pulp_princess
Shiny_Rock
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2003
- Messages
- 185
I''m going to be very unlike myself and try not to be shy today. Nearly everyone who has had the opportunity to describe me has said I''m shy, too shy, very shy, quiet, too quiet, extremely quiet, etc. You get the picture. I''d like to be able to talk to people without feeling uncomfortable, meet people, and I''d like to get to know others too. It just feels like I''m going against the grain when I do it and I''ve been that way ever since grade school. Old habits are the hardest to break, but I did promise kayla17 that I would post as soon as I felt up to it.
Like everyone in the Americas, we immigrated from overseas. I don''t know the exact year that my grandfather came to Canada. Mom said he came to work on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He also panned for gold in the Yukon before settling down in a small little town by the lake. He had a choice between that town and some other town in California. He worked at a restaurant there until he made enough money to pay the head tax on his new son in law. At the time, I think it was $500, which is a huge sum of money during the depression. I have no idea how he did it and he must have been extremely diligent while working. When he made enough money, my dad came to Canada. Together, they worked in the restaurant until they had enough for my grandmother, my mom, my brother and sister to come. It was $3000 in total for all of them. I''m still amazed at how they brought that much money together. Especially reading history accounts of how much wages were for new immigrants, the cost of food, shelter, etc.
Eventually, they made enough to buy the restaurant. It''s still exists and my dad runs it to this day. They haven''t renovated it to keep the old style charm and it still has the cast iron ceilings, a working jukebox, and an antique Hamilton-Beach milkshake mixer with the original (now dented) metal containers. Some antique dealers have come through pricing the objects, waiting for my father to sell so they can jump on some of the items. Dad has never had any wish to sell so it rather makes me ill to hear them talk, some even from our home church.
My brother and I were born in that same town. It''s still a very quiet town today and all the people are still very laid back, sit out on their porches all day, or stare out the window in cafes. If you were from the city, you would think that time simply stopped or ceased to exist there.
I''ve asked about stories near the time of my birth and one that stuck out to my siblings was the baby room at the local hospital. I was in a glass bassinet, wrapped in a pink blanket. I was easily identifiable as the only baby with a full head of hair. Everyone else was completely bald.
One of the babies began crying. One by one, they all began crying until I was the only one seemingly calm. My sister said I was looking around at the others to see what the commotion was, but I didn''t cry.
I''ve asked my siblings which of them chose my name. They all fight over it when I do that. My sister said she picked it out of a baby book. My oldest brother said he had the final say. My younger (but still older than me) brother said he was the one that suggested it to the older two. I''m just glad I didn''t get ''Rosemary''. Not that it''s a bad name, but it would sound horrible with my last name. Incidentally, my last name sounds French and I''ve been teased by many people who have the same last name as I do, but spelt the ''correct'' way. When my grandfather came, they tried to make it sound more familiar and French was as close as they could get.
My parents had a restaurant and there weren''t too many children around so I spent most of my time reading, and as a child, walking up to patrons, asking if they wanted to colour in my colouring book. I know I have signatures in there that I don''t recognize now.
I may have been three or four at the time, definitely pre-school age. My older siblings at the time were finished school and working and would visit occasionally. Every so often, my sister would teach me the alphabet and my vowels and some basic reading skills. I learned to read well before I reached kindergarten and that ability defined most of my childhood. Perhaps one of the reasons I am so shy stemmed from not working with the other kids during reading lessons. I was allowed to go into the corner and read entire readers while the others would take reading lessons on the carpet. They let me skip a grade too since I could read. My mother was offered to let me skip two grades but decided that that might be a bit much. Quite a difference from my sister, who was held back grades because she didn''t speak english when she first came to Canada. I was a seemingly bright kid. What happened??!!
My parents were working a little less now that they had me and closed the restaurant at 9 PM. The restaurant used to be open 20 hours a day with my dad taking two hours to clean during close and 2 hours to sleep. Then the cycle would start all over again. I hear mom was working right up until the day she had me. When it was time, my dad closed, excused all the patrons, and dropped her off at the hospital. He went back to make some money to support this new baby girl and put three other kids through college and university.
(Yes, that means there is a huge age gap between the others and me.)
Another little story on my love of reading, because my little town was quiet and most of the schoolchildren lived in the countryside, I got very bored. My mom walked me to the local library so I could pick up some books after the restaurant closed. She gave me a limit of five books to take home. I would pick out ten books, read five at the library and take five home. I would read them all the next day and Mom would take me back that night. Repeat cycle. One summer, when I was four, I was recorded to have read 103 books at the library (in two months). I became the poster girl for reading that year. The librarians recorded the number of books that I had read when I brought them back. They didn''t record the number that I read whilst I was in the library.
I still enjoy reading, with the English classics as my favourites. Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters kept me entertained all throughout high school. Fast forward now through university, where I traded my novels for textbooks. I applied to environmental engineering. After my first year, I decided I would rather know the theoretical side rather than the applied science, so I switched to honours chemistry. That degree is lying face down in my bedroom at home, collecting dust.
I had a few good years of research and co-authored three papers that have appeared in scientific journals. I''m trying to decide if I should get back into research again. I''d like to (I can feel my mind growing mould), but in chemistry, the nature of things you look at for publishable material, is by definition, somewhat mysterious. I''ve had lots of professors with health problems or permanent after-effects because they didn''t know what the chemicals could do health-wise. I''m a big chicken at heart. The shyness is also a factor in getting up in front of people and defending my thesis.
It makes me very ill to think of doing presentations.
Currently, I''m working and trying to get my very-slow-in-coming driver''s licence. I''m commuting four hours a day so I need it!!
Hopefully, I can save enough money for future plans, but it seems that the longer I work, the less money there is. Luckily, I have had so much student debt, that I haven''t had to pay taxes yet because I can''t declare income.
I live away from my parents now and I''ve put a new roof on the current house and am facing gigantic vet bills for my brother''s cat. I''ve paid up all my back rent and my share of the property taxes and am feeling pretty good about it. Of course, that means I have absolutely no money for future plans on a seven year relationship.
On that note, I do have a 0.32 ct, F, VS1, Superbcert promise ring in the Tiffany setting. I will post pictures once I have them.
On the one hand, I''m thankful for the reminder of how much I owe to my parents, while, on the other, I''ve said too much and feel like deleting half the post! I will stop rambling now. As another little step in overcoming shyness, I''m going to close my eyes, hold my breath, and press ''submit''.
Like everyone in the Americas, we immigrated from overseas. I don''t know the exact year that my grandfather came to Canada. Mom said he came to work on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He also panned for gold in the Yukon before settling down in a small little town by the lake. He had a choice between that town and some other town in California. He worked at a restaurant there until he made enough money to pay the head tax on his new son in law. At the time, I think it was $500, which is a huge sum of money during the depression. I have no idea how he did it and he must have been extremely diligent while working. When he made enough money, my dad came to Canada. Together, they worked in the restaurant until they had enough for my grandmother, my mom, my brother and sister to come. It was $3000 in total for all of them. I''m still amazed at how they brought that much money together. Especially reading history accounts of how much wages were for new immigrants, the cost of food, shelter, etc.
Eventually, they made enough to buy the restaurant. It''s still exists and my dad runs it to this day. They haven''t renovated it to keep the old style charm and it still has the cast iron ceilings, a working jukebox, and an antique Hamilton-Beach milkshake mixer with the original (now dented) metal containers. Some antique dealers have come through pricing the objects, waiting for my father to sell so they can jump on some of the items. Dad has never had any wish to sell so it rather makes me ill to hear them talk, some even from our home church.
My brother and I were born in that same town. It''s still a very quiet town today and all the people are still very laid back, sit out on their porches all day, or stare out the window in cafes. If you were from the city, you would think that time simply stopped or ceased to exist there.
I''ve asked about stories near the time of my birth and one that stuck out to my siblings was the baby room at the local hospital. I was in a glass bassinet, wrapped in a pink blanket. I was easily identifiable as the only baby with a full head of hair. Everyone else was completely bald.
I''ve asked my siblings which of them chose my name. They all fight over it when I do that. My sister said she picked it out of a baby book. My oldest brother said he had the final say. My younger (but still older than me) brother said he was the one that suggested it to the older two. I''m just glad I didn''t get ''Rosemary''. Not that it''s a bad name, but it would sound horrible with my last name. Incidentally, my last name sounds French and I''ve been teased by many people who have the same last name as I do, but spelt the ''correct'' way. When my grandfather came, they tried to make it sound more familiar and French was as close as they could get.
My parents had a restaurant and there weren''t too many children around so I spent most of my time reading, and as a child, walking up to patrons, asking if they wanted to colour in my colouring book. I know I have signatures in there that I don''t recognize now.
My parents were working a little less now that they had me and closed the restaurant at 9 PM. The restaurant used to be open 20 hours a day with my dad taking two hours to clean during close and 2 hours to sleep. Then the cycle would start all over again. I hear mom was working right up until the day she had me. When it was time, my dad closed, excused all the patrons, and dropped her off at the hospital. He went back to make some money to support this new baby girl and put three other kids through college and university.
Another little story on my love of reading, because my little town was quiet and most of the schoolchildren lived in the countryside, I got very bored. My mom walked me to the local library so I could pick up some books after the restaurant closed. She gave me a limit of five books to take home. I would pick out ten books, read five at the library and take five home. I would read them all the next day and Mom would take me back that night. Repeat cycle. One summer, when I was four, I was recorded to have read 103 books at the library (in two months). I became the poster girl for reading that year. The librarians recorded the number of books that I had read when I brought them back. They didn''t record the number that I read whilst I was in the library.
I still enjoy reading, with the English classics as my favourites. Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters kept me entertained all throughout high school. Fast forward now through university, where I traded my novels for textbooks. I applied to environmental engineering. After my first year, I decided I would rather know the theoretical side rather than the applied science, so I switched to honours chemistry. That degree is lying face down in my bedroom at home, collecting dust.
Currently, I''m working and trying to get my very-slow-in-coming driver''s licence. I''m commuting four hours a day so I need it!!
On that note, I do have a 0.32 ct, F, VS1, Superbcert promise ring in the Tiffany setting. I will post pictures once I have them.
On the one hand, I''m thankful for the reminder of how much I owe to my parents, while, on the other, I''ve said too much and feel like deleting half the post! I will stop rambling now. As another little step in overcoming shyness, I''m going to close my eyes, hold my breath, and press ''submit''.
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