This afternoon I gave one of my teachers permission to stalk my blog. Now I know of a few teachers who have found it through my account, but he is trying to use google. All I gave him was "Inside My Head", and it's a blogger.
So if he succeeded, everyone say hi to Mr. McRae.
In other news, I learned a new word today: Bassackwards.
Which is a euphemistic spoonerism (that was the word I learned last week) for assbackwards.
Dictionary.com defines assbackwards as "in a manner incongruously or preposterously counter to what is customary, probable, or feasible"
Ahhh, how I spend my Friday nights.
Another interesting point from my day: Our writing prompt today in English was our favourite things. So I took it Sound o' Music style. I would sing this for you, but it would probably be lost in translation. And if you don't know the song, don't bother. I don't want you to ruin this for me.
Dresses on women
and warm cups of coffee
Smells of a rainstorm
and caramel toffee
Old uprights pianos with ivory keys,
These are a few of my favourite things.
That's all it is. But I really like the idea of this poem, so I might expand on this later. I see this as a poem that speaks volumes about my entire existence, not just what physical objects I like. Here, let me explain:
Dresses on women: .... Pretty self-explanatory. I like to look at women. Especially when they expect me to look at them.
Warm cups of coffee: Does anyone ask why the coffee is not hot? First of all, warm is a sweeter word that "hot". And I like to think of warm meaning it is not top priority, more like adding colour to a drawing.
Smells of a rainstorm: Nobody stops during a rainstorm to smell it, because there are usually other concerns. But after, you are free to stop and smell the roses, and enjoy what you have been through. In other words, I don't regret all of the issues I have dealt with in the past (more teen angst), because now I appreciate the present much more.
Caramel Toffee: The first girl that I would ever dare say that I loved was named Carmelle. Nuff said.
Old upright pianos with ivory keys: I have to admit, I feel guilty putting this line in. I definitely prefer my new Kawai grand piano to the upright upstairs, but that just wasn't poetic.
I usually don't dissect my poems like this, I just thought it was neat that each line almost had a double meaning. Maybe I will come back with a real poem.
Give me a break, it's Friday.