je voudrais être un yeti

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

You may know that I love the French language. In fact, I have expressed an interest in learning it fluently. I planned to take French throughout high school. However, now that it's not mandatory, I have dropped it and will never take a (high school) course in it again.

This may come as a shock – it seemed like I was passionate about the language, right? Why on earth would I feel so differently about it?

It's because of my teacher.

A teacher really can make all the difference! I had excellent French teachers for my first four years taking the subject, but my teacher this year was just awful. At the beginning of last year, I thought both the course and the teacher were "super cool". I don't know when exactly I changed my mind, but, oh, I changed it.

First term, I put my hand up fairly often and answered questions when she asked me directly. By second term, I was bored with the course as I'd learned everything previously¹ – keep in mind that this was the enriched course². I also began to dislike my teacher, who I felt was trying too hard to be cool and not trying hard enough to teach me anything. I stopped putting up my hand, generally answered questions directed at me with nods or monosyllabic responses, and doodled in my agenda for most of the class³. Perhaps not the best behaviour, and it brought my mark down from a 90 (A+!) to an 86 (just A), but, hey – I was bored!

I also had a particularly bad experience in May. A theater group from Montréal came to my school and put on a play about bullying. The period directly following the play was French, and we had a discussion about bullying. My teacher wanted us to share personal experiences with bullying. I told her I didn't have anything to say. This was a lie – I have had plenty of experience with such things, but I (understandably) didn't want to talk about this in front of a bunch of people who I don't know very well. She kept pushing me to talk about it⁴, so I got a bit snappy and got in trouble. She's also been known to invade my personal space quite significantly (not in an "oh you got a bit too close" way).

Overall I just dislike my French teacher, and she has ruined my experience with French. I'd like to continue with the subject (and I could have skipped a year of it, which would have been nice), but there are only two French teachers at my school and there is no way that I'm taking that chance. I absolutely do not want another year of utter boredom when I could be taking an elective that actually interests me – like Anthropology.

Interestingly enough, I used to despise science. I've mentioned a few times that I dislike the subject, but I find myself looking forward to the two days a week when I have it! My teacher makes it a fun and interesting subject, and the period doesn't drag on like it always has in the past. I guess this is just proof that a good teacher can make a huge difference!

1. some things even 2-3 years previously! [↩]
2. AP for any Americans [↩]
3. I mentioned somewhere that I kept an I AM BORED chart in my agenda for the majority of the year; French won [↩]
4. Come on, Clementine, are you saying you've NEVER been bullied? [↩]

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

Unlike my elementary and middle schools, my high school does not have a moment of silence on September 11. Though I haven't formally observed a moment of silence in a few years, it hasn't stopped me from thinking about that day.

I recently re-watched the Michael Moore film Bowling for Columbine¹. Near the beginning, there's the footage of the second airplane crashing into the World Trade Center. When I watched that part, it nearly brought me to tears. I remember that day so clearly, and I guess the footage just brought back all those emotions.

I've talked about it before, but that was such a scary day for me. I was in grade 2 – old enough that I understood what was going on, but young enough that I didn't quite understand the concept of "terrorists" and why they wanted to hurt and scare people. I'm actually glad that I didn't know; if I had, I probably would have been even more terrified. It's strange – most of my memories from that age are very fuzzy, but that day is so clear to me. I remember everything my teacher said when she told our class what was going on. I remember coming home to the news turned on (rare, since my parents never watch the news; I know there's something wrong when they do) and my parents scared. I live in Canada, but nobody knew if we were next. I live in a huge city by Canadian standards², so it seemed likely that they would attack us too.

Now that I'm much older and able to think about that day more clearly, I have been giving it a lot of thought. As I mentioned, we may cover 9/11 in my history class. I mean… this is history. Kids are going to be taught about that day in school for the next 10, 20, 50, 300 years. I witnessed history. I can tell my (hypothetical) kids that I remember that day, that day that they're learning about in their own history classes. Everything I learn about in history is old – stuff that my grandparents or great-great-great-great grandparents lived through. And then there's 9/11. I'm learning about a day that I can remember, a day that will be recounted in millions of history books for years and years to come.

I have so many more thoughts about this day that have been swirling around my head for the past little while. I feel like it's strange that this makes me so emotional, since I didn't lose anybody that day (although I know people who did) – but I really find it weird. So, even though I didn't have a moment of silence at school, it's been on my mind all day. 8 years, and I remember it as if it happened yesterday.

1. random fact: my grandpa makes a 3-second appearance in that movie! [↩]
2. 3 million people, and there are only about 32 million people in the whole country [↩]

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

A few weeks ago, there was a huge storm where I live. Around the same time, my internet connection started cutting out randomly. This is probably related, although we don't have any proof.

Originally, we thought that our router was dying. We reset it, and when that didn't work, bought a new one, but continued to have the same issues. We called Bell and let them know that we were having problems. They sent someone to fix our lines. We also got filters for our phones and a new wireless modem.

Apparently none of that worked, because yesterday we had about 3 hours total of on-and-off connectivity. My mom was on the phone with a technician for a few hours, and eventually he told her that he really doesn't know what's going on. We have another repairman coming today (he should be here within 45 minutes), but at this rate, who knows if that will help?

Basically, this is just a note to say that if I'm not around much in the next little while, you can chalk it up to our fantastically bad internet connection. It's kind of hard to blog when you get 10 minutes of connectivity followed by 3 hours of… well, nothing. In the little time I do have to go on the internet what with the connection cutting in and out, I catch up with my feed reader, check my email, check Facebook, etc. Blogging is just not my top priority right now.

Hopefully I will be able to come back soon – it's really not convenient to have such a terrible internet connection.

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

This morning I woke up with the intention of charging my long-neglected cell phone. I went through my bag, which is where I thought it was. Not there. I checked my other bag, the table where I usually put my phone, and the coffee table. Not there. I was a little worried, but I figured that it was in the pockets of a pair of jeans or shorts. I went up to my room and checked all of the pockets I could find. I also checked my bedside table and the top of my dresser. I even looked through the things on my desk, although I didn't think it would be there.

By now, I was beginning to panic. I've already lost one cell phone this year, and my contract is up in four and a half months¹. I really can't lose another cell phone (especially since I'm still having issues with late fees). Yesterday I did my own laundry for the first time², so I suspected that I'd washed my phone since I didn't check my pockets.

I used the landline to call my cell phone in hopes that I was wrong, but got the "this phone is not in service" message, since the battery was dead. Panicked, I ran around the house trying to find my it. I really needed to charge it, since I was meeting up with my best friend for her birthday and she was going to call me. When I finally made it back up to my room, I spotted the Pictionary box and remembered that my phone was in there. Sure enough, I pulled off the top – and it had been sitting there all along. I'd been running around the house for nothing.

Evidently, this was not my best day in terms of brain power.

1. I'm going to switch providers when it runs out, so it wouldn't make sense to pay another $100 for a cell phone that I'll only use for a few months [↩]
2. yes, yes, I'm sheltered, I know [↩]

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

When you take public transit as often as I do¹, you learn to amuse yourself by listening to what's going on around you. Public transit can be quite interesting – you'll see and meet all sorts of people, and hear lots of interesting conversations.

Once when I was on the streetcar, I heard a young woman, maybe twenty years old, talking on her cell phone. She was not articulate at all and came off as incredibly stupid. She said "like" every third word (I'm barely even exaggerating here) and made every sentence sound like a question. Some memorable quotes included, "So, I like, went to bed at like two, and I had to wake up at like six to go to, like, work, but it was really three, because it was, like, daylight savings times?" Then she had to explain to her friend what daylight savings times meant ("It's, like, when you put the clock back like an hour, because, like, the daylight is different?"). She also said, "Gus is like the stupidest name evarrrr!" I could barely stop myself from laughing. I couldn't believe that people like her actually exist outside of movies and TV! (Maybe I'm sheltered, but I've always thought that was an exaggerated stereotype.)

When I'm taking public transit with friends, I'm always hyper-aware of what I say. I try not to use bad language or talk about potentially sensitive subjects, because I know that strangers are probably listening to what I say. Even though I won't see any of these people again, I don't like making a bad impression, and I know that I could potentially make someone's experience worse based on what I say. (Who likes hearing someone swearing every few words? I don't mind bad language, but that's a little extreme.) I find it weird that so many people have no sense of self-awareness… or maybe I'm just the weird one.

I guess I'm a people-watcher. I find people fascinating, and eavesdropping is just a way to pass the time. If you're taking public transit for as long as I do every day (nearly an hour and a half total), you have to do SOMETHING to pass the time – and to be honest, people are often more interesting than books.

1. two subways and two buses every day during the school year [↩]

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

Maybe I'm too old to be having silly dreams, especially since I know they're virtually unattainable.¹ Even so, I definitely do.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you'll know that I adore the Olympics². For the past few weeks, the 2009 FINA World Aquatics Championships have been going on in Rome, Italy, and I've watched most of CBC's coverage³. I guess you could say that I don't just love the Olympics – I love swimming and diving in general.

I must confess, watching swimming gets me very excited – just ask anyone who's ever had a conversation with me about it. In real life conversations about swimming, I will talk loudly and quickly and jump around; in IM conversations, I will often use all caps and abuse exclamation marks. I just love it.

One silly dream I have is to become an Olympic swimmer. That's nearly impossible at this point; I'm almost certainly too old to start training for the next Olympics, and I'd DEFINITELY be too old for the 2016 games! It's just unheard of to have your first Olympics⁴ when you're already in your twenties. (Most Olympic swimmers start training seriously when they're 10/11 and go to their first Olympics when they're 15/16 – by this pattern, I should have already gone!) Besides, I'm definitely not a strong enough swimmer, and no amount of training will change that.

Oh well, a girl can dream, right? What are your unachievable dreams, if any?

1. Maybe not, though; I guess we all have silly fantasies. [↩]
2. I mean, I even have a tag for them! [↩]
3. it ended today, and I am now a sad panda [↩]
4. in swimming anyway [↩]

Mirrored from Oh Clementine. You can leave any comments there.

I have pondered quitting blogging in the past and even done it for a few months. I thought it would be impossible for me to ever take a break that long, saying "I have considered taking an extended break, à la Kaylee, but I don't think I could stay away for too long." I have to wonder what I meant by "extended break" and "too long"¹ – I did manage to take a break, but, for me anyway, blogging is a habit. Now that it's been a part of my life for over three years, I can't just quit.

Although I have managed to take a long break, I could never, ever, ever delete my archives. There are a few bloggers I follow who have deleted everything once, sometimes multiple times. I can't imagine ever doing that. I still have backups of my FanUpdate entries², and I have a lot of the updates I posted by hand³. Maybe in five years I'll be embarrassed by what I wrote, but this blog is an archive of myself. In fact, to paraphrase something Amanda once said, a personal blog is a lot like an autobiography that's always being added to. I just cannot fathom the idea of deleting everything. I would be devastated if that happened⁴.

Part of it, I guess, is just the fact that I'm sentimental⁵. Yes, my younger self can be quite embarrassing, but it's nice to have a clear representation of what mini!Clem was like, not just memories that have been distorted by years gone by. It's also nice to stumble upon entries that I posted months, even years, ago, entries that I forgot even existed. And, for purely aesthetic reasons, I love how my archives page looks all filled out.

What about you? Could you ever delete your blog? If you did, would you keep backups somewhere else, or could you actually erase all evidence that it existed? Or, like me, are you far too sentimental for such things?

1. that post is 9 months old now so I can't be sure [↩]
2. I've been meaning them to start converting them all to Wordpress, but I've been lazy [↩]
3. though if you asked me I couldn't tell you where exactly they are… [↩]
4. and I do back up regularly! [↩]
5. which definitely fuels my really bad pack rat tendencies [↩]

I just back from my vacation, which was most excellent. Before I left, I bought five lengthy novels to get me through the week. All five were enjoyable, but I (unknowingly) saved the best for last – The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

I originally added this book to my stack because Josh had mentioned a few times that it's a fantastic book. I'd been hearing a bit about it, so when I walked past it in Chapters, I decided to buy it. I will admit – I saved it for the very end because of the heavy subject matter. I wasn't sure if it would be hard to get through, so I read my lighter books first. I'm glad that I saved it for the end, though, because the other four would have paled in comparison!

For those who haven't read it, I will summarise the book without any significant spoilers. The Book Thief is set in Nazi Germany and is narrated by the omniscient Death¹ and is about a few years in Liesel Meminger's life. On the way to her new foster home, her younger brother Werner dies. She finds a book (The Gravedigger's Handbook) by his grave and steals it. Eventually her foster father, Hans Hubermann, finds it, and he teaches her to read it. Books become an important part of Liesel's life, and she begins to steal them. She rescues one from a Nazi book burning and steals a few from the mayor's wife's library. Partway through the novel, a young Jewish man named Max Vandenburg seeks refuge in the Hubermann's basement. The book spans a course of about five years and outlines the trials of living in Nazi Germany.

This book is incredibly powerful. The relationships and characters have been crafted so carefully that it's hard to believe that it's a work of fiction. All of the characters have multiple layers – none of them are completely good or completely bad. Even the minor characters² have backstories and details that help shape them. I also like that the perspective is a bit different from the majority of Holocaust stories – it's more about a young German girl than a Jew in hiding (although that is an important theme as well). It's interesting, too, to see that many of the Germans are not evil, murderous Nazis, although they do support the Nazi party. Their support is largely based on fear and the fact that nearly everyone else around them is joining the party. Hans Hubermann only applies to join because it's safer for his family.

The end of The Book Thief is extremely moving and heartbreaking. I had to leave the (very public) room I was reading it in because the emotions were so strong. I locked myself in the bathroom, finished it there, and cried and cried. A few books have made me cry before³, but they have never invoked a reaction this strong. It really speaks to how well-written it is and how real the characters are.

Although the subject is very severe, I didn't find The Book Thief hard to get into. I often have troubles finishing books about the Holocaust⁴ because it can be so depressing. (Example: I started reading Anne Frank's diary about 5 years ago and still haven't come close to finishing it; though I personally find the diary quite tedious as a lot of it is just teenage angst.) I started this book almost as soon as I woke up and read straight through the day without break, finishing it just after dinner. (I did indeed bring it to the dinner table.) The story is very compelling, possibly because of the complex characters. It's not what you'd usually think of as a page-turner, but it is.

The Book Thief is a must-read. I know lots of people read it in school because they have to, but you really should read it because it is an amazing book. One of the reviews featured on the back says that it has the potential to be life-changing, and that's true; I haven't gone a day since I finished it without thinking about it. The emotions you will experience after reading it will stick you with you for a long time. I can honestly say that in 12 years of reading, it's the best book I've read in my life.

1. though you sort of have to infer that yourself [↩]
2. Frau Diller, Frau Holtzapfel [↩]
3. the prime example I can think of is Charlotte's Web [↩]
4. although the subject interests me greatly [↩]

I have come to the conclusion that summer is really, really boring.

I may not be the biggest fan of high school, but at least it gives me something to do all day. Essays to write, projects to stress over, homework to not do do five minutes before class starts, tests to study for… It's not like being bored during the school year is completely unheard of, but it keeps me busy.

I've never really liked the summer holidays past a certain point. So many of my friends are out of town¹, I can't borrow books from the library anymore², I'm trying not to spend any money³, petting cats all day is only fun for so long, and I've cleaned most of my room time and time again.

Besides, there's nothing interesting to post about during the summer! "Oh, today I cleaned my desk after months of it being a disaster area – oh, and my closet too, but I also did that last week so it only took me 2 seconds. I also got slobbered on by Jet while he lay on my arm and used my laptop as a pillow, and I ate pad thai for dinner. Also, I bought a new shirt yesterday. ZOMG YAYYY!"

I've been so bored that I'm resorting to the strangest things to keep me occupied. Anything methodical or nitpicky that keeps my mind from wandering is a good thing in my books! Today, I helped Naco with the new Despair by going through eleven pages of members to help her find any dead sites or sites that didn't link to Despair. Out of the 275 sites that I checked, there were only about 10 that I didn't have to report to her. Oh well, at least it kept me occupied for a few hours! (But you can see how bored I'm getting, right? )

I hate to say it, but I kind of want to go to school.

(Also, on a completely unrelated note, I'm now hosting the lovely Meg, so go shower her with candy and stuff, okay?)

1. or at home when I'm away; such is life [↩]
2. they cancelled my card, but I'd rather not get into that [↩]
3. let's just not count my little shopping spree yesterday, okay? [↩]

(Crossposted from my blog; please leave comments there.)