The pianist
Audience: All ages, those who have a passion for something
Purpose: To show people that if you love to do what you do, stick with it
Flowing through the second floor of the apartment is the sweet sound of a piano being played by Henry Williams. Henry lives alone in apartment 207, and every evening you can hear him practice his beautiful music. Sometimes, during crisp nights in the Spring, he leaves his balcony door open and his piano playing gently pours out into the parking lot for everyone to hear. He never plays the same piece, each night is a different song. He has stacks of music books piled all over his living room. He'll practice and practice on each new piece until he can play it perfectly. Henry simply loved the piano. In fact was the very thing that made him famous many years ago.
Henry is is around his late 70's now, but back in the day, he was a well known concert and jazz pianist in the Toronto area. He played everything from solo pieces to concertos, and his career started at Roy Thompson Hall. He started doing his own recordings and sold several records of pieces he composed himself. His fame was so well known in Toronto, that it expanded all throughout Ontario, and eventually stretched to other provinces! Pretty soon, he was travelling far and wide, from Ontario to British Columbia. However, he had trouble keeping up with all the travelling. It was too much for him having to fly all over Canada. He could never find the time to be close with his family since he was frequently going back and forth to perform in different provinces. He decided to retire as a concert pianist and became a part-time piano teacher.
Henry misses it though. Part of him still wishes he was back performing on the stage. It was quite an amazing experience for him. During that time he met and worked with several other musicians just as passionate and talented as he was. It gave him joy to perform with them as the audience watched them in awe. However, becoming a piano teacher gave him a chance to do something he's never done before. Before, he played piano for his own needs, but now he plays piano to inspire others. Being able to teach others about the piano gave him a sense of purpose. Knowing that his students might one day play for themselves as he did was quite rewarding.
Even though Henry no longer plays the piano in huge concert halls, gives the neighborhood free recitals every evening. All you have to do is wait in the parking lot around six o'clock and you'll be able to hear his beautiful melodies coming from the inside of his balcony door.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The collage of people #3
The cross guard
Audience: students, particularly those in high school and middle school
Audience: students, particularly those in high school and middle school
Purpose: To acknowledge the hard working cross guards who prevent students from being run over by cars
It was a cold, windy morning and Nancy was standing on at the corner of the side walk. The freezing wind was hitting against her face like tiny needles. She had been waiting for about ten minuets, but no one had approached the crosswalk yet. She looked way down the street to see if anyone was coming by, but she couldn't spot anybody. She sighed, placing her red stop sign on the ground as she began to place her thicker pair of gloves over her hands.
She was a soft spoken lady with a tiny frame and had squirrel-like cheeks. Although she was quite old, there were hardly any wrinkles on her face and she looked pretty healthy. Nancy had been working as a cross guard for about a year, every single morning from eight to nine. And in the after noon, she would work once again from three to four. Since she lived just down the street form the cross walk, work was very convenient for her. It didn't seem like much of a job, but she enjoyed it because it kept her busy and she liked talking to some of the parents However, she spent the majority of her time while waiting for her afternoon shift at the parks and recs clubhouse, which was only a couple of steps away. she and a few of her other senior friends participated in the Tia Chi and various other clubs in the community center. Her neighborhood was more than just a home, it was the center of her life.
Finally, she spotted someone walking up the street. It was a middle school student, most likely a Cosburn kid. She waited until the kid came a few feet near the edge of side walk before she checked to see where the cars were on the road. There was one car travelling down the street, but it didn't even come close to being half way from the cross walk. She held her red sign out anyway and blew her whistle, assisting the student as he crossed the street. A lot of kids found her weird that way, guiding them when there wasn't even traffic, or cars for that matter. And if there were cars, she hardly let any of them pass though her until those kids crossed the road first. It was just an odd habit of Nancy's.
It's not that she thought people were incapable of crossing the street by themselves, she just wanted to be cautious and keep them company. Perhaps the reason she blows her whistle at the cars who signal their blinkers in the opposite direction because she's afraid they might take an unexpected turn anyways. She may be a bit too cautious, but it shows that she cares, and no one seemed to acknowledge this.
The student quickly strolled across the street, not even glancing at Nancy. She just watched the the kid as he continued to walk on the other side of the walkway. The cold wind continued to blow into her face. Lifting her scarf over top of her nose, she waited once again for someone else to cross. Maybe the next person would say hi to her at least.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The collage of people #2
The Dog walker
George stood patiently at the door around eight o'clock, as he did every morning, waiting for someone to answer it. He was quite old, hitting around his mid-70's. His face was drooped with wrinkles, and a pair of thick spectacles sat on the bridge of his crooked nose. He wore a plain black coat with large pockets on the sides. On top of his grey head sat a red, worn out baseball cap. George was a pretty small man, with a bit of a hunch in his back. He seemed like any average old man, but as soon as the lady answered the door with the two white dogs by her feet, he seemed to a have a more youthful and happier glow to him.
Every morning, George would take the dogs for a walk around the neighborhood. They were gorgeous dogs, both looked like rough collies, only smaller. They had white coats and red snouts. And if you ever got a close look at them, you could see the paleness of their blue eyes. But what really made them unique was that they were therapy dogs. Seniors around the neighborhood would come to the house and visit these dogs, taking them out for walks. George was the most frequent visitor, for he loved the dogs, and you could tell they enjoyed his company.
George kneeled down and fastened the leash on their collars. "Stay." He told them. They remained seated, wincing with anticipation. It was amazing how obedient these dogs were. They wagged their tails with excitement, their blue eyes wide and bright. "Hi, Gaia." He greeted the taller collie, stroking her snowy fur. "Pan." He patted the head of the smaller collie. Then, he got up on his feet, waved good-bye to the lady and headed out onto the side walk with two collies trotting beside him.
They continued to walk along the side walk until they came upon a red stop light at the cross. The dogs halted as soon as George did, as if able to read his thoughts. He reached his hand out to pet their heads. Gaia's snout nuzzled against his fingers, and Pan licked his hand. George felt so grateful to have these dogs accompanying him every morning, since his son had recently moved out to live outside the city. Not only was he lonely, but he missed having that sense of purpose as a father to guide and lookout for his son. However, meeting up with these dogs in the morning helped him overcome his loneliness for a little bit. To George, these dogs were more than just friends, they were his children, and he treated them as if they were. He walked them, played with them and brushed them. Just being with them made him feel like he was once a father again, recreating that sense of purpose and usefulness he had lost.
He looked at the two dogs and smiled, their heads looking up and staring back at him with big, sky blue eyes. Then, turning his head back up, he saw the red light change green, and the three of them walked across the street reaching towards the next block.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Collage of people
The Narcissist
Aron briskly circled the hallway as if it were his own catwalk. He never just walks-he strides. With a bit of a confident skip in his heels, he smoothly glided through the halls with ease as if he were a super model. His posture always kept straight with his long neck lifting his head high in the air. Of course, no person would move with such poise if they didn't want to be noticed. Aron, being the beautiful creature he was, surely did.
He knew he was attractive. Why, his golden mid-length hair had a flawless sheen that complimented his complexion. He had ivory pale skin and a rare colour of pale blue eyes that no one could compete. He had the height and frame of a model, and was toned throughout. Though, it's questionable why he would want any of this attention since he never seems to acknowledge those heart-struck girls (or guys) that turn their heads whenever he comes down the hall. Instead, he stares straight ahead in the midst of the fayer, just knowing that he was being admired was probably enough for him.
As much as Aron was concerned about his looks, he enjoyed being in the company of his friends whom he hung around with during lunch. They were standing around near one of their buddy's lockers, talking about football and joking around. Signalling a wave, he approached towards them. The longer he was with his friends, the more his model-like persona faded away. It was as if he never was that narcissist he was earlier gliding through the halls by himself.
Aron briskly circled the hallway as if it were his own catwalk. He never just walks-he strides. With a bit of a confident skip in his heels, he smoothly glided through the halls with ease as if he were a super model. His posture always kept straight with his long neck lifting his head high in the air. Of course, no person would move with such poise if they didn't want to be noticed. Aron, being the beautiful creature he was, surely did.
He knew he was attractive. Why, his golden mid-length hair had a flawless sheen that complimented his complexion. He had ivory pale skin and a rare colour of pale blue eyes that no one could compete. He had the height and frame of a model, and was toned throughout. Though, it's questionable why he would want any of this attention since he never seems to acknowledge those heart-struck girls (or guys) that turn their heads whenever he comes down the hall. Instead, he stares straight ahead in the midst of the fayer, just knowing that he was being admired was probably enough for him.
As much as Aron was concerned about his looks, he enjoyed being in the company of his friends whom he hung around with during lunch. They were standing around near one of their buddy's lockers, talking about football and joking around. Signalling a wave, he approached towards them. The longer he was with his friends, the more his model-like persona faded away. It was as if he never was that narcissist he was earlier gliding through the halls by himself.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Daily life of inanimate objects
Entry #1:
Everything was going well. I was comfortably perched on top of my master's nose bridge, aiding the weak vision of the orbs. It was just like any other day, until I overheard some frightful news that caused my whole body to tilt over. They were going to replace me.
Apparently my prescription is out of date. Out of date? How insulting. I'm not that old! Six and a half years at that, and I'm still in one piece! I know I am no longer the beauty I once was since the beginning of my career. My body, once pink and crisp has been scrapped down, revealing a grayish, rusty metal. My lenses, which were clear and smooth, are now covered with tiny scratches. But I assure you, I serve my purpose just as well as I did the day I was bought and used.
All I want is a chance. Doesn't my master realize how much of a help I have been? I will not just sit helplessly and watch as I be replaced by some new, snobby, thick-framed amateur. I am enraged! Just for that, if there ever is a need for a temporary replacement when the amateur gets lost or broken, I won't be there.
Entry #2:
After an irritable night of pondering through my worries, I was once again summoned for duty this morning. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, but I continued to assist the orbs with my glass lenses.
During the beginning of my day, I didn't hear news about my replacement schedule. I was hoping my master had come back to her senses and dropped the idea of replacing me. It was a false hope, but it kept me going through the day. I haven't been this anxious since the time my master's sibling kicked a soccer ball in her face and knocked my lens out!
When my master had returned home from school however, my hope vanished. She and her father began to discuss when they should set an appointment for the optometrist. They decided to schedule one for tomorrow. Suddenly the anger I had been feeling turned into fear. This was too soon, I thought. Much too soon. But I still have a couple of days before my time comes. It takes a little less than a week for the new glasses to be ready to purchase.
My body is shaking with anxiety, it's like waiting for death to knock at my door. Where I'll be ending up next will be worse than death, I know it!
Entry #3:
So there I was, sitting on top of a small desk, watching as the giant, black machine was placed over my master's face. I could hear the optometrist ask my master to recite some letters and numbers on the board. Then he began overlapping multiple lenses in front of the eyes of the machine to find the orb's prescription. What carried on for several minuets felt like hours, but the time had finally came for my master to browse for a new visual aid. I could feel the fear burn up inside of me as my master placed me on top of her nose bridge once again.
My master walked out of the office, leading into another room. All I saw were rows and shelves of new models, just waiting to purchased. I gulped, but I couldn't swallow this terrifying feeling. One of these models would soon replace me and I will be left alone in a small, cramped container, only to be used as a back up. Only one questioned lingered in my thoughts: "Just which one of these Newbies will be chosen as my heir?"
My master sure took her sweet time to pick her new glasses, constantly trying on new models, taking me on and off. It was as if I was being slowly tortured. All that time I had been waiting and waiting. Just choose and let me rid of my misery! As if heard from the gods above, my master came to a stop. "I like these ones!" She said, finally. She removed me from her bridge and switched me with a pair of pink, square framed glasses. "What? Why the square frames? How do people find these models so attractive?" I wailed. But the pink glasses just smirked and told me I was behind the times. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your owner." It said.
So that was my replacement. I couldn't believe it. Am I really that old to be incapable of judging a hideous pair of glasses?
Entry: # 4
Last night was restless, stressful and worrisome. I did not sleep. I couldn't. My mind was lingering in the darkness, unable to shake off my worries.
As I sat there on the desk beside the bed, waiting for the sun to rise, I thought about my fate. What will happen to me on the day of my replacement? Where will I end up? Will I be thrown away like my ancestors before me? I could feel the soft heat of sun filling up the room, it's shiny beams reflecting off my lenses. I never really appreciated being soaked by it's warmth every morning. Perhaps I should start now. After all, these next couple of days will be the last I'll feel of it. Then the radio sang it's morning call, and I was yet again pick up and placed on the face of my owner.
It was the start of a new day. My master went through her morning preparations and left for school. I gave aid to the orb's vision as if it were any average day. And tomorrow will be the same. And the next one, and the next one, until my time has come to be swapped with another pair of new, shiny glasses. But I suppose that's how life is. All good things must come and go, leaving the newer generation to take their place. I guess I am old. Maybe I should just except my uselessness and retire.
Before I do that, I will take the opportunity to enjoy my last days of being useful. And during dusk, I'll eagerly wait for the sun to seep through the sheer bedroom curtains to hit it's warm beams againts my body.
Everything was going well. I was comfortably perched on top of my master's nose bridge, aiding the weak vision of the orbs. It was just like any other day, until I overheard some frightful news that caused my whole body to tilt over. They were going to replace me.
Apparently my prescription is out of date. Out of date? How insulting. I'm not that old! Six and a half years at that, and I'm still in one piece! I know I am no longer the beauty I once was since the beginning of my career. My body, once pink and crisp has been scrapped down, revealing a grayish, rusty metal. My lenses, which were clear and smooth, are now covered with tiny scratches. But I assure you, I serve my purpose just as well as I did the day I was bought and used.
All I want is a chance. Doesn't my master realize how much of a help I have been? I will not just sit helplessly and watch as I be replaced by some new, snobby, thick-framed amateur. I am enraged! Just for that, if there ever is a need for a temporary replacement when the amateur gets lost or broken, I won't be there.
Entry #2:
After an irritable night of pondering through my worries, I was once again summoned for duty this morning. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, but I continued to assist the orbs with my glass lenses.
During the beginning of my day, I didn't hear news about my replacement schedule. I was hoping my master had come back to her senses and dropped the idea of replacing me. It was a false hope, but it kept me going through the day. I haven't been this anxious since the time my master's sibling kicked a soccer ball in her face and knocked my lens out!
When my master had returned home from school however, my hope vanished. She and her father began to discuss when they should set an appointment for the optometrist. They decided to schedule one for tomorrow. Suddenly the anger I had been feeling turned into fear. This was too soon, I thought. Much too soon. But I still have a couple of days before my time comes. It takes a little less than a week for the new glasses to be ready to purchase.
My body is shaking with anxiety, it's like waiting for death to knock at my door. Where I'll be ending up next will be worse than death, I know it!
Entry #3:
So there I was, sitting on top of a small desk, watching as the giant, black machine was placed over my master's face. I could hear the optometrist ask my master to recite some letters and numbers on the board. Then he began overlapping multiple lenses in front of the eyes of the machine to find the orb's prescription. What carried on for several minuets felt like hours, but the time had finally came for my master to browse for a new visual aid. I could feel the fear burn up inside of me as my master placed me on top of her nose bridge once again.
My master walked out of the office, leading into another room. All I saw were rows and shelves of new models, just waiting to purchased. I gulped, but I couldn't swallow this terrifying feeling. One of these models would soon replace me and I will be left alone in a small, cramped container, only to be used as a back up. Only one questioned lingered in my thoughts: "Just which one of these Newbies will be chosen as my heir?"
My master sure took her sweet time to pick her new glasses, constantly trying on new models, taking me on and off. It was as if I was being slowly tortured. All that time I had been waiting and waiting. Just choose and let me rid of my misery! As if heard from the gods above, my master came to a stop. "I like these ones!" She said, finally. She removed me from her bridge and switched me with a pair of pink, square framed glasses. "What? Why the square frames? How do people find these models so attractive?" I wailed. But the pink glasses just smirked and told me I was behind the times. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your owner." It said.
So that was my replacement. I couldn't believe it. Am I really that old to be incapable of judging a hideous pair of glasses?
Entry: # 4
Last night was restless, stressful and worrisome. I did not sleep. I couldn't. My mind was lingering in the darkness, unable to shake off my worries.
As I sat there on the desk beside the bed, waiting for the sun to rise, I thought about my fate. What will happen to me on the day of my replacement? Where will I end up? Will I be thrown away like my ancestors before me? I could feel the soft heat of sun filling up the room, it's shiny beams reflecting off my lenses. I never really appreciated being soaked by it's warmth every morning. Perhaps I should start now. After all, these next couple of days will be the last I'll feel of it. Then the radio sang it's morning call, and I was yet again pick up and placed on the face of my owner.
It was the start of a new day. My master went through her morning preparations and left for school. I gave aid to the orb's vision as if it were any average day. And tomorrow will be the same. And the next one, and the next one, until my time has come to be swapped with another pair of new, shiny glasses. But I suppose that's how life is. All good things must come and go, leaving the newer generation to take their place. I guess I am old. Maybe I should just except my uselessness and retire.
Before I do that, I will take the opportunity to enjoy my last days of being useful. And during dusk, I'll eagerly wait for the sun to seep through the sheer bedroom curtains to hit it's warm beams againts my body.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"I'll trade you this Yugioh card for..." and gossip.
"I'll trade you this Yugioh card for your Destiny Hero!"
"Ewww, no! That's an old magic card!"
"What? It's a good card come on! please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Hey yo, I'll sell you this Black Luster Soldier for five bucks."
"Snap! Heck yes!"
I heard this as I was passing D.A. Morrison on my way home from school yesterday. There was a group of nerdy looking kids hanging outside the bus stop, trading Yugioh cards. I was surprised by the fact that kids still play with these things. Jeez, I remember I started to play Yugioh cards when i was in grade 5. I thought they died out while I was in grade eight, but I guess they're popularity came back. Except, now the cards have been upgraded and the rules have changed. They'll probably continue to change these features in order for it to sell to the newer generations. They don't care if the old fans are disappointed of the mutation that has befallen on their precious card game, just so long as it sells. Yep, it's going to end up just like the never ending, over-killed Pokemon franchise.
I still enjoy the original Pokemon and Yugioh...I have my cards hiding in one of my three-ringed binders. Don't judge me!
Final eavesdropping conversation:
Okay, so I decided to eavesdrop on one more conversation because my previous ones were not long enough to turn into a script. Anyways, while I was taking the bus on my way to the movie theatres yesterday, I heard these three teenage girls gossiping on about a girl they clearly disliked.
"We saw Paige on the bus yesterday. And after you left, she said you made eye contact with her and didn't say hi."
"Ha-ha!"
"What? I didn't make eye contac-Ah crap! I did..."
"Yep, she ended up talking to me for the rest of the ride."
"Oh my god....I'm sorry..."
"She's in college now, trying to get into recording arts. She was only at school for half a semester."
"Well that's a relief!"
"You know, I'm surprised any college would accept her."
"She wants to get into singing. That makes me laugh. She can't sing for shit!"
"She's not that bad of a person, you know."
"No way! She's just as bad as Jessica."
"No, no. She's way nice than Jessica. Jessica's rude. At least Paige actually considers other people's feelings."
"You guys, she's not an animal you know."
"But she's just creepy. You know she stalked James."
"What? Really?"
"She phoned him one time, and he didn't even give her his number. She was like to him, 'Yeah, you gave me your phone number a long time ago.' He was all creeped out and finally she said, 'fine, I looked it up in the phone book."
"Yeah, that's not stalkerish at all!
"Wow, what a creeper!"
"Then she went around saying that the two were dating and poor James didn't even know what was going on."
"God, that girl's messed up. I swear."
I'm not going to lie, eavesdropping on teenage gossip is amusing. This girl that they were talking about sounds like she's a bit off her rocker, but I feel a little sorry for her. She doesn't seem like the most popular student in the school and probably gets picked on for it. People just love to talk about those who fall under "strange and unusual" category. It amuses them and makes them feel better about themselves. And when the word travels through the grape vine, it eventually makes it's way to the person being talked about. I can just imagine how horrible this person must feel, listening to all the rumors being made about her everyday. I would be so humiliated, I wouldn't want to show up for school.
It's a shame, but that's high school for you. Full of rumors, gossip and drama. Like I said, I enjoy listening on other people's gossip, but when I'm amongst my friends, I try and avoid participating in it. It's just a real, big headache.
"Ewww, no! That's an old magic card!"
"What? It's a good card come on! please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Hey yo, I'll sell you this Black Luster Soldier for five bucks."
"Snap! Heck yes!"
I heard this as I was passing D.A. Morrison on my way home from school yesterday. There was a group of nerdy looking kids hanging outside the bus stop, trading Yugioh cards. I was surprised by the fact that kids still play with these things. Jeez, I remember I started to play Yugioh cards when i was in grade 5. I thought they died out while I was in grade eight, but I guess they're popularity came back. Except, now the cards have been upgraded and the rules have changed. They'll probably continue to change these features in order for it to sell to the newer generations. They don't care if the old fans are disappointed of the mutation that has befallen on their precious card game, just so long as it sells. Yep, it's going to end up just like the never ending, over-killed Pokemon franchise.
I still enjoy the original Pokemon and Yugioh...I have my cards hiding in one of my three-ringed binders. Don't judge me!
Final eavesdropping conversation:
Okay, so I decided to eavesdrop on one more conversation because my previous ones were not long enough to turn into a script. Anyways, while I was taking the bus on my way to the movie theatres yesterday, I heard these three teenage girls gossiping on about a girl they clearly disliked.
"We saw Paige on the bus yesterday. And after you left, she said you made eye contact with her and didn't say hi."
"Ha-ha!"
"What? I didn't make eye contac-Ah crap! I did..."
"Yep, she ended up talking to me for the rest of the ride."
"Oh my god....I'm sorry..."
"She's in college now, trying to get into recording arts. She was only at school for half a semester."
"Well that's a relief!"
"You know, I'm surprised any college would accept her."
"She wants to get into singing. That makes me laugh. She can't sing for shit!"
"She's not that bad of a person, you know."
"No way! She's just as bad as Jessica."
"No, no. She's way nice than Jessica. Jessica's rude. At least Paige actually considers other people's feelings."
"You guys, she's not an animal you know."
"But she's just creepy. You know she stalked James."
"What? Really?"
"She phoned him one time, and he didn't even give her his number. She was like to him, 'Yeah, you gave me your phone number a long time ago.' He was all creeped out and finally she said, 'fine, I looked it up in the phone book."
"Yeah, that's not stalkerish at all!
"Wow, what a creeper!"
"Then she went around saying that the two were dating and poor James didn't even know what was going on."
"God, that girl's messed up. I swear."
I'm not going to lie, eavesdropping on teenage gossip is amusing. This girl that they were talking about sounds like she's a bit off her rocker, but I feel a little sorry for her. She doesn't seem like the most popular student in the school and probably gets picked on for it. People just love to talk about those who fall under "strange and unusual" category. It amuses them and makes them feel better about themselves. And when the word travels through the grape vine, it eventually makes it's way to the person being talked about. I can just imagine how horrible this person must feel, listening to all the rumors being made about her everyday. I would be so humiliated, I wouldn't want to show up for school.
It's a shame, but that's high school for you. Full of rumors, gossip and drama. Like I said, I enjoy listening on other people's gossip, but when I'm amongst my friends, I try and avoid participating in it. It's just a real, big headache.
A video game conversation
Today, my brother was playing his computer game a little while ago, and I could hear voices coming from the speakers. They weren't coming from the game, they were coming from the players who were talking to each other through microphones. Although their conversation wasn't exactly "intelligent," but I still found it amusing. I can't remember their user names though. The video game is called "Age of Chivalry" where you play as knights and fight each other. So this is what I heard, minus the swearing.
"I'm calling you MVP for this game because I'm defiantly doing all the work."
"That's not very nice."
".........You're no very nice!"
"Yeah, try not to hit me while your killing the enemy!"
"For god sake! I hate my keyboard!"
"You just got owned, B*&%!"
And then some guy randomly starts singing "Hot and Cold" by Katy Perry. It was kind of funny. And sometimes four people would talk at once and all you could hear was this giant muffle.
It just comes to show you how much video games and technology in general have advanced. You can talk to someone who lives on the other side of the world while playing video games now. It's really amazing. I know this is all old news for some gamers, but I'm still intrigued! This type of communication is so much easier than typing a message while trying to defend yourself from other players. I think it's neat that you can talk to gamers all over the world. When my brother gets his microphone for the computer, I'm definitely going to give it a try!
"I'm calling you MVP for this game because I'm defiantly doing all the work."
"That's not very nice."
".........You're no very nice!"
"Yeah, try not to hit me while your killing the enemy!"
"For god sake! I hate my keyboard!"
"You just got owned, B*&%!"
And then some guy randomly starts singing "Hot and Cold" by Katy Perry. It was kind of funny. And sometimes four people would talk at once and all you could hear was this giant muffle.
It just comes to show you how much video games and technology in general have advanced. You can talk to someone who lives on the other side of the world while playing video games now. It's really amazing. I know this is all old news for some gamers, but I'm still intrigued! This type of communication is so much easier than typing a message while trying to defend yourself from other players. I think it's neat that you can talk to gamers all over the world. When my brother gets his microphone for the computer, I'm definitely going to give it a try!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Looking at cats...
This was during my photography class today (just posting this stuff in case I can't switch out of this class, by the way)
"Oh my god, look at her pupils! They're so dilated!"
"Yeah! Look how red they are!"
"She's definitely high."
So I turn around and look at that chick that they're talking about. Her eyes were really red. Well, that explains why she was talking all loud and saying bizarre stuff. Not that I've never seen this before. I don't see the point of coming to class right after smoking pot. Not only is it going to screw up your learning during class, but there's a pretty big chance that you'll get caught. Then you'll have to go to the office, talk to the Principal, maybe with the cops too. After that, they brand you as a drugy in the school and you have to go through all this crap. It's just not worth it. Kids, if your going to smoke pot, do it on your spare time, not during school. It's just common sense.
Oh, here's a random one. From Sunday while at the mall.
"My mom and I sat in her bed for like, five hours looking at pictures of cats on the Internet."
Yeah, I'm not really sure what to think about that. I think I'd get bored after a while. I mean, I like looking at cat pictures, especially funny ones. They cheer me up, but I can't see myself looking at pictures of cats for five hours. That's just boring, I have other things to do. Meh, but I guess if you're a real cat lover, you could look at cat pictures all day. Oh, but I do like watching funny cat videos on YouTube, I could watch those for about an hour or so.
"Oh my god, look at her pupils! They're so dilated!"
"Yeah! Look how red they are!"
"She's definitely high."
So I turn around and look at that chick that they're talking about. Her eyes were really red. Well, that explains why she was talking all loud and saying bizarre stuff. Not that I've never seen this before. I don't see the point of coming to class right after smoking pot. Not only is it going to screw up your learning during class, but there's a pretty big chance that you'll get caught. Then you'll have to go to the office, talk to the Principal, maybe with the cops too. After that, they brand you as a drugy in the school and you have to go through all this crap. It's just not worth it. Kids, if your going to smoke pot, do it on your spare time, not during school. It's just common sense.
Oh, here's a random one. From Sunday while at the mall.
"My mom and I sat in her bed for like, five hours looking at pictures of cats on the Internet."
Yeah, I'm not really sure what to think about that. I think I'd get bored after a while. I mean, I like looking at cat pictures, especially funny ones. They cheer me up, but I can't see myself looking at pictures of cats for five hours. That's just boring, I have other things to do. Meh, but I guess if you're a real cat lover, you could look at cat pictures all day. Oh, but I do like watching funny cat videos on YouTube, I could watch those for about an hour or so.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Some stuff I heard
Kay, so...I was going down on the escalotor at the Eaton's center when I overhead a conversation from this young couple above me. I couldn't get it word from word, but this is pretty close.
The chick: ...So it's not just enough if he loves you. He has to be financially stable.
The guy: Uh, huh
The chick: You know, so he can treat you to dinner, buy you something nice once in a while...
The Guy: Yeah...
Me: .........XD LOL
I'm pretty sure she was taking about Valentine's day, where the whole main idea is to buy your love's affection with your cold hard cash. Probably the most commercialized "holiday" on our calender, I don't think there are any commercial that aren't. Why do you need a day to prove that you love them? Or should I say, why do we need a day to bribe our loved ones' affection? I don't understand that. It's really just a way for the goverment to get into your pockets by spending money on chocolate, flowers, jewlery and fluffy crap. And it's always the guys buying all this stuff for the girls. You don't usually see it the other way around.
And then there's my theory that the goverment just wants to promote romance so the population will reproduce, that way there will be more soldiers to fight in army in the future. They also push those people who are not in a relationship to feel bad so that they can try and find a mate. Sorry to all you cheesy couples out there, but Valentine's day is a sham. One. Big. Sham.
Kay, I'm done.
The chick: ...So it's not just enough if he loves you. He has to be financially stable.
The guy: Uh, huh
The chick: You know, so he can treat you to dinner, buy you something nice once in a while...
The Guy: Yeah...
Me: .........XD LOL
I'm pretty sure she was taking about Valentine's day, where the whole main idea is to buy your love's affection with your cold hard cash. Probably the most commercialized "holiday" on our calender, I don't think there are any commercial that aren't. Why do you need a day to prove that you love them? Or should I say, why do we need a day to bribe our loved ones' affection? I don't understand that. It's really just a way for the goverment to get into your pockets by spending money on chocolate, flowers, jewlery and fluffy crap. And it's always the guys buying all this stuff for the girls. You don't usually see it the other way around.
And then there's my theory that the goverment just wants to promote romance so the population will reproduce, that way there will be more soldiers to fight in army in the future. They also push those people who are not in a relationship to feel bad so that they can try and find a mate. Sorry to all you cheesy couples out there, but Valentine's day is a sham. One. Big. Sham.
Kay, I'm done.
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