Rope-String Guitar

18-05-2014 Sunday

The downside of not having been able to do my homework because of the computer cable is that I had to catch up with all of that work today. The year is coming to an end, teachers are cramming too much work in too little time and you know why!? They are always telling us we should learn to plan our homework, and what are they bad at themselves!? Right, planning stuff. So, the end of the year is near and suddenly they find out that they are actually behind on their schedule and that we will just have to work a little hard these last couple of weeks. They are running behind, so we have to work harder. What’s wrong with this world!?
I went round Mr Bent’s this afternoon. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time and I was stuck on my history homework and if there’s anybody in this whole wide street who knows anything about history it’s Mr Bent. True, Unice knows a lot about history, too, but I was not really interested in the dinosaur days and how she survived the meteor as one of the few species. No, I needed Mr Bent’s knowledge on the Dark Ages. I am ashamed to say that when I was in primary school I thought they called it the dark ages because the sun just didn’t come up for a long time. All those years I wondered what I would have done if I were to wake up one day, looked out of my window and found that the sun wasn’t there anymore.
Mr Bent’s house looked great. His girlfriend, Xemene, has really changed him for the better. He looks healthier and younger, too. His books are organised in a fashionable way, his knickknacks and bric-a-bracs from countries all over the world are put into glass displays and all. He even bought a new couch. Though I kind of miss the old one, even though there was absolutely no way of getting out of it again once you sat down. His new couch looks all modern and even smelled new a little. It did look a little like the old one. Mr Bent wanted the same brownish colour and more or less the same fabric and design. He likes change just as much as I do. It’s okay if you change things, just as long as it looks as much as possible like what it used to be.
He helped me out a lot. Okay, I’ll be honest. Mr Bent did my history homework while I was strumming on an old guitar he had lying about. He said that he once knew how to play and that he got sort of inspired when he heard I was learning to play the guitar. That’s when he started digging up some of his old guitars and this was the best one he could find. He said he had changed the strings just this morning and that it was supposed to be sounding right as rain. I couldn’t help noticing that the strings just sounded and felt like pieces of rope and no matter how I tried (it took me half an hour just to get it tuned properly) I just couldn’t make it sound like a real steel string. After Mr Bent had finished my homework, he picked up the guitar and played a song. It was terrible! We laughed really hard about it and called it a ‘rope-string guitar’. I told him could borrow mine while I was at school should he feel like playing.
For some reason his house – even now it’s clean and organised – feels much more like home than my own house. It’s as if his house just breathes and lives and makes you feel welcome whoever you are. Which is kind of weird, because up till his girlfriend came into his life he hardly ever had any visitors and he was quite the recluse. Xemene often comes to visit him and I believe that sometimes she even brings one or two of her friends. He says that Xemene was the best thing that has ever happened to him, aside from meeting me of course.
Most of my homework is finished, my computer cable is still in one piece and if I have to believe Dad my chances of not dying a virgin have gotten smaller. Mum slapped him when he made that remark, but Dad probably thinks it was worth it. I’m off to bed. Sleep tight everybody. See me tomorrow.  

Don’t Know Much About History

06-05-2014 Tuesday

Today I realized it’s only about two more months till the end of this school year. I know that I once said that time is so much fun when you’re having flies, but this is ridiculous, I must have had a lot of flies this time of year for I still remember starting somewhere in September 2013 as if it all were but a meal ago. Only 14 years old and ignorant. Look at me now! 15 years old and a little less ignorant. Ignorant nonetheless.
I was catching up on my American history and while working on my project (I’m sorry, it took up so much time that I have been unable to find the time to manage WordPress as well) I came across a conquistador called Juan Ponce de Leon. It is said that this Juan was looking for the fountain of youth, although some say that he never mentioned anything about searching for it. Be honest, if I were to be looking for a fountain like that, how many people would you tell about it? Would you post it all over the Internet? Anyways, he never found it, but he did find Florida, which must be really swell for the people that live there. They must be so grateful that somebody discovered all that land for them.
So, this fountain of youth – as that name says – is supposed to restore ones youth. But what does that mean? It raised a lot of questions when I saw that name. The word ‘youth’ is not really specified and remains unclear to me. How old is ‘youth’? What is youth? What does this fountain do to people who are already in their so-called youth? What does it do to babies? Do they suddenly look 18? That would look really weird, a baby in diapers with the face of a teenager.
I think some people really have it by the wrong end. Most people assume that this fountain, if it were to exist, would give you back your youthful looks, for whatever that means. That’s where they are wrong I think. If such a fountain existed, why would bathing in it or washing yourself with it, or drinking from it, only have an affect on your skin? Being an old woman held captive in a young woman’s body wouldn’t make any sense. That would complicate your life incredibly. Imagine being 60 years old with the looks of an 18-year old. Who would you date?
If this fountain were to make any sense it would have to affect you, the whole you, and nothing but the you. Everything, your mind, your body, everything about you would be youth again. Let’s assume that 18 is more or less ‘youth’. Which would also mean that you’d probably forget everything you learnt after you had turned 18. Which would mean you’d have to relearn everything and maybe become a totally different person from who you were. Which, of course, you wouldn’t know. You’d be wondering why all your friends suddenly looked so incredibly old. I think I’d better stop, because it’s mind boggling and I’m starting to get dizzy thinking about this.
As you will probably understand from reading all of the above, I’m not really making any progress with my project. I can get so distracted sometimes by these small yet interesting stories that I start fantasizing and completely forget what it was that I was supposed to be doing. This whole Ponce de Leon thing was just one short paragraph in a whole chapter and I have no idea what the rest of the chapter was about. I’d better get some sleep and dream about this fountain, hopefully tomorrow I can focus a little better. This history stuff is getting to me, I never thought I’d like it half as much, as I do. See me tomorrow.  

Ramen and the Ministry of Truth

02-05-2014 Friday

Dad, believe it or not, took a day off on Friday to take care of Mum, because she was still not feeling well. I think he needed a day off of work himself, too, and he looked a little ill himself. If Dad gets ill, I’ll have to take care of two people. It’s difficult enough as it is taking care of myself. How do Mums do this? Taking care of an entire family. Mothers deserve some kind of medal or reward for this un(der)paid 24-hour job. Why isn’t anybody funding this!? Anyhow, whatever it is that’s been bugging us all, it is kind of running in the family. Grandma was supposed to be coming tomorrow, but Dad said it was best for her not to come. I think this was one of the few times he was actually happy to call Grandma.
Dad is somewhat of a work-a-holic. Whereas Mum is a food-a-holic and Internet recently taught me that she’s on a seafood diet: she sees food and eats it. Dad used to say that she was on a cucumber diet. When you are on a cucumber diet you are allowed to anything but cucumbers. If it’s supposed to make you fat, it is working for Mum. Today they had a good talk about Mum’s health and especially the part concerning her weight. Dad showed her some pictures from two years ago and Mum has really gained a lot of weight in that short time. Mum decided to go on a real diet for a change, but she needs some help. Dad is going to find someone for her to help her with that. Maybe it improves her cooking skills as well. I call upon the almighty Spaghetti Monster to give her the skills of cooking, Ramen!
I was getting a little bored being home and not feeling well, so I started reading a little book called The Gospel Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster (given to me by Auntie D. when my parents weren’t looking). On hand it’s hilarious, on the other hand it’s quite disturbing and I don’t know what to think about it. Should this be taken seriously? I think I know too little about these things and I dare not ask Mum. I think she’d be offended by it for some reason. I’m not giving it to Dad either, for it might give him ammo in his arguments with Mum. At first I wanted to hide the book under the mattress, but then I figured that it was quite a cliché spot to hide a certain kind of magazine and also the first spot parents check to see if their kids are hiding those magazines. That’s why I hid it some place they’ll never look: the bookshelf.
It’s nearly weekend and I have a lot of catching up on homework to do. I am doing this project on the history of America. So, I’m reading about Pilgrim fathers, (Amer)Indians, colonies, laws, tea-parties (how British) and all kinds of important dead people. Actually, it’s quite interesting to read about these things though I often wonder whether it truly happened the way it was written down. I wasn’t there to witness anything myself, so I’ll just have to go by what others have written down and accept that as the truth. Though I can’t help thinking about 1984 and the Ministry of Truth.

See me tomorrow.