I don't know my feelings or my odd digression to childhood

I don't know if I've used this title before or not. It's something one of kids says all the time. I don't know why. I assume it's just because he doesn't want to say anything. They all try to get their turn over with as quickly as possible. Some want to tell me all kinds of things.

I'm sitting at home right now and don't feel like doing anything. I managed to get about 7 hours of sleep last night. Well, I'll pretend it was that much. I went to bed around 4-5 hoping that extreme exhaustion would force me to sleep for a decent amount of time. I don't know if it was successful. I woke up around 11 of course. I forced myself to stay in bed. I returned to sleep and actually had a dream. It was a nice dream I guess. I was somewhere in Korea and my office, well faculty room, was in like a bar or restaurant or something. There were 2 good things about my dream. I had some Matilde. How I love Matilde. It's this Danish chocolate milk that I became obsessed with while I was in Copenhagen. I was hopelessly addicted. I swear I would have a least 2 litres a day. That's a lot of chocolate milk to have everyday. That's one thing that is different about Korea. I haven't found any food staples, aside from Ramyon that is. That's not a staple really. I have it because it's easy to make, cheap, and is okay. I'm not an adventurous food person. I tend to eat the same things at restaurants and week to week I usually eat the same things. In Denmark, I would have my rødbrød med chocolade and 500ml of Matilde. Then at lunch, I would go to Cafe Istanbul and have the number 38 and have another 500ml of Matilde. My supper had much more variety but nevertheless there would be a whole litre of Matilde for me. There were 2 kinds of Matilde. One was with a blue background and the other was red. Now usually, the 500ml was only available in blue. The red was only in 1litre. It was a little bit more money but incredibly good. In my dream I only had 1 litre of blue. I thought that I spied a red and rushed over to it but it was something else in similar packaging. Why can't I find a Korean Matilde? Their biggest chocolate milk available for sale is like 240ml. This isn't hotdog day people. I can drink more chocolate milk than that.

Let me digress to talk about hotdog day some weird part of my childhood I guess. About once a month in school (I don't know when they started or when they ended), we would have hotdog day. We had to pay $2.50 at least the day before. I want to say hotdog days were always on Wednesday and were possibly linked to early dismissal (the first Wednesday of every month, we'd get to go home at 2 instead of three so the teachers could have a staff meeting. I think that's what it was about). All these childhood school things that I don't know if are unique to me or not. So anyways, on hotdog day no one would bring lunch. They'd give us hotdogs wrapped in tin foil and another papery wrapper. If someone didn't have a hotdog, it was very sad since they were excluded and all. A few people would try to collect all the tinfoil and make a ball with it. There were always too many people going for a giant ball so they were never very big. I never tried. I don't know why. Something to do with me not having an interest in shiny ball made of aluminum foil (since I'm not sure) and never feeling popular enough to get enough foil. Everyone would try to convince you to let them have your foil. What odd creatures children are sometimes. Hotdog days we'd always get little things of chocolate milk in those little cartons.

Maybe I always had hotdog day. I have some memory though it involves orange juice. It was grade 2 with Mme Goudreau. I didn't want my orange juice so I threw it in the garbage. I must have had some though since it was open. Maybe they were in cups. I don't remember that much. So I threw it in the garbage and then later the garbage can started leaking. Mme Goudreau (Mme stands for Madame, I was in French immersion until grade nine so it was always Mme. or Monsieur (M.), I only had one Mlle (Mademoiselle) but she is now a Mme) was pretty mad about it I remember. She asked who had thrown orange juice in the garbage. I didn't say anything. I wonder why I have that memory. Maybe I feel ashamed about it or something. Maybe I need to confess my crime. What's the point in confessing something that no one else remembers? Funny. Odd funny. I don't have many other memories from grade 2. Well maybe I do. We had this carpet with all these toys that we were allowed to play with when we were done working. I was always the first one there. I was such a genius back then. I don't know what happened to me. I don't feel particularly smart now although I do feel like a lot of people are stupid. Then I remember some book about a kid with a pet skunk and it was in grade 2 I think that we had to write out whole math problems. No more just filling in answers in the little booklet. We had a big math book and would have to write 3+6 in our little cahiers. Cahier is such a good word, much better than notebook. Kie-yay say it with me now. There was a compliment rainbow too. Everyone got one. One person was picked for the week and we all had to write down a compliment for this person and then they'd all be written on a rainbow. I still have mine somewhere. My compliment to myself was that I liked my Mexican shoes. I was kind of a strange kid.

This short digression has suddenly become about my primary school. Anyways, maybe it's still relevant to my personality now. In kindergarten, I would've been a perfect Korean student. They would give us playstations. I remember being at the little sand pit, a little 3x1 foot box of sand on the table. There was a little bucket and a shovel and some other things. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to play with sand or any of it. Maybe I was too serious back then. I preferred the structured play time. Either I was really serious and didn't know how to play or just had my favourite games and didn't do other things. I remember just wanting her to say it was time to switch stations. I probably knew what it was back then but given my lack of other kindergarten thoughts, I'll just have to wonder now. That was with Mme Speers. She was my grade 3 teacher too. That's a weird little story. She was our kindergarten teacher and after the year was over she had a nervous breakdown and took a year off and came back as the grade 3 teacher. She taught the class above us and then she had us again. Then after her year with us was over she had another nervous breakdown. We were practically all the same kids. It was stuff to do with her personal life so they say but it is a strange coincidence. So either we were just the worst class or we were like her all-time favourite class. There was a schoolyard rumour that Mme Speers had cried near the end of the year. I had just always thought until like just now that the tears must've been related to us and how she was going to miss us. Maybe they were unrelated to us or possible just a rumour.

Then let's see what else. I also remember we had to think our favourite colour. I swear to god I couldn't think of one. We had to make a whole collage full of pictures with our favourite colour and I didn't have one. So I looked over and Jonathan Loper's favourite colour was orange. I thought, ok, orange is a nice colour but I can't copy it so I picked a similar colour, red. Maybe I'm a complete sociopath. Sociopathic people would completely do that wouldn't they. That was grade 1 with Mme Roberge. Then there was this other time that I had an accident in class. I had to go to the bathroom and was about to raise my hand when Gerrett Gard asked to go to the bathroom. He was her little classroom devil and she told him no and that nobody else had better ask to go to the bathroom. Damn it! So because I was such a passive kid, I didn't even bother asking. I wonder how long I was able to hold it. Anyways, I couldn't. Mme Roberge was a little too scary to be a grade 1 teacher. She could be terrifying but really nice too. Anyways, let's see if there are any other telling stories from my childhood. Once, there was this teacher who asked us all to smile. She went around the class and asked everyone to smile. At my turn, she told me that mine was not a smile. I didn't know how to force a smile and I guess it didn't look very good. What would make a teacher criticise a smile, honestly? I don't know what year that was. Grade 2 I think. I think it was because it was P.D. class or personal development. Grade 1 I think I had religion instead. Anyways, she wasn't even the teacher she was a sub or something but she taught at the school. That's unsociopathic though, I think. Sociopaths are excellent at fake smiles and I didn't know how to make one. There's this picture of me from grade 1 and I just made a connection to it with my fake smiles. I'm sure the guy taking the picture told me to smile but I didn't. I just look a little confused and bewildered in the picture. The next year or 2 afterwards there was my fake smile. It's so obvious. There are pictures of me smiling in photos from my childhood but they are always genuine smiles, otherwise I've got this neutral expression. I just needed some reason to smile or laugh or whatever. Someone commanding me to smile wasn't enough. That's just like movies and TV really. Well everything. I rarely laugh at jokes. Maybe it's like a command to laugh in my mind. Why else to people tell jokes if not to say this is going to be funny, I want you to laugh. I always find situations to be much funnier or stories. I wonder what a trained professional would have to say about this. Does it mean that I have some kind of mental illness? Maybe it means that I'm saner than everyone.

Let's wrap this up with the end of my dream this morning. I don't know whether it's related to the first part of not. I was at some bar and I was with all these people that I had just met. For some reason, in most of my dreams I am friends with people that I have never seen before but this time I think I had just met them, there was one that was a good friend (never seen his face before in waking life, that I'm aware of, I'm sure these faces come from somewhere in reality, some guy I saw on a bench 3 years ago maybe, whatever). So, I'm at this bar and Simon and Garfunkel starts playing. The Sound of Silence. I pretend like I know the words and lip synch to it, well I think I was singing but then realized I didn't know them at all so had to lip synch. Anyways, it was quite pathetic, the lack of lyrics I knew. They laughed and I laughed a little and then I couldn't help myself from laughing and started laughing hysterically. A very nice way to end a dream. Who would've thought that Sound of Silence could make anyone laugh so much?