Confessing my Skating Guilt….

So, this past weekend I went with a couple of my friends down to the canal to go skating. It was fun, and brought back memories even as I saw huge changes to what I remember.

We went at night, so there was skating snow everywhere on the ice, and it reminded me fondly of when my parents used to get REALLY angry and concerned for me when I was a child.

See, I had the habit of deciding to sit down and play with the snow. During the busy day-time hours, in the middle of the canal.

I don’t remember this being because I was tired or anything, just that I wanted to try making a snowman or something. Sometimes a snow angel.

Nevermind the blades of horrible child-death that were whooshing around my tiny form.

I was a kid. I was brought there by my parents.

No harm could come to me.

I was invincible. No harm could come from sitting in the middle of this.

The area’s I remember for having booths for hot chocolate and beavertails still had those odd little buildings on the ice, but they now have this even larger building thing for changing into skates and whatnot. They also had a building to rent skates, knee pads and whatever else you may need as a tourist.

When I was little I think I asked just about every year how the buildings managed to stay there when the ice melted.

I had never been there during the not-frozen-over years, and thought that the buildings were maybe stuck to the side of the canal.

Or maybe the canal was frozen over all the time.

Or maybe the buildings had huuuuge basement parts that went down to the bottom of the canal, so that the buildings weren’t floating on the canal, they were sicking out of it.

I don’t think I ever believed my parents when they said that they brought the buildings onto the ice, they didn’t stay there year-round.

Now, of course, I know that they use some sort of Ottawarrian ice magic to put the buildings on the ice as soon as they have forced the ice to be thick enough to support them.

But when I went with my friends, it was about 8:30pm or so, and so significantly less busy.

It was darker than this, but about as busy

Meghan, a native Ottawarrior, I thought she would be closer to my level skating-wize, as she had the opportunity to go skating on the canal every day should she want to. It didn’t matter that she’s from Kanata. Turns out that she’s more of a rusty skater than anything, and I”m fine with that. A lot of my friends are at this stage in Toronto, and so I’m used to skating around them and working with their pace to do huge loops around them to be able to go as quickly as I want, get as much exercise as I want, and still be able to keep up a conversation.

Eleanor, I admit that until this past winter break I thought she would be at the same level as Meghan is actually at. This past winter break she got a job to teach children how to skate. When we went skating, I saw that she doesn’t look as comfortable skating as I thought she would, but she’s good at skating. She definitely doesn’t look as comfortable skating as I do.

I’m going to pause on that here, and mention for the sake of people who don’t know me that I have been playing hockey since I was 5. Lets round that up to 6 though, because I was signed up for playing hockey when I didn’t know how to skate.

Then, up until I was about 10 or 11 I did skating lessons, and Hockey Skills classes where they taught me how to skate better than all the other kids my age group, and do it while having a stick in my hand and doing my best to carry a puck, aim, keep it away from all the boys in the class (I was pretty much the only girl, but that was no difference to the fact that I was on a boys team), and NOT fall down.

I still fell down a lot, but I had Hockey equipment on.

My mom, confidence boosting as she is, has mentioned numerous times that she can’t believe how ‘graceful’ on the ice I am. I’m fine with that. I take it to mean that she can’t believe how awesome on the ice I am.

I’m not being overconfident. I know that there are people out there who are better at skating, who are better at playing hockey than me. Hell, I still have problems raising the puck when playing (shooting the puck so that it lifts off the ice).

But it’s not arrogance to say that I’m a more than decent player, or more than decent at skating.

Meghan can skate. Eleanor is a decent skater.

Melissa, the other friend who was with us when skating, is not a good skater.

She does that shuffle down the ice, looking stiff and uncomfortable as she stares at the toes of her skates and hopes she doesn’t fall down.

I really don’t like skating with her.

I really like her, she’s a great friend, has a great sense of humour, and I feel really bad about thinking this, but I really don’t ever want to go skating with her.

Again, I mean.

I’m a horrible person.

She hasn’t gone skating for like 3 years, and after skating with her for 30 minutes I’m thinking she sucks and I don’t want to skate with her.

I’m thinking that she needs to get a chair to help her skate.

I’m thinking that I really don’t want to ever go skating with her again.

I suck.

GUILT!

I feel like I wouldn’t have thought these things if she hadn’t been as bad a skater as she was, and made it seem like we should have at least one of us skating right next to her.

I feel like she wasn’t having fun at all either.

I also feel like if I hadn’t been as enthusiastic about skating as I was, she would have felt better about saying that she didn’t want to skate anymore.

I SUCK!

What kind of friend thinks this stuff up and then posts it on a blog???

I just needed to mention it to SOMEONE, and I didn’t want to mention it to a friend 😦

I love skating, but I don’t like skating alone if I can help it…

BAH!

Now the internet can see my guilt, and point its gigantic finger at my shame. I feel a bit better after three days, but still…

Insanity Strikes! Passively… Why am I doing this?

Insanity tries to influence your life in many ways, and most times what Insanity suggests you do you will NOT do because you know, logically, that it’ll get you in trouble. Or it’s weird. Or it’ll be embarrassing and beyond how weird you’re willing to be.

Especially in public.

The crazy ideas will make you smile, either as you are thinking it or as you think on it later, but you will recognize it as a crazy idea or thought. Insanity will be barking out these ideas, spewing them like a unicorn spews rainbows to tap dance upon, pantomiming them in your daydreams until that muscle in your face that you never consciously use starts twitching. Then Insanity will point out that you actually developed an eye twitch, and you may or may not follow the suggestion to tell your friend excitedly that that ACTUALLY happened.

It is in this way that we can join forces with Sanity to keep out of jail or a padded room.

But it is when Insanity suggests things in a more passive way is where you have to watch out.

Do you know what I mean? That passive idea from Insanity that isn’t so hard that you have to go out of your way to do, or is private enough that you don’t see why you don’t NOT have to do it.

Take my morning for example.

I’m getting ready to leave for home for the Christmas break, have another 2.5 hours until I have to leave to have a LOT of time to wait at the train station… And this is after having a shower and finishing pacing and making sure that anything spoil-able in the apartment doesn’t have the chance to go off…

So I rolled out of bed and texted my Mom to not call to make sure I’m up (something that we established last night), gathered up all of the things I need to take a shower and went to the bathroom.

As a side note, I had to gather up everything because after the beginning probation period I set, my bathroom co-user has failed phenomenally in displaying the right amount of sanitary sense. He leaves thousands of tiny little nasty hairs on the floor of the shower, is gross with the soap bar at the sink and suds up a ring around the entire sink and on the floor… and he also, for some reason, hides the shower spray and the toilet bowl cleaner behind the toilet. I’m not leaving any of my soaps, shampoos/conditioner/body wash or towels or bath mat (for the shower) within easy access.

But I had my shower, cleaned myself up, dried myself off, and was going to put back on my pj’s… why? Because I was too lazy to grab clothing, and my pj’s were clean enough.

But apparently not, because after finishing putting on my pajama pants, I was about to put back on the shirt I had decided on as a pajama top when I decided to give the sniff test.

The sniff test, for those who are denying that they do it, is the test to see if your shirt actually smells that bad. For me at least, the sniff test has three levels.

One is that I’m checking if it’s something I’ve already washed but forgot.

Two is checking if that shirt I’ve already worn is fit to be worn again.

Three is to see if it is something I’m fine sleeping in. I don’t have any designated sleeping shirt except for the few shirts I have that are hole filled and kind of grungy shirts that I keep hold of for sentimental reasons. Like my SkyDome t-shirt. It will never really be the Rogers Centre in my mind. Never.

But the shirt I had slept in last night no longer passed the third sniff test, and so I folded it up in my bath mat with my soaps and whatnot, wrapped my towel around my torso, and made the short walk back to my room.

Here is where Insanity suggests, passively, disinterestedly, offhandedly, in such a way that it seems totally logical… the idea that has me writing this up now.

“Why do you have to put a shirt on now?”

Well, I don’t.

Not really…

And by NOT putting on a shirt it means I can procrastinate putting together an outfit for a while.

If I put on a shirt now, it mean I have to decide on an outfit so that I don’t have to change shirts later if I really want to wear different pants.

And it’s not like it’s cold…

When Insanity gets logical like this, you know it’s channeling your procrastinating mindset, and it’s enough to get Sanity to agree… even if reluctantly.

So here I am, writing this up while I’m in the mindset, while I have no shirt on (because I know that some reading this are wondering), listening to tunes on Grooveshark, and wondering what Lexy will think of this if she ends up reading this during the time I’m on the train.

Part of her, I’m sure, is embarrassed that I’m writing a post on this, without a shirt or bra or anything on (That’s a lie… I’m wearing a necklace), and yet part of me is also wondering if she’ll end up saying something witty about this post when I next see her face-to-face… like maybe “Nice shirt… glad you have one on…” or perhaps “I see you’ve bundled up” or something even more vague that wouldn’t suggest to the rest of the family or anyone else listening that I was at some point going topless.

I feel like the song I’m currently listening to (Warhol’s Portrait of Gretzky by Hawksley Workman) works pretty well with how weird I’m feeling right now…. because I’m still not really seeing a problem with being naked up top.

And if anyone wants to know what Sanity says on this subject right now, she’s pretty fine with it… not really thinking it’s okay that I’m writing a post about it (Insanity approves), but since I’ve locked my door and aren’t parading around sans shirt in front of an open window, this isn’t exactly a BAD idea, or an embarrassing one, or one that will haunt me for the rest of my life…

Wow that has a possibility of coming back and biting me in the ass. Perhaps this post will become the written equivalent of a meme. I don’t know.

If anyone’s wondering what kind of thoughts I’ve had since being topless for this amount of time….

There’s a lot more of a breeze/air movement in my room than I thought.

My necklace pendant keeps tapping me. (it always did that, I’m just noticing it more)

The chords of my headphones are taking a page from my necklace, but to the side.

I wonder what it would be like if I had hair as long as it once was before I first donated hair a couple of years ago.

You notice the stray hair stuck you your chest/stomach (from your head) a lot quicker. It’s just more obvious.

You notice the recently dyed purple hair even more. (I got streaks to the lower layers of my hair… I don’t think I ever ended up mentioning this)

You look down a lot more often, and wonder why.

I wonder if I would feel more awkward about walking around without a shirt or bra if I hadn’t gone to Rangers and had a roommate who took off her shirt as soon as she was inside.

I wonder if this would feel more awkward if I hadn’t ever played strip poker or never went skinny dipping.

I wonder if someone more self-conscious than me would have stopped writing this after a little while to go put  shirt on.

Thought: Jeez, the chair back is cold

Thought: ACK! Shiver of DOOOOOOOOOOOOM….

Stretching  is weird.

It’s actually a bit colder than I thought it was in my room…

Thought: I wonder if any of my roommates will ever read this… hm. Whatever.

And now I have to go finish packing. Read Lexy’s latest post HERE, because it’s significantly more serious than this was, and a good warning to people who have dogs and buy treats for them.

I may write another blog post or two while on the train. I don’t know. Depends on if the train wifi is going to crap out again.

CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME!

Oh, and while I’ve written about how Insanity has suggested  I go outside without pants on (painted on pants… use the paiiiint DON’T DO IT!), I won’t ever go outside casually without a significant piece of clothing (ie. a shirt, pants, shoes [in winter]…). To the family, if you were wondering, this is just an odd experience for me. Mom, that text you got from me? The one that says “hahaah, I’m feeling really odd right now… can’t wait to be home,” doesn’t that ‘odd’ have a whole new meaning now? Have fun with that 😀