Waaahahahaha! Otafest!
Can't wait! It's going to be uber fun. As pointed out by Jaclyn, I am in some of the photos from Otafest 2003, but mostly just me at a distance or the back of my head. There's one where you can see my face in profile-oh my God!-but I guess I wasn't very photogenic that day because I look weird. Or maybe its the Anime Rays screwing up the picture. Or I have an ugly profile. Sigh.
Anyway, except for scraping my knee, I had a pretty fun day. See ya later!
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Monday, April 26, 2004
Shall I tell you what I did?
Sometimes, when one is sad, one reverts to the scared little child one hides within, and does things one did as a relatively innocent youth to make oneself feel better. Today, I did that.
I felt sad. I had just been thinking, and I felt quite upset. Nothing in paticular, just one of those "down in the dumps" kind of feelings. It was early this morning. About 1:00. I was sitting on my bed, in my impecably neat and tidy room. The lights were off, and I had some soft, sad, instrumental music was playing. The blinds were closed, keeping out the yellow glare from the nearby street lamp. Normally, I'm scared of the dark, but not the dark in my room. That's safe dark. I sat there, hugging a stuffed animal, and I started to cry. I wasn't even thinking about anything sad! It's funny! I was thinking about some homework I had to do, and wondering where I put my cell phone, and I heard a quiet splash as a tear landed on the glass eyes of Penelope, my toy dog. Penelope used to belong to my mother, and she is so old that her body is made of kanvas and the stuffing is sawdust. Her shaggy brown head is made of velvet, and her body is almost bare, with a few tufts of itchy fur. Her tail was almost falling off, so I took a dark red satin ribbon and tied it around her tail. I sat there, holding her, looking at her, wondering why I was crying, and looking at poor old Penelope made me cry even more. The sad dilapidated thing. So I did something I used to do as a young girl.
I lay upside down on my bed, my feet on the pillow, and leant against a big teddy bear named Big Peter, which my sister gave to me when she didn't want him anymore. I lay there, quietly, not making a noise. Then, I reached into the vast amounts of stuffed animals and pulled out a random one. It was Tinny the cat. I held him close, and whispered. Told him all my secrets. When I was done, I put him to my ear, and responded, as if Tinny was talking to me.
"Don't worry, Katie," he said. "Everything is going to be okay."
"I know," I said. "I hope so, anyway."
"They will be."
"Thankyou."
Put Tinny down. Reached into the pile again. My hand found Barkles, the husky dog my dad and mother-of-step gave me last summer. He told me that he would protect me from everything. Then little Clover, who I won at Calaway Park on my 15th birthday. She whispered special things to me too. After a while, my blind fingers fell upon Katie. I got her before I left England, in a gift shop my Auntie Lou took me to. She's a small, light brown bear, with a delightful smile, and wearing a colourful outfit. The makers, and company name, was Katie and Bernie. I thought that meant that all the bears in red where Katies, and all the blue ones where Berties. Naturally, I chose a Katie. So early this morning, I put her forehead to my lips, and I was overcome by how soft she still was. I made me cry. I love little Katie.
So then, I put all my stuffed animals away in their respective places, and crawled under the blanket, and fell asleep hugging Pickles the cow. You may think I'm absolutely pathetic to do such a childish thing, and then tell you about it-as if you wanted to know-but I couldn't care less what anyone thinks. I know there have been nights when everyone, no matter who they are, has cried for no reason and hugged a teddy bear, or done something they did in their childhood to make themselves feel better. And I do feel better.
Anyway, going to bed now. Goodnight everyone.
Sometimes, when one is sad, one reverts to the scared little child one hides within, and does things one did as a relatively innocent youth to make oneself feel better. Today, I did that.
I felt sad. I had just been thinking, and I felt quite upset. Nothing in paticular, just one of those "down in the dumps" kind of feelings. It was early this morning. About 1:00. I was sitting on my bed, in my impecably neat and tidy room. The lights were off, and I had some soft, sad, instrumental music was playing. The blinds were closed, keeping out the yellow glare from the nearby street lamp. Normally, I'm scared of the dark, but not the dark in my room. That's safe dark. I sat there, hugging a stuffed animal, and I started to cry. I wasn't even thinking about anything sad! It's funny! I was thinking about some homework I had to do, and wondering where I put my cell phone, and I heard a quiet splash as a tear landed on the glass eyes of Penelope, my toy dog. Penelope used to belong to my mother, and she is so old that her body is made of kanvas and the stuffing is sawdust. Her shaggy brown head is made of velvet, and her body is almost bare, with a few tufts of itchy fur. Her tail was almost falling off, so I took a dark red satin ribbon and tied it around her tail. I sat there, holding her, looking at her, wondering why I was crying, and looking at poor old Penelope made me cry even more. The sad dilapidated thing. So I did something I used to do as a young girl.
I lay upside down on my bed, my feet on the pillow, and leant against a big teddy bear named Big Peter, which my sister gave to me when she didn't want him anymore. I lay there, quietly, not making a noise. Then, I reached into the vast amounts of stuffed animals and pulled out a random one. It was Tinny the cat. I held him close, and whispered. Told him all my secrets. When I was done, I put him to my ear, and responded, as if Tinny was talking to me.
"Don't worry, Katie," he said. "Everything is going to be okay."
"I know," I said. "I hope so, anyway."
"They will be."
"Thankyou."
Put Tinny down. Reached into the pile again. My hand found Barkles, the husky dog my dad and mother-of-step gave me last summer. He told me that he would protect me from everything. Then little Clover, who I won at Calaway Park on my 15th birthday. She whispered special things to me too. After a while, my blind fingers fell upon Katie. I got her before I left England, in a gift shop my Auntie Lou took me to. She's a small, light brown bear, with a delightful smile, and wearing a colourful outfit. The makers, and company name, was Katie and Bernie. I thought that meant that all the bears in red where Katies, and all the blue ones where Berties. Naturally, I chose a Katie. So early this morning, I put her forehead to my lips, and I was overcome by how soft she still was. I made me cry. I love little Katie.
So then, I put all my stuffed animals away in their respective places, and crawled under the blanket, and fell asleep hugging Pickles the cow. You may think I'm absolutely pathetic to do such a childish thing, and then tell you about it-as if you wanted to know-but I couldn't care less what anyone thinks. I know there have been nights when everyone, no matter who they are, has cried for no reason and hugged a teddy bear, or done something they did in their childhood to make themselves feel better. And I do feel better.
Anyway, going to bed now. Goodnight everyone.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
My contribution to this world has been realized.
Went to Westhills shopping centre with my dad. He went to the bank, and asked if I would run over to the Superstore to pick up a few groceries, to save on time. Of course, it meant I got a ten dollar bonus, so I hightailed it over there. On the way, I bumped into a boy roughly my age, perhaps a bit younger, and he was walking a big, white, shaggy, curly-haired dog, who seemed really familiar. She was really friendly, and put her front paws on my shoulders and began licking my face. I laughed. The boy said "Down, girl," and I continued petting her. I asked the boy some questions.
"What breed is she?"
"I dunno. Got her from the humane society."
"I used to volunteer there!" I exclaimed. "What's her her name?"
"Raggamuffin."
My jaw nearly hit the earth. I hastily explained that I rescued that dog. When I was living at Queen's park, I would walk to the bus stop, and no matter how early or how cold it was, there was this big dirty dog chained up outside on a ground level balcony. It would walk timidly over and I would rub it to warm it up. There was never a light on inside, and there was never any food or water in the rusted metal bowls. The balcony was covered in trash. I would take the luncheon meat out of my sandwich and give it to the poor thing, who always ate it hungrily. One day, I couldn't take it anymore, untied the dog, and walked it down to the office, and asked who lived in building 1004 and informed the landlord to tell them I was taking the dog to the humane society, due to what seemed to be neglect. The landlord looked at me funny and said no one lived there. I was furious, at the idea that someone would abandon an animal like that. I called the humane society and told them I was bringing in an abandoned dog. Mom drove me. Because I used to work there, I cleaned her down, and put her in a kennel, and called her "Raggamuffin", because she reminded me of a street urchin my Nana would tell me stories about, and her name was Raggamuffin. I came to work after a weekend of absence, and was informed that she had been adopted. And to see her again, so clean, so happy, and in a rich neighbourhood, made me exceptionally happy.
So even though life can be a total bitch, I saved one poor dog from a frozen winter outside. I feel yay.
Went to Westhills shopping centre with my dad. He went to the bank, and asked if I would run over to the Superstore to pick up a few groceries, to save on time. Of course, it meant I got a ten dollar bonus, so I hightailed it over there. On the way, I bumped into a boy roughly my age, perhaps a bit younger, and he was walking a big, white, shaggy, curly-haired dog, who seemed really familiar. She was really friendly, and put her front paws on my shoulders and began licking my face. I laughed. The boy said "Down, girl," and I continued petting her. I asked the boy some questions.
"What breed is she?"
"I dunno. Got her from the humane society."
"I used to volunteer there!" I exclaimed. "What's her her name?"
"Raggamuffin."
My jaw nearly hit the earth. I hastily explained that I rescued that dog. When I was living at Queen's park, I would walk to the bus stop, and no matter how early or how cold it was, there was this big dirty dog chained up outside on a ground level balcony. It would walk timidly over and I would rub it to warm it up. There was never a light on inside, and there was never any food or water in the rusted metal bowls. The balcony was covered in trash. I would take the luncheon meat out of my sandwich and give it to the poor thing, who always ate it hungrily. One day, I couldn't take it anymore, untied the dog, and walked it down to the office, and asked who lived in building 1004 and informed the landlord to tell them I was taking the dog to the humane society, due to what seemed to be neglect. The landlord looked at me funny and said no one lived there. I was furious, at the idea that someone would abandon an animal like that. I called the humane society and told them I was bringing in an abandoned dog. Mom drove me. Because I used to work there, I cleaned her down, and put her in a kennel, and called her "Raggamuffin", because she reminded me of a street urchin my Nana would tell me stories about, and her name was Raggamuffin. I came to work after a weekend of absence, and was informed that she had been adopted. And to see her again, so clean, so happy, and in a rich neighbourhood, made me exceptionally happy.
So even though life can be a total bitch, I saved one poor dog from a frozen winter outside. I feel yay.
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