Wednesday, October 8, 2008

ВОСЕМЬ

(Eight in Russian, methinks)

Before the possibility of a brief hiatus (my mama arrives today for the Canadian thanksgiving weekend!), I figured it was about time for some more bombardment of Princessy facts in the eternal quest towards 100...

#68- Part of the reason I am so excited about this weekend is that I have a very close relationship with my mother. For one, I am very proud of her-- she was a high school drop-out, who managed to co-own a very successful business. 

We also just get along well, simple as that. Most of my friend report that they begin to go a little weary after several days with their parents. However, when I was 22, we spent a month traveling across Canada together. Not only did we miraculously manage not to have a single argument (a feat for any duo traveling together for that long), but she bunked in hostels with me and accompanied me out for drinks on numerous occasions with the people we met on our travels. And may have out-drank me on a few occasions. 

#69- One of the values my parents instilled in me from a young age was independence. Although they were of the creed that while you helped family no matter what when in need (as they did when I left the Ex, and was back to tomato box furniture and sleeping on a foamie after he didn't pay me back the money he owed), they thought that generally, people should be raised self-sufficient. As a result, my entire nine years (and counting) of university has been paid entirely out of pocket. I began university at 17, and though I lived at home for the only two years I could stay in my home town, I started paying rent that September I was 17 (granted, it was less than I would have paid for my own place). 

You better believe I was furious at the time, when I saw my friends living at home for free with their parents dolling out for tuition. This resentment continued for a long time, including the year when the student loans people decided that my broke then common-law partner should be paying my tuition, and I had barely a penny to my name, while my friend who lived at home for free had saved up enough money to go on a year long world-wide trip.

But you know what? Nine years of school may mean that I still don't own a house, but I am actually financially better off than many of my peers. And though I certainly would have accepted free money from my parents had it been handed to me, I think my accomplishments may taste a little sweeter without it.

#70- I lost my virginity in possible the most boring manner ever. He was my boyfriend of 6 months. We planned it. It happened on my bedroom floor, missionary-style. It was over quickly and underwhelming. NEXT!

#71- I was a precocious child, and my father a quick-thinking fellow, as demonstrated by this anecdote when I was 7:
PP: Daddy, Santa Claus and his elves make all the toys that we get in our stockings, right?
Dad: That's right.
PP: Then why is there a trademark from another company on the bottom of this toy?
Dad: *pause* Well, honey, I'm going to be honest with you. Sometimes Santa and the elves don't have enough time to make toys for millions and millions of children, so they will ask for some help from the other toymakers around the world.

That explanation, and a snowy boot print by the chimney next Christmas, kept my beliefs strong for at least another year.

#72- If I was a precocious child, I was also a dramatic teenager. This is demonstrated by the fact that, one evening, when thirteen and particularly angry at the world, I decided that the perfect way to express such anger to society was to get my nose pierced. However, I was unwilling to wait for an appointment with the town's only piercer, so I decided to take matters into my own hands... and pierce my nose with a thumb tack.

Cartilage is thick, and thus, I failed. Much to the relief of the rest of my face.

#73- Continuing on the theme of drama, when not making failed attempts at body modification (kidding-- that was the only time!), I also expressed my teen angst in a more socially appropriate way-- overwrought poetry. 

Sadly, my peak of hysterical prose also came when the internet started becoming more readily accessible, and, one day, I took my handwritten poetry journal down to the local library, and decided to post my best piece, creatively entitled Left and using such contrasts as "You gave me your light then left me in the dark", on an online poetry site. With my real name.

Those of you who know my real name understand how this may be problematic. To give you a sense, until a year or two ago, my MySpace page was the first hit if you googled just my first name-- it is that unusual. As such, you can understand my dismay when, in a random fit of googling and expecting to find primarily academic related things, my name popped up with this horrendous poem, more than 10 years after I wrote it. I actually saw fit to email the site administrator to try to have it removed. They never got back to me, but at the very least, Googling my name as of today doesn't turn it up on the first ten pages.

#74- Like a good female Canadian university student, Margaret Atwood is my absolute favourite writer. She is also a little symbolic, as attending one of her readings was one of the first events I attended solo when I moved to the big city. As such, I am geekishly excited that I actually won a content to see another one of her special readings for a CBC event next week.

#75- I've begun having the occasional dream of my blog being exposed. Earlier this week, I dreamt that Jenn posted my real name on her blog, and I was bombarded with comments from stalker-type people who had downloaded photos of me. Last month, I dreamt that someone at a wedding I attended showed everyone the url, and they were frantically scrutinizing it for mentions of themselves. Both dreams were so realistic I almost dashed to my laptop when my eyes blinked open. 

The funny thing is, I think that my paranoia comes about from investing so much in keeping this blog anonymous. In all reality, it wouldn't even matter that much if someone found it-- it is not like I am posting slanderous pieces or revealing scandalous secrets. But, still, it apparently bothers my subconscious to a significant degree...

19 comments:

Mandy said...

I am semi-anonymous and feel the same way about my blog. My mom and I get along well, but I am not sure we could go a month travelling and not argue.

Matt said...

LOL, I lost mine the same way pretty much...

KA said...

we have the mother and growing up independent thing in common. While my first time at sex was with my boyfriend of 3 years, planned, it was actually quite wonderful... the second time we did it. The first time it was over quickly, but the boy got back on his game soon after.

Anonymous said...

Ow Ow Ow says my nose! :)

Real Live Lesbian said...

I'm jealous of your relationship with your mother. How wonderful for you!

As for anonymity, I just lost mine. It was much more eventful than losing my virginity...which was exactly like yours, but on the couch.

Anonymous said...

I had a dream that Murray found my blog and got really mad about it. But the thing he was mad about? Had nothing to do with the horrible things I've said about him in moments of annoyance. He was mad because I implied which state I live in.

Anonymous said...

Your mom sounds awesome. I hope you enjoy your visit!

My first time was boring as well. It was planned, quick and boring. Woo sex.

Katelin said...

i'm super close to my mom too and it's fabulous. however there might have been issues with that whole month of travel thing, heck i would probably have some troubles with anyone i traveled with for a month.

Caz said...

That bit about piercing your nose with a thumbtack totally made me squirm. Ew. I remember my friend showing me (very proudly) her red, infected belly button she'd pierced with a safety pin. It was so painful just to look at. Seriously.

It's great you get along so well with your mom. I don't unfortunately. I love her, and can spend time with her, but after a week of family time, I tend to get a bit anxious and squeamish.

Anonymous said...

I am totally with you on the first 3!
Go cool mothers, financial independence and boring, planned cherry popping...

Yoda said...

What's with the Russian? Too much vodka, yes?

Your poetry posting debacle makes me glad that I could never make anything rhyme. Of course, in my pre-teen linguistically challenged years, the only way I could distinguish prose from poetry was by checking if two lines rhymed or not.

P said...

I could probably get along with my mum travelling for a month too. I'm going on holiday with her for a week on saturday, in fact!

Crashdummie said...

no wonder I adore you - u remind me of what i wish i were like when I was young... hehehe

pierced nose... i haz it;)
But santa never came to us so I didnt have to worry abt that.

Crushed said...

I've always thought that it's a bad custom, the Santa Claus myth.

Because discovering that your parents , your own parents lied to you in such a major way, isn't actually good.

I remember feling very jaded the Christmas Eve I woke up to see them giggling drunkenly out of my bedroom..

Dexter Colt said...

RE: 71

I for one was a forensically motivated child. I questioned my dad on how Santa accessed our house (since we had no chimney). After my dad said he came through the window I laid bubble wrap under all the windows in an attempt to "sound the alarm."

I also asked why there were no reindeer prints in the snow. I never recalled my dad's answer.

Annelie said...

Hey, i love your blog, and i have tagged you over on my blog.

Mrs4444 said...

I enjoyed these facts. I lost my virginity on the livingroom floor where I was babysitting. Wildly romantic, huh? Cute Santa story :) I'd comment more, but I can't see the post while typing a comment (and I'm too tired to remember...forgive me...)

Jocelyn said...

It says something about your list when the item on losing your virginity is the least interesting, eh?

The nose piercing thing? I actually shuddered.

the frog princess said...

I too lost my virginity in a more-or-less planned manner (i.e., we knew it was going to happen, just happened a few days earlier than expected). It was over quickly because it hurt too much and I made him stop. Heh.

But I have to ask... Why the floor?