Memories from my Childhood

These are things that go through my mind every once in a while and I wonder where it all went wrong.  I wonder where I broke, I wonder why I changed.

(LIFE STORY TIME)

As far back as I am able to remember, I have known how to read.  I remember reading the Bernstein Bear books with Martine before I was in school.  I don't know if I was "reading them" or just looking at the pictures, but I definitely went from one page to another and knew what was happening in the story.  In kindergarten, my friend drew a ninja turtle, and I added a speech bubble that read "PIZZA".  The teacher asked how I knew how to write that, and all I could think was "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles".  So obviously, I knew what I was reading if I was able to reciprocate what I'd seen and wrote it out.  I also remember spending lots of time in Kindergarten going through my dad's Astérix and Lucky Luke books.  Once again, I'm not sure if I knew how to read (I don't actively remember "reading", so I won't claim to be a prodigy) but I did go through the books numerous times, and I remember thinking Asterix at the Olympic Games had too much writing (Here's a sample).  When I got to 1st grade, I don't remember learning how to read, but I do remember not doing the required reading because the stories were fucking stupid, (I did lie that I did read them in order to get my grubby little hands on some of these bad-boys).  I remember when other kids needed to read out loud to the class, some read "The... d..og... wa...was... a....b.it...bit...bitch", but when my turn came, I just read it out loud perfectly.

So long story short, I was a smart kid and apparently picked up reading very easily since I was interested in reading material designed for older kids.

Now let's skip ahead to either second, or third grade.  I am VERY tempted to say second grade, but the memories are fuzzy, and I don't like bullshitting.  But I do remember the assistant principal keeping me in a separate room during class, late after school and sometimes on the week-end (I much later realized I wasn't being punished) to partake in a long series of reading and writing tests.  In the end, I remember my parents and I talking to the assistant principal and he said I was reading at an 8th grade level.  It makes perfect sense if you consider I had read every Tintin, Asterix and Lucky Luke book I could get my hands on from the school library.  I don't remember being an A level kid, probably because I didn't pay any attention in class, loved to be disruptive and agitated, and my report cards reflect this.  I do remember being top student whenever it came to dictations, despite my writing being very sloppy.

Fast forward again to 5th grade.  Up until this point, my schooling was done in Alberta in a French Catholic school.  5th grade started, for me, in October I think, in Montreal after a late-posting for my father.  First day in class, feeling extremely awkward, forced to share a tiny locker with 2 other students, and the teacher naturally continues his lessons, and I had no context of what the hell he was talking about when he asked for the students to open their notebooks to conjugate verbs.  Did the only thing I could think of.  "What's a verb?".  The French curriculum in Alberta and Quebec are apparently MUCH different than anyone thought.  The whole class thought I was either kidding, or really stupid.

My first day in class, everyone knew what a noun, adjective and a verb was.  That year they would learn much more in-depth things about French sentence structure, and there I sat, with a vague understanding of what a noun was and no clue what a verb was.  I remember opening up a blank notebook, a Bescherelle and staring at it, having no clue what the hell I was expected to do.  The teacher gave me a long list of verbs I was expected to conjugate fully by the end of the school year...  I don't remember working particularly hard to master it, nor do I remember struggling too much.  I do remember asking my parents for some help when trying to figure out types of adjectives, adverbs, and nouns.  But I do remember helping out other kids by the end of the school year (such as the three different types of verbs (Verbes Auxiliaires: Avoir et Etre, 1er groupe: end in -er, etc...).  My older sister Martine didn't adapt as easily however, forced not only to go back to 6th to 5th grade because there was too big a gap in what the kids were learning and what she had been taught, but the 5th grade classes were full at our current school and she had to go to another school.

5th and 6th grade in Montreal were fun for me, especially English class.  No kidding, the class was learning to count to 100 in 6th grade.  I was bored to tears.  The only thing they did was take the kids who already knew the basics of reading and writing in English, and put them in an advanced program, where they sat in the cafeteria and did a bunch of crap projects that did not teach jack, nor shit.

7th Grade time.  Move to Calgary for my dad's 1 year remuster (change of military occupation) course to ACS Tech.

Lose all my friends, new location, with the knowledge that I will be moving again after the school year is over.  None of the kids were nice to me, I didn't want to make friends I would lose, and I hated Calgary.  I remember going to English class, the teacher realizing I was far behind in the English curriculum because I had just spent 2 years being taught nothing useful in English and I didn't speak it at all in Montreal...so I get put in the ESL class (English Second Language, seems like an odd class for a French school in my opinion).  Once again I'm not learning anything useful...  I eventually get thrown back into the regular English class because I'm clearly having no fucking problem in retard English.  And what were they doing as I joined the class?  Explaining Plot Diagrams.  What the fuck is a plot?  You expect me to read 2 novels and write a book research?   Whatever, at least I'm learning shit, I don't care if I fail.  I didn't fail, but I didn't pass with flying color either.

That was definitely my longest school year.  Being pulled into the guidance counselor's office to talk about why I wasn't participating in class, why I wasn't trying to make friends, bullying and shit...whatever, I'm only here to finish the school year, leave me the fuck alone.   I got in a lot of trouble that year, angry very often, not giving a shit the rest of the time.  By the end of the school year, I still didn't have a single friend in the class, no one I ever hung out with after school.  I hated them all.

Moved to Trenton for 8th Grade until 12th grade and everything went fine, I was happy, had many friends and was doing all right in school.  Early 10th grade, started smoking pot, lasted until a few years after high school.  I smoked enough pot to be labelled as a stoner, although never actually showing up to class baked.  It was a small school, news traveled fast and the punishment wasn't worth it.  But I did it enough to notice a significant decrease in my grades and a much harder time actually trying to learn what I needed to learn to pass the class.  I became a sub-par student and felt stupid, but at least I was having fun when I wasn't in school.

I graduated high school, failed grade 12 English mostly because the teacher was/is a complete fucking knob (I had done all of the mandatory reading, but the teacher was a knob), so I don't have a bilingual diploma. 

(LONG STORY OVER, TIME FOR THE BLOG PART)

It's now years later, and the only thing I have is a vague memory of how incredibly smart a child I was.  Life's natural complications led to me having a difficult education, I could have steered clear of pot, I could have kept trying to maintain my smarts and surpass myself, I could have gone to university.  These aren't regrets, they are the realization of what could have happened had I made a completely different choice at some point in high school.  I knew exactly what I was doing when I took my first puff of pot, and I knew how far I would go, and I knew when I would stop (and I did, never did coke, and quit a few years after high school).  The decision had been made.  I had a LOT of fun, it was definitely worth it, I don't regret it, those are the memories I wanted to leave high school with.

The fact I was so aware of what I was doing when I did it shows I wasn't pressured into it, he proposed it, I considered it, made a decision and I knew what I was getting myself into.

I don't know why I stopped caring.  I didn't take up smoking pot because I was angry or rebellious, I just wanted to have fun, with the knowledge that stoners brains are like fried eggs.... I am still VERY often told I am a smart individual.  I don't see it personally, I make a lot of stupid decisions, actions and comments, I forget a lot of things DAILY, I have a hard time getting my mind around new concepts and understanding new material.  I know I ruined what WAS my intelligence when I decided to smoke pot.  How can I feel so dumb and be told I am smart?  Maybe I am overestimating how much IQ I lost when I smoked pot, (and I did, trust me, I did, I definitely feel it) or maybe I am recovering my smarts and not noticing it.

This may sound like I thought I was the next Einstein or something, or that I regret where I have ended up in life.  Really, it's nothing like that, the curiosity of what could have been eats at me however.

I have no ending to this.  This is just stuff that goes through my head every once in a while, decided to put it on here, not giving too many fucks if anyone reads it.  I like people to know where I come from.  Too many people shield themselves and never let people know who they really are.  I love reading people, understanding how they think and especially why they are they way they are.

Things that Blow my Mind, Issue #1

So I'm just gonna start a blog.  This first entry is very all over the place, but I somehow deleted enough of it for it to have a topic.  It’s not what I initially wanted, but it wrote itself this way. My idea is to reveal who I am to anyone willing to read.  But just talking about myself is pompous and douchey.  So I will instead talk about things that completely and utterly blow me away.  

Note: This one is the "emo" post, it's the only one that will have this atmosphere to it.  It wasn't intended to, but the general feel of it conveys a message that could only be given through that medium.  I am in no way depressed, suicidal or mentally unstable.  It's a feeling that I needed/wanted to describe, and it's a message that needs to be felt.  I hope you all enjoy the read, and remember that I am extremely happy to be where I am, with the people I am with, and that I do love life and all the shit that goes with it.  This is just the first, and the remainder of my entries will make you laugh, and be utterly blown away, I promise, just bare with me through this one.

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            Many people only ever see one single facet of who I am, the funny/crazy/loud guy.  These are the people that don’t know me.  The other facet is the ever-so-curious, interested in learning, very self-conscious, shy, and amazed by the grandeur of the world that surrounds him.  That is the facet that causes me to be a bit of a misanthrope.  Of course this misanthropy is never ever aimed at people I know.  My misanthropy is aimed at every single person I see that I don't know.  It's not the individual I hate; it's the humanity in them.  

            Every single crowd is due to an evolutionary trait that all humans share.  It's a survival instinct.  As we were hunter-gatherers for years, we have it imprinted in us that in large numbers, the chances for survival increase.  It's ridiculous.  People don't like being alone, they need the company of someone else to talk about nothing with, to entertain until something better comes along.  I love being around certain people, but not most people.  I am very selective as to who I choose to let into my life.  I love being alone.  I get uncomfortable in social situations, such as get togethers and parties where I don't know a lot of people.  I suck at idle chit-chat with people I don't know.  The facet of self-conscious and shy kicks in and shuts me from wanting to do anything.  The part of me that is amazed by the world that surrounds me, makes me observe the people around me, trying to understand how these people can freely talk to people they barely know.  I used to drink to be able to open up during these situations; it got me out of my shell, and gave me funny stories to share.  But somehow becoming someone I am not doesn't make sense to me.  I am usually awesome when in smaller numbers, but start adding people up, 4...5...6... and I start to get quieter and quieter...add a few people I don't know into those 6 and I am completely silent occasionally glancing over to the people I know.  I have been asked at parties if I am okay, I look angry, I look sad, I look bored.  I don't know why I get like that.  I'm just silent when uncomfortable.  Silent, and observing the world around me, trying to understand it, trying to listen in on what is being said.

            Humanity.  It has killed and killed in its own self-interest.  It has hated, discriminated, segregated, and tormented itself through every single era of human history.  Story time.  8-6 million years ago, the human genome begun to evolve.  Skip forward, as evolution is fucking slow, to a time when humans started being civilized.  10,000 years ago.  Most human colonies are nomads, moving from here to there, hunting and gathering, forming languages, cultures.  As humans learned to farm, and create tools to aid them in daily tasks.  The humans stopped being nomadic and settled into fertile areas to strive.  About 6,000 years ago, the first "empires" were formed.  Armies to protect what they have, from other people who want what others have.  Armies to get what they want from people who have what they want.  2,000 years ago, many empires are striving and fighting for dominance.  Less than 600 years ago, exploration of the new world begins.  Slaughter of native nations of this new found world is done.  Their evolution as a society wasn't good enough and their ownership of "land" completely ignored as this visitor makes himself at home.  Less than 200 years ago, industrial revolution.  We start creating "machines" to do work for us at a much higher pace than we previously could.  We keep building and improving and we eventually get machines that allow the ENTIRE globe to be connected to one another.  In 10 thousand years, we went from nomads who hunted in colonies of dozens of people, who knew nothing of what was happening anywhere outside their tribe, to a point where the whole world can be notified of an atrocity committed on the other side of the globe in less than 10 minutes!

            Things that blow me away #1: Humanity.  Incredible.  We are the most amazing thing that has happened in the past 1,000,000,000 years in the solar system.  And we achieved this through slavery, war and genocide.  The capability for humans to do such horrendous things is what makes me hate every person I don't know.  Of course this hate isn't directed towards the starving Africans, or the tribes of Papua New Guinea.  It's aimed solely on the people who think they are better off than other nations and feel pity for them.  It appears to me that these “civilized” people have lost their existential purpose, the purpose of striving for a better tomorrow for the human species as a whole.  Everything has been given to them; shelter, nourishment, riches and most importantly freedom (some of our homeless make more daily than some Africans and Asians make annually).  And yet inane matters are regarded as relevant by these purposeless drones.  Celebrity obsession, animal rights, obesity, etc, etc, etc…

So now to put the focus back onto me.  My adoration and fascination for the human race is the cause of my hate of them.  Who I am and how I think is a wonder to myself.  I have often been told I was an extremely intelligent individual.  I have noticed a few signs of it myself, but do not think of myself as such; I’m just another piece of shit human looking out for his own self interest.  I have a unique perception of the world.  I am amazed by things that we overlook on a daily basis.  I want people to notice these things.  By telling you all one thing that blows me away, I will also reveal something about me that you may not have known.

By telling you what I love, it will tell you a lot about myself.  This is the conclusion of this first entry.