Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Treasure Island has been in my family for so long that it is hard to try and gather a memory that does not include the island in some way. My great aunt and great uncle bought the island a long time ago and my grandfather worked on the island as a child. He actually met my grandmother at the island, so it really does have very special meaning to us. I remember going to the island and the beautiful boat ride we would take to get there is one of the best. It's just the anticipation of coming over to the island to see everyone and spend an entire week together.
There is so much to say about this irresistible place that I just don't even have the words to explain it to you. It is the reason I look forward to summer, it is the glue that holds my family together (aside for love of course), and it is the history that continues to grow with every trip back to it.
It is a part of my family and no matter what happens to the island it will continue to be a member of this family.
Monday, 11 April 2016
Sunday, 3 April 2016
“Where is the Leaning Tower of Pisa anyway?” I asked. She looked up from the computer, her brows knitted and an incredulous look was on her face.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe, Pisa?!” Oh, right. I guess that made sense, I can’t believe I didn’t notice that right away.
“You seriously didn’t know that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is in Pisa?” She retorted with a snort and rolled her eyes before going back to the computer screen.
I don’t think there has ever been a conversation shared between us that did not involve some level of sarcasm. Most of the time I thought we should have our own reality show. We are pretty damn hilarious.
I glanced over at her round, porcelain doll face. She was naturally tanned like a surfer though, something she inherited from our mother that I did not. She looked up at me with what I called her “just brown” eyes, to annoy her. But what she called usually striking a dramatic pose, her “copper against honey with flecks of sage that glowed when they were watery and became shades of nature after a storm” eyes. She was pretty creative with her words, as well as in a drawing book.
She turned the computer screen towards me and said,
“look at this post on Tumblr”, a sentence we say more often than we should.
This post was a gifset, the first gif was of two bats who frantically moved their wings and the second, was basically the same except there was a few seconds where it was focused on one of the bat’s stressed faces. My sister animated the captions of the gifs, something not unusual in our house.
“AHH Walter, get the spider!” She said in a girly voice for the first gif.
“I am TRYING HELEN.” Was said next in a deeper voice, with exaggeration on the last two words.
Her loud laugh from her own joke made me burst out laughing too. She shook her head while laughing. This made her waist long brown hair bounce, the light from the lamp changed it from golden to dark chestnut with every shake. My laughs turned into chuckles as I looked back down at my own Tumblr. She thought she was so funny, always laughing at her own jokes but I guess she was pretty hilarious.
She fixed the beanie on her head and pushed her bangs back under the hat. The navy colour always made her black eyeliner and mascara stand out more than usual. It amazed me how she could change how she looked all the time and it came off like she wore that style of clothes all the time. When we were younger it was always hot pink and sparkles but now it’s a mix of everything. Some days I saw her in plaid button ups and beanies and some days in fancy blouses and leggings; she wore converse and then moccasins. It really was no secret that she has a large closet full of variety. One she had also colour coated.
Her room was pretty much her personality in a nutshell: crazy. She has her own artwork on one wall, quotes on her ceiling, a brightly coloured comforter, and bright coloured scarves hung on her canopy bed.
Immediately when you walked in her room all you saw were boys: boys here, boys there, and boys everywhere. And no, not a variety of boys either. It’s the same British/Irish (she would murder me if I just said British) boy band known as One Direction. Cue hoards of teenage girls screaming. Yes, I live with a mad fangirl. And I know you are probably thinking, “yeah my sister (or brother) is a fan too and it gets wild” but no, you do not even know the half of it. She was absolutely obsessed. Not a crazy fake fan that said they loved the boys but completely butchered their names and information, she was a wrathful, dedicated directioner (the fan clubs name). Unfortunately I was on the receiving end of her antics, although it was pretty entertaining.
She quoted what they said and tried to imitate their accents but she can only do Niall’s, the Irish one, moderately OK and only with certain phrases. This “phase but not really a phase anymore phase” has been going on since 2010 when they were on the X Factor. Yes for four years and yes I know more about them than I would like to admit. She has all of their songs, even ones not on their albums, on her IPod plus hardcopies. She has t-shirts, drawings, and a Twitter dedicated to them. At their concert she cried and legit bawled when Liam (her favourite) came out on stage. She has a real crazy thing for boy bands and people who are British. Even one wall in her room, that she painted herself, was of the Union Jack and not the Canadian flag.
I knew she sounded like a complete whack job now but the way I saw it was that she was very passionate. When she loved something, she invested her whole being into it and even if she didn’t love it she tried her best to do her best, which was something I admired.
“I WILL FIND HIM!” She suddenly screamed, which made me jump. She said it a few more times before looking at me and smiled, her naturally pale red lips separated and showcased her straight, white teeth. Something the both of us acquired without braces.
She was saying what Michael Shannon said in Man of Steel when he threatened to find and kill superman on Earth. It was her favourite line and I absolutely could not tell you why. She was a weird one.
I had always wondered what it was like to be inside her head, I assumed it would be like Alice in Wonderland. Everything made no sense at all but at the same time made perfect sense. I knew I would definitely see bright colours, weird animals, and abstract landscape. Whenever I thought about what went through her mind I instantly regretted it. Knowing it was probably like me being in the maze in the Triwizard Tournament without having my name picked from the Goblet of Fire: dangerous and wrong. She really was mad, “entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.” I can only deduce that her mind was like those two great stories, breathtaking and magical.
Her projects for school definitely showed that she has a wild imagination. Her one, hypothetical not actually performed, experiment in grade 9 was “The Affect of Crayons On Hamsters”. Yes you guessed it, that would mean that the hamsters would have had to eat crayons.
I looked back over at her again but she was no longer sitting on the opposite couch as me. I saw her from the corner of my eye coming back from the kitchen.
“Man I love food,” she said while eating off of a plate covered in cut up cheese and crackers. She was dancing exotically around the TV and I could not help but stare. She stared back at me for a few seconds before breaking out into a creepy grin, one I could only describe as the Grinch’s before he said “I know just what to do” and decided to steal Christmas from the Who’s. I returned the sinister grin for a mere 5 seconds before I dropped it when she lost interest in me for a yogurt commercial on TV.
She could never stay too focused for too long and if she absolutely had to, like on a test or something in school, then you could guarantee she would not be sitting still. Everyone was born with basic reflexes and I am pretty sure the Megan was born with a few different ones. She shook her leg, tapped her pencil, and cracked her knuckles like it was nobodies business. She only ever realized she did that stuff when someone commented on it or told her to stop.
My mom walked into the room doing up a bracelet on her wrist.
“Get ready, we have our friend’s party soon,” she said to us. I looked over at Megan as she looked over at me; a mischievous glint was present in her eyes before we both looked back at our mom.
“Our friend? Could you be anymore vague? Believe it or not we actually have friends in the plural sense not just one friend.” Megan said with a smile, letting my mom know she was just messing around with her. Of course that didn’t stop our mum from rolling her eyes at her.
“Diane, remember? I told you about this last week. No getting out of it.” She replied with finality.
“Is there going to be lots of people there?” I asked, finding my voice.
“Yeah, I mean you know we don’t really like people. “Socializing”? This term is not one I enjoy.” Megan added on. I looked over and smirked at her, we were both pretty awkward when it came to social situations and therefore tried to get out of many, if not all, of them.
“It is a party you know, meaning yes, there will be people there now go get changed” mom snapped, which made us grin widely before we got off of the couch and went up the stairs to our rooms.
As we walked up the stairs I could not help but think about what a crazy pair we were. Megan made up a lot of the crazy as well as cockiness and wit.
I would never understand how she could be wild yet a “confident in the closet”. She reminded me of a chameleon; could be absorbed in the surroundings, unique, ever changing, and unpredictable. I am not going to lie; she was a pretty rad sister.
Her hair flows in soft waves down her back to her waist. It glistens a warm honey brown in the sunlight, yet a dark chestnut in the moonlight. A knitted beanie covers the back of her head most of the time, letting her bangs fall on her forehead. Her face is round, as smooth as a porcelain doll but naturally tanned like a surfer. Her eyebrows are full and brown, perfectly complimenting her eyes. The copper against honey with flecks of sage glow when they are watery, becoming shades of nature after a storm. But when she is happy, her eyes hold a golden gleam. The navy colour of her hat makes the black on her eyelids and lashes more bold. Her nose is round, marked with a freckle on the left nostril. Her lips look like they are constantly covered with a light red lip stain, her bottom lip being larger than the top. Laughter is what I hear often coming from her mouth. Her teeth are straight and white, almost screaming "look at me." The smooth tone of her voice is either joking or being sarcastic and when she is serious it becomes sharp and dangerous. She always has to be in motion; whether it is shaking her leg, constantly touching things, or playing with her fingers. She is always anxious; jumpy, a confident in the closet", modest and shy. Her clothes reflect her ever-changing personality. One day she wears lip gloss, pale pink pants, and a cream blouse, but the next she is wearing dark red lipstick, skinny jeans, a graphic tee, and converse. She is hard to keep up with. What she thinks about, how would I know?
Schoo, gossip, friends, One Direction. I imagine it to be something like the characters from Wonderland: she's mad, "entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are." She confuses me at every corner, but she is my sister so I don't care.