A LOT was Dead Hearts. My dad introduced me to this song after watching Like Crazy, and hearing the song. He thought it would be my style, and he was right. Apparently, he had no clue that Stars was my favourite band - which I still slightly doubt. Anyway, I listened to the song on repeat for the rest of the day. It was SO good! The lyrics deals a little with mortality, as do many of their songs. Regardless, there is something beautifully haunting and enchanting about both the voice and the music, which actually really suits the lyrics.

Stars continual ability to match lyrics, with vocals, with music, perfectly makes them the best band ever!!

Stars have not come close to receiving the attention they deserve. Stars has made this world a better place with their music. Stars deserve to be stars, yet society does not recognize them. Perhaps they will be like all great minds - appreciated enough only after they are dead. Too bad.