License

I left home at 1:00 today to take the G1 Knowledge Test. I waited twenty minutes for the 54 Lawrence bus, and then four of them came in a row. The testing centre was at Victoria Park and Lawrence, and when I arrived, there were probably at least a hundred people in the room, sitting in chairs or waiting in line or talking to official looking people behind desks.

I didn't see a lot of people my age. My parents weren't with me. They were working. It was nerve wracking. I was given a number, A103, after waiting in line for a couple of minutes, having my ID checked and filling out some brief forms. I then made my way over to the rows of chairs, which were metal and covered with dark green paint. They were at A83, but there were other letters, F31, B86, so it took longer than it would seem. I waited there for about 40 minutes before I was called up.

The woman behind the counter took a brief look at my ID, which was my passport, and then I did the eye test, which had me look into a boxy sort of contraption with holes to approximate eye sockets. There were circles with numbers in them that got progressively smaller, which I read out loud, and flashing circles of light in the periphery whose direction I had to point to. I also paid the fees, which were ridiculous, by the way. It cost $125. Imagine failing! By this time it was almost 4:00.

I then proceeded to the Written Tests room, where there were even more rows of green metal chairs. People in various states of apathy and nervousness sat around in the chairs, while the other half of the room consisted of a paperwork filled desk manned by three people and a lot of chairs, where, presumably, exams were being written. They were the kind where the chair is attached to the desk.

After I dropped off my carbon copy of the form I'd filled out earlier in a tray, I went to find a seat. Waited for another twenty or so minutes, and then I went up to get my test. It was easy enough. There were a couple of things I wasn't sure about, but you only need 16/20 to pass each section, and I was reasonably confident that I had. (Most of my studying consisted of writing their online quizzes, and half the questions were the same, word for word.)

I waited another half an hour for my results to come back. I can't really say that it was an agonizing wait, but it was long, and I was nervous. By this time it was 5:00, which is when the centre closes. I signed a couple of sheets, and then my Temporary License card, and then left.

It was so weird, I didn't feel any different at all. It was 5:00. I was 16. I had a license. (Okay, well a G1 isn't really very useful, but still.) I went into the thrift store beside the centre that I'd noticed when I came in earlier. My mom called, I told her the verdict. I left the store and got on the bus, and now I'm home, and I'm allowed to drive.

I guess it's not really very significant. I probably won't remember this in a few years. But I went there, and I did it by myself, and it's maybe not a triumph or anything, but it feels good.

How Often Do You Talk to Strangers on the TTC?

I'm wondering, because usually I never talk to anyone while I'm riding the bus or in the subway, and today seemed to be the exception.

First, when I was at the Birchmount bus stop, I was waiting with this other man, who was very friendly and asked me if I knew what time the bus was about to come. He had a scar up the left side of his face. I said no, I don't know, but it should be coming soon? He nodded, asked if I was done with school already. I said yeah, I finished my exams on Thursday. Continued to make small talk about the bus and school until the 17 came.

On the bus there was this girl sitting in a stroller beside a woman who I think was her grandmother, judging from their conversation, which was completely in Mandarin. They were reading this book, also in Chinese, but the girl didn't seem to be very into it. She kept looking around at everything, which included me. I never really get the feeling that children are particularly intelligent, but her stare was so, evaluative. I felt like she was trying to tell me something and at the same time judging me, and she looked about four. Anyways, her grandmother kept a running commentary for her, which included her looking at "jie jie (that's me)," and her waking up in the middle of the night, causing everyone else to wake up with her. I waved when she got off the bus.

Then, when I was in the subway station, this lady who had a really thick accent, I think it was Russian, asked me if I knew how to get to the Winners on Sheppard at Yonge. "No English. Winners, Winners on Sheppard," she kept saying. Pronounced "Winners" like "Weeners." I don't think I was very much help, because I pointed her off in the direction of the Sheppard Ave. exit and made sure she went through the swinging gate, but I wasn't too sure if that's where she wanted to go.

Another person also came up to me asking for directions, the typical "which way do I take to get to XYZ Station?" I don't know if people normally ask students for directions. Are we very trustworthy? Maybe we're more approachable. Less, um, dangerous looking.

And then on the 17 again, when I was drawing people, the person next to me, after talking on the phone in some vaguely African language I didn't recognize, commented, "That's very good." I always find it really awkward when people see me draw on the bus, and even more so when they comment on it, so usually the response is "Thank you!" and then I shut up. Except this guy said "Are you going to show that to her? (Referring to the girl whom I was drawing)" and I laughed (awkwardly), said "Um, no," and then I shut up. 


Some of this kind of surprised me, but mostly it reaffirmed some of my observations about Toronto. I didn't really expect people to be very friendly or open to strangers. I have no problem with talking to strangers, because they're usually friendly enough, I just never open the conversation. It's weird. But today, and especially after coming back from New York (the state, not NYC), I've really started to consider Toronto's multiculturalism and just how profound it is for the city. I mean, all these people, some of them who don't even speak English and most of them who speak another language, are going around town, taking the TTC and meeting new people of their own accord. They want to, and they can. Where else does this happen?

Da Capo

Wow. It's really been a while, eh?

Odd to think that I haven't seen most of you in over a year, online or in person. Seeing the sudden blog updates in my email was great! It was like hearing from a long lost relative . . . or in this case, multiple long lost relatives? 

I hope we can actually keep this going this time. Not a whole lot more to say on the matter. 

Here's to a productive summer, with plenty of interesting adventures and good writing to document them!

Reboot

Hi. I'm Halalcohol, and I'd like to take this opportunity to pretend no sort of gap has extended for a year. That, or maybe we can just pretend the site never existed until now. See, I suffer from a terrible illness I call "writer's remorse" in which I write things and post them, and then cringe at their quality a few days/weeks/months/years later. So let's start over with some fresh posts to cringe about.

We got my mom a Kobo for mother's day, except she doesn't read much, and the screen is too small for her, so now I use it. The good thing is that it's reawakened my interest in reading, so I might post some reviews in the future. Discussing books is so fun, although it's a lot less fun when nobody else has actually read the book, so I'll just talk to myself, I guess.

Also, I really don't like all the white space. It makes me feel lost. And the one post visible at a time thing is just annoying. Is there an option to change that?

Short Story - Waking Dreams

I wrote this short story as an assignment in my Grade 10 English class... it's not the greatest, but I really wanted to do something with time travel (see:Steins;Gate, Doctor Who, Suzumiya Haruhi).

"Crossroads in Time" - Photo Manipulation

"Time Loop" - Photo Manipulation

We had to make some media pieces to present our short story, I chose the one on top and had it printed 22" x 17". Just figured I'd stick them here as well.

Now, onto the actual thing.

"Waking Dreams"

            It’s February 29. 6:50 AM in the morning. The world had frozen over, and it was so cold it felt like it could shatter at the slightest touch. I groaned and turned around in my blankets. My alarm had gone off, but in my half-awake stupor I couldn't even make out the song I had so meticulously prepared the night before. After a brief and intense struggle with my alarm, I collapsed back onto my bed. I drifted once again to sleep.

I sat groggily at my dining table. My brief venture back into a pleasant nap had only lasted a mere four minutes before my most reliable alarm burst through the door and yelled at me to get out of bed. I sighed as I looked out the window. Yet, without my mom, I probably would be sleeping well until noon.

So, after brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I set off on my long daily commute. I live a fair distance away from my school, so I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping on my buses to pass the time. I woke up as the bus was pulling into my stop. Over the past few years I’d been taking the public transit in my city, I seem to have gained the supernatural power to wake up and never miss my stops.

As I stood up to leave the bus, something strange caught my eye. An old fashioned pocket watch lay on an empty seat. I glanced at the doors. There were still people waiting to walk out. I guess I still had some time. I walked over and picked up the watch, its glass face cracked and crushed inwards. It read 2:29. I glanced up as I heard the hydraulic hiss of the doors closing. Darn it. Leaving the ornate watch where it lay, I quickly rushed off.

As I got off the bus, I took some time to look around me. It looked like winter. Now, usually, at this time of the year, this observation wouldn’t have been odd at all. But this year, we’ve had a very mild winter, and simply seeing snow on the ground made me nostalgic for the years before. Yet, this sudden Arctic cold front was the reason for my misera-

“Hey,” a voice called out from behind me.

I turned around and saw an old friend I’ve known for about 5 years. Although, because of the Gifted program, nearly all my friends are “old friends”.

“Hey,” I replied, “How’s it going?”

The moment I asked this question I had a feeling that somewhere at the back of my head, I’d forgotten something. And that something was…

“How’s your English coming along?”

Crap. I’ve completely forgotten about the short story drafts we were supposed to have done for today. All I needed was some ideas… no. I need to decide on one idea; I had too many floating around already.

“Heh….” I responded, “I haven’t really started yet.”

“Dude, you’re going to be so screwed,” my friend nonchalantly replied, “You’ll never finish in time.”

I had other plans. Perhaps if I found some time in my Math class… or my Tech, or even my lunch! As long as it was before my English class, it was all fair game. But this problem had me preoccupied for the rest of my ride to school...

“Really?” my English teacher exclaimed. “I gave you more than enough time to work on this.”

“I know…” I said dejectedly. My school day had flown by and now I was already sitting in the English classroom.

“These stories are due next week. If you don’t have anything to show me, it’s simply your own loss for not getting it looked over.”

I sighed. She was right. I always try and do my work well and on time. I knew if I didn’t, my teachers would simply be disappointed in me, and I didn’t want that. But my mind was still blank on what to write about.

“I’ll get it to you by tonight. I promise.”

And with that, I sat through the rest of the class while other people were being called up to get their drafts checked. I still didn’t have an idea for my story, and besides the story, I had a video to edit for a contest, not to mention my tablet which had frozen up on me in Tech class. So many things, and so little time…

In my last period art class, I tried to practice my lackluster painting skills in hope I wouldn’t mess up on my actual painting canvas. I wasn’t entirely into it though, and my mind kept drifting to think for a perfect idea. I knew I wanted something meaningful, something that would make people think. If I didn’t have something before I headed home, I doubted I’d ever be able to finish on time.

“Argghh…” I groaned while spinning around in my office chair. “I don’t have anything for my story! No ideas, nothing…”

Now, it might seem like I was talking to the air, or even a wall, but I guess my brother is basically those two things anyway.

“Look, I’ve given you a ton of ideas.”

“Really?” I said, as I lowered my eyes on my brother.

“Yeah, probably around twenty som-”

“That’s just exaggerating.”

“Okay fine, like four.”

“One of them was about travelling back in time to punch myself in the face so as to prevent the universe from collapsing.” For someone two years my senior, he sure came up with ridiculous ideas.

“That’s a great idea!”

I shook my head. It was no use. My friends had come over to record some voiceover narration for our video. It dragged on longer than I expected, and now the clocks were already ticking away to midnight. My eyelids were drooping. Any longer, and I don’t think my thoughts would stay coherent. Being sleep deprived for the better part of the week has left me understandably exhausted.

“I’ll wake up early tomorrow and finish it then,” I told my brother.

“Good night!” he replied cheerfully.

“Goodnight,” I mumbled. I trudged towards my bedroom and once again set my alarm clock. I chose a different song for the sake of variety to play when I woke up, and I crawled onto my bed. Holding the blankets tightly around me, I drifted off to my undeserved rest.

***

The world had frozen over, and it was so cold it felt like it could shatter at the slightest touch. I groaned and turned under the covers. My alarm had gone off, but in my half asleep stupor I couldn’t even make out the song I had so carefully chosen the night before. After a brief and intense struggle with my alarm, I collapsed back onto my bed and drifted off once again to sleep.

I climbed groggily out of my bed and glanced at my now silent alarm clock. February 29. Leap years, huh? It’s a special day, but I sure don’t feel any different. I shuffled to my dining table and popped two waffles into my toaster as my mom prepared lunch for my brother and I.

After getting ready to leave, I quickly called good bye to my mom and my brother. I shivered as I waited for the bus. I felt like the weather man was out to get me. Above average temperatures? Yeah right. I buried my face deeper into my scarf as my breath turned into a cloud before me.

I slept on the bus like I had for most of the last year. Sleeping on the public transit has become routine for me, along with my near supernatural ability to wake up before I missed my stop. Today, I woke up as the doors on the bus were already open at my stop. I quickly excused myself from where I was sitting and rushed through the exit.

As I marveled at the winter scenery around me, a voice called out.

“Hey.”

At that moment I had the strangest feeling. It was almost as if I knew what was about to happen… premonition? No, it was more like I remembered what was about to happen. I believe this is what you’d call déjà vu. I quickly dismissed this. It was probably nothing.

I turned around and saw a friend I’ve known for 5 years. Though because of the Gifted program, I’ve known most of my friends for several years.

“Hey,” I replied, “how’s your short story coming along?”

“Pretty good. You want to look it over?”

“Sure thing.” I saw the bus just one traffic light away. “Maybe once we get on the bus.”

I shouldn’t even be talking. I hadn’t finished my short story draft myself. I told myself all I needed was an idea, that’s all. Once I get that perfect idea, it’ll all be alright…

“You’re joking.”

I looked up into my English teacher’s disappointed eyes then quickly looked away.

“You had more than enough time to work on this. It’ll just be your loss and no one else’s if you don’t complete your work on time.”

I sighed. This day wasn’t turning out well for me. I had a video to hand in for a contest, my tablet had broken down in my Tech class, not to mention all those art assignments I have due… but there was no one to blame but myself. Not to mention the feeling that this had happened before, and that this was unavoidable…

My eyes drifted to where an hourglass stood on my teacher’s desk. It’s the kind you’d find with those board games people bring to parties; where you have to do a whole bunch of timed activities… ah, that doesn’t really matter. What caught my attention is that the sand was no longer running. There was some sand in both the top and bottom half, but it wasn’t falling. Almost as if time itself was frozen…

I snapped back to reality, where my teacher stood before me. I opened my mouth-

“I’ll have it for you by tonight. I promise.”

I’m already regretting ever saying that.

I stare hard at the lines of the lined paper in front of me. Ideas, ideas…  I needed to think of one before the end of this class. Maybe even write down a few paragraphs. I just knew… if I didn’t finish it now, I would never finish it. Not ever! This sensation... this déjà vu again, it’s stronger than ever before. Why do I feel this? What is it trying to tell me? I could feel it in the front of my head, what I needed to do! I felt frantic. I had to do this. This was my only chance. I finally lifted my pencil to write the first line…

By the end of my English class, I didn’t turn anything in. There wasn’t a single sentence on my paper. The sensation I had felt so strongly had passed. How could I have wasted an entire day? I leaned back and gave my office chair a spin. My friends had come over to record some narration for our video, and that went on longer than I’d expected. I glanced at my computer screen. It was almost midnight.

I turned to my brother and asked him for ideas, but I knew it was futile. I don’t know why, but I had the feeling that no matter what I said, I already knew what was going to happen. This déjà vu. After a short exchange, I slowly got out of my chair and bid my brother goodnight.

“Good night!” he responded cheerfully. How could he be so cheerful at a time like this? Shouldn’t he be worried about his Grade 12 Chemistry homework? The world just doesn’t make any sense to me sometimes.

I dragged myself over to my bed and set my alarm clock once more. Maybe I should just go with a default ringing tone. Maybe that’ll wake me up, besides, variety is always nice. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but thinking, that today was February 29. An extra day, every four years, and yet I’ve wasted it anyways. I guess I’ll leave my homework for when I wake up tomorrow morning.

***

It’s February 29. 6:50 AM in the morning. The world had frozen over, and it was so cold it felt like it could shatter at the slightest touch.