Thursday Shit

SO!

Let me begin by sharing my recent misery with you.

I started playing soccer on a team two weeks ago.

We have games (indoor) once a week on a gymnasium floor.

I'm the goalie.

Bound to hurt myself.

I will do whatever to save a goal, I don't care how much I hurt myself.

At least that's how I felt when I was 15.

At 29, things hurt more. 

They just do.

Last night I was flying all over the place and bent my calf the wrong way, I don't even remember how it was so swift and painful.

I refuse to let it get me down and off the game, I find soccer so much more rewarding and fun than working out in a gym or any other kind of exercise.

There is blood pain tears sweat and GLORY.

That's why I love the beautiful sport.

Well, I can handle a little pain and strain, but I did it to myself pretty good last night, then came to work and put on heels like an idiot, a gawddamm fool really, and at some point while going down the stairs like my Grandma Frannie does I lose my balance and 

FALL DOWN THE STAIRS.

Oh my god, who falls down the stairs?!

Me. 

It fucking hurt.

The worst part was I couldn't stand up, so I had to writhe in pain for a couple minutes and take my heels off.

Ok, that hurt.

Great reminder that I am not 15 anymore.

It's even harder for me because of the surgery I had on my leg.

The same leg I keep hurting.

It is just different now, I can't lift it up from the top of my leg so I use my knee and calf to lift it, and if I hurt that muscle I can't stand up on it at all from sitting down.

Fucking muscle tearing crazy surgeon, I had no idea the impact it would truly have on my life until now.

I do have a great ice pack and painkillers so I can concentrate on my 

"life" outside work, SCHOOL!

***THE NEXT FRONTIER***

Learning truly is wasted on the young.

I am loving learning and here's what I look like every night:

Usually have a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

I'm ambidextrous like that.

HARDCORE HIGHLIGHTING

NOTES NOTES NOTES

I don't know why I didn't use highlighters in Jr. High or High school, they are my best friend now.

Sometimes when you only have limited time to study lots of things, you can skip over the non-highlighted parts to get to the meat under the bright yellow.

I am pumped to take my first chapter test next week!

Wooohoo!

Anyways, unlike my previous school career, I plan on being an A+ student.

A goody goody teachers pet even.

I want a 4.0.

ERIN'S SCHOOL HISTORY (Abbreviated, there's too much.)

Kindergaten:

Shy but girly.

Had to wear a dress everyday or I would cry.

Caught on to french quickly and was speaking it soon after.

Kindergaten ruled. We did arts and crafts and got to play in a sand box and with boats in a water tank little play houses and trade juice boxes.

Oh, the simple joys of childhood.

When I was in elementary school, we had to do soooo much homework, and the fact that it was French immersion gave you that little special EXTRA challenge!

If you didn't even understand the damn concept in English, why would you be able to learn the entire concept in a different language than you think in?

French immersion is just that, being IMMERSED in French.

You leave lacking English grammar skills with a head full of French grammar you'll never use again.

Ok so elementary school.

I remember loving school until about grade 4. 

Before that we didn't have the evil BESCHERELLE, the French BIBLE of Grammar, and one little mistake of 7000 different tenses and objective, selective, corrective, whatthefuckever that all is that I still barely understand, means you aren't saying something right.

Until that age, they didn't say SHIT when correcting your writing in french.

They just said, oh, we will throw this at them kids later.

All of a sudden, everything I knew turned upside down with all these new tenses, Present Avoir, Future Avoir, Future Tu, Toi, Je, ills, Elles, on, tu, nous....

I'm sure you are confused, I always have been.

By Grade five my grades slipped a lot in french and math because I was just confused.

Most of my class was getting it but I just wasn't.

Maybe some just knew how to study better and take a mental picture of those horrid bescherelle pages and be able to make some sense of them, I can understand it better now but still just barely.

I held on till junior high where I could have switched out to English I don't know why I stayed with French, but I am kinda glad I did.

At some point of Grade 7 I heard about the concept of anarchy, and to me at the age of 12 listening to Smashing Pumpkins and Hole, hating my parents and brother, and spending most of my time brooding, putting on dark makeup and writing depressing poetry, anarchy meant FUCK AUTHORITY and thus, FUCK HOMEWORK.

Well, did I ever pay for that.

Bad marks in math and science, by grade 8 I was failing most everything but said that

 I DIDN'T CARE.

Our French and social studies teacher doled out a TON of homework everyday, and sometimes I would do some in the class, but when I got home it was "fuck it o'clock" I got on the phone and gossiped with friends and cut barbies hair and gave them piercings with sewing needles.

I rarely handed in complete homework assignments- I remember stopping on the side of the school yard to do it before class- yup, and this particularity hated old teacher who was a round apple shaped french bitch in a tight leather mini skirt frightened me so much, and she was my homeroom teacher.

One day after not knowing shit in some oral quiz she did to humiliate kids in front of the class she took me aside and told me that if I didn't get my act together and start doing homework I would end up a homeless junkie hooker and she delivered that so coldly I'll never forget that horrible woman.

Grade nine was better, I was less awkward and not failing everything, and doing more homework still not all of it but some. Haha.

Grade ten was both exciting and horrifying.

I had been at the same school for ten years in the same class of people, and as much as I wanted to get away and meet new more like minded people I didn't go to our feeder school I went to the art school downtown.

I felt so cool... Art hight school.

Played violin for credits, learned to model in photography and create images that were in my head.

I did have some issues transitioning and found myself lost and unaware of my true self, missing my former classmates and not sure how to adapt to my new social environment.

By grade 11 I was fully into Vic and all my fun artistic endeavours that I completely forgot about Jr. High and just LOVED the rest of High School, tried, studied and even did homework.

Somehow graduated with 165 credits!?!?

They gave em away like candy on halloween at that school for things like playing music in the lobby of the theatre for performance, 1 credit, 2 credits, even 3 for shit like that.

A few of the last credits I received were from playing violin at my commencement for the A-P names or whatever.

That school was Edmonton's version of FAME!

We were all stars in our own right and that's what kept me there till the end.

Post High school grad, no interest in school, period.

Finally five or 6 years later I go back to school, to beauty school of course!

It was great, 7 months of class and working on clients- we didn't get paid but got tips sometimes!

I loved it and it care me a career I can do for the rest of my life if I want, or fall back on it, whatever!

After doing that combined with the restaurant service industry my entire life, I am ready for new horizons. 

New challenges, and a new sense of purpose.

I find that in learning and applying myself now, how uncharacteristic of this old rebel girl.

Thanks for ready, time to crash, my painkillers are knocking me the fuck out.

INSERTING RANDOM PHOTOS FOR THE FUCK OF IT!

THE BESTEST FRIENDS YOU EVER DID SEE!

Ballin'

Chloe the stubborn but loving old lady dog and me.

Still rockin' at 100.

Love this woman,

My cute shiney Salem, all shiny and stuff.

Felacia Dragbottoms, our bottom feeding placostamous or however that's spelled.

I think he's cool but gross.

UNTIL NEXT TIME MY LOVES!

PEACE!

-E.

Where's my locker?

So this evening was Matt and my mother's birthday celebration at Bistro Praha and I am so full of Steak Tartar and pasta I feel like I might barf.

I really don't have much to say other than that was delicious, but that experience left me not wanting more. 

I feel like I am going to die.

I am not sure why I am blogging right now, because as I type I am annoying myself and making my stomach queasy, but I do have a strange dream that is reaccuring to discuss.

I am back in Mckernan, the school I attended in the same class of the same people for ten years, and it is the first day of grade 7, 8 or 9. We get assigned to our homeroom and our lockers are outside. In some dreams it's not clear who our teacher is but it is always either Mr. Shaw (who was my homeroom for two years) or Mr. Oskiboiny-is that how you spell that name Kt? Anywho, one weird thing is that it is always on the opposite side of the school that I normally had a locker, not sure what that means but yeah.

We get our lockers assigned to us and I put on my lock on my locker and cruise to my first class. Then I get in there and I don't  know anyone in there so I must have the wrong class. I then go back to my locker, and it's not actually my locker, I have forgotten my locker number. Then I look around at the locks and think I have found mine, and then I can't remember the combination. I am stuck in the hallway unable to get my books and don't know where to go.

Now in a way this a completely ridiculous dream, but it is also interesting, because I am in real life a very confident person, but in these dreams I am vulnerable, weak, and afraid. Exactly the opposite of the person I really am. It is also interesting how whenever I get my locker there is something in there, glued on the inside of the door. I can't remember exactly what it is every time, but I know the last time there was the front of a card I got when I was a little girl of a kitten with a big head.

I am not sure of the significance of this but it seems to be a reaccuring theme.

I have so many dreams about being back at Mckernan, I wonder if a child being in the same school with the same kids for that long is a good thing or a bad thing, it's not like I've kept any buddies from there really, I mean, I like them and if I saw them around I'd say hi and chat or whatevs, but it's not like they were all at my wedding. I may see them in my dreams or on my Facebook feed, but that's about it.

Strange, because I was so happy to leave my elementary/Jr. High school, but once I did I was lost. I spent grade ten completely wandering the hallways of my new high school that I was so excited to attend. When I was at Mckernan I was a bit of an odd duck, not a loner but just different from my classmates. I also didn't do as well academically. I couldn't get the math, and to make it even harder it was in French, everything was in French. I felt like the weirdest one in my class, like I didn't fit in.

So near the end of my ten years of French Immersion at MCK, I was so excited to get to a different school where I could be myself and meet other like minded people.
I got there and my world was completely turned upside down.

I have never discussed this before with anyone, but I hated life that first year of high school.

Several factors played into this feeling.
First of all, I had been with the same classmates for ten years, and as much as I said I just hated being with them year after year, they had become a huge part of my life as I knew it. Kindergarten to grade nine is a long time. All of a sudden I was in several classes with different people in all of them and some were better than others, but my math class was by far the worst.

So like I said, I had difficulties with math as a youngster. When I was younger, like six or seven, I wasn't quite that bad, I got most concepts like the other kids around me, but in grade 3 we got these horrible workbooks we had to do chapters and chapters of questions and it made me HATE MATH. I remember from grade 3 to 6 I spent my whole life doing fucking math. I hated it so I didn't do all that well. Then the test would come and my head was so jumbled with what I thought was right and what I thought I understood and even when I did know something it would be forgotten in the middle of one of these scary tests.

So I carry on failing at math through Jr. High, but by grade eight stopped caring about school work in general, especially math. I just decided one day I didn't give a fuck and started wearing that. I failed so miserably in math that they put me in the lowest level of math possible in grade ten- MATH 14.

If you don't know what MATH 14 is like, trust me, it's bad.

The first day we did a little worksheet that started with the equation 2+2=. I was like, oh my god, what have I done by not caring?

I look around the class, and the cast of characters included a pregnant chick who cut herself, a really gross guy that picked his nose and turned around to look at me all the time, a girl with a missing finger from the states, one guy who definitely didn't seem to even speak english and a few badly behaved stoner/slackers from the north side.

I remember hanging out with new friends in my other more normal classes and someone said something about being in math 13 , one above 14, and then someone said, "well, at least you aren't in math 14, that's where the retards are" this followed by laughter, and of course I laughed too, but I hid my book from those girls the rest of the year.

I was so ashamed of my having to do grade four math in high school that I hid this from most people, even lied to people about it. Now I wanted to do better, so I made sure to keep my marks up so I could get ahead.

So grade ten was payback for all the years of slacking off in math. I had to do long division and times tables again. It sucked. I was so hating having to sneak to that class that it made me hate school, when I was supposed to be loving my first year of high school. I just wanted to run away and hide. I almost wanted to crawl back into my cocoon of the same, it was comforting somehow. I missed it.

So I kinda went off track here and blabbed until I don't even know what I am blabbing about. Oh yeah, my fear of inadequacy especially in school. I kept having dreams of failing tests back in Jr. High, all through high school and into adulthood. Though they are less frequent now I have had many lately.

Sorry that was long and I really don't know the answer on this one.

I know I'll probably have these dreams forever, I guess I am forever scarred by French Immersion math.

I know I won't be putting my kids in ANY kind of Immersion program, whatsoever.

(One time Matt insisted we would have to put our kids in Madarin or Cantonese Immersion, and he pushed it just for the sake of argument and I got really mad and was like, I don't know if I can have kids with you... FUCKING CANTONESE???!!!)

Camera hooring.

Camera hooraying with Salem, who you can only see like a lump of velvety fur behind me, he was grooming himself. I love that boy.

Off to bed with me, I am going to work tomorrow!

See you pretties soon!

-E.