As it is nearly November here in Denver, I am reminded of how Remembrance Day is coming up in Canada, and of how much I lament that it is not celebrated in the United States. (Although I do understand why. The whole premise of the holiday is to make up for the other 364 days of the year on which Canadians show absolutely no patriotism.) Mall shoppers across Canada will soon be passively assaulted by nice old people collecting donations in exchange for the universal-grade, built-to-fall-off, velvety red pins worn on jackets or blouses for the weeks surrounding the holiday. All of the money raised goes towards care for veterans and other victims of war. Everything about the celebration lends itself to a joint feeling of community, charity, and respect for our fallen soldiers. We share a moment of silence at 11 o’clock am on November 11th, often during ceremonies put on by schools, churches, and museums that are open to the public. Before I moved to Denver, those Remembrance Day services were the closest I ever came to feeling American.
This year, though, a pacifist organization called Ceasefire.ca is distributing white poppies to boycott Remembrance Day and demonstrate a belief in “peace not war”. How ironic that they are able to make such a publicly disrespectful statement about the soldiers who died for their freedom only because of the soldiers who died for their freedom! For a group to decide that they condemn an action while in the same instant they shamelessly reap its benefits is incredibly hypocritical.
Even if the campaign is not purposefully abrasive and defiant, it is certainly progressing this way. By going against tradition on such a long-standing national holiday, their poppies take attention away from Remembrance Day’s true meaning and upset the feeling of reverence and solidarity that accompanies it. Not to mention, the proceeds from the white poppies go back into the production and distribution of more white poppies, and not to charity. Yeesh.
…Yikes! It’s almost like an alien took over my body for a moment there. Was I just writing about politics? When I started the blog, I never would have imagined that we would end up here. *shudders*. I guess I am just trying to fill up space at this point; after all, isn’t that the best way to give any spiel a little substance? To throw in some patriotism?
Anyways, how about some relatable teen content? Won’t that be refreshing?
—> I think my boobs are officially the perfect size. I mean, my areolas should get a bit larger, but nobody sees those anyway. I have heard that girls’ breasts typically stop growing at 16, so I am right on track! I guess my hormones finally just got together in a boardroom and said “We’re not leaving until we have a plan to get this done.” Doughnuts and coffee were had by all, surely.
Too much? I think I dove back into the coming-of-age-movie-type genre with a little too much “gusto”… Let’s try this again.
“How was your day, Avery?”
Well, we just got a new vacuum at work, so I got to try it out! After dropping several passive aggressive comments to my employer about our previous vacuum’s state of disrepair, I think he could tell that I was visibly excited by this new development, but he was kind enough not to point out the fact that it is incredibly pathetic to get so fired up over a new workplace appliance, and that I must consequently not have a social life. However, the vacuum is only about a foot tall, and I found that I had to crawl around on my hands and knees to use it! This becomes even more ridiculous when you consider that the restaurant I work at has over 3000 square feet of surface area, and is a minefield of chairs and tables that have to be moved and replaced as I go along. Discrediting the small feeling of nostalgia I experienced at getting to use something that looks like it came straight out of a child’s playhouse, that vacuuming session was the most frustrating experience of my life. An hour later, it was a rather frazzled version of Avery who shuffled into her boss’ office and said, “Please. Never. Again.”
I wish I could stop thinking about Peter. The worst part is that I know it is completely idiotic! I just hope that he and I can be friends, because we have so much in common. In fact, I think my thoughts towards Peter are primarily fuelled by a desire for a friend, not a boyfriend. He is just so thoughtful! On the bus today, he spent 10 minutes trying to position himself so that he wasn’t blocking me from the conversation, even though the bus driver yelled at him a couple of times and the sun was in his eyes. Amy Copansky was also on the bus today. I tried to strike up a conversation with her, forgetting just how little we have in common. (And, as my 2nd period teacher always says, history repeats itself when we forget about the past; it was painful.) It’s odd, because she and Peter really hit it off. I think that it is because they have similar temperaments, while Peter and I share similar hobbies. …Hmph. (that’s NOT a humph, and definitely not a harrumph; more of a reflective sigh with a side of “grunt”).
It was awkward when Amy made a casual reference to another guy on our bus, Matthew in my social class, because I completely blanked on the name. Naturally, I had to dig myself into an even deeper hole by finally figuring out who she was talking about and then going on to explain how I typically just refer to him as “Ken” because he looks like a barbie doll. Belly-flopping into a pit of snakes at this point, I also mentioned that he doesn’t know I do that. That he doesn’t even know me at all. *shudders*
Does anybody else experience this when talking to someone they do not connect with? Somehow getting yourself into trouble by rambling on awkwardly as the person stares placidly past you? Just me? Okay. Great.
Bye for now!