"Before you know it, you're sitting in a big empty house with rice on your tux, wondering what happenned to your life."

Evie + too much free time + cheap long distance company + AIM + Evan and Ash in one house = lots of fun.

Last might was really great! We had a blast. Getting confessions out of Ash (lol), sitting on Evan (that wasn't me obviously) and using numerous formes of communication all at once. It was great.

Well, it was great, but depressing too. Currently, I dont really have any close friends here. They all seem to be not tlaking to me or separated from me by the Canada-US border. And while AIM is fun, it isnt as good to cry alone while tlaking to someone on AIM than it is to actually have someone there, in the same room as you.

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."

"Can I call you Evie-poo?"

This is my friend's thing she had to write for her artsy-fartsy school. Enjoy.

Lauren Turner

On the corner of 8th Avenue and River Street there is a bus shelter. No buses ever come here anymore, but they never took the shelter down. It sits next to a steep hill, where nothing ever grows except thorn bushes among the broken beer bottles. This neighborhood is definitely no Pleasantville; the houses across from the shelter show this clearly. Their windows are boarded with plywood and their grey brick fronts are crumbling into dust. The neon graffiti writing on the bus shelter’s glass windows are like screaming signs, warning you not to continue down this road. The graffiti writers have since vaporized into thin air, like the owners of the abandoned houses.

One of the houses has a dull number thirty-two still hanging on rusting nails to the front door. Its door is painted a deep crimson but it’s fading and the paint around the door handle is beginning to peel at its corners. There’s a stained glass panel with a sun design at the top of this door. It is the last reminder of how these houses once were. If I told you these houses were once a few of the most beautiful in the city, would you believe me? Would you look at the front lawns with their flowering yellow weeds and red vines that snake up the walls and be unable to see past them?

The air always seems heavier in this place, like the sky is pushing down on you. Maybe it’s the unnamed fear that surrounds here, and makes it hard to breathe. Only under the bus shelter’s roof does the air seem to part and you can breath again. Your mind plays tricks on you, making you believe that this structure can protect you against whatever it is that your afraid of. You sit in there reading the messages on the walls, waiting for the courage to leave this sanctuary (?).

The metal polls holding the bus shelter to the cement of the sidewalk are bent, leaning far to the left. It always looks as if the polls are folding under the weight of the roof and the shelter is going to come crashing down as you stand inside it. In the back of your mind, you know the old poles with their chipped red paint will stand to see another one more day. All the couples that have ever been in that bus station have craved their names into the poles. You find yourself wondering if AD still loves MS or if it was just a summer fling like so many romances are.

All the carvings are at least ten years old now. The buses stopped making this stop when the people in the gray houses left. There’s still a rusted pink tricycle with torn ribbons dangling from its handles in the yard in front of one of them. Maybe its owner was planning to return again to her house. She never has. None of them ever have. It was all over the news ten years ago, but people forget things so quickly or just choose not to speak of them.

People hardly ever walk down this road. If they do they always walk swiftly past, some of them run, pretending not to see, but no one ever lingers here. A wall of spruce trees blocks the gray houses from the neighborhood on 9th Avenue and the highway that rushes past them. Their pointed tops jet threateningly into the bright blue sky. You can never understand how such a beautiful sky can hang over such a street. In the end it’s it sky that gives you the courage to leave the safe confines of the bus shelter. It’s so bright and welcoming it tempts you out from under your hiding spot. Every child in this city has been taught to fear the gray houses. They fear the secrets they hold and the ghosts of lives that were once lived happened on this street.

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."

Life, the unvierse, and hell on earth.

Day. From. Hell.

First, I had to wake up at 6:00am. To get to orchestra @ 7:40. Ecxept I went to the wrong orchestra practice. So instead of being with the beginners who are on my level, I was with the advanced people. Yeah.

Then I got to science class and broke down. I was crying in class. A lot. Luckily, no one noticed. Of course, it got worse when i saw that i had lost my science homework, and that I got a 68 % on my science test. That was hard.

Then, in math, I forgot to write down the homework.

At lunch, there was choir, the only high point of my day. Ms. Bradley wanted more men in the choir, so Avery and I dragged Micheal up the stairs to the strings/choir room. It was funny. Ms. B was happy though.

Strings is my first class in the afternoon, so i figured, why go back to my locker? So i brought my books to choir and my lunch and gave Avery my lunch to put in her locker (which is nearby) and she gave me her combo so i could get it later.

In geo, last period, a couple people (I was not one of them) were tlaking and chatting while Mme Boyle was trying to talk. So, she gave the whole class a detention. Only, 10 minutes, but by the time i got out, ALexa had left, so I didn't have the math homework.

Then I went to get my lunch bag, Avery's locker wouldn't open. And my water bottle was in there. And it was sunny. And I had to walk to my dad's office.

Luckily that's where my bad day ended... I think...

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."

"I'm running out of French curse-words that they won't understand."

Today... happenned.

It should have been a great day. In science, we made a toxic gas (turned iodine crystals into gas. It was a cool purple colour), in math, I found out I'm not really failing math. At lunch, I went and practiced the celo, and my teacher thought i was so good, she let me into the junior orchestra. And in Geo, I aced a test.

I still feel depressed though. I should feel happy but I'm not.

If anyone has any ideas about what i shoudl write about, please let me know.

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."

Yes, you've got wings, baby! And you've got Erin!

Our plan for a GIlmore Girls blog is now a reality. Check it out. Watch the show. Comment.

I am now part of the "Lisgarwrite", Lisgar's newspaper, adn I need to write an article. About anything. Opinion piece, world issues, Lisgar stuff, anyhting. Please comment your ideas.

I am currently filling out an application for a Leadership camp at Lisgar. It takes us away for 3 days (we miss school) and we do leadership training and stuff. It is mostly for people who want to be part of clubs and Studco at Lisgar (Studco= Student council). I am VERY interested. Plus, I have connections in Studco (as in, a co-pres is my friend) so I hope I'll go.

My cat just got stuck int eh cupborad again. Jack has discovered it we leave the cupboard door open (the one where their food is) he can get behind the drawer where it is hard for us to get him out.

I have to go fish him out. Bye.

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."

I have needed to do this for a while, but haven't gotten round to it yet.

I really need to thank everyone who has talked to and AIMed and emailed me during this past summer. Without you guys, I would not be as confident at high school as I am now. Or just in life in general.

Last year I had really bad self-esteem. I let the guys in my class pick on me. And I believed everything they said. I really believed that everyone hated me, and that I was fat, and annoying, and unwanted. Granted, I did have three awesome friends (thanks Annnie, Mia and Louise) but when they said that they guys were stupid and just being mean, that the things they said weren't true, I couldn't believe it. Not that they did anything wrong. I drove them crazy with my self-esteem issues.

But this summer I went back to Indy to see the Comtocks. I had lost touch with everyone except Marten, so I didn't knwo what to expect. But from the moment I arrived, they accpeted me. They really did. I felt like I was home. They really seemed to think who I really was was cool. I liked that. A lot.

Then I got back to Ottawa and I got AIM. And started talking to all you amazing people (ex, Jonah, Nate, Sarah, Ash, Erin... the list goes on... ) and you seemed to like me too. At first I was convinced you were faking it. Or that you only like me on AIM, because meybe, I was different person there. But I came to realize, that you guys actually thought I was a cool person. This completely blew my mind. Me being a cool person, is not what I usually got. I'm not going to list those things again. But when i realized you believed it, I started to believe it.

Maybe it was because I felt like you guys knew what you're talking about, because you're older. I don't know. But I really started to build up confidence. And Ash, you coming to me for advice made me feel like someone needed me. I know it scked for you, but it really made me feel better about me. Like someone thought I gave good advice. New concept for me. Everyone I knew last year had someone else to go to. It was never me (mia, Louise, Annie, if you're reading this, you can't deny it. Sorry, you just can't).

Joanh, when you stayed up for me when really neede to talk, I felt really happy that some one cared so much. I felt like I had finally found people who were really good friends.

Okay, I realize this is overly sappy, but I had to say it. And believe me, it was hard. But I had to thank you. All of you. So much. You'll never know how much. But just keep it up. I don't want to think of who I would be know if it weren't for all of you.

Oops! I almost forgot! Thank you Evan for my new nickname. I'm glad you think I am.

"A murder is just an extroverted suicide."