The White Room

Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.

Mr Bones poked his head out of the classroom door, and watched Lucy run away until she turned a corner and was gone. It wasn’t until she was completely out of sight that Mr Bones noticed Matthew was glaring at him suspiciously, he gave the untrusting student a polite grin before closing the door and heading back to the classroom desk. A sudden realisation of exhaustion hit Mr Bones and he sank into his chair, took a deep breath and was once again lost in daydreams. He pictured Lucy’s blood loss causing her to pass out on the way to her next lesson, Mrs Proshore distressed that one of her students had been rushed to hospital while under her head supervision and then, most uncontrollably, rows of teachers and students sittings in their black suits and dresses bidding Lucy farewell at her funeral.
Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger (as if this might just eliminate the distressing image from his mind) Mr Bones remembered that there was still a splash of blood near his classroom door, grabbed several tissues from the box on the corner of his desk, and went to wipe up the shining red liquid he could now see in the distance. He bent down by the door and started mopping up the small pool of blood, to his annoyance the tissues couldn’t withstand the thick consistency and blood oozed beyond the disintegrating tissues onto Mr Bones’ fingers.
At this moment the blinds on the opposite side of the classroom slapped shut of their own accord, and the lights flickered drowsily until the room was completely black. Mr Bones felt a gush of wind swoop by his face, and attempted to stand up but was overcome by his own sudden, unexplainable weakness. A flash of what appeared to be a streamer of blue light whizzed by, followed by the quickly building sound of two knifes being scrapped together. Panicking, Mr Bones lifted his arm and felt around for the light switch which he knew too well was on the wall behind him. The weight of a hundred pounds seemed to be pressing on his arm, and he couldn’t continue his hunt for the light switch. A ladies’ scream filled the pitch black room, almost ghostly and other worldly as if it was coming from a radio. There was a spark of electric green, which illuminated the entire room for a millisecond, but it was over too quickly and Mr Bones caught no sight of another person. The scraping knife sound was now dominating the room, the air was boiling hot and humid, Mr Bones barely noticed that his shirt was drenched in sweat.
For as long as the last flash of light had lasted, Mr Bones could see Lucy standing metres away from him, he didn’t even wonder how he could see her in the dense blackness, he was too distracted by her mutated face which was covered in deep, unhealed scratches. A flap of skin dangled oddly from her cheek, revealing a pair of blood covered molars. The sound of scraping knifes reached an ear piercing volume and Mr Bones lost control of his body, he collapsed to the floor and a beam of yellow sparkles sent him off into a dreamless sleep.

***
Before he fathomed the aches in his muscles and his new location, Mr Bones lay on his back building up some energy to open his eyes. The light touch of something wet and cool on his forehead, alerted him enough to flicker his eyes open. At first his vision was far too foggy for anything he could see to be properly processed, he blinked continuously trying to focus on what he figured was a face in front of him.
“Lucy?” he mumbled, his throat far drier and croakier than he had anticipated. He managed to steady his sight enough to make out the blonde wavy hair and delicately pale face of Lucy.
“Shh” she whispered, dabbing a wet cloth on his head “you have to rest.” Her face was perfectly normal, there was no trace of the deep gashes. Mr Bones was far too uncertain of the current situation to obey his pupil’s considerate orders, and heaved himself into a sitting position. They were in a white room just big enough to fit the small bed he was now sitting in, there were no windows and the roof was so low Mr Bones knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up. There was a clinical feel to the room, and a smell which ignited memories of injections.
“Where am I?” he asked, aware of how cliché the question sounded
“Don’t worry about that” Lucy insisted before quickly changing the subject “you really need to rest.” The blood marks on her neck also appeared to have vanished completely, Mr Bones tilted his head to try and find at least a scar. Lucy coughed slightly and Mr Bones apologised.
“I have to get back to the school” he told her “I have a class to teach in period 4”
“It’s well past midnight, Mr Bones” Lucy notified him with concern. He swung his legs out of the bed and pushed passed Lucy, who was kneeling on the floor beside him. He bumped his head trying to stand up, confirming his original judgement of the height of the ceiling. For a moment Mr Bones was greatly disturbed by the fact that there was no door, he began to feel incredibly claustrophobic and found himself sitting back down on the bed.
“How do I get out of here” he demanded, looking Lucy square in the eyes. She directed her gaze to the ceiling and Mr Bones followed her line of vision, there was a trap door on the roof. “Do you want to tell me where we are before I leave” he suggested angrily while trying to pull down the hatch.
“I have to talk to you” Lucy whispered, her bright blue eyes full of worry. Something in her aggrieved tone made Mr Bones stop trying to escape and sit back down.
“I think you have a fair bit of explaining to do” he said with a grin, trying to make light of the situation.

Onegin

I just finished watching a film, it was called ‘Onegin’ which I personally think was a bad decision for the title, Onegin is the protagonists last name which is rarely ever said and has little relevance to anything except, obviously, his identity. The cover of the DVD claims this film to be “a timeless masterpiece of love and obsession.” By ‘timeless’ I can only assume they mean ‘drags-on-for-102 minutes-when-the-same-story-could-be-told-in-5’ and by ‘masterpiece’ they must be referring solely to Liv Tyler’s acting, which was undeniably the best thing about Onegin.

The plot is: a man moves to the country and meets a pretty girl. The girl loves the man but he doesn’t love her back. The man travels the world for six years and then comes back. The man loves the girl but the girl is married. The end.

You may be thinking by my summary that the majority of the film focuses on the man’s six year voyage, this is not the case, his trip lasts literally no time at all and is only known because of a rather blunt comment by one of the characters: “Evgeny went on a six year trip, he’s back now. Isn’t that right mother?” and so that still leaves one hundred and two minutes and fifty nine seconds (note that the time is written in words so that it feels longer) devoted to drawn out shots of the girl walking around her house gloomily. The objective of the film is to make the audience wish for the two characters to end up together, because we sit there for 1 hour and 42 minutes watching two depressed people moping around in full knowledge that the sulkiness would stop if only they loved each other... at the same time.

The film begins in the perspective of Evengy Onegin, a nineteenth century man from the city who goes to visit his sick uncle. Upon arriving at the country Evengy finds his uncle is actually already dead, but skips the grieving phase (as that would add too much drain to the film) and skips straight to celebrating the fact that his uncle’s rather big house, is now his.
As Evengy is working out some important inheritance matters, he notices a girl with long dark brown hair talking to someone outside in the distance. At the moment of seeing the girl, he makes the hasty decision to stay in the country as opposed to returning back to his home in the city. Evengy then goes exploring his new home village, finds a man singing in the woods and shoots him.... oh, sorry.... that’s threatens to shoot him. Naturally, the two become great friends. This friend (whose name I don’t remember, mainly because I don’t care) just so happens to be engaged to the girls older sister, excellent coincidence for Evengy, it’s at this point we thank god he didn’t shoot the friend earlier. Maybe I’ll just run you through the scene were Evengy first meets this man:

Friend (has back to Evengy and is singing in the forest): la la la

Evengy (aims his rifle just above the man’s head and shoots): BANG! (which is a noise made by the gun, not by Evengy himself.)

Friend: are you trying to shoot me?Evengy: you’re poaching! Get off my land!

Friend: I always hunt here..... oh..... you must be the new owner of the land. I always go hunting in this forest. Are you going to shoot me?

Evengy: yes.

Friend: .....

Evengy: do you want to go get some lunch?

Friend: then are you going to shoot me?

Evengy: only if you are dull.

And thus begins a wonderful friendship, based on fear and threats. Anyway, Evengy ends up going back to the friend’s house. He is asked to wait in a room, we watch him fiddle with a piece of silver for about three minutes so we can feel the same drawn out boredom he feels while he waits. Once the three minutes of intense, edge of your seat action is over.... we meet Tatyana for the first time. She slides open a door, stares at Evengy for a good two minutes, Evengy says “how do you do” and then she runs away.
Conversation is thick that night at dinner, opinions are shared and all get to know Evengy. Tatyana remains a voiceless beauty until the end of dinner when she makes a single comment, which is followed by her mother saying “Tatyana! You have the oddest ideas!” which does a good job of shutting her up again.

We then begin to view the film from Tatyana’s point of view. She has a fever and cannot sleep because her grandma predicted her an undesired future “you will marry a soldier.” We watch Tatyana walk around the house all night, it was obvious the film makers wanted us to watch her entire sleepless night in real time but had to cut it down a little to fit into the acceptable length of a feature film. We discover the source of her insomnia is love sickness, as she writes Evengy a wordy page long letter which says ‘I love you.’ We see the whole thing being written, but are kept in high suspense for five minutes as they won’t show us what she’s writing (although they could have made it more interesting by not showing us the words “I love you” and “dear Evengy” at the beginning of this five minute suspense filled scene.)
Evengy receives the letter and immediately throws it in the fire. He then takes the letter out of the fire and puts it on his desk instead.
At a party Tatyana and Evengy discuss the letter:

Evengy: thank you for the letter. I admired it.
He hands her back the letter.

Tatyana: keep it. It is yours.
He begrudgingly puts the letter back into his pocket.

Tatyana: you admired it?

Evengy: yes. I thought you wrote very intelligently and the use of punctuation was to be commended.

Tatyana: but do you return my feelings?

Evengy: what?

Tatyana: do you love me?

Evengy: Oh...actually, I am not capable of love. You’re senses are strong but your perception is nonexistent.

That same night, back at the party, Evengy innocently asks his friend’s fiancé to dance with him. The friend starts to emit smoke from his ears, and cuts in on the dance “oh, please can we keep dancing!” demands the fiancé and so, to the friends annoyance, Evengy and the fiancé finish the dance.

Friend: why did you do that!?Evengy: what?

Friend: WHY DID YOU SEDUCE MY FIANCE!?

Evengy: I didn’t mean to. She is young, foolish and ...... easy.

Naturally, the friend wanted to battle Evengy to the death for ‘dishonouring the women I love.’ And so, now for the best part of the film (no sarcasm): the gun shooting on the peer beside the windmill. Evengy ends up winning this duel and shoots his friend in the head, a rather MA moment for an M film, I must say. Unfortunately this scene went for a very short time compared to the next scene: a very lengthy shot of Tatyana’s face.

We blink and then Evengy has gone on a six year journey around the world and is back again. When he sees Tatyana again he falls in love, so he writes her a letter telling her this. Luckily, after six years, she remembers him.... but none the less, throws his letter in the fire.
Tatyana stands gently stroking her pet monkey, which is dressed in a regal red outfit. Her husband (yes, she married someone else in that six year blink) touches her arm:

Husband: you are cold

Tatyana: yes, I am

Husband: ...... goodnight then.
And he walks away leaving her shivering on the cold stone floor. Evengy comes along:

Evengy: did you get my letter?

Tatyana: why have you come? I wish you to leave.

Evengy: I cannot. I love you.

He then gets on his knees and holds her hands, she cries.

Evengy: do you love me?Tatyana: I did once... a long time ago. You broke my heart.

Evengy: is it still broken!?
He asks hopefully, a wicked Voldemort like tinge in his eye, as she pours out floods of tears.

Evengy: it is isn’t it!? You’re heart is still hurting!?.... tell me you love me. Even if it’s a lie.

Tatyana: I love you.

Evengy: great. Awesome. OK.

As an audience we can never be 100% certain whether she lied or not. She then tells him he’s too late because she doesn’t want to be unfaithful to her husband.
Later, Evengy is sitting outside by himself at a table, his servant comes out and says “may I suggest you come inside, sir? It’s very cold out” and Evengy says “I like the cold” and the end credits role. An ending rich of meaning indeed.

Lonely Heart

The other day I came home by train from my friend’s birthday party. It was later than 6.30pm and I was alone. I would have been fairly scared, if it wasn’t for the novelty that I was reading Harry Potter whilst waiting for a train on a bench in the middle of platforms 9 and 10. Anyway, when I got home there was an unexpected email awaiting me in my junk mail folder. The subject was titled ‘Lonely Heart’:

Privet, my dear friend!
Do you love me because I am beautiful or am I beautiful because I am loved?
I'm an affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman; enjoy cooking, home cosiness, active rest. I have a lot to give to the right man - serious, caring, who needs a good relationship. I am looking for someone easy going with a great sense of humour and ability to laugh at life and love it. I believe in physical attraction and intellectual connection and mutual trust. I am looking for a man who is refined in his manners, intellectual, cultured, ready to please his lady, responsible for his family and generous. I can respect a man only if he follows his words. I am looking for a man who can take care of me and find a good solution in a stressful situation.
Have a good mood
Mari

I suggested to my new friend Mari that she try emailing men instead of 18 year old girls like myself before clicking on the website she had left me: http://love-and-talks.com/sweetkiss/
It says:

Maria K.
Age 28 years
oldAge range of man: 25-50 y.o.
My Languages: Russian, Engish, French
I would like to meet an attractive man, witha good sense of humour. I think that honestyand decency are very important qualities. Iwould like to find an active and optimisticperson, who enjoys his life, who never giveup. A man of my dream is intelligent, nice andfriendly, he behaves like a gentlemen andtreats people with respect. I also think thata man should possess such a quality as loyalty.I would like to meet an understanding person.and of course my ideal man is a reliable one..

I figure ‘Engish’ isn’t her first language, so I won’t make fun of her wishing me to ‘have a good mood.’ What I want to know is why a 28 year old ‘affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman’ who (if you go to her site) is actually very pretty, has come to a point where she has to advertise herself on the internet in order to find the ‘man of [her] dream.’ So then I thought maybe she’s just really pedantic and turns everyone down…. perhaps she is waiting for someone who fills all of the requirements she mentioned. It’s probably just me, but if you’re so desperate to find love that you email complete strangers hoping to get something out of it, then why can’t she go out into the street and strike up a conversation with someone. I think that people who do things like internet speed dating just need to go out into the world and live some more.

Geni

Recently my pet stick insect passed away. Parthenogenic or Geni for short (named after her method of reproduction: parthenogenesis) was a good friend and helped me get through exams, so I wanted to dedicate this post to the much missed bug. The cause of her death is still less than obvious as she was supplied with adequate amounts of food and water. Some suggest that she died from an overload of love.... I can’t argue against this theory. Maybe she couldn’t cope with our ‘quality time sessions’ and the tours of my bedroom I gave her. Possibly Geni wasn’t prepared to be loved as she was, the countless hours spent hanging out on my hand and on my desk as I studied Biology may have been too much for the delicate twig like animal.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.




You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.

Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.

Mr Bones... Returns

Here’s another part of that story about Mr Bones, his missing belongings and the tearful Lucy. There are two other segments to the story (which I posted earlier.) I haven’t written anything in a while because I’ve had exams, I would have posted something yesterday... but I decided to watch Harry Potter instead. I have plenty of spare time now, so I shall aim to write more for the overwhelmingly huge number of people who read this blog.

Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.

Mr Bones puzzled over the blood marks on Lucy’s neck with such deep thought, that it wasn’t until his entire class had filed into the room, and someone gave a suggestive cough, that he leapt back from Lucy’s grasp. He realised instantly that the embrace would have been less conspicuous, should he have decided to continue hugging Lucy, making it clear to everyone right then and there that he had nothing to hide. But as reflexes would have it, Mr Bones was now standing with his hands in the air as if someone had walked in with a gun. Lucy looked at him questioningly and a student theatrically commented “Mr Bones is having an affair with Lucy!” It was at this point that Mr Bones lowered his hands, massaged his eyebrows and then looked to address the class as a whole
“Listen-” he began.
“Lucy’s crying!” someone shouted, which ignited overlapping exclamations from various class members
“He made her cry!”
“Mr Bones is a sicko!”
“I trusted him!”
Before long the class was hysterical and no one appeared to be opting for Mr Bones.
“Quiet!” he ordered his class, noting that this was the first time he had ever raised his voice during a lesson. “If you let me explain-” but he was cut off by Matthew Parkins, one of Mr Bones A grade students
“We want to hear Lucy’s explanation!” Matthew demanded, and the class supported this statement with an infuriated roar of cheers. The room went silent. Mr Bones followed everyone’s eyes to Lucy, unsure if he too should be looking at her. Scared as she seemed, Lucy took a slight step forward and tried to explain the situation
“Mr Bones did nothing wrong. It was me. I was crying and he was just trying to help.” Her sentences were far clearer than Mr Bones anticipated after her crying episode seconds ago. The class remained silent. Some looked apologetically at Mr Bones, others were unconvinced. But they all stayed quiet.
“Take your seats, and we’ll begin” Mr Bones instructed, trying to maintain the rage which accompanied the reality that his respect and trust in the class could be so easily broken. They shuffled around the rows of desks and took their usual places. Occasional whispers amongst friends and sceptical glares, delayed Mr Bones from beginning. It was more than evident that over half the class still hadn’t been fully clarified. No one communicated with Lucy, she looked excluded and alone.
“Do we need to discuss this further? Or can I start?” he asked rhetorically to try and silence them. Becky raised her hand, bringing everyone’s focus to the back of the class where she sat. Mr Bones looked at her, terrified of what she was about to say but acknowledging that it needed to be said
“Do we get our SACs back today?” Becky asked chirpily, helping Mr Bones out by changing the focus of conversation
“Of course!” he gratefully replied, before remembering that it isn’t possible to hand back tests which are missing
“What was the class average?” Matthew demanded, apparently still on edge
“It’s just come back to me that I don’t actually have your papers here-” Mr Bones began to apologise
“But you said-” interjected the usually reclusive Alice
“Yes, I know what I said. Look, I really am very sorry about your SACs. They went missing this morning, I think someone has stolen them” he reported. Mr Bones glanced down to Lucy, who had since stopped crying but was now three shades more pale than before. She looked up at Mr Bones with an expression of utter shock, surely she couldn’t be so distressed over not getting her work back? Mr Bones was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to continue looking at Lucy’s alarmed face any longer, without another outburst of accusations.

“Unless there are any questions” Mr Bones continued, trying to get the lesson underway “or problems” he directing his gaze to Lucy as subtly as he could, leaving a slight pause for her to speak up “.... then we’ll get started on the new chapter. If you could all please turn to page 69, “DNA, proteins and proteomes.”
Without further questioning of Mr Bones authority, the students did as they were told and listened with their usual level of focus for the rest of the lesson.
Eventually the bell sounded and he dismissed the class, before rubbing the black board clear with one of the tissues from the box he had earlier offered to Lucy. Before long everyone had shuffled their way out, except for Lucy, who hesitated to collect her books. She looked up with a similarly worried expression as before, went to say something, but decided to quickly rush for the door instead. Mr Bones was somewhat worried that she hadn’t regained any colour in her face
“Lucy” he called, and she stopped unwillingly, her hand poised on the door handle “if you wanted to go to sick bay, I can write a note for your next class’ teacher?” for a second he thought she was going to ignore him and open the door, but she took her hand off the handle and smiled
“No thanks. I’ll be fine” she tried to reassure him “and thanks for helping me before” she added, as if everything was perfectly alright now.
“Lucy! What’s that on your dress!?” Mr Bones exclaimed, noticing the left side of her collar was now soaked in blood, he swept over to her remembering the two blood marks on her neck.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing” she splattered. A drop of blood fell to the floor near Mr Bones’ shoe as she dashed out the door.

First Post as an Adult

I thought it would be mildy quirky to post my 27th blog of the year, on the 27th. I've been planning this for about a week. There really isn't much point to this post... I went to the video store this afternoon to rent and R18+ film (because I can) but dissapointingly enough, they didn't even ask how old I was.
It seemed like a good idea six days ago, now it just seems like a waste of cyberspace. Oh well.

Girlfriend

So, I was reading a magazine the other day (I won't mention the name of the magazine, so that I don't directly upset anyone. But I'm hoping you will be clever enough to figure it out.... cough... the title.... cough....)
I must begin my saying that I wouldn't normally, voluntarily, read the aforementioned magazine. It was thrust upon me, as I was strolling down the street to the train station, and so it felt a waste to let this $5.70 worth of literary material go unread. Even when I was in my early years of teenager-hood I never read this particular magazine.... or really any magazine for that matter (I did, however, read the Disney magazine from time to time.) At first I was suspicious and searched the magazine for any hidden drugs or cameras, but I soon discovered that (on page 29) that there is an advertisement featuring a girl who goes to my school. She must have asked a friend of hers to give away these magazine, so that her new life as a model could be promoted and discussed around the school.
I read the entire thing on the train ride home. Of course, I skipped over the boring parts.... so, maybe it would be more accurate to say: I read a couple of pages of the entire thing. One page I did glance over was about my favourite actress, Isabel Lucas, who recently went to Japan and tried to intercept a Japanese whaling ship. One of the sentences in this article went as follows:

"It's that kinda determination and desire to fight for what she believes in that makes Isabel one of our fave it-girls"

I wasn't aware that the world had resorted to using "kinda" and "fave" in proper magazine articles. I suppose that's just me, you're probably all wondering what the big deal is. The big deal is this (page 45):

Lesson 4: perfecting the art of teen speak

plenty of shows demonstrate how to speak, therefore you can improve your English skills just by watching. Gossip Girl is the best show to learn the latest, coolest and all important acronyms that you can use in real life (except at school, coz teachers will think you're nuts.) A+ goes to those who can spend and entire day speaking in acronyms, it's an awesome skill to have, but can be slightly OTT.

This is pretty much saying that the correct way to speak should be mirroring that of TV shows like Gossip Girl (which I have never seen) or speaking completely in acronyms. "Teen speak?" sounds a bit too much like 1984's New-Speak.