Midnight Impulse

learning experiences and impulsive decisions


On Nationalistic-based Hatred

Alrighty, it’s long post time because I need to get this off my chest so I can maybe stop thinking about it for a minute straight.  

For the past exact twelve hours I’ve been replaying and reliving a moment in my head that happened this morning, and I cannot seem to get away from it due to the absolute absurdness of it.  

First off, I’d like to share a bit of background and a bit of my dream-subconscience thoughts once more.  This year two new girls came into my school, sisters.  Me, being uneducated in modern history and my country’s own past wars, did not realise that my and these two girls’s people basically hate each other.  I honestly did not find out about my country’s invasion into theirs until I went home and told my parents about where they’re from, to which my mother and father told me a bit (a biased bit) of the tension between the two countries.  I later found out that the family these two sisters belonged to was personally affected by this war by the murder of one of their family members by one of my own countrymen, apparently.  However, this horrible incident cannot in any way be connected to me on a personal level.  My family nor anyone I’m related to was in that war, and ethnically I am barely OF the invading country itself.  

The first time I spoke to the older sister was not at all pleasant, but rather was quite a rude encounter.  On their first day at school, the two sisters were immediately “claimed” by the other group of girls, the one I’d earlier mentioned that I’ve never been on good terms with.  We were all sitting outside during our morning break.  I hear an incessant shriek and ask out loud, “Who is that?” 

“Me.  Is it bothering you?”  She retorts in an unpleasant tone.

“Yes.  Can you please stop?”  I reply sharply.

“No.  How about you move?”

“How about you shut your mouth?”

Now here, I fully claim responsibility for what I said and I understand I wasn’t being nice.  Something in her voice, however, told me that she was not speaking to me out of judgement made from what her new group of friends had told her about me.  She was speaking out of innate, baseless hatred.  I let it go.

Ever since then, she began glaring at me when she passed me in the hallways.  I believe I eventually began to glare back (I’m not fully sure, I usually don’t notice the facial expressions I make.)  Nothing to complain about here.  I let it go.

A couple weeks back I had a dream where I for some reason made up with this girl.  I suggested a truce of some kind.  I don’t know what her reply was, but I remember I was focused on her long, dark, straight hair in the dream.  Once I woke up, I told my best friend about the dream and later searched it up on the internet.  The first search result that came up was from a site called My Islamic Dream.  It explained that having such a dream obviously meant to make peace with an enemy and to lead them “in Allah’s path of peace” or something on the lines.  Oh, the irony.  God, it killed me.

So much for peace.  Today my school held a Science Fair.  I was walking around, reading everyone else’s posters, until I finally approached hers.  I began to read it, and before I could finish, she came in and sort of guided me away, excusing herself and speaking with her friend.  I told my own friend about it, who was just as perplexed as I was.  I figured I’d come again later.  And so I did.  Out of nowhere, she rushes in and does the same thing once more and stands in front of her project, blocking all view, till I left the area.  

At this point, I was pissed off.  She thinks she can shove me away?  I don’t think so.  I went again a third time, near when the event was ending.  She came and blocked her poster once more.  This time, however, I spoke up.  

“Excuse me, can you move please?”  Dead stone.

“Hey, I’m trying to read your poster, can you please move a little?”  My words fell upon pretend-deaf ears.

Exasperated, I tapped her with my index finger twice on the shoulder.  That got her attention.  She sharply turns her head towards me and spits out, “Don’t you even touch me.”  

“Ok then.”  You’re insane.  And I leave.  And I get teary eyed.  And I go to the bathroom upstairs.  And I start hyperventilating.  I don’t know why that happens.  I can never control my crying, let alone figure out the reason why.  And hyperventilation?  That hasn’t happened to me since the 8th grade.  Once more, I am wearing my cursed non-waterproof mascara, yet today I’d had the sense not to apply any to my bottom lashes.  Oh thank god.  I get out of there after blowing my nose several times and uselessly blotting my eyes.  I get out of the stall and look into the mirror.  Bloodshot red and puffy.  Fuck.

I walk outside towards my locker, where a couple of my friends are hanging out.  The rest of the hall is empty.  All of a sudden, I spot my mother walking down the hall.  Figuring that she’d come here for the Science Fair, I walk towards her and she immediately sees I’m not alright.  She asks me what’s going on and I lead her away from the open-doored classrooms (I am supposed to have a study period at this time) and I retell everything in Arabic, holding back tears and failing.  (Honestly, it’s uncontrollable   I cry when I argue, I cry when I’m scared, I cry when I’m panicked and I cry when I’m angry.  I hate it.)  

My mother is surprised by the events of the day.  She curses the girl and tells me not to upset myself over her.  I tell her I’m going to tell a teacher.  This is an international school where acting intolerable and immature towards others is not taken well.  

To be fully honest, I’ve been waiting for this kind of an opportunity since the beginning of the year, when I’d first learned she hated me before she’d even spoken to me.  Yes, I’m a vengeful person, but I’ve never wanted to see someone punished for their actions as much as I wanted to see her do.  I guided my mother to where the Science Fair actually was and left her.  My mother was asking who this girl was.  Coincidentally, she appeared in the hallway right then.  

For the remaining 20 minutes or so of the period, I tried to read a book in the library yet miserably failed.  I was too upset to focus on anything and kept on getting a quivering upper lip and sniffly nose.  Afterward, I was called back down to the Science Fair and happily discovered I’d been awarded third place.  That kept me on higher morale for the rest of the day.  

About 3 hours later, I finally had the chance to talk to the teacher I’d been planning on telling.  She immediately understood the problem I was facing, saying she’d known about the tension from the beginning of the year and hoped it wouldn’t happen, yet it did.  She told me she’d speak with the girl and tell her how this is not alright.  I’ll see how that turns out tomorrow.  

I came home and told my dad about everything.  He told me to stay away and not even bother with her.  My mom said something along the lines, except more affectionately and rationally.  She asked me why I care so much to read the poster in the first place.  I said I didn’t care, and that I was just reading it because I’ve read everyone else’s.  In truth, I did want to get under her skin after she pushed me away that first time.  

Neither my mother nor father understand why I want so badly for her not to hate me.  I’m not used to being treated this way and it truly hurts me.  You hear about racism and how it’s bad and wrong and how you shouldn’t hate an entire race just because, and you hear about it happening around you, but once someone actually comes into your life and refuses to speak to you purely because of what you were born into… it changes the way you see things.  I cannot stand it. She doesn’t know me.  She came in, heard where I’m from, and immediately decided to never speak to me nor show any kindness or humanity, for that matter.  

I keep replaying and reliving this moment for almost 13 hours now.  I cannot believe how childish     uneducated   close-minded          opinionless     bitchy   cruel      biased   immature       unreasonable  idiotic     mean     brainwashed  and most of all pure racist she’d acted towards me.  It’s not right.  I understand it’s a personal matter for her, but that gives her no right to hate me for something I was not born to do, nor had any relation to.  

As my mother told me when she was comforting me, “Everyone was a victim of our dictator.  The government changed now.  It wasn’t our fault.  This girl wasn’t born at the time of the war either.  She’s been drilled since she was a child.  It’s the fault of those who raised her.”  

I need some sleep.





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N’aawww, look at the pretty kitty. This stray kitty cat lives somewhere around my neighbourhood with several other kitties. It comes by my house sometimes, and today I took a picture of him with my camera.

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Progress and … regress?

So I did go to the gym today.  For 2 hours.  I ran (walked) on the treadmill for 30 minutes, then did some strength training with weight-lifting machines for the other hour.  And then I showered.  … and then I came home an rewarded myself with KFC and a homemade blueberry/cranberry crumble.  

I’m a terrible person.

Gonna try again tomorrow though.

bye now,


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Dreams and Stress and Resolutions

Last night I dreamt it was my wedding day, except I was the groom rather than the bride. This dream wasn’t particularly descriptive imagery-wise, but it was superb concerning the feelings it created. I was getting married and was happy in the dream I think I might’ve actually smiled in my sleep. The best way I can describe it is by saying it felt like the feeling you have when it’s your birthday. You know, when you were small and it was your birthday and you felt this amazing happiness because IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY, when you wake up and you can just tell that today is a super special day. If one day in the future I decide to get a sex change, let this be proof that my subconscience knew it all along (or you know, that my dreams predict the future.)
Concerning the “Stress” part of the title of this post, I’ve actually been dealing with stress the past few weeks, for like, the first time in my life. I’m honestly one of the least stressed-out people in my grade (not a big accomplishment considering there’s only about 10 of us.) OMG Addie, that’s great, you never get stressed! yeah no, not that great. Epic downside to this: if and when I do stress out, I became a crippled ball of tears. Literally. I break down crying, fearing that I’ll fail or get kicked out of something. Most stressful thing I’m dealing with this semester? No, not the Advanced Placement exam. SAT? nope. Fucking MUN. My Model United Nations club is going on a trip to another country in Europe in mid-March, and this is honestly the most serious shit I’ve ever done. We’ve already paid non-refundable money for the plane tickets and yet we’re expected to get excellent grades till after the trip, or else we can be prohibited to attend. My dad seems oddly at ease about the whole thing and thinks I’m taking it too seriously, but I just couldn’t bare the shame of being that-girl-that-couldn’t-come-because-she-didn’t-get-her-shit-together for the rest of high school. Gah. Report cards came out on Friday and it turns out I have a missing grade for a math unit we did a while ago, so I ran back to the school (we were dismissed early and I live near) and asked my math teacher on what to do. I then spoke to the director, who is a very helpful woman. She told me to calm down and stop stressing out, and that I can just retake the test on Monday before the MUN teacher finds out. I’m hoping to whatever Deity is out there to make this true.
Speaking of MUN, we’re required to write resolutions on how to fix world issues. My MUN resolution is to lose weight before the trip (hah, see what I did there? Double entendre motha.) My ridiculously expensive gym membership doesn’t expire till March 15, which is PERFECT because that’s about when we’re leaving for the trip. I tried on the clothes I intend to wear for the conferences (in MUN, you are required to wear professional business clothing, like suits) and I looked terrible in them. I was barely able to button one pair of the slacks I own, and the other one is so tight I’ll probably faint during a meeting. Once I finally DID button one of the pants, my belly was bulging, which REALLY shows with the shirts I own. Tomorrow is Sunday and I plan on going to the gym to walk on the treadmill for an hour or so and then do some strength training exercises (especially focusing on midsection. Badly need to lose fat there.) I even put on these colourful braided string bracelets that I’d made when I was in the 3rd grade as a promise to not overeat and to exercise well. It’s 10 PM right now and so far I’ve done pretty well not eating anything for four hours. Yay 😀

Goodnight everyone, and thank you for the 14 follows 😀
xx, Adelaide

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A Year Ago Today

Exactly a year ago today, I was sitting at a salon chair getting my hair bleached for the second time.  I remember it clearly because I tipped the hairdresser 25% because she’d been working on my hair for four hours and it was 10 PM on Valentine’s Day.  She trimmed, bleached, and curled it all until I looked like a sophisticated 20 year old.  Two years ago yesterday, I dyed my hair bright flaming red for Valentine’s Day.  I think I do something a little crazy every year for this very lovey day.

This year, however, I did not do anything unordinary with my hair.  I instead planned a school-wide flower sale for V-Day for Student Council, which turned out successful.  

A year ago this weekend I would’ve probably gone out drinking at my favourite pub with my then “friends.”  A year ago today, I had a huge crush on a guy who ended up dating a very close friend of mine.  A year ago today, I was very full of silly hope of unrealistic situations and outcomes.  You cannot begin to imagine how glad I am that all the people that caused me complications last year have left.  Benefits of an international school, I guess.  Learning experiences.  At least I got all that partying out of my system last year, better then than now. 


On another note, I got my SAT score today.  For those who are unfamiliar with it, it’s the official university admissions test for American universities.  The test is scored out of 2400 points, except it’s pretty incredible to get anything above 2000.  On my first try, I managed to score 1640.  Really glad about that, I was freaking out I might get lower.  Of course, my highest-scored section was my Writing Skills.  That’s always my best.  I’ll be taking the SAT again in May, hopefully for the last time.  


Just a short update and a look into the past.

Have a lovely Valentine’s Day everyone!

xx, Addie



I’ve recently come to the realization that if I were to die anytime soon, all that would be left of me is my computer.  My entire life’s accomplishments thus far are contained in a white, 13 inch MacBook laptop on which I have doodled several colourful sharpie nonsense (they said I’ve “ruined” my computer, I like to think I gave it character.)  

Everything I have ever written, everything I’ve ever photographed, everything I’ve ever listened to or watched, is all contained on this one machine.  If (yes, IF) I die, all you ever wanted to or needed to know about me is contained here.  If you open my web browser, you’ll notice there’s about 30 bookmarked items, several of which are folders, within which are all my favourite websites.  You can go through it and click through the sites I visited on a daily basis, the blogs I follow, the blogs I own, my social networks, my favourite TV shows.  You can look through my IMDB account and see a list of all the movies I’d planned on watching, and all the books I wanted to read on GoodReads.com.  

The thought half-depresses me.  On one hand, it’s terrifying to know my whole life is contained in something so small.  On the other, it brings a smile on my face because it reminds me of a Friends episode, when Ross is chatting up a girl, telling her about how in the future, humans can live on forever in the form of machines.  

I wonder if anyone else’s life is like this?



P.S.: come to think of it, I should probably back up this whole machine in case it dies or gets stolen ….