Ms. Stress

Spoiler Alert: This post is quite random/ranty/stupid. Allons-y!

Who's to say how to spend
This young day to its end?
How it stings when you say
These same things in your way.
When you're right, stop and think in
Black and white, it must sink in:
How will things stay the same?
This he sings to your name.
What [the heck] am I writing about?
It's a lie! Sauerkraut!

I'm really sorry to anyone who read that half-assed attempt at coherent poetry. Yes, I was bored, so I wrote something a little bit random, a little bit pseudo-wannabe poseur poetic. It was a good way to blow... 5 minutes. I'm sick and quite drained so give me a break.
So yes, as you know, I went to "Yearbook Camp" (later named "Yearboot Camp") for the night of Friday and almost all of Saturday. It was fun to get to know a couple of previously-strangers (namely, Lily and Amreet) better, along with getting to chill and whatnot with Borianna a lot. Looking back, it was a love-hate thing. On one hand, it was great to work on developing ideas and concepts for the upcoming year, laughing at Imran, and cracking jokes pretty much non-stop. At the same time, certain people just piss me off. It's not like they're totally jerks/jackasses/whatever kind of mean word you'd attach to generally unpleasant people. It's just that I find interrupting anyone -- not just me in particular, mind you -- is really disrespectful. Sure, I guess it happens time to time when people are a little too overexcited, but seriously, interrupting everyone (peers AND superiors), and then announcing, "I'm about to say something! Everybody listen to me and pay attention to me!" (seriously, that's what she -- the annoying person who'll remain unnamed for now -- said, at least three to four times in one meeting), that's just asking for some angry vibes. Of course, me being the diplomatic type -- am I? Shivon said so, so it must be true! -- I didn't make a big deal about it... at first. I find that when I'm sick with a sore throat, stuffed head, and lacking sleep, I tend to get quite terse. Not with everyone, just with specific people who ask for it. I don't really see how I can last the rest of this year with someone who will literally fuss and disagree with everyone else's idea (which usually gets cut off half-developed anyway), and then state the exact same thing (only with approximately 200 extra words) five minutes later, and claim that her idea is much better. What does that count as? Concept-theft? Loose-lips? Blither-face? I can't even begin to pin point exactly what I dislike the most, disrespect for others, or self-glorification. Oh well, live and let live. I just hope she doesn't cross me anymore than she needs to. As Amreet would say, "Sigh" (literally, he says the word!).
Wow, I went on a lot longer about the stuff I didn't like versus the stuff I did like. It seems I am a pessimist... Yeah, I guess I am sometimes -- many times actually -- but hey, Allen admitted that he didn't think of me as one. He thought of me more of someone who's realistic and honest, and honestly right now, the thing I remember the most about camp was the annoyingness. And now that I know how annoying it is to be interrupted, I will try and make note of that so I myself don't do it -- because I realize that I do that too sometimes.
And that lends itself to the next part of this entry. Sometimes I find I say too much. Of course, when I'm saying it, I obviously haven't thought of the implications that may/may not come with certain utterances, however arbitrary or insignificant I may think them. For example, I personally think it's one thing to appreciate someone's good traits -- such as beauty, or smarts, or creativity, or whatever the trait may be -- but it is an infinitely far cry from feeling anything even remotely like a specific, intentional affection for that person. This is obviously applying to when I comment on someone's anything and everyone gets on my case, ridiculing me for feelings I don't have for the person (who's more or less always a girl when this happens). An example of this can be readily found in my experience during Yearbook Camp, where word got out that I had said, "_________ (Gr. 12 girl with dimples) has dimples." Obviously, this implies that I am severely in love with the unnamed mistress of my wildest, most vivid, and according to the plethora of Gr. 12 girls present, wettest dreams. I guess it's my fault for admitting to a fact in plain, public sight. Stupid girls. The other case of when I say too much is not so much the "random statement of approval" and more like the "statement with reciprocity expected", and this is when I happen to share something that I consider of great importance and expect some sort of "reimbursement for my troubles", if you will. Of course, these types of scenarios never play out exactly as I intend, and so I usually end up with unexpected and disappointing acknowledgements of [pseudo-]understanding, or nothing back at all -- I'm not sure which is worse. Tis a sad fate to feed into what seems to be a one way avenue. Yes, this is getting into somewhat emo territory, but oh well, I've never been one to refuse a wandering.
Speaking of wandering, click the title for a Backstreet Boys song (The One). Yes, I realize that this might lose me a good many fans -- possibly even all 2 of them -- but heck, if they judge me then they aren't my fans! There's only room for hardcore groupies in my world! You know, the kind that have the "Have my babies!" signs. Of course, I'd courteously refuse, but really, I'd be flattered.
Getting away from ideas of fornication and boundless promiscuity, let's talk a little about the Amazing Race that I ran yesterday with Yasmin as my partner. The premise of the game is to complete all the Roadblocks (tasks mandatory for completing the race) while fulfilling as many of the Detour tasks (extra items to collected on the way that will otherwise count against your final time) as possible, and all within the shortest time frame. Long story short, Yasmin and I owned everyone by a good 30 minutes, even AFTER stopping to help a female biker who got clipped by, yes you guessed it, a female driver.** Don't worry, the lady who got hit was fine -- she suffered some scrapage on her left elbow and possibly some slight trauma from the impact, but nothing exceedingly gory or injurious -- but the woman who hit her began to cry. For nothing. Out of shock mostly. Typical. Being the only male around, I felt it was my duty to comfort and calm everyone of my female acquaintances down so I lightly patted her (the clumsy driver) on the shoulder -- awkwardly at best -- and reassured her that the cyclist was going to be fine. That was actually quite an interesting part of my day. Thank God for protecting that rugged biker. Had the taxi behind the biker been going any faster, I'm almost certain things would have turned out much differently. Phew. A tight scrape, if you ask me. No pun intended -- but enjoyed nonetheless. Anyway, after a good 2 hours of blitzing our way through downtown Toronto, Yasmin and I finished on time, 5:30 at Bloor and Yonge. Later that night, we were each presented with 20 dollar gift cards for Chapters & Co., which I find a pretty decent recompense for our efforts (though it wasn't all too hard anyway). It was fun indeed. Now I'm wondering why I've never done a Project TDot before. Oh that's right, I'm lazy.
So yes, without an actual ending to this post, I'll just recap everything I've already said.
I am sick and tired (no, seriously, I am sick and tired, not in the idiomatic/hyperbolic sense).
I had fun at camp, even though some people really buggered the crap out of me (I'm not being literal this time).
I am annoyed at people -- specifically girls -- who either extrapolate too much or too little from my words.
I thought the incident with the biker was quite an interesting happening, though scary.
I was part of the pair that owned everyone else in the Amazing Race held in a part of town I really don't know and I'm proud of it.
And now I'm about to work on some ToK (Theory of Knowledge/Philosophy) homework. Perhaps I'll write about my ponderings a little bit later on this week. Who knows.

** Okay, by now, I must confirm that I am indeed not sexist, just observant and none too forgetful.