It is apparent that I have neglected this blog quite enough. An update is very due.

Lately I have been working hard to complete my math, science and language arts homework. I am home-schooled and a terrible procrastinator, which don't usually go hand-in-hand. This leaves me with mounds and mounds of work, sitting on my cluttered desk, waiting to be done.

In fact, this blog post is clear proof of my dilemma. Here I am, at the computer, while the pile still sits, waiting, on my desk in the basement.

However, apart from schoolwork, life has been really nice. I have volunteer work at Camp Nakamun to look forward to this summer as well as some swimming courses to take [for future lifeguarding job] and social activities with friends and family.

I also have plans to make summer dresses and a new bag.

A wedding and a discovery.

As much as I have always tried not to, I have found that I fall shamelessly into the 'girly' category when it comes to weddings. Not just any wedding, of course. The weddings I get dragged to involving a cousin I have never met before binding herself to some chump in the trucker business doesn't excite my inner girlishness nor my squeals of delight. In fact, I had always hated weddings until a recent decision was made by a most dear friend of mine with the most dear boy of hers to tie the knot. The match is perfect, the plans are fun and I am invited. It's all most exciting.

The wedding will take place in 2 weeks, and I find myself as eager as ever for it. Watching my friend plan and buy and talk about her wedding has been so nice to see and hear. I feel so happy for the dear girl! As for me, I play the part of 'bridesmaid'; although they aren't being formal about it so I thankfully don't have to wear an awful matching bridesmaid dress which I will one day look back on and shudder. Despite Lizzy's good taste, the art of choosing bridesmaid dresses will never be perfected. I am making my own.

Recovery

It's a bitch.

Sitting around moaning with an ice-pack strapped to my head has not been fun. However, the ice cream, sorbet and films I indulged in made it a little less unbearable. But only a little.

Having four stitched-up cuts in the back of my mouth has been one of the strangest things I've ever experienced. It doesn't hurt like I had expected; it's more of an annoyance. I can hardly chew.

Being the 5th day, I have 2 green bruises smearing both sides of my bottom jaw, and my incisions are a little stingy. I've been unproductive and slothful, but today I'm going to try and do something useful. Maybe I'll clean the bathroom...

Teeth

Next week, I will be going under the knife for the first time ever. I had always hoped that if, in fact, I ever needed surgery, it would be because I obtained a badass injury doing something unbelievably awesome or death defying. But why am I being put to sleep so someone can dig around inside me with a scalpel? My wisdom teeth are not wanted inside my head anymore, apparently. They're being prosecuted for being so wise, I think. It's a conspiracy of some kind.

At any rate, I will be gassed and cranked open at 8 in the morning and then the lovely, soft, dark-pink tissue of my little blabby mouth with be sliced open and my dear, wise, white little friends will be ripped from their 'menacing' places and replaced with stitches and soreness. It's not the surgery itself that I'm worried about: I'm sure the guy tearing my teeth from their place is concerned enough about his own job that he won't do anything too terrible or wrong to me, and that he knows well enough what he's doing. I'm more concerned about the AFTER.

I don't want to waste another week. My spring break was entirely used up by Love According to John and generic Easter brunches and suppers, the week after that was stolen by an untimely bout of H1N1 and now I have a precious few days left before Monday shows up and gives me another forceful reason to sit in bed watching movies day after day.

I just have far too much to do to allow the time.

I have a dress to make, textbooks to complete, friends to attend to, a wedding to giggle about, Dostoyevsky to read, a body to keep swimmer-fit, movies to see at the theater and house cleaning for extra cash.

Apparently my mother will keep me heavily medicated and my head will feel like an inflated balloon. Who knows. It may even prove to be fun.

Spring Break

Last week I was backstage for Love According to John. Tara & I were in charge of Stage Right Props. The entire week was a complete blur. Even now I don't remember clearly all the events which took place. However, I do recall being chatted up quite a bit, eating close to nothing, carting around boxes, glue-gunning, painting, exchanging witticisms with [some] handsome boys, taking pictures, handing people things, moving things around and hanging out with the cool members of the cast and crew. It was terrific fun, but even now I'm having trouble getting back into routine. I wish it wasn't over!

However, I have a great many things to attend to here in harsh, cold reality, so there's no use complaining. I have a dress to make.

Atlas

I chose the above name for my fish. It works.

A Roommate

At last I share my room with another living organism -although one with a much smaller soul than mine. A fish, a Siamese Fighter, with a red body, blue tail and black eyes. He's a Delta, which means simply that his tail and fins fan out behind him and look uncannily like silk fabric. He is small and hardy and is swimming contentedly in my round, glass, 8 liter fish bowl. He's magnificent. He deserves a good name. I traded 15 dollars for him.