16, a year in review.

If anyone wishes to sing to me "you are sixteen going on seventeen..." they have exactly 1 hour and 37 minutes to do so. Because that is when the song will no longer apply to me.
I'll be honest, at this time last year, I was signifigantly more pumped than I am now. Maybe I'm just tired, maybe I'm just wondering why it's taken me this long to get 8 hours on my learners.
I'm curious about 17. 16, you can drive, 18 you can drink, but what the hell is 17? It's the cheese in the coming-of-age sammich. Actually, I could probably think of a better metaphor...no, I can't, I'll just work with the sammich.
Without the cheese, the sammich is just two slices of bread, perhaps with a bit of mayo. Mayo doesn't make a sammich, mayo makes two slices of bread two slices of bread with mayo. Although, the metaphor doesn't fully encapsulate the fantasticness of these slices of bread. Maybe it's like...really really good bread. Like olive bread or naan bread or something. But naan bread would be horrible with cheese and mayo...
Okay, 17 is the daal squished into the pockets of the naan bread of the coming-of-age sammich. The naan bread can stand alone, delisciously enough, but daal needs the naan to make sense.
It's okay if that metaphor didn't make sense to you, because according to Foucault, that's what you've come to expect of me.* And according to Wimsatt and Beardsley, you've probably just committed an 'intentional fallacy' by assuming you know what I mean. And you know, that's probably just provided a unique insight to my current mental state. I'll stop now.
ANYWAY! 16's been a pretty good age. I learned a bunch of stuff about myself, and my friends, and my relations. I did my first rebellious action (I didn't have a cause, but I got chips out of it, so that makes it worth it. Totally freaking worth it), launched a webcomic site (how many people can say they did that at 16?), almost (accidentally) joined the marching band, started something I loved, stopped something I hated and learned to cha-cha.
As it turns out, I have about the same musical taste as my English teacher. This is off-topic, but still awesome. We had a discussion about The Dandy Warhols and how we felt about this year's Triple J Hottest 100. How awesome? Very awesome!
Anywhoozle (age 16 I finally stopped hating the phrase "anywho" thanks to sxephil), there's a bunch of stuff I probably should've done at age 16, like build up more than 8 hours driving...T_T...but hey, I've got 17 to do all that stuff, because I doubt I can do it all in the next 1 hour and 18 minutes...Sweet Jumping Jehova...

*To fully understand this, you need to know something about Foucault's theories about author-function, particularly attribution. That's right, I'm blogging my English Extension homework.

Thing of the Week/ Mr Foster's Box of Joy

My Thing for this week is a paintbrush.
Allow me to explain.
Thing of the Week began way back in year 10, when it was just Hug Week. I'd written "HUG TIME" on a heap of cards and was giving them to people all that week, and for a full year, one of them was stuck to the fan in the art room, until, late last year it was tragically torn off.
At one point last year, I came across a rather large amount of string in House Group one fine Monday. This string remained in my blazer pocket for a whole week. I whipped the string out at guitar ensemble...they weren't impressed. But some of us did find some use for the string when we decided to lasso Mars in an attempt to pull the earth further away from the sun. And yes, we did think it would work.
This week's Thing came into my posession during Extension English this afternoon. I was minding my own business, doing my review and defence (*SIGH*) when suddenly, there appears Mr Foster. And what should Mr Foster be holding? Mr Foster's Box of Joy. A box he had while he was teaching primary school full of pens, pencils and weirdly shaped erasers. I do believe the paintbrush I comandeered from kicks some serious lower-back.

Valentimes is serious times.

Valentine's Day...
*sigh*
I don't feel good about it, nor does it make me angry or sad that I, once again, forgot to get a boyfriend this V-Day. It's just another one of those things I don't care about, but feel I should. Hopeless Romantic Izzie was squished by Izzie With Dignity at about the same time I stopped watching Disney Movies. Which was about 7. The Disney Princess movies, that is, I'll still watch The Lion King or Mulan or something, but even at a young age, I thought Prince Charming would generally be a boring person. Although, Ariel struck it lucky with Eric in The Little Mermaid. A Disney prince with at least a small amount of personality and a kickass pet. And I never even watched Beauty And The Beast. Just putting it out there.
I think this blog started with Valumulumtimes Day. Well, tomorrow for me is mostly my Grandma's birthday. Which probably means Indian Take-Away. GARLIC NAAN WINS AT EVERYTHING. I used to have the best naan bread recipe ever...I think I know where it is...I'll go find it tomorrow...
Is it obvious I'm tired? My holiday-stamina has faded and I'm getting tired at 10 rather than 2AM now. School will do that to you...
Here's a picture I took.

Can I get a "hell yeah"?
I SAID CAN I GET A "HELL YEAH!"

PS. And this is the last time I shall say this, but External Working, do you read my blog any more?

three-way conversation of AWESOME

Izzie:
CHRIS
CHRIS
CHRIS
CHAIRS?
CHRIS!
Christopher:
chairs is not even close to chris!
Izzie:
CHAIRS
CHAIRS
CHAIRS
CHAIRS
CHAIRS
Kristopher:
CHARIZARD!
Christopher:
NOW YOU HAVE CALLED MY TRUE NAME I WILL BE YOUR SERVANT FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!!
Kristopher:
YAY!
LICK IZZIE'S FEET!
Izzie:
do it
Christopher:
over the net?
Izzie:
yep
Christopher:
ok, i did it
Izzie:
i see no verb asterisks
Christopher:
*sigh* fine
*licks izzie's feet*
Izzie:
man, this is so going on my blog