Hey Mom!

Hey Mom! Well, it's Sunday and I know you've been waiting allllll week for this update. Well boy-oh-boy do I not know what's going on in the whirling dervish that is my life. But why don't we just start at the beginning(ish) and see where we end up? I went to physio this week to find out that my glutes and a handful of my back muscles are not firing ... now I'm no doctor but this is what I took away from that: All the squats and lunges I've been doing at the gym were for NOTHING. That's right, all the pain, all the farts I've had to hold in... for nothing . #BootyOffDuty I dressed up as a hippy anthropologist to do a presentation for my advanced grammar class. Figure that one out. I tried swing dancing AGAIN.  Now I know what you're thinking It almost killed you the first time!  True, but I like to live my life on the edge. I realized (while swing dancing) that when I'm not expecting someone to spin me I make a Serena Williams-esq

Hey Mom! On Saturday night I was young and wild and free. Now, I know what you're thinking Mack you wore your Darth Vader shirt outside of its Tuesday-Thursday rotation? No, don't be ridiculous. On Saturday night at 6:30pm my friend Hope (who is also young and wild and free) and I decided to drive 2.5 hours to go to a swing dancing event.  That's right no laminated itinerary, no 48 hours waiting period to emotionally prepare myself for the newness, we threw caution to the wind (except we didn't, Hope drove very responsibly) and drove to Calgary. I was thrilled. I like road trips, I like Hope, and I certainly like late-evenings. What I don't like, however, is dancing.  For those of you who have been around this part of the internet for awhile you'll know that dancing usually leads to the injury of both person and pride... may I present exhibit A : So when the idea of swing dancing was presented to me (multiple times) the following thoughts ran through my

Hey Mom! I've been feeling really sane lately so I thought "Hey, why not take an extra class?" I know what you're thinking Mack, people take extra classes all time. Welllllll what I didn't realize is that since most of my classes are in french, most of my readings are french which takes me exactly 600x longer to read.  Not only does it take me longer, but I usually have to read them two or three times... I've provided a timeline below for your convenience: Reading 1: I don't think I actually know how to read in french because none of that made sense. Reading 2: This is the DUMBEST thing I've ever read... halfway through his sister was killed by a priest for NO reason! Reading 3: Oooooh she didn't die... she became a nun. That explains the response question about the convent. Now that I'm slowly blending my mind into a grey-matter soup, I'm realizing that I might be unpleasant to live with during this time. I've also realized t

Hey Mom! HAPPY BLOGGIVERSARY! Let us take pause and recall last 5 years...the laughter, the tears, all those times I had diarrhea and told you too much. Good times. September. A new start to an old beginning. Still working on an undergrad degree and guess what this is my last year of the aforementioned degree (providing I don't smash my face through a car window and forget how to read or, you know, get distracted). So what should we expect during this fine September? Excitement? Sure! The thrill of learning? Absolutely. The icy grip of depression that crushes the sun into the horizon line until winter arrives and daylight ceases to exist? You bet! But you know what? After a summer of acquiring adult abilities (ALLITERATION 4x MULTIPLIER) I've learned that all the things you thought were the end of the world are not, in fact, the end of the world. When I was 13, the end of the world was my sister wearing the same colour denim as me. When I was 16, the end of the world