Summer Blogs 1-79

Making up for what I didn't do is not easy, but here it is: My Summer.

Well, starting is not so bad.I started summer quite easily. With my parents pestering me daily to practice violin over two summerschool courses (Science and English), the first month went by too fast for my liking. I was busy all day, sometimes crazy enough to play my violin for well over two hours, and trying to pass my preview classes without being late or sleeping. However, as I slowly gained the trust of a few classmates, summerschool did not seem such a pain in the bum. I came early to shoot some hoops with this guy called Tony, and played streetball with some other kids at the 25 minute breaks between my two hour long classes. But I guess this is the meager price to pay for a slight upadvantage over my troublesome marks.

As I came to know my fellow friends/warm classmates more, I found out some interesting facts about some of them: One is blackbelt, one is grade 11 math, one is really bad at basketball but has good humour, one is from my elementary school...ect, ect.

Lots of good friends, yes, but we weren't going to be 'friends forever' as I would eventually find out. SO my daily routine was rather obvious, getting more and more boring each day. I was actuallly waiting for the violin test to come sooner so that I could be truly free.

So I satisfied my anxiety on basketball every afternoon, when I had completed my home homework. With Sean in China, my old friend from Hamber in Victoria, I was by myself. I practiced. Not that I mean the child practice, calling a group of friends and just shooting hoops and playing around doing random tricks and horseplay, but real training. I shot about an average about 100 shots per day, just simple up to the net ones. I did pushups in between to weaken my arms. I ran double sets of lines for misses. I concentrated on making my shots and improving my ball handling. It was all hard, I have to admit, and before long, I became truly hard core. Imagine the sun beating down on a open field of solid concrete. Now imagine the temperature at 28 degrees and you've just ran a double suicide. I began stripping of my shirts to play hard in the drowning sunlight. Firstly, I did not like getting my shirts ruined, and secondly, I wanted to begin working on fitness. Over the period of time I managed to be able to get used to running 15 sets of suicides and 120 pushups inconsecutively. I also learned about shooting with my lefthand and floating. Yes, I learned all that when my friends came back. The only problem was that my summerschool career ended and I was facing a new horrifying challenge: Passing my grade 8 exam. SO the day came when I eventually had to dress in those stiff white shirts and tight black pants. I had been going to downtown for the past few months to practice with my piano accompanyment, and this was the day to prove that I am able to play with the piano without messing up too much. I still remember going into the room with high expectations to see the same old stone faced woman dressed in a depressing shade of red welcoming without really welcoming me into the examination room. But today, the examiner surprised me. I was never expecting to find this cheerful small man who lead me into the big church room like he was taking me to the carnival. So I stood there while he took me in and asked a few conformation questons. And I wasn't at all nervous. I played my best, coming out to the lounge rooom to wait for my dad to come pick me up, all pumped. It was later that I found the man had three masters degrees and I will have my life changed forever.

After a few weeks of indulging my short freedom, I recieved the test score. I got a nice big 76. Fail!!! My parents weren't that disappointed, but I was. Never had I thought I messed up this bad...

However, I decided to be proactive and smiled sweetly thinking that it could of been worse.

It did become worse, I soon realized. Sooner than I would expect, the inevetible horrors of my life had come undone.

School started.