18 posts tagged “school”

There Are No Easy Questions

Mar 16, 2007
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Balls are not generally something I am used to being successful. There’s never the quite right dress, the haircut, the shoes, the make-up. Those are trifles and if I was a greater person, I wouldn’t mind, but I’m still just a girl.

So today was funny in the sense that for quite the first time I was actually pretty and felt so as well. It’s a lovely one, that. But it was all to little avail, however, because I nevertheless spent most of the time sulking, watching others dance. It’s just the kind of thing to happen at a ball. And my luck was fully spent elsewhere.

I wouldn’t mind it all that much, if it wasn’t for the ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s. The likelihood that I will manage such an aesthetically pleasing combination again is rather dubious and it’s quite sad to think that the star moment was unfortunately wasted.. Oh, bugger the fancy words - I’m just pissed I couldn’t have a perfect evening, and scared that there might not be another chance in the next 10 years.

And of course there are questions, and doubts and wonderings; and regrettings and a sore throat.

By the way, although oranges are sacred, shit happens even to them.

Potpourri

Mar 10, 2007
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To fall asleep in expectation, wonder and harmony.

To wake up, in the quiet, go through the routinous that is not quite so. To be greeted by fog and drizzle, instead of sunshine, but to smile, as the hair limps and looses its designated form. To smell spring, in the muddy earth and thick air, in the strange wind and the restless waves.

To doubt. To wait. To smile, at the first one to remember and know. To be summoned, all mysteriously and foreshadowingly. To be given a book of love poetry, in Estonian. To loose every time I should like to read it. To sit in class, anxious. To get cryptic parcels, tea and tulips, with endless buds, and a card and the smiles. To have half of the world hugging and congratulating you. To be sung the birthday song, in front of class and to laugh at the name dilemma. To offer candy. To reply with the same to birthday wishes, in forgetfulness. ‘Three’. To blush. To remember the the birthyear of a long-dead poet, but not the second type of language logic.

To eat candy for lunch and fail a test of Maths. To worry and eat freshly-baked carrot-bread. To be late for Biology and bask in the sun. To confuse denaturation and denaturalisation, for what is the difference between proteins and citizenship? To constantly smile and skip French, because ‘it’s all mine to skip’. To pack up the tulips and be off to the centre. To have a dedication written on top of a friend’s head. To have a tick in the ‘Daily Deed Of Good’ box. To joke about the thingummies that give out cash and to see when the last trolley home leaves.

To laugh, mishear and be silly. To dispute about the perfect way of trying not to miss a bus. To sing Batman-songs. To comment about dining-places and be blown away by the wind. To sit in the most unlikely pub/restaurant, in the middle of a round table, on a red couch. To be packed full after no more than some nachos and three slices of pizza. To be manic, psychotic and in every manner crazy. To talk, to friends and not worry any more. To drink banana-strawberry milkshakes and leave a proper tip.

To go about circles in the Old Town, searching for some place to stop at. To find lots, but to be picky and whiny and walk some more. To walk and walk and walk in the darkness. And laugh. To try to be reasonable, while your friends are singing ethnic-sounding songs of rhythm, dancing salsa on the central street of the Old Town. To decide upon a groceries’ store instead, to stand between the energy drinks and beer section, in a circle of five, discussing the world and a wedge of cheese (in a manner of speaking). To buy three Dr. Peppers and to walk through the city, searching again. To stop in a lounge with very loud music, stalks of cotton buds as decorations and green light. To buy the first legal glass of white wine. To discuss it, and students and siblings, the rituals of drinking vodka and to grow a little more quiet.

To walk through the gleaming streets for a late ride home. To stand and still talk, now of life and goals and people. To be tired and muddled, but to still talk. To carry hefty mattresses, light candles, drink champagne from a miniature bottle and read Stardust aloud in turns. To fall asleep in the wee hours of the First Day of Being Eighteen.

To known that all of the friends are little wonders.

Colour Of The Corn

Feb 26, 2007
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"So you have gained nothing from it at all!"
"Yes, I have gained something," said the fox, "because of the colour of the corn."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

As you can see, I've become quite the fan of a certain French writer. It's just that I managed to read The Little Prince. Which was brilliant. Now the author's a bit of an obsession of mine and the vibes of the book seem to be floating about everywhere. Speaking of new obsessions, I've broadened my circle of loved music, adding to it Travis, VAST and some singles from various artists.

First day of school was controversial. What else is new, you ask? It was a little magical as always, offered plenty of excitement about seeing people and witnessing our class acting most immature in Biology (and we haven't even reached the regenerative system, or what's-it-called). Of course I managed to pull off a silly act of taking offence and spent most of the evening talking on the good old topics that never seem to stop offering reason for discourse.

Funnily, it's holidays in three weeks' time again. Comfortable, yes, at first. But not when we've got to go all the way to the final exams without a single break. D'you know what those holidays also mean? The teeny, tiny possibility of me going to *drumroll* England! How shocking! Betting on whether I shall have a nervous breakdown or not will start in a week's time.

In the mean time - two more major events spark excitement. Chronologically the first is my 18th birthday. A little appalling, if you ask me, but I shall survive. I cannot possibly imagine the awkwardness of the moment when certain things are all of a sudden legal and quite allowed. Weird. And then, in ten days' time, the Spring Ball's coming up. Which is a pile of headache. Probably. At least the dress part of it - everything else I might blatantly ignore or pretend to ignore. But then, on the other hand, it might be a lot of fun if it's half a good as I imagine it to be. Shall see, shall see - miracles aren't that impossible.

The weather's brilliant. In the mornings, when you go to school and it's not nighttime anymore and the great glowing orange of a sun is rising, you feel a little prone to soar. And the sun makes me smile. When it's not too intruding upon my privacy. Whatever. I guess I'm in an odd mood. Strange thoughts, strange progresses, strange plans.

The Forecast Predicts Ice Melting

Feb 8, 2007
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Funnily, it’s already been a week. And it seems like it’s been February for ages already. School’s all crazy and challenging, but often terribly tiring. You couldn’t really expect anything but that from the last two weeks of term. This week’s almost over, the mad studying over the weekend exempt and the backbone of the next one will be broken by Tuesday. And then I’ll be free and off to St. Petersburg, with a friend (!) this time, mind you. I simply can’t hide the anticipation.

Meanwhile, I’ve managed to attend another of those film marathons, this time with lots of yummy goodies and the compulsory Equilibrium, and have survived choir. We’ve got a new English teacher yet again, an alumnus of Trinity College, Ireland, and apparently an experienced traveller with 91 countries on the ‘visited’ list. The funkiest part however is that I’ve been sitting in on three French (which I do not comprehend beyond the Bonjour and Au revoire) lessons already, instead of whiling away the boredom in Russian (which I can speak effortlessly most of the time). Amusing, I should think, that learning French and the piano, as well as acquiring a violin have all been bound together in my mind and that’s just how it’s turning out - both the violin and the piano business seem to be nearing a solution just as well.

All’d be well that ends well, if not for Mum going away again on Tuesday.

Never Judge A Day By Its Start

Jan 29, 2007
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I think I acquired an experience today that I shall forever be remembering as ‘the funnies thing to picture myself doing’. Complicated, I know. But envision this: I wake up. I am terrified, because I can remember fiddling with the time on the alarm clock, thus meaning I’ve ignored it and fallen back asleep for an unknown amount of time. I check the time and realise it’s half to eight, instead of quarter past six - the normal time to wake up. I rush up, cursing, because the day you’re supposed to perform in front of your school is just not the day to be late. I storm into my mother’s room and very vocally announce that I’m late. I run for the shower, hoping I’ll get to wash my hair, dismissing the vague wonder of how I’m going to dry it within ten minutes.

My mother gets up and I yell to see if she knows what the time is. She looks at the clock, sleepily and announces it’s half to six. I laugh, because I know how the hallway’s dark and she’s probably too sleepy to comprehend. She assures me that it is indeed half to six. I check. It is. Meaning not only that I wasn’t late, but that there was also 45 minutes of sweet sleep left.

Now, if I was a house-elf sitting in my bedroom, watching, I’d get quite a laugh to see myself suddenly jumping up and manically imagining I was late. I’d find it pretty hilarious. Especially since I’ve no idea what makes you do such things.

So you’d think I was a loonatic for the rest of the day? Not at all. In fact I managed to pull off a decent act, get complimented about it and my chemistry test and answer a few questions in the Lesson of Doom (still Estonian). But then, having come home, I realised I’d forgotten to take my Philosophy book off of (most likely) my locker or a cloakroom seat.

Is That Lavender Or Plum?

Jan 25, 2007
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People, including me, tend to think you need some essential components for happiness, which are in one way or another, hard to acquire. But although I live in a room that has no carpet, is filled with bookshelves stacked with things that aren’t mine, accommodates irrational amount of dust and is quite as homely as a hospital ward - you couldn’t really believe what sorts of sunsets I get here. Behind the huge window, just in my line of vision right now, a dark expanse of glittering houses lies below and in the background, the most magnificent colours I remember seeing. And it happens day to day, right here beyond my window.

It’s finally winter, with lots of snow and numbing wind. I’m already nearly grumbling. My toes, at least, were icicles when I got home today. Thanks to the snow, we’ll be skiing in PE tomorrow and surprisingly, I’m actually going to attend.

School is as crazy as it can get. Due to the lack of clouds characteristic to a high air pressure zone, our school’s foyer is all golden air and shadows in the mornings and that wears off on the day as well. Today for example, we had an absolutely amazing English class where people volunteered to speak of global warming and climatic change, without being “motivated” by threats or negative marks. I managed to land myself an A+ in The Subject Of Subjects (Estonian), although I didn’t quite deserve it. My Chemistry test seemed all right too.

It’s funny to think about those things. I just can’t stop from repeating myself - school is all weird and almost magical now. But then simultaneously I find myself irritated by the fact that I’ve got to sit there, doing nothing but bollocks, instead of being a Person, doing what really matters. Isn’t that a slight bit controversial?

Ah, I’ve come to the topic of Philosophy. God forbid, but I think it’s the keyword of the year. Have I ever been thinking so much before? Maybe it’s the age… But a classmate of mine and I managed to have a half-an-hour debate on whether we’re all just clumps of chemicals and if conscience and spirit exist. It was brilliant, but also horribly, terribly tiring, especially seeing I was the underdog. In yesterday’s Debate club more discussion ensued, about the mark system in PE classes and about talking, debating and being a person in general. I think - and this is not new - that most of the time I just need to talk a lot. The more, the better. It’s like exploring my insides.

I wish I could observe myself more. Our Debate instructor always tells us to watch what we’re doing and try to improve and learn. Which I’d love to do. But routine messes with your head. It really does!

Briefly, when I was just starting out this blog (almost two years ago), I tried to pick a Latin quote for each day, just because it seemed fun. As you can see, it didn’t make it as a tradition, but today, there is something to share-

Nosce te sumus

May the force be with you and may your brains swell with thoughts.

All The Lost Children

Jan 15, 2007
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Philosophy seems to be the word of the new year, so instead of depicting my rather colourful weekend, I feel bound to talk of other matters…

I remember (and can look up on this blog? maybe…) a time when I was doing everything all the time and it actually felt good. Only because I was doing silly amounts of stuff. Yes. Go figure. But now, as always, I get to look at that nastiest of my traits - lack of determination, I guess it’s called? Of stability? Laziness? It’s been a time of slacking lately, seeing I’ve managed to drop my Drama club/stuff, haven’t attended the Journalism courses for a long time and am currently skipping Choir. Fine, the first two have explanations. But I still feel awfully guilty of giving up and being non-valiant. No one needs such people, right? Employers don’t, at least.

And then I just feel somewhat lost and childish, confused between what I ought, oughtn’t and needn’t do, what I shouldn’t let go or forget and which are the signs of real degradation. It also struck me that most of the time I’m just letting life and time pass by me, without any actual aim. Fine, I strive towards happiness and love and all the brilliant things, but if I was asked, in the middle of my Chemistry class, why I was there, I guess the only real answer would indicate that I’m there out of inertia, routine. Being at school just to get into University later and then a good job, a lot of money, a car and a fine family (that’s the usual progression - first things first, eh?) is a poor act, isn’t it? I want to be doing the things I am because they mean something to me. I might have some wild and unrelated goal but still be enjoying school, because that’d nevertheless mean that when I’ve got time, I’d dedicate it to progress and… erm, the journey. Then, I reckon, I wouldn’t feel as rotten about skipping silly Choir. It’d be like an adventure. Although it feels a little misplaced to say it, it’d be rather like Harry Potter. Only better.

Culture Shock

Jan 10, 2007
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Something funny’s happening, I’m sure. I’ve been in a laughing mood for most of the day, but it’s unusual. It must all have started in St. Petersburg, what with the New Year, the friends, the city, the half-a-glass-of-wine’s, the cutting and dying hair affair and The Idiot. In any case, I felt as terrified of returning as ever before. No, pardon; much more so. Most of the eight hour bus ride back that I didn’t spend sleeping, I was contemplating… things. Too much maybe. My friend says I think too much. But just like the last time, I experience what I now realised to be culture shock. The oddity lies in the fact that I was thrown into depression by returning back to my current native country, not going abroad. What? Why?

It must have pushed me off any balance I might have had, because now everything’s so unusual. There’s a heap and a cartload of things to think. Do realise how much that is? And d’you know how much a human being thinks these days per usual? Oh don’t even get me started on the pettiness of modern life!

And then there’s school. And it’s not the sole meaning of life anymore. How come? Isn’t it a bit early to realise that? I’ve got one and a half years still left to go… As I said, most of today was highly amusing, because everything was out of place and silly and… off. Everything was the sort you’d say ‘Ahh, bugger!’ to, in a resigned, can’t-be-bothered sort of way. And Literature was lovely and English was worryingly sincere (difficult to explain the situation). As if sincere’s not impressive enough, there was actually the suggestion that we wouldn’t have English class anymore. How can that happen? Just out of thin air and wham!

And maybe I’ll get the violin and go studying the piano.

And m’hair’s red.

Honestly, the world’s gone odd.

Goodbye, November!

Nov 30, 2006
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A silly day and a silly month it has been! A retrospective of the whole of November would be a little beyond me though, so I think it more a matter of a few colourful illustrations from the recent days.

Today's History test didn't go well at all, at least in terms of numerical value. No, I am pretty certain, as opposed to the usual worrying. But when you're faced with a test that's ridiculously beyond what you thought it would be, the situation becomes incredibly funny and wild and a tad psychotic, so some of my worst tests have been met with a crazy laugh. I'm not at all the person to write anything witty in them, but today I was just in the mood for answering that the leader of the Bolsheviks in Russia was 'Comrade Lenin, until he popped his clogs and everyone's favourite Yosif Stalin became the man'. Not overly funny now, although that moment it seemed quite appropriate.

After school we tried our luck at getting theatre tickets for 12 December. Naturally none were left. A big, big disappointment, seeing I was determined to see the play Juliet before the year ended. And now, besides the twelfth, it won't be played until next year. I can't even tell why the obsession with this year, this December, but whenever I imagine seeing the play in January, it feels another world. This year ending soon, it going into oblivion and past and all the shades of 'was' is horribly freeing, while the beginning of a new one seems to require so much of me, with everything being ahead, needing attention and care. It's just like with days - the evenings are heaven and the mornings are grey oceans of sleepiness and possible dread.

Speaking of theatre, we also saw The Seagull yesterday. In the least, I was freed of fears that NO99, a theatre built around the brilliant idea of numbering their productions until they reached NO1, was an 'artsy' and 'modern' sort of thing. I'm phobic like that. Now I can't wait to see more. But the play was unusual, partly because I've never been as close to the actors, close enough to see the tiny droplets of sweat on their faces and notice the patches of blush, partly because the way I look at them is a little different now, partly because it was again one of those cases where in the end, I did not understand. True, I could think and deduce, but I didn't empathise with the heroine and her troubles, although I wanted and still want to very much. It's highly disturbing when leaving a play you perceive is thought-provoking and monumental, you cannot really relate or fully understand and be struck by it.

It was probably the thing on my mind as we did a round on the city centre, admiring the brilliant blue Christmas lights. It's been funny weather here lately, with no snow whatsoever, pretty green grass and terrible, terrible wind. If not the wind and the cold, I could remain sitting on a bench somewhere high in the Old Town, speaking of love and life and illusions and feeling that if there only was a profession involving all of those, there would be no difficulty with deciding upon a career. From a platform, I saw a falling meteorite today, I swear. It was like a falling star but bigger. I thought of Stardust immediately.

From yesterday's music lesson, I had two remnants. The fist was a strong desire be in the Grand Opera of Paris, in midst of all the lights, the gold and the whirl of drama, just like in The Phantom of the Opera. I still have this opera-mood. And when I was returning home today, a melody from the Intermezzo of Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana rang and rang in my mind. I have almost forgotten it by now.

Then I realised that I wanted a violin for Christmas.

Turn Off A City

Nov 28, 2006
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Fanfares and a drumroll, please! Today is the glorious day that the great George W Bush visited our tiny, but significant country. Oh the honour! Preparations have lasted for weeks, hype escalating and finally spilling over the metaphorical brim of the press. Statements upon statements have been made, protests held and declarations of eternal friendship and fraternity uttered.

Apparently, if the occasion is huge enough, you can turn off a city. True, they only disabled most methods of transportation in the heart of the city and didn't close all of the establishments in the area. I reckon though that if one day there will be a huge interplanetar world resembling your average sci-fi film and if the most important person of the Solar system would be visiting, you could just as well switch the power off and treat them to an extinct city. Due to the importance of the event, I could even have skipped school with a parent's notice today. You can't really force kids to be at school while such a guest is about, can you? It's much better to mobilise them all, arm them with American flags and send them out onto the front of professing the country's undying love for the President.

I must say there was contemplation of pulling off a glorious assassination, but skipping History before a test is a little unwise.

On a different note, there's a new discovery, or rather a realisation, by me. You know how sometimes you're trying to catch the look of someone who's important to you and then all of a sudden, there it is, right in your face? Well, the sensation it triggers was yesterday's object of study. Everyone knows the sharp intake of breath and the quick rise in the pace of heartbeats. But really, it's the feeling of 'thud!'. Just that - thud! It's like the moment Bilbo drops the One Ring on the floor of his home and it lands with endless gravity as if it weighed the word. The sound of something incredibly heavy being slammed into a wall of marble is the very feeling. And there's no motion after it, no rebounding or response, it's finite.