And totally not a post to show off my hair.

Which has actually been pink for a while now. But the internet hasn't really known it.

Life is a blur of Parks and Recreation and me pretending that I understand Physics at this point.

Oh my god. Seriously. What the hell. 

So, for all the stress that last quad put  me through, I did walk away with a 94 in both subjects. So that was good. Only, Physics makes me want to stick an ice pick in my jaw and I don't think it's going to get any better. I'm basically Skyping with Chris every day, except instead of "Hey, how are you?", it's "Oh god oh god oh god what the hell are non-collinear vectors and what am I supposed to do with them?"

GOOD NEWS:

-Our class went down to Edmonton to look at universities in October. So I got to see Chris.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to U of A, where he currently studies. I'd basically have a guaranteed roommate (plus guaranteed residence; there's a hall that's student couples-only. Plus, they're one of the top five universities in Canada, and if David friggin' Cameron thinks that Alberta's education programme is the best in the English-speaking world, well, then, it'd bode me well to study education here, wouldn't it? (I'm not bullshitting you guys, either. Facts. Check 'em.)

Anyways. We met up at West Ed, hung out. He bought me bubble tea (and either didn't notice or didn't care when the adorable Asian girl behind the counter was flirting with him) and we had fish and chips over by the movie theatre with the dragon in it. It was cute. Kind of sad. But I enjoyed it.

OTHER GOOD NEWS:

Christmas is coming.

That's really it, actually.

I think I might post something later this week, when I get my shit together.

Haha, wait. Post things when I get my shit together? This thing will never be updated.

Goddamn.

Have a good sleep, internet.

Because it still exists, I guess.

Fuck. School. Fuck.

I am stressed to the nines, here. Running on empty. [insert overused cliche here] 

It's getting to be an effort just to function like a human being anymore. I've got about 4 overdue assignments, plus a Chem midterm to still write. Oh, and my Social midterm is tomorrow. So my brain is sort of on "FDASDFIASFLDSJK" mode right now. Forgive me.

The worst part is, I have no drive. None whatsoever. I don't know what's happened to me. I don't want to work. I don't want to read. I don't want to play games, or watch television. I don't want to socialize. I just want to walk around my house, cook, and wash my face. That's it. It's bad. I want my want back.

I've gotten into this terrible habit of falling asleep over Skype with Chris, too. (Shut up. I know that's lame. I know that's horribly codependent, and just the sort of thing that makes people hate teenagers in love. But that's how I deal.) I say "terrible" because I know that I can't always do it. At least if I'd developed a teddy bear thing, I could lug that around with me. But a laptop? A little more difficult to justify.

It's October, though. I'll give this month that. At least it's going by quickly.

Oh, Heather. Go away. Update when you're in a good mood.

Sorry, guys.

- Heather

I love Chris's little sister. I am just saying.

Yesterday:

Me: "You know she's going to be a total babe when she gets older, right?"
Him: "Yeah... *sigh* I'm going to have to kick a lot of guys' asses."

Doro, DON'T YOU DARE CHANGE, BB. YOU ARE A SHINING STARRRRR~~~~

She kind of reminds me of me when I was her age. Except smarter. And less annoying. And with better taste in music. And better at drawing. And video games. 

Shit. She's nothing like me at all. T.T

Anyways. His visit to town is over. He left today.

I'm... I don't know. Sad about it?

One minute, I'll be totally fine. Then, I'll think of some random moment, splitting pizza with him, or playing D&D, and I'll just start bawling.

And I'm nauseous a lot nowadays. Blegh.

I'll be okay, though. I'm sure of it.

So, um, a bit of advice. If you're about to do something to your appearance that could be described as "trying your hand at it"... don't.

Long story short, my eyebrows now need to dial long-distance if they want to talk to one another. And I've seen skinheads with better bangs than me.

Blah. I don't know why I opened this post, honestly. I've got a headache, and I've over-eaten today, and Chris is (supposed to be *fingers crossed*) in town tomorrow, but I haven't talked to him in a bit, so I don't know for sure, and I look a wreck now, and his birthday is on the 30th, and I have no gift for him, but I'm going to make a cake, but I'm worried that it's going to turn out stupid, and school is starting in a week and a bit, and I just can't right now.

I need sleep.

- Heather

Oh boy, journal. Where do I begin?

Chris left yesterday. Argh. Argh argh argh argh.

We got to spend one final day together. Except, instead of spending time with him and making the most of our last few hours together, I sat with him and cried the entire time. It was miserable. His sister came to see me, too, and she just being such a sweetheart, and I tried to make conversation with her, but you could tell that I'd been sobbing before, and my voice was all gravelly, and oh, I hope I didn't freak her out too badly. That poor girl. 

His mother started crying too, possibly because I was. So I felt like an utter tool. Argh.

I gave him a little going-away present. Not much, really. There was a letter, and mixed CD (because I'm a character in a John Hughes movie, obviously) and a jar full of Everlasting Gobstoppers. 731 of them, to be exact.

Basically, the idea was, 2 years apart = 731 days (because effing 2012 is a leap year.) So, if he eats one Gobstopper per day, by the time the jar is finished, I'll be done school, and we can get on with our lives. Alternatively, he can eat the entire jar at once, so that by the time the jar is finished, he'll have Type 2 diabetes. That works as well.

A smart girl would've taken the day that he was leaving off. But nope, I had to work yesterday, too. Damn near lost my mind in the process.

I didn't cry in front of the customers. But you could definitely tell that all I'd been doing before work was crying and sleeping. My face was so puffed-out, with these huge cavities underneath my eyes, and my skin all pale and washed-out, ratty hair. Oh, what a sight.

My boss tried to get me to work today, too. I couldn't outright say, "No, because I'm too sad about my boyfriend." because who the fuck takes teenagers "in love" seriously? (Except for other teenagers "in love", that is.) so I told him that I couldn't on such short notice. Kind of feeling guilty about it, but whatever. I need a day off.

Oh, I miss him. Like you wouldn't believe.

I guess we've already technically finished our first day, though. 

Only 730 days left to go.

 Oh, journal. How I neglect you. And yet, you never fail to desert me. *sigh*

I'm back at home. God, it's good to be home. The holiday was fun and all, but it's nice to go somewhere familiar once in a while.

Probably wouldn't be so glad to be home if it weren't for the fact that that's where Chris is. At least, for the next two weeks.

Then he's gone.

So I probably don't have to tell you that I've been prone to random fits of crying lately.

I'm so tired, too. Working a lot this month. Trying to keep my mind off of having to say goodbye.

Problem is, he's working pretty much every day, too, so we hardly have any time to spend together. dsgfgfsgfkgh.
 
I'm trying to keep myself preoccupied by creating a list of things that I want to do while he's gone. 104 weeks, 104 different activities.

It's actually a lot more difficult than it seems. I mean, there are only so many original ideas. I've already written down 4 or 5 different variations of "cook x". 

Whew! Okay. So I know I haven't really updated in a while, mostly because internet access has been a very on-and-off sort of thing. But I'm connected now. So, um, yay.

Basically, we got to San Francisco, and had about enough time to buy a Baby Ruth (mum was freaking out because we don't have those back home, but honestly, I couldn't taste anything different from an Oh Henry bar, if I'm being frank.) and have a look at all the grim looking Americans (seriously, you'd think San Francisco would be cheery, but no, everyone had dead eyes and gray skin. Depressed zombies.) before boarding into Los Angeles.

LA is... well, it's big. Too big for my liking. Flying overhead was a little bit nauseating, seeing square after square of suburb, with almost no breaks for trees or anything. I have decided that, although I may call myself a city girl, I'm a far cry from THOSE cities. Maybe I can handle baby cities, like Edmonton or Vancouver. Not ready for the big time, yet.

The TSA agents really rubbed me the wrong way too (not in the literal sense. I was spared a security pat-down.) Telling me to "move along, little lady" (I swear to snowman Jesus, "little lady". You have no fucking idea how irked I was.) when I tried to extract a water bottle from my carry-on, then chastising me for having said water bottle still in my carry-on. Because their frigging agent didn't LET me remove it. Gah.

Speaking of America, we met the two other groups at LAX. One is a pretty large group, about 20 or so people, from Ontario. And, well, um, they're... definitely Ontarians. Don't get me wrong, there are certainly some nice people in the group. But there's also quite a few Canadian guidos and guidettes, mixed in with the odd overprivileged kid spending mummy and daddy's salary on novelty items in dinky souvenir shops. So far, I've made no real connections there.

The second group is American. But I swear to god, everything that the Canadian group is, these kids aren't. Polite, friendly, easy to get along with, fun to talk to, oy. They're a bit younger than our group (most are going into Grade 9), but you'd never know it.

Anyways, after a 10-hour flight, we finally arrived in Fiji at 5 in the morning. 5. In. The. Goddamn. Morning.

To be honest, I didn't care much for Fiji. I mean, don't get me wrong, the place itself was beautiful, and I got to do things I'd never done before, like go snorkelling (I saw starfish!) and get a sunburn in-between my boobs (not nearly as fun), but honestly, the whole place reeked of a tourist trap. It wasn't a celebration of culture, it was an extortion of it. And it all felt rather cloying and trite. Plus, I was just hitting the tail end of pre-menstrual psychoticness, so I was more than a little frenzied in the mood department. Not a good combination, especially with the stress of travelling itself, and my mother's constant fretting over trivial matters (i.e. "the room's not ready!" "$5.50 for a can of Coke!", etc.)

Oh, and on the last day there, I lost my camera. So I've got no pictures of the island. Whoooo.

Probably for the best though, as most of my memories involve me on the edge of snapping at my mother or wanting to go home.

The last day in Fiji was a wreck, too. Our flight to Auckland was delayed by about an hour and a half, so on the bright side, I was able to pick up a new camera in a duty-free shop, but on the other hand, I just really wanted to put Fiji behind me and move on. Mum was mad at me for the camera, I could tell, and yes, she took it out on me, and yes, I took it right back out on her.

Then, on top of that, I started thinking about Chris. Thinking about the fact that the only person I could tell all of this to was halfway around the world, the only person who could say something simple and rational and just make my world glow, and I had no way of getting to him. So for the three-hour flight to Auckland, I put on my sunglasses and quietly cried in my seat, like the menstrual, heartsick, frustrated, overtired wreck that I was.

And y'know what? That made me feel so much better.

Arriving in New Zealand was like starting over on a new holiday. Everyone was so sweet, friendly, and funny. People smiled with their eyes and spoke with a quiet laugh in their voices. I felt like I was actually welcome.

Most of my knowledge of NZ has come from extensive viewings of Flight of the Conchords, so I came here expecting Kiwis to be funny in a casual, awkward sort of way, speak with amazing accents, and just be downright likeable. And I was actually quite unsurprised.

Today was equally wonderful. We started off at a Maori village in Rotarua, where we toured a bunch of hot springs and geysers, and ate some amazing Hangi food, then moved onto a jade factory, where I bought myself a tiny necklace of a kiwi bird. (I bought a matching charm as well, figuring that if I couldn't find anything else, I would give Chris that.), before moving onto the Agrodome, where I nearly pissed myself out of fear on the Swoop, a ridiculously named death-trap of a swing. Basically, you get strapped into this sack with two other people and hoisted up 40 metres in the air. Then you drop. And you scream.

It was incredible, oh my god. Once I got past the whole "oh dear sweet lord I'm going to die and the last Harry Potter movie isn't even out yet" thing, it was exhilirating.

Also, there are fluffy sheep EVERYWHERE. I love it so much.

I got to talk to Chris today, too, which was nice, I suppose. The problem was, because of the 18-hour time difference, while I was just getting ready for supper on Sunday night, he was just getting off of work on Saturday night, which meant that neither of us could talk for a long time. But I've been writing letters to him in a journal so that I can tell him all about the trip when I get back.)

I miss him, yeah. A lot. But now that I'm starting to have a decent time, I'm okay with not being at home.

Honestly, it sounds cheesy, but I'd much rather he come and experience this all with me, as opposed to being stuck at home.

Eh. This is going to bum me out. Enough with that.

Tomorrow, I think we're going to Auckland to watch sheep being shorn. I'm weirdly excited.

Until then, I suppose.

- Heather

 But that's about to change in a few hours. OHMYGOODNESS GRACIOUS AAH.

I'm sitting in the EIA right now, having traded my soul Facebook account info for two hours of access to free Wi-Fi. I don't exactly know how that's an equivalent exchange, but honestly, I could care less. 

I feel so weird, sitting in the US Departures section, because I know that there's a 50% chance that the people around me are American. Which I suppose is absolutely no big deal, but it feels weird. I've never really met any Americans... I mean, except online, but that hardly counts. 

I don't know why I'm so fascinated by the idea of Americans. But I've been trying to guess which people are American, then peek at the covers of their passports to try and figure out whether it says "CANADA PASSPORT" or "PASSPORT UNITED STATES OF AMERICA". I've spotted two of the latter so far, and it made me kind of freak out in a weird way.

But still. 

We left High Level at around 10:00 am, and we arrived in Edmonton at 7:30. It wouldn't have taken as long if it weren't for the fact that we literally stopped in every town that we passed through. 

I wish we could've gotten to the West Edmonton Mall before it closed, but I'm absolutely shit at directions, and my mother's just so, if not worse. So we wound up wandering into a Chapters instead (I bought nothing, though made note of things to order from the public library, because I'm a cheap-ass.) Then we went to the Keg for supper, which was pretty awesome, partially because our waiter was hilarious in that public-service sort of way, but mostly due to the fact that he looked like Murray from Flight of the Conchords.

I rather liked him.

But oh boy oh boy, I can already tell that I'm one of those people that doesn't travel well. I've been in the worst, most irritable mood today, mostly because I've spent the majority of the day sitting on my ass in an over-heated minivan with a handful of strangers, playing Pokemon, which is usually awesome, but after EIGHT HOURS OF F*CKING ZUBATS, I AM READY TO KILL SOMEONE.

Which is rather unfortunate, because I'm rooming with my mum, and she's being rather... mum-ish lately. Which usually I can tolerate, but, y'know, Zubats.

It's just little things that are driving me up the wall. Like, I'm pushing a sweater into my suitcase, and she says, "You should really repack that. It'll be for the best. You don't want them opening up your suitcase at the airport and having them see it in a mess."