So, I was supposed to tell you guys about a month ago how the rest of my trip to
Calgary was. Well, I got lazy and, you know, didn't, so I'll just tell you
how the rest of my summer has been so far.
Where did I leave off at? It was Jacqueline, Ashley, Ashley's Asian friend and I
being creeps, right? Right. So basically nothing really interesting happened after
that until the second last day of Stampede, when Scott and Tessa signed autograph
cards for all of the ushers because we, quote, "made them feel welcome" (which is
pretty funny, for me anyways, because I don't live there either and I was just as
lost and un-cowboy-like as either of them), and we were, quote, "really nice to
them," and also they had probably realized by that point that we were all
OBSESSED with them and we would have literally SKINNED PEOPLE ALIVE to
get autograph cards from them. So yeah.
We love them.
Because they were so super-duper nice to us, and really went out of their way to
make the Stampede a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us, we all signed a card for
them. It occured to me later on that we only gave them one card, so which one got to
keep it? The answer, of course, is obviously Tessa, because Scott would just give it
to her, since he loves her and all. Then Ashley pointed out that after the Sochi
Olympics, when they retire and finally confess their undying love for each other,
they will end up married and living together. Then they will both have the card.
If that paragraph made absolutely no sense to you AT ALL, it's probably because
you're not Canadian, and therefore do not understand about Tessa and Scott's
unconfessed (but nonetheless undying) love for each other. Which is quite
After the last performance, we gave all the skaters roses, because they're all
awesome and stuff. Scott, being the cutie that he is, gave his to his mom.
And then it was over. I was actually really upset, because I made a whole bunch
of great friends, and I really miss everybody and all of the crazy shenanigans we got
When Stampede was over, Nicole (my friend who came out with me- did I mention that
before) still had a week left in Alberta, during which time we visited Banff,
Drumheller, Emerald Lake, Lake Louise, Heritage Park and some other epic stuff. I
got the chance to hang out more with my cousins who live there, which was nice.
We flew home on the red-eye flight, leaving at 12:45 AM Western Time and arriving
at 6 AM Eastern Time, or 4 AM Western Time. We landed in London, which is about an
hour and a half away from where I live, so we stopped at my cousin's house first, to
eat and stuff. Then we stopped at my other cousin's brand new house, which is the
most gorgeous home in the world, and I am definitely going to live there one day.
I'm sure they won't mind; I can pay rent and and do chores and anything they want. I
will live in that house. :p
After an eleven-day rest that seemed much shorter than it was, I had an Evil
Torture Dance Workshop. I actually cannot describe this thing in normal words...
people break bones, throw up, pass out, and sometimes just break down in tears from a
combination of pain and mental/emotional fatigue. It's even harder for my friends
and I because it takes place at our sister school by Toronto, which is four hours
away. We stay in a college dorm and our parents aren't there. Well, some people's
parents are. There were five mothers/grandmothers to twenty-three kids, and none of
them were mine. It wasn't even like we could go home and relax and whine to our
parents and then go to sleep in our own beds. We would come home, literally almost
unable to walk, soak our feet in ice water, do a blister treatment, a shin splint
treatment and leg messages, then have a shower, eat dinner, go to bed and do it all
over again. On the second-last day I got shin splints that still haven't healed
after nearly two weeks. I can't run, can't dance; I can hardly even walk about
stairs. Then again, that may be because I may have chronic exertional compartment
The girls from the sister school aren't exactly nice, either, and they think they
can boss us around. It's easy to feel like you're completely alone there, away from
your parents, your family, your school friends and your home. The fact this workshop
is the closest legal thing to physical tortue I've ever seen, heard of or experienced
is only heightened by the way it completely drains you, both mentally and
emotionally. We sort of felt like we had no one but each other. It's really hard
and I can't explain why exactly, because it doesn't seem like it would be. The main
goal is to not shed tears, and we all sat together one night thinking of how we were
going to get through the times when we felt like we were about to. So, whenever I
was about to cry because I kinda couldn't walk to the fact that my entire right foot
was a bloody mess and I had shin splints but was still being forced to dance without
a break, I thought of two things: my aunt, who for some reason always makes me feel
better, and my EPIC experience at the Stampede. Well, as for the later, mostly Scott
Moir's reaction to the lost child; "He'll turn up eventually. This building is a
circle, after all."
It did end, after seven days that felt like ten years. My blisters are healing.
My shin splints are not.
The rest of the summer has been pretty chill. I had a dance competition, and I
won one of the two dances I need to move up to the next level. I have one on
Saturday, so fingers crossed for that last one.
Saw Inception, watched an airshow, hung around. All that good stuff.
How is everybody else's summer going?
The song I sang to myself at workshop:
The first verse resonates particularly well with the experience.
Last edited: 5 September 2010
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