Beautiful Bouncing Baby Boys' Birthdays Part I

MistWeaver: Ahhhhh, it's snowing!
Voice In The Mist: I've missed you too.
MistWeaver: Oh yeah. I've missed you as well. But if you could look beyond the mists in this place, you'd see that I do speak the truth.
Voice: I am the mist. Just because I reside in this place of confusion, unclarity, and untold beauty, doesn't mean I can't see outside of it.
Weaver: Yeah, yeah. I know. The snow is beautiful, but in my opinion mid-April is not the best time to be getting it. And to think, yesterday was a bright sunny, snowless day. Perfect for a party.
Voice: A birthday party?
Weaver: Aha! You catch on quickly! Indeed, a birthday party. For a beautiful bouncing baby boy. Ryan!
Voice: Except that he's not bouncing.
Weaver: I suppose not.
Voice: Or a baby.
Weaver: You're right, he's 16 now.
Voice: Or beautiful.
Weaver: That's your opinion.
Voice: And it wasn't his birthday.
Weaver: That's true. His real birthday's the 21st.
Voice: The way this is going, he's probably not a boy either.
Weaver: Yes, he is!
Voice: Well that's a relief, at least.
Weaver: In any case, I had a great time. I was kinda worried that I wouldn't, because every time I do go to a party at his house, I tend to have a crappy time. But this time it was fun. It started at an arcade...

Brian had taken his sweet time in getting ready to give me a ride, so I got to the mall 20 minutes late and was dumped off unceremoniously at the entrance with no clue where the arcade was. Lovely. Simply lovely. Late, alone, and lost.

As a small consolation, at least I looked good. Mama and I went shopping Friday, and I got this tunic I immediately fell in love with and was wearing with oriental orange poufy pants and ridiculous shoes with bows on the tips. I asked a man in a store where the arcade was, and he was happy to point me in the right direction. I wandered in, already going into my ghost persona (something I picked up from so much time in the mists: comepletely silent, closed in on myself, and fairly meek-looking) and searched for people I knew.

Luckily, Ryan wasn't hard to find with the black and white checkered band around his hat and checkered tie. He was playing (surprise, surprise) Dance Dance Revolution. Next to him, watching, was somebody else. I approached, first noticing the green and white striped stockings (the only colour of those stockings I don't own, preferring black and white), then the bowler hat, then the rest of the guy that I thought was wearing them. As I got closer, I realized that it was not a guy at all, but Ryan's friend Jace. Pity. The hat and stripes could have been sexy on a guy with the nerve to wear 'em.

Of the three other Ryan-friends there were, I knew two of them, Jace and Ian. I never have and still don't particularly like Jace. It's not a conscious thing: she just bugs me for a reason I don't really know. Of all the people to see first, especially while Ryan was busy, Jace wasn't the one I would've picked. So I did what I was used to doing: I went even deeper into ghost mode and leaned against the bar behind Ryan, watching him silently. At first I wondered if he'd noticed me, but I knew that he was too aware of his surroundings not to have.

Soon he finished and turned to me. I handed him the four newspaper-wrapped gifts with the crossed-candy-canes on top (I dove into my stash to supply them) and he told me to hang on to them for a second while he finished his game, then gave me a white paper bag filled with tokens. While he was stepping away at DDR, Micheline (his mother) appeared behind us.

Voice: Oh, joyous. Someone I'm sure you absolutely love.

Weaver: Uh huh. Not. I gave her the presents and Ryan finished his stage to turn to the rest of us. Insert Micheline-type convo (long, winding, and repetitive, with little input from us) and then we somehow ended up back in the other side with the kind of games where you win tickets and turn them in for prizes.

There I met the friend Justin, A dark-skinned cutie whom I didn't know, and found out that Ian had yet to arrive. Micheline kept showing Justin off to me when the others ran to play games and I hung back, calling him Ryan's best friend and oldest friend and church friend (the last probably being the reason she was calling him the other two, since I've never heard Ryan speak of Justin as either). In any case, I was impressed that they'd known each other so long, and that Justin was black.

The shock of seeing someone of my colouring as a friend of Ryan's, especially such a good friend, hit me in a surprising way. I'm not being a bigot; I was always so used to seeing tons of black kids around Montreal that the fact that there are next to none here had the sight of anybody coloured surprising me. Justin's around my normal colour, before I went all pale from lack of sunlight.

Voice: Maybe you'd tell us your natural colour?

Weaver: Of course. I used to be a dark golden brown. Right now it's kind of sickly gold, though. He has less gold and more brown.

Voice: On with the story.

MistWeaver: Indeed. So I stayed with the ghost act because it was the best I could do, and nodded and smiled at Micheline's chatter, and then fled as soon as I could. Ryan showed me all the different games, and I nodded and smiled at him where applicable and wasted lots of tokens playing them, trailing after the others and eventually going off on my own. I figured they wouldn't miss me, and that way nobody had to show me everything and make me feel even more like an outsider.

I saw Ian arrive, but he didn't see me. I smiled to see him. I really like that boy, odd as he is. A computer genius who's paranoid of anything abnormal (which makes the fact that his best friends are Jace and Ryan and their group even weirder), he doesn't like going places without parental supervision. Tell me, what 16 year old wants parental supervision everywhere? It's unnatural, but endearing.

When Ian did notice me (I think Ryan pointed me out to him), he gave a real smile (to my surprise) and said hi. He seemed as genuinely glad to see me as I was to see him. Weird, but uplifting. I think I may have actually regained a bit of life at that point, lost the transperancy a little. I know it felt like I did.

What I really wanted to do throughout all of this was try DDR, but I didn't want to disappear and have Micheline worry or something. But she left once Ian arrived, so I drifted into the video arcade and to my surprise (and I'll admit it, chagrin) Ryan followed me, and Jace and Ian followed him. I'm happy to say that the quiet Justin stayed in the tickets place, winning hundreds of tickets. I forfeited all of mine to Ryan, so that he could do whatever he wanted with them.

Ryan set me up on the game, choosing a song and everything for me. Again, I was a mix of grateful and wishing that he would go away. On one hand, it was nice to have him set it up since I hadn't played since it first came out, but on the other hand, I felt kinda spineless since the others were all watching, and I'm not used to depending on anyone for anything. After all, if I had been alone, I wouldn't have been in ghost mode, and I could have laughed and muddled my way through it, feeling only slightly stupid.

I also discovered something else at that moment: I bloody suck. He kept asking me if I wanted to put it harder, but every time I agreed, I failed miserably. He had much more faith in me than I had in myself, I can say that much. He kept telling me that if it was too difficult, he'd finish it up for me so that I wouldn't get a game over (yeah, right. Over my dead body would I let him finish a game for me and emphasize even more my lack of prowess).

Finally, Jace came and demanded her tickets from Ryan (who had pooled them all) and everyone went away to play their own game of DDR a little bit away. I thankfully relaxed at my lack of audience (and still sucked). When I was done, I noticed that they had all disappeared but Ian, who I was amused to find had fallen as much in love with the game as I had (although he fared somewhat better at his own first attempts).

Wandering around the arcade trying to find out if they had Tekken, the game that I used to adore, I noticed a few shooting games. Once, Kai brought home a plugin gun from his friends, and I found that much as I despise arms in real life, in games I love using them and was quite good at them, provided I had a real gun and not just a joystick. I didn't have very many token left, so I tried a three token game. And found out that it had the nasty tendency to eat tokens and the gun needed major calibrating, causing all my shots to go off some four or five inches to the left of where I shot. So I tried another. And it was worse. Finally I went to find an attendant to ask if I could get a refund on my tokens.

I met Jace, Ian, Justin and Ryan there, and discovered that they were unpooling the tickets to get various individual prizes. I gave Ryan my twenty left from what I hadn't previously forked over and asked the attendant for my tokens. He told me I couldn't have them back, but to tell him the game I wanted to play and he'd give me credit for it. I showed him DDR (I couldn't resist) and he gave me four credits. Except that they were equivalent to four games, not four credits for one game. Score! Of course, someone accidentally pressed a button on the first screen so I ended up playing my first game as one person using two pads. Aye yi yi, as if one pad weren't enough. Hopping from one to the other, once I finally figured out what was going on... O.O Twas hard, and impossible.

When I finished, I turned to the entrance to wander around outside (I had no tokens left) and saw Ian coming towards me. He smiled and motioned to me and said that the group had decided to be idiots. I laughed and followed him and we chatted. I discovered the others were throwing things off the balcony then running down to get them and doing it again. Mostly, it was toy soldiers with parachutes, but Jace was pointing her laser pointer at things and people too. I'm just glad that she was smart enough not to go near me with it, since she had the tendency to wave it in people's eyes.

After they tired of their game, we walked downstairs and Ryan encountered dudes he knew. Ian and I went back up while he, Jace and Justin chatted with the people. I tried sliding down the banister, but I wasn't wearing slippery enough clothing and every time I lifted my hands from the rail to go faster, Ian freaked. Psh. We were only a few stories up.

I thank the mists again and again that he was there. At least with him there (and Justin too, though he was too quiet for it to be a big thing) I wasn't the odd one out. For some reason, whether it's my way of thinking, or my likes and dislikes, or even the age difference, I always feel so abnormal around Ryan's friends. Maybe it's how Ryan's different with them. Oh, I don't mean that he's a completely different person, but with me we don't talk about who's better at video games, or whatever current things are going on at school, or chat about common acquaintances, simply because I don't play the games he does, nor do I own any of the platforms, I don't go to his school, and I don't know any of the people he does.

Anyways. In a little while, everyone joined us, and we saw Micheline in a wheelchair and slippers coming towards us. I guessed by the unsurprised look on Ryan's face (and the fact that she always parks in handicapped spots and tells me all about the various things wrong with her body) that it wasn't unusual for things like this to occur. Honestly, it occurs to me that she might be a bit of a hypochondriac. Then again, I come from a family where we don't share all of our problems with everyone and anyone we meet. She makes it a point to tell everybody everything about her. Personally, I could do with not knowing when she has a yeast infection, or about the problems with her marriage, or even the reasons that Ryan needs babying. But like I said, I'm a very personal person.

Voice: Who likes to write.
Weaver: Indeed. That's how I express myself. I can exagerate or downplay or create or destroy. It's my world, and I can do with it what I will.
Voice In The Mist: Much like the mists. There can be endless amounts of things hidden in it.
MistWeaver: Very true. The world could be dying and you'd never know... But I digress. I have indeed missed talking to you, but I do believe I shall end my tale here. This was basically all of the unfun part, anyway. It got better, much better, and by the end I didn't want to go home. I'll chit chat later, for I have projects to work on. Tah!

Harmony,

MistWeaver

Back and Black and Saving the World

The answer is, I am!

Yes indeedy. Things are mostly sorted out and I live to serve all you faithfuls who have kept up and borne with me through this difficult time. I hope to no longer have to neglect my blog for a very long time, but I can't make any promises.

Basically, there are a couple of big new items going around in my life. It's a new semester (and it's over half finished already o.O), so I have all new classes. They happen to be much harder ones, too. I know, I know... I get no breaks... *feels sorry for herself for a half second*

The absolute most important thing going on in my life right now is the Weekend To End Breast Cancer. If you live near Toronto, Vancouver, Calgary or Montreal, you may have heard of this. Basically, it's a two-day 60 kilometre walk to raise money and awareness for breast cancer. Everybody who participates has to raise a minimum of 2000 dollars, and most people raise double that or more. Thousands of people from these four cities, each raising tons and tons of money? That's not something to scoff at. Hundreds of millions of dollars being raised. We truly are the end.

But we can't be, I can't be, without raising the money. My grandmother died of breast cancer, and both my mother and I are at really high risk. I don't want to have to go through the suffering of someone I love dying; not again. I don't want to die, either. Especially if I have kids one day. What I went through when my grandmother died, what I watched happen to my mother when her best friend died... it was all horrible and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Every single person that I help, any life that I save, makes it all worthwhile.

In Canada, one in 9 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer. One in three will die from it. 407 women are diagnosed on average every week. Look around at any large group of people you know: a classroom, an office. Now look again and think about the fact that at least a few of them will die an early death. Look around a class and know that not all of the girls in it will live to see sixty. Look around your office and know that you may not be working with a women in a few years because she's dead. If that thought doesn't affect you at all, maybe you should take another look at your own life and your priorities.

So basically what I'm saying is that as my first act of the reestablishment of my blog, I'm asking you to help me on this. Here's a link to my personal page on the Weekend site:

http://cl05.endcancer.ca/site/TR?pg=personal&fr_id=1000&px=1162598

If it doesn't work, try www.endcancer.ca and search for my in the list of walkers. My name is Aya Gabriel. My site has the abridged story of my grandmother's death, and my dream for this walk. I would like to ask everybody to donate a hundred and fifty dollars, but I know it's not likely to happen. So instead, I'm asking everyone who reads this to donate 30$. If you can afford more, I would really appreciate it. Online, secure donations can be transacted by credit card, and if you can't do that, contact me at that.misty.place@gmail.com and we can arrange something. Ask your parents, friends, siblings relatives, because everybody has been affected in some way by this disease. Copy this, forward it, link it. Do the same for my and my mother's personal page. If you really don't have much money to donate, anything you have brings me closer to my goal and closer to a cure.

The walk is August 12th to 14th, 2005. My mother, Thelia Foster, is also walking. Together, it's us two alone with thousands of other women and men across Canada. I'm probably going to be keeping my blog updated with my progress, because it's such a huge part of my life right now.

Again, thanks you to everyone who's kept right with my blog through the hiatus and the tough period beforehand. Thanks to anyone and everyone who donates. Hugs for all! Harmony and love, peace through the ages, and Goddess bless.

We are the end.

MistWeaver

IMPORTANT NOTICE!

In case you haven't noticed from the lack of posts in the past three weeks, Talking With The Mists is on a temporary hiatus. For various reasons that I won't name here, I won't be updating my blog anytime in the next while. I'm in the middle of many things, including bringing up all my marks, so this misty place will be on pause for an indefinite amount of time. Move on with your lives! Do something useful with the time you usually spend reading me and the Voice's convos! If you don't want to keep checking this page (I'll be updating it with info every couple of weeks or something like that, then send me an email that.misty.place@gmail.com and I'll send you the updates directly.

Thanks for wanting to explore the mists, and I hope you keep reading once it's back up.

Love and harmony to all of you,

MistWeaver

Book time!

MistWeaver: Okey Dokey, first things first. No more apologizing. I've been uncountably busy, blah blah blah... you know the excuses. Basically, am going to try and update fully at least once a week and bully for you if you want more. Hopefully I'll slowly up the entry count as I get more time and settle back into routine.
Voice In The Mist: That's nice, dear. I've missed you.
MistWeaver: Woah, you being nice. Everybody, a moment of silence. You must have really missed me.
Voice: *snorts* More like I've missed your antics. So whatcha been up to, other than play hide-and-go-seek with a bunch of teenage girls you invited to your house.
Weaver: Technically, Rebecca invited them. And much more has happened since then. It's been what, two weeks now?
Voice: Something like that.
MistWeaver: Yup it was, and you are no longer looking at Aya Gabriel, novelist. You are looking at Aya Gabriel, acclaimed novelist and bookseller. That's right. I am sitting in front of 21 copies of my book, and have already sold close to 10. I have also given two seminars in a writer's conference, and been asked for my autograph.
Voice: Busy gal, you are. So tell me, how did you come to speak in a writer's seminar and get your book published?
Weaver: First off, it's not published. I just got it professionally bound at Kinko's. But it sure looks nice enough. Secondly, the conference thingie was called Write Off The Wall, and it was at my brother's school. But there were many other published authors there, and I was invited to speak. The day before the big event, Kai informed me tha ti could sell my novel there if I wanted, so the night before was spent frantically printing and binding copies of the novel by hand. I was so exhausted I couldn't think, and Mama majorly saved my butt by coming home late with 9 finished and bound copies of my book from Kinkos. It was all I could do not to fall on my knees and kiss teh ground she walked on in thanks. I was able to go to bed in peace.

Crap. I really hate doing this again, but I have to go after our new dog, Whiskey. Indeed, I do have much to report! I swear to Earth I'll finish this tomorrow.

MistWeaver

The Estrogen Attacks

Voice In The Mist: I've noticed that there's been longer and longer gaps between entries.
MistWeaver: You're right. I just haven't really had much time lately. But now I do, and I have much to say. Like for instance, I can say that I am freaking sick to death of estrogen, and females in general right now.
Voice In The Mist: Why's that?
MistWeaver: The same reason people generally get sick of something. Overload.
Voice In The Mist: Whaddaya mean, overload? It's not like you're the most popular cica on the planet. In fact, I seem to remember you as having few friends, most of which were guys.
MistWeaver: I do have few friends and they are guys. Except somehow in the past while I"ve picked up Blair and Amber and Tash and Tori and Alex and they're all in my TV room!
Voice In The Mist: What on Earth are they doing there?
MistWeaver: See, every once in a while the Group has a movie fest. They're usually randomly thrown together and very last minute. This time, Rebecca made us sit down and plan it out a few days beforehand. Since I have the biggest TV, the most movies and the coolest parents, it was decided that this gathering would be held at my house. A 24-hour long brain rot festival. 5 PM to 5 PM. I took advantage and invited Alex, whom I hadn't seen for ages. At Rebecca's urging, I also invited Ryan, who (unsurprisingly) couldn't make it. And now they're all in my TV room.
Voice: Why aren't you with them, then? After all, it's your party.
Weaver: Actually, it's Rebecca's party. It just happens to be at my house. And there is much drama associated with this party, in any case. Let me tell you the story...

Firstly, Rebecca came over after school on Friday for Girl's Night In. She stayed overnight, we had fun, she got picked up on Saturday. When her mother came to pick her up, Becs told me that she'd see me tomorrow and her mother interupted with a "Tomorrow! I'm not sure I want to drive you back out here tomorrow!". Becs had been afraid of this, but she'd asked her mother beforehand and her mother had said that it was fine (stupid crazy bitch). So that level of uncertainty was now thrown into the party. All the same, I went to bed, did more laundry, woke up and prepared for the upcoming people.

Now, I can see the wheels in your mind turning. Why didn't Becs just stay over the extra night and save two or three twenty-minute trips into the city?

The answer lies in her cat. Apparently, Zues can't go two full nights without her. Personally (and I know that when she reads this, she's going to go all defensive and list off the reasons why she's right) I think that she's, to put it bluntly, full of crap. Maybe she can't go two nights without her cat, but he seems to survive just fine without her, no matter what she says. Maybe she's just afraid of what her family will do to him. In any case, although I love Becs dearly, she tends to dramaticize.

Anyways, back to today.

Around 2, the calls started coming. First was Blair, wanting directions. I had been expecting this, so I gave her the directions and went back to the book I was reading. Then came Nat and Amber, wanting the same. I provided them the instructions and was just finishing up when guess who beeps in on the other line but Rebecca?

I had been expecting her to call for almost a day. It turned out that she was calling on behalf of Nat and Amber, who had been bugging her because they didn't want to have to call. I told her that I'd just hung up with the people in question, so she m

Uh oh. They're found me. I'll hopefully sneak away again later and continue.

Broken Hearts, The Cursed Name, And Why All Men Are Total And Complete Scum.

I'm sorry, but at the request of a friend this post has been deleted.

Suffice to say that Valentine's day fucking sucks more than you could imagine, it's now been ruined for one of it's biggest supporters (not me, duh), and that all guys are total and complete scum.

Especially narrow-minded ones.

MistWeaver

Broke Hearts and Such

MistWeaver: You know what fricking sucks?
Voice In The Mist: Valentine's day?
MistWeaver: No, Val--. Oh. Yeah. But do you know why it sucks?
VitM: Because it's a corporate holiday made up by companies that don't think that they get enough money between Christmas and Easter and use people's emotions to turn them against each other and bring in lots of dollars?
MW: No. It sucks because I'm a stupid sap.
VITM: Don't tell me you actually like all the stupid cards and chocolate-giving and valentines and stuff?
MW: *is silent*
VITM: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU STUPID SAP!
MW: Aw, shaddup. I'm a sucker at heart. I think that Valentines are adorable (especially those kiddie ones and the handmade ones), chocolates are yummy, and I happen to think that one frigging day of the year where being mushy and sappy is acceptable isn't necessarily a bad thing.
VITM: Then what's the problem?
MW: Watching everyone else get those kiddie valentines, handmade valentines, chocolates, and mushy and sappy stuff.
VITM: Awww... Feeling lonely, are we?
MW: Yes, if you must know. It's depressing to hear about stuff like how Becs' brother is going all-out to ask out this cica (I mean all out-- Chocolate roses and dinner and a pottery class "all out"), how she herself is finally working up the courage to ask out whoyamacallit, how Bri and Leni are both most likely getting those Crush things, etc. And how everyone who isn't involved in any way with Valentine's Day claims that it's just a stupid corporate scam. Which is true. But that doesn't mean that there aren't good things about it.
VITM: You're right, that is interesting, isn't it? It's all the people who don't have Valentines who are always dissing it. And the people who want Valentines but hold no hope for them.
MW: Bah. Whatever. I suppose my irritability also has something to with being here. I haven't really been super happy since I got back. Things just keep getting more and more crappy here. Everyday I feel like there's less and less holding me to this place. One day, I'm just going to leave and not look back.
VITM: But what about Becs? And Ryan? And your family?
MW: Well Becs wants to get out of here nearly as much as I do (although she doesn't feel the same driving need, the calling that I do... as if somewhere else is calling me...), and Ryan...
VITM: Ryan...?
MW: He can visit... or I can visit... But I just can't stay here. Meh, this is getting depressing. I'm tired. Bedtime. Or reading time. Or Zelda time. Or whatever.

The Mental Conversation

MistWeaver: Okay, bad pun. But I couldn't resist.
Voice In The Mist: I take it that you mean mental as in mind, not mental as in insane?
MW: Precisely. More specifically, I mean my running mental commentary on all that happened after rehearsal today... Ryan's house, and Youth Group.
VITM: Ah, yes. Wednesday. Always an interesting day. Do tell.
MW: You should know first off that Ryan's sick. And when I say sick, I mean really sick. And not sick in the head, either. I mean the kind of sick that keeps you in bed with pain and doesn't let you eat and makes people want to cuddle you and make you better.
VITM: It's times like these that I wish I could raise an eyebrow at the last comment.
MW: I fall victim to strange motherly urges. They are often activated by sickness. I feel these really really strong urges to take care of them and make them feel better.
VitM: So have you turned these urges on Ryan as of yet?
MW: I've been tempted... boy, have I been tempted... But let me start at the beginning.

After rehearsal today, I was going to be picked up as usual and driven to either Youth or Ryan's, depending on whether or not he was well enough to go. I called him up and he said that he was still sick and not going anywhere, so I wanted to go over to his house and bring him some get well stuff. He claimed that he already had Gatorade though, and since I had fallen asleep while finishing up my Broken Wings Yoko Edition the night before, and wasn't done it, that pretty much eliminated all the other things I could think of. Specially since he won't drink tea on his own and his parents were there, so I couldn't work my magic on him.

Let's skip ahead to getting out of the car. This is basically where my internal running commentary kicks in.

I get out of the car, thinking "Uh oh, I hope he's well enough to answer the door." Then thinking, "On second thought, no! Don't answer the door! It will cause you pain to get up and make effort!"

He answered the door, to my combined relief and regret.

Boy, did that boy look a lot better than I do when sick. His eyes and nose weren't a different colour, and his hair was unbrushed and unruly, but not the horrible fright that mine would have been, all flat on the sides and standing straight up on top. He was wearing PJs, but they only looked wrinkly, not like they'd been rolling in bad things. Tired, moving kinda stiffly, voice all nasal... There was no doubt that he was sick. Just not unattractively sick. The bastard.

So I follow him in, suddenly at a loss for what to do. He sits on one couch, I sit on the other and drop my stuff... ask him the usual questions... You know, "Feeling any better?" "Have you figured out what's wrong?" "Have any strange body parts turned funny colours and fallen off?"... and then am at a complete loss of what to do.

Normally, I have my own special love and care for sicklings. It involves giving them the proper care they deserve. You see, I have this thing about taking care of people. As in, you SHOULD. How the hell are you supposed to get better if you have to tuck yourself in, make yourself tea and soup, hold your own dick when you pee...

VITM: Okay, I think you're going just a teeny bit too far.
MW: Perhaps you're right. But still, you get the picture.

In any case, I have a habit of trying making the sick as stress-less and effort-less as possible. But I can't do things like that if I don't have the power to do so. Within my own home, I do. Hell, even at other people's houses, if we're alone, I have that power. Unfortunately, I didn't there, because his parents were home. Oh, well.

Anyways, so we're sitting and talking. Inwardly, I'm thinking about how uncomfortable this is, how he should really be resting, not expending energy to be nice to me... But at teh same time, I don't want to leave. I mean, just hanging out with Ryan is always a blast, and I only see him once a week, usually.

So we end up talking about Zelda. Hey, fine with me. Zelda's teh best game in the flipping world. And then he suddenly jumps up (or as close to jumping as he was gonna get) and runs downstairs, warning me not to follow him and that he had somethign to show me.

I obeyed him and sat there on the couch. He probably shouldn't have been running up and down stairs, but if he was well enough to manage it, it could only be a good thing. Besides, it wasn't like there was much I could do about it.

He came back clutching one of those Canada notebooks everyone has used at some point in their lives. It turned out to be an old picture-journal from when he was little. All about... guess what!... ZELDA!'

Awww... It was so adorable... He couldn't spell

I'm ba-a-a-ck!

Voice In The Mist: Where have you been, young lady? I've been very worried about you!
MistWeaver: I've been worried about me, too. So much has happened that it's no longer even funny. First and foremost, I apologize. The internet was down a long time. I barely survived it. I would just sit there, twitching... wondering when it would be back up... The only reason I'm still here is the trip to Vancouver.
Voice in the Mist: Vancouver? When did this happen?
MistWeaver: Well... I got back last night. I went there Friday morning. To visit Kurt. I'm not sure if I mentioned it before the net messed up.
VitM: Nor am I. It's been too long. A week and a half or so since last entry, and longer since a truly meaningful entry.
MistWeaver: Yeah. A week and a half is forever for us teenagers. And I've been so dratted busy. Which is why I'm sorry to say that this entry isn't gonna be the biggie catcher-upper, either. I'm in the middle of a rather important conversation and am exhausted to boot. Soon though. I promise.

MistWeaver

The Earth is our Mother, she gives and she takes...

MistWeaver: Just a quick update before I go in to do my test.
Voice In The Mist: Hopefully followed by a longer one afterwards?
MW: Hopefully.

Okay, so here's the deal. I have my Social Studies final exam in an hour. Because it's exam week, I don't have school unless it's exams, so I'm leaving to be driven into my exam in about 10 minutes.

My greatest fear: That I fail this test. Or just barely pass. Why? Because a lot of my mark rests on this test. And Mr Morris, my teacher, is well-known for giving super hard and/or deceptively easy tests. That you do badly on, no exception. Unless you're Monica or Cullen. Then we hate you.

I try really hard, but I can't seem to do that great on my tests no matter what. It's even worse for essays. I listened to the comments on the last one and tried really hard to improve. And I thought that I had, until I got back my essay and realized that I did worse than before.

And all last night and this morning I was plagued with worries and random bad thoguhts, centering on the idea that I would miss or be late for my final, at 1230. I also had straneg dreams last night, but they didn't have anything to do with the test. They did contribute to my lack of sleep, however.

*sigh*

Anyways, so I'm a lot more calm now than I was earlier. This is in part to copious amounts of tea, Ryan, studying, Ryan again, and Within Temptation. Becs helped too, but it was more by making me feel bad for being so unconfident.

Thanks to Ryan and the song NeverEnding Story by Within Temptation, I realized/remembered that one test isn't the center of my life. It doesn't matter how important it is. My Mother is still the Earth.

Since I'm running short on time, I'll just copy what Ryan said and complete the rest later.

Ahhh don't have time. Just got bombarded with good news. Ttyl.

MistWeaver