Well, hello there.

Hi.
In the last month or so, I have done a lot of things. (No, not like that.)

Imma list some because why not.

1) Did (and finished) NaNoWriMo.
2) Got lost in tropical storm in 5 degrees Celsius on way to NaNoWriMo event.
3) Had a male suitor. Sent disinterested brainwaves to male suitor. Disinterested brainwaves worked.
4) Harmonized onstage.
5) Cried under the pressure of my schedule.
6) Cried when the pressure eased up.
7) Jumped into a computer and battled evil!CommtechTeacher, Pokemon Crystal style.

I've been busy. I've been really, really, really busy.
My goal for this week is to write a real blog post.
I miss writing on here.

Today is my birthday. Weird.
I'm getting Facebook notifications and wall posts from people who I barely know. Do they think we know one another more than I think we know each other? I've always been the overly friendly one, and I wonder if I'm changing.
How many changes have I accumulated over the past year and how many will I gather in the future? When do past mes become different people than present me?
I wish I could keep track of the changes. You know, shove them on a graph or something. It would be interesting. Maybe a little bit painful or a little bit too egotistical. But interesting.

I have to go to my volunteer job now. I play guitar at a music program for young adults with developmental disabilities. I really like them.They're good people.

I'm out.

<3 Gabi

P.S. I will catch up on your blogs to the best of my abilities, I promise.

Gabi's brain is spinning wheels. Graph the function.

The rain outside is falling down in a pre-apocalyptic kind of mood. Then again, it could all be projection. We talked about that in my introduction to psychology class. How the way we see the world is much less dependent on reality itself than our own ideas. 

I've been interested in boundaries lately. When does one thing become something else? When does a stream become a river, or a twig become a stick, or a tropical storm become a hurricane? The boundaries seem quite arbitrary, yet we can usually instinctively figure out whether a shade of grey is closer to black or white. 

When does daylight stop being daylight and become progressively darker shades of blue until the stars come out and suddenly it's night? 

When my family drives north to the cottage, how exactly do industrial buildings morph into fields with cows and then into uninhabited forest without us even noticing?

When does rain stop being refreshing and begin to turn into cliched symbolism for tears which I can't for the life of me get rid of right now?

. . . I've always been told I ask too many questions. 

Um. Life right now. 
I'm doing terribly in math class. I've been trying to get a new supply of gumption*. It's tough. 
Finding it difficult to eat, I don't know if it's the stress or something else. I'm usually pretty good at stress. This doesn't make sense.
On the bright side, NaNoWriMo is coming up and that is rather exciting. There's a regional event tomorrow night and I'm super-excited. 

<3 Gabi

*"A person filled with gumption doesn't sit around dissipating and stewing about things. He's at the front of the train of his own awareness, watching to see what's up the track and meeting it when it comes. That's gumption." - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I like music and I am sleep deprived.

I got a math tutor. When I think about it, I know that I needed one.
I hate asking for help. It's so far from being my nature that it doesn't even occur to me that maybe my teacher is there to answer additional questions. I like being self-reliant, and it isn't always a good thing.
That's why having a tutor is so incredibly painful.
I go through an entire hour, twice a week, of asking for help. It's sort of helping my math mark. Ish.
Admitting shortcomings. It's a good thing, I think.
Now I just need to actually change.

On another note, NANOWRIMO IS REALLY SOON. I'm excited. My region has so many amazing events. I need to plot more. Any advice for writing children's fantasy?
If you don't know what NaNoWriMo is, check it out.

Sleep deprivation is bad. Get sleep, you guys. This isn't fun.

I watched The Notebook for the first time last week. Maybe I'm getting sappier with old age, but it's the first movie which has made me cry in a tears running down cheeks way. Isn't it funny how our opinions on things are often based on how many tears are shed?

Life's been busy, and I haven't been keeping up with my blogger people as much as I would like to.
I'll be trying to actually reply to comments and stuff.

Here's something I made in commtech when I got bored.

I challenge you to make something uglier.

Hoping for a real post sometime soon.

<3 Gabi

Apparently squee isn't a real word. grumble.

Hi blog.
I have a confession to make.
I've been. . . with Tumblr.
Hear me out.
It isn't that I don't love you, blog. I can improve my writing skills marginally through the posts I write here of dubious quality and everything!
I need a place where I can attempt to be elegant, where I can attempt to finish my sentences before dissolving into keyboard smashes and squees. You, Blogger, are where I go when I need to put on a fancy hat and sip a cup of tea as I opine on literature.
I need the warm fuzzies that one can only get from a loving commenter.
I really like you and am not going anywhere soon.
I really like tumblr as well.
I enjoy the squees and fangirling and CAPS LOCK.
I enjoy the gifs and Nerdfighters and Mary Poppins Time Lord.
The satisfaction I feel when my posts are reblogged is wonderful.

I'd really like to use both of you.
Blogger, how do you feel about polygamy?
(I'd ask tumblr too but it has so many OTPs I'm sure it's fine with it.)

*************************************************************************
This is my tumblr if you were wondering.
Wheeeeeeeee posting on three hours of sleep is fun!
I wrote a 700 word stream of consciousness thing about the sensory overload anxiety of math class but it was too serious and too stream of consciousness for anybody to ever see it besides me. Instead I wrote that and I don't know if it is coherent at all.
My life right now is a blur of the impossible number of things I've committed to this year (I need a time turner) heavily seasoned with a daily dose of crap-i-don't-get-math.
On the bright side, I made it onto the yearbook committee as a writer. It makes me feel better about myself.

<3
Gabi

P.S. 25th post! That is happy-making.

I have a love affair with sentence fragments.

So I mixed vanilla pudding with milk and now l’m drinking it and it’s so delicious.

Nobody will be able to tell that I am drinking pudding. I can pretend to be healthy but I am drinking pudding! 

The pudding milk is mine. All mine. 

I SHALL NAME IT PUDDING-MILK. Its nickname can be Pilk. It is so cute. 

And I cam-whore (unattractively) and act weird online yet again. 

I think that the first week of school drove me a little bit insane. It's my junior year and my brain just keeps refusing to accept that what I do this year has an actual bearing on my future. (Especially since I'm taking two grade 12 courses.) 

Math is still difficult, but I like math a lot and am trying to apply myself, so it will be okay.

I just discovered that in Sweden they call hot girls "puddings." 

I finished The Night Circus today. It was a beautiful book. I really liked it.

That is all.

<3 Gabi

P.S. I'm sorry that I don't make sense or write with quality or insight or maturity. It will happen at some point.

This post should actually be part of my previous post. I'm a rebel.

This is me standing on top of a beaver lodge in a provincial park in the middle of Northern Ontario. The meadow surrounding me used to be rushing water, then a dammed up pond filled with lily pads, and now this.

Cool things about beavers:

• When attacked, a beaver can grab its prey with its two front teeth and drag the attacker underwater until it is drowned.
• If you stuck your iPod and a pair of speakers in the middle of a field and played the sound of rushing water on a loop, a beaver might build a dam right over it. They're kind of stupid.
• Beavers mate for life, unless their partner dies.
• That partner could die being crushed by the tree it is cutting. Beavers cannot predict which way a tree will fall, and beaver skeletons have been found underneath tree trunks.
• Beaver teeth have iron in the outer layer to strengthen their teeth so they can cut down trees like this one.

This is a real beaver, too.

In conclusion, I like beavers too much.

Also, here are some gnomes we found on the top of an isolated mountain. It was a magical experience.

<3 Gabi

     I never know how to start blog posts. All those fiddly words and paragraphs sometimes make me overthink things, even though blog posts don't have to be fine-tuned in the least.
It's just something that bothers me sometimes.

I got back from a fantastic family camping trip this morning.
     I bushwhacked, stood on beaver lodges, and even survived two nights sharing a tent with my dad and brother.
     While watching the sunset from the rocky shore of our camping site, it really sunk in how lucky I was to be Canadian. I'm so glad that I get to live in a country with freedom of expression and education and lots of trees (and rocks and water). Then my grandfather sat down beside me and started to rant about US politics, which wasn't really in the mood but still made me feel glad to be Canadian (or at least not American).*

     I wrote a few songs this week, which I've never really done before. Turns out that I accidentally made one of them sound far too similar to  Bowl of Oranges, but I still like the lyrics. I also learned The Cave on guitar. Did I mention that I sing in the shower?

I've got to go and husk corn.

<3 Gabi

*No offence intended to my readers from south of the border. I just don't like politicians.