Friends! Yes, you there. Helloooooo. How are you?
What am I saying? Of course you're well.
But are you feeling adventurous?
Check out my other site for a fun new post...
http://theknowitnothing.weebly.com/blog/photo…
Sunday 10 July 2016
Saturday 18 June 2016
I think I found my dog's special spot...
You have a pet hate. Don't deny it.
I bet you're thinking about it now. Gee, thanks Jordan.
Maybe it's the way people (or someone in particular, if you're that kind of person) clicks their teeth together. But you CANNOT say it's the old fingernail on the blackboard. We all hate that one.
I have one. You know those knives with the slightly cerated edges? Scraping that up against a fork sends a chill down my spine. It bugs me.
***
Okay, not that either of these is a pet hate, I just had to get them into writing.
THERE IS A CRICKET FARM GROWING AT MY SCHOOL. Also, big tip, even if you don't know if it's a school, pack, herd or farm of crickets, do NOT google image that damn thing.
Anyway, there are seats at school, more like clumps of cement shaped in a ring that the school somehow deemed "creative". There are gaps in between the cement, probably no more than a couple of centimetres thick. Here is where our little harvest of crickets live, crawling up and down the edges.
A girl from my year sat over the crack, unaware of the critters. I didn't tell her anything. We're not friends, not even when a cricket is making its way up her skirt. I am a bad, terrible person.
Bonus: My dog, as you can hopefully recall, is a female dog, approximately 18-20 months old. Loves a good scratch.
Just don't go near the top of her back legs. That's her spot, if you get what I mean.
I bet you're thinking about it now. Gee, thanks Jordan.
Maybe it's the way people (or someone in particular, if you're that kind of person) clicks their teeth together. But you CANNOT say it's the old fingernail on the blackboard. We all hate that one.
I have one. You know those knives with the slightly cerated edges? Scraping that up against a fork sends a chill down my spine. It bugs me.
***
Okay, not that either of these is a pet hate, I just had to get them into writing.
THERE IS A CRICKET FARM GROWING AT MY SCHOOL. Also, big tip, even if you don't know if it's a school, pack, herd or farm of crickets, do NOT google image that damn thing.
Anyway, there are seats at school, more like clumps of cement shaped in a ring that the school somehow deemed "creative". There are gaps in between the cement, probably no more than a couple of centimetres thick. Here is where our little harvest of crickets live, crawling up and down the edges.
A girl from my year sat over the crack, unaware of the critters. I didn't tell her anything. We're not friends, not even when a cricket is making its way up her skirt. I am a bad, terrible person.
Bonus: My dog, as you can hopefully recall, is a female dog, approximately 18-20 months old. Loves a good scratch.
Just don't go near the top of her back legs. That's her spot, if you get what I mean.
Wednesday 15 June 2016
I haven't posted in so long, I might as well laugh about it...
HELLO.
It's been a while.
Are you feeling nostalgic too? Who am I kidding?! You don't care.
But ahhh, the good times. Before my life was totally crazy and I wasn't coughing myself to sleep. Yes. That was a good time. A very good time.
I suffered a great "huh" moment today. I confessed to my teacher that my essay was probably the worst one I've written this year. But I'm struggling to decide whether I should applaud his witty comeback or close my laptop right now and cry. He replied, with an apologetic smile (which was probably supposed to make me feel better), 'I agree'.
Minute of silence for my extinct dignity. One, two, three... Okay, I'm not going to count it for you.
Maybe today is a judge-y kind of day. You're most likely going to start judging me right now.
I'm an awkward laugher. No, I don't mean my laugh itself is awkward, although my best friend would probably present an hour long argument against that statement. I just laugh in the most awkward of moments. This blog is about spilling the beans anonymously...except for those three friends I have that read this silly thing. So I'm going to be honest. I laughed for an hour consistently after watching my grandmother climb onto a ferry in Italy. And I even have to fight the giggles during a minute silence at school - which, of course, is HIGHLY disrespectful and I hate myself for it.
Whenever I'm not supposed to laugh... You guessed right: I laugh.
What's even better? I go so red my forehead actually starts sweating. There is no way I can hide. Absolutely no corner for me to crawl into.
Well, that was a good thing to say.
In case you have no idea who I am, now you do. I'm that kid on the street who's always red in the face.
It's been a while.
Are you feeling nostalgic too? Who am I kidding?! You don't care.
But ahhh, the good times. Before my life was totally crazy and I wasn't coughing myself to sleep. Yes. That was a good time. A very good time.
I suffered a great "huh" moment today. I confessed to my teacher that my essay was probably the worst one I've written this year. But I'm struggling to decide whether I should applaud his witty comeback or close my laptop right now and cry. He replied, with an apologetic smile (which was probably supposed to make me feel better), 'I agree'.
Minute of silence for my extinct dignity. One, two, three... Okay, I'm not going to count it for you.
Maybe today is a judge-y kind of day. You're most likely going to start judging me right now.
I'm an awkward laugher. No, I don't mean my laugh itself is awkward, although my best friend would probably present an hour long argument against that statement. I just laugh in the most awkward of moments. This blog is about spilling the beans anonymously...except for those three friends I have that read this silly thing. So I'm going to be honest. I laughed for an hour consistently after watching my grandmother climb onto a ferry in Italy. And I even have to fight the giggles during a minute silence at school - which, of course, is HIGHLY disrespectful and I hate myself for it.
Whenever I'm not supposed to laugh... You guessed right: I laugh.
What's even better? I go so red my forehead actually starts sweating. There is no way I can hide. Absolutely no corner for me to crawl into.
Well, that was a good thing to say.
In case you have no idea who I am, now you do. I'm that kid on the street who's always red in the face.
Monday 23 May 2016
10 things every high school student knows or does...
We're a lazy species. Practically sloths. Am I going to deny it? Please. Not even if you begged.
But, in my absolutely mind-changing, world-evolving, spit-out-your-cereal-amazing opinion, we're pretty darn smart:
- Ask friends how much they've worked on the assignment to be comforted by how little we've actually done.
- Arrive home and start eating, using the biological necessity for nutrients as an excuse to spend 20 minutes checking our social media branches.
- Rule up the next ten pages in our workbook during class, claiming our "future-self" will thank us and understand that we didn't waste five minutes for no reason.
- Indulge in small amounts of bread and potato the night before and morning of a school day so we don't feel guilty when we can't help but buy a bruschetta from the canteen.
- Tell dumb people we have too much work and that we're finding it a struggle to succeed - they think we're brilliant anyway and the compliment boosts that drooping self-esteem.
- One hour of study, 20 minute break, one hour of study, 10 minute break, one hour...our parents' favourite TV show suddenly makes us wonder why it isn't our fav series too. This is particularly depressing when Antiques Roadshow decides to sabotage our study flow.
- Teachers are people. The second we ask about them and their life, they will fall in love with us. No, I know what you're thinking - not in that weird, illegal way.
- There is nothing a massive gossip, junk food fest, laughing session or dancing won't fix. Come on, now. I know I'm not the only one that does this... home alone. No shame whatsoever.
- Everything, everything seems so much WORSE if you haven't started.
- Rewards are the pot of gold at the end - did I have a tough day? Yes: cookie time. Did I just smash that test? Probably not: still eats cookie.
Saturday 21 May 2016
The things you wish other couples at school would do...
To all those people in love out there - good on you. You've found the one and I wish you luck.
The only thing I can do is hope you're not as bad as some couples. I have eyes, they work perfectly well, and I can see. Even when I don't want to.
When I'm scrolling through social media, do I want to see pictures of you making out? Pictures that you probably took ten times just to get the right angle? No. These photographs are depressing (if this was your intention, however, keep going - it's working). All I really want to see are pictures of people eating pizza at home, on the couch, on a Friday night. They're super comforting.
Do society a favour and take a step away from them. Notice your warm breath isn't immediately trapped by their shirt. It's called distance. For the rest of us, it's called relief. Take one for the team.
God almighty, if you have a free/free period/unscheduled lesson, just study. Don't decide to follow your boy/girlfriend around to all their classes. Just knowing you're in the back of the class, probably venturing places under the table (which, by the way, is totally inappropriate. And yes, this actually happened in one of my classes), is sickening enough.
My teacher once said, 'Leave room for Jesus'. If that didn't make you laugh, I'm sorry. It certainly made me laugh at the time. I smiled just writing it.
PLEASE keep your moody emotions to yourself. The whole school does not need to know you're going through a "rough patch". Keep your head up, wipe away the tears.
- Okay, I realised that last one makes me seem a little harsh. I feel for you, I really do. Not so much I'm going to come up and hug you (sorry). But maybe I'll ask you if you're doing alright in the toilet. (If that sentence is slightly ambiguous, I mean I'd ask how you're doing whilst we're both situated in the girls bathroom, not actually ask how your experience on the toilet is going.)
You probably read that correct in the first place. Now you're just judging me for even thinking of asking about you on the toilet...
WELCOME TO MY BLOG
IF YOU'RE LUCKY, I MIGHT ASK YOU ABOUT TOILET EXPERIENCES.
If you have any funny stories, though, I'm always ready for a laugh.
The only thing I can do is hope you're not as bad as some couples. I have eyes, they work perfectly well, and I can see. Even when I don't want to.
When I'm scrolling through social media, do I want to see pictures of you making out? Pictures that you probably took ten times just to get the right angle? No. These photographs are depressing (if this was your intention, however, keep going - it's working). All I really want to see are pictures of people eating pizza at home, on the couch, on a Friday night. They're super comforting.
Do society a favour and take a step away from them. Notice your warm breath isn't immediately trapped by their shirt. It's called distance. For the rest of us, it's called relief. Take one for the team.
God almighty, if you have a free/free period/unscheduled lesson, just study. Don't decide to follow your boy/girlfriend around to all their classes. Just knowing you're in the back of the class, probably venturing places under the table (which, by the way, is totally inappropriate. And yes, this actually happened in one of my classes), is sickening enough.
My teacher once said, 'Leave room for Jesus'. If that didn't make you laugh, I'm sorry. It certainly made me laugh at the time. I smiled just writing it.
PLEASE keep your moody emotions to yourself. The whole school does not need to know you're going through a "rough patch". Keep your head up, wipe away the tears.
- Okay, I realised that last one makes me seem a little harsh. I feel for you, I really do. Not so much I'm going to come up and hug you (sorry). But maybe I'll ask you if you're doing alright in the toilet. (If that sentence is slightly ambiguous, I mean I'd ask how you're doing whilst we're both situated in the girls bathroom, not actually ask how your experience on the toilet is going.)
You probably read that correct in the first place. Now you're just judging me for even thinking of asking about you on the toilet...
WELCOME TO MY BLOG
IF YOU'RE LUCKY, I MIGHT ASK YOU ABOUT TOILET EXPERIENCES.
If you have any funny stories, though, I'm always ready for a laugh.
Thursday 19 May 2016
You're a perfectionist too? Okay, no, it's obviously just me...
I'm a writer. Maybe that's obvious. Maybe it's not. Maybe you're thinking: this girl has no idea how to form sentences. Right you are!
You know when you love something so much, you try extremely hard to be great at at, as if to not let yourself down? To not suck at the one thing you're super passionate about?
(snorts) Clearly that's just me. Hush now, Jordan. Shhhh.
But seriously. Concentrate. This. Is. Me. In. English. And it is bloody tiring. I write, I edit, I ask questions, I keep asking questions and even when I hand up assignments I'm still second-guessing myself. I think of all the little things I should have changed, all the sentences that were perhaps unclear. YOU DO THE SAME?
Nope, still just me.
I ask so many questions I'm fairly sure my teacher gets annoyed the second my hand lifts off the table, my palm flattens and I raise my arm in the air. Alarms blare in the back of his mind, old and fizzled cabaret lights warning him of my brewing query. He groans internally. The acid churns in his stomach, bubbling up his insides so he can taste bile.
'Do you think this makes sense?' I ask.
So now I have a new problem, probably one you can relate more to: I have started a blog post with no direction. Raise your hand if you're bored.
*Jordan raises her hand*
Raise your hand if reading this was a total waste of time.
*Jordan unwillingly raises her hand* (writing it was painful)
But, you know what, I just attempted my new maths investigation. I needed a break. I deserved a break. This is it. I am a social one. An uninteresting one too, as you might be discovering. Maybe this is my shield. Maybe I am truly a party animal. Maybe you'll never know.
I'll probably never know either with all this "school".
You know when you love something so much, you try extremely hard to be great at at, as if to not let yourself down? To not suck at the one thing you're super passionate about?
(snorts) Clearly that's just me. Hush now, Jordan. Shhhh.
But seriously. Concentrate. This. Is. Me. In. English. And it is bloody tiring. I write, I edit, I ask questions, I keep asking questions and even when I hand up assignments I'm still second-guessing myself. I think of all the little things I should have changed, all the sentences that were perhaps unclear. YOU DO THE SAME?
Nope, still just me.
I ask so many questions I'm fairly sure my teacher gets annoyed the second my hand lifts off the table, my palm flattens and I raise my arm in the air. Alarms blare in the back of his mind, old and fizzled cabaret lights warning him of my brewing query. He groans internally. The acid churns in his stomach, bubbling up his insides so he can taste bile.
'Do you think this makes sense?' I ask.
So now I have a new problem, probably one you can relate more to: I have started a blog post with no direction. Raise your hand if you're bored.
*Jordan raises her hand*
Raise your hand if reading this was a total waste of time.
*Jordan unwillingly raises her hand* (writing it was painful)
But, you know what, I just attempted my new maths investigation. I needed a break. I deserved a break. This is it. I am a social one. An uninteresting one too, as you might be discovering. Maybe this is my shield. Maybe I am truly a party animal. Maybe you'll never know.
I'll probably never know either with all this "school".
Tuesday 17 May 2016
Blogger is lovely, but sometimes I have to grind my teeth...
This is a formal but somehow the least formal post I have/will ever write...
Get ready.
I hereby apologise for the random font changes in my posts. I have tried ever so desperately to get them to the right font, but I have learnt my lesson: I will, from this point on, write all posts directly onto Blogger.
My OCD is making me want to scream.
You have a good day.
Get ready.
I hereby apologise for the random font changes in my posts. I have tried ever so desperately to get them to the right font, but I have learnt my lesson: I will, from this point on, write all posts directly onto Blogger.
My OCD is making me want to scream.
You have a good day.
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