Stake outs

Imagine this. It's quarter to nine at night. You're outside of Wellington College sitting in a white toyota corola with your schools vice principal. It's awkward to say the least. I was in the car with my vice principal because she also happens to be my debating coach and we were waiting for the people in my debating team to be picked up. See when I explain it it gets less weird.

Still I couldn't help but crack up when I was sitting there because I felt like I was on a stake out. Except for the fact that we weren't watching anyone. But the vehicle was right the awkward atmosphere was right and of course the time of night was right. I was so absorbed by this idea that I even searched google for a stake out related poem. Unfortunately the idea of stake outs doesn't really register in poets minds as a topic which is poem worthy they're all about love and death and summers days. How boring perhaps I should write a poetry compilation entitled 20 hours in a car watching a drug den hoping to catch a dealer I think that's a romantic enough topic for a poem... or not.

Back to debating. In my head I seem to have developed a false view of debating guys. I think it's mainly because of Looking for Alibrandi which made me think that all debating guys are really hot, intelligent and suffer from intense parental expectations (you won't get that if you haven't read the book). Today before my debate I realised how very, very, very, VERY wrong I was. To calm my nerves I asked my team to partake in a game which I invented spot the socially awkward people in the room I really didn't have to look far. There were the girls who badly needed a hair cut which wasn't done by their mothers that's to say a style since the fringe and straight mousy hair is so 8-year-oldish. Then there were the boys with acne and glasses and just the weird looking ones. I was desperately hunting for a tasty face to feast on and then I realised that there were none. All of the pretty boys went into other extra curriculars probably rugby which is unfortunate since it means that their pretty faces get all munted but at least it means that they get ripped.... Now that I've finished objectifying men which I think is a pleasant change from the usual objectification of women....

Deja vu. It was very frustrating after the debate today because the adjudicator told me something that she'd told me before in fact I think it was a year ago today during this very same round. The whole time while she was speaking I was thinking "why oh why again?" It was ever so frustrating so an internal conflict began inside myself of one part of me saying "why didn't you do it then?" and the other part of me saying "why are you telling me again?" It turned into a bit of a stale mate debate since both parts of me were equally stubborn. Oh and just then it was very frustrating because for some reason I kept on using ctrl instead of shift for Capitals SILLY CAMILLA...

3 GOOD THINGS

*Getting a lift home when you were going to catch a taxi from the last person you'd expect. Thanks Ms Adeane.

*Saying very little in English in French. I'm making a pact with myself to try and never speak English in French again. Although it could be awkward since I could be walking down the corridor speaking to someone about hypothetically... cats and then we turn into the French class and I start speaking french except for the fact that they don't do french. How very confusing!

*Speaking in front of a crowd and feeling passionate. Even though I was saying total crap... Still nice to be passionate