Story time with wee Erin
May. 17th, 2013 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xerinmichellexMy mom must've done some spring cleaning, because an "autobiography" I typed up in 3rd grade made its way on my desk. I vividly remember this assignment; it was part of computer class, to help us learn how to type on the computer. (I'm guessing kids today don't need computer class. But back in '98 we had a whole class devoted to computers.)
Anyway, for your enjoyment:
Even from a young age, I was destined to be a story-teller; though I needed to work on my endings. Funny story, my mom did not like the ancedote in the first paragraph, and I remember yelling at her that I was "trying to tell a story, Mom" and she didn't understand my vision. Still holds true to this day.
*I like how, even in 3rd grade, I had to dramatize things.
**To this day I'm agrate eggselent good speller.
***Okay, so I fibbed here. While I was a couple weeks early, I was not put in an incubator. I did get a suction-tube shoved down my throat upon popping out because I decided to go into fetal distress and got meconium in my amniotic fluid. (For the record, I did not eat my own shit, thank you very much.)
****I don't know why I slipped into past tense here, considering at the time--and to this day--I still live in the "big house". Must've been for ~artistic reasons.
*****a mom, a dad, ME!, a younger brother, a dog, a cat, a frog, a fish, another fish, a dog, and a cat--all the animals have since passed on. My dad, too.
******Man, remember when you were younger and you thought one year was a really long time?
*******Another fib. But really, doesn't it give you a great visual of a cat dropping a flower on the grave of his former best friend? Beats the truth which is Sheena died while my mom and I were at my dance class. This was back before cellphones; so when Sheena died, my dad had to call the Park District, who had to get my mom, who had to go to the front office to speak with my dad, who was freaking the fuck out. So, I had to miss my next dance class, go home, watch my dad bury Sheena in a hastily-dug grave while still in my black leotard and pink tights. I also made Sheena picture of us to be buried with her; even though she was a righteous bitch half the time.
Anyway, for your enjoyment:
It was 10:08. My mom was pushing and asking when I would come out. The doctor said, "Any time now." It was now 10:09. "One last push now!" called the doctor. My mom gave one last mighty push. "It's a girl, It's [sic] a healthy beautiful girl!" yelled the doctor.*
My name is Erin [retracted]. I was born in Evanston Hospital. I was born in U.S.A. Illiois [sic]**. I was born on Feb. 18, 1988. I was very small. I was put in a [sic] incubator.***
I went home two days after my birth. I came home to a small family. There was Mom, Dad, Shena [Sheena], Mac, and Gostov [Gustov]. We lived in a small brick house. It was pink. I loved that house.
My first vacation was to Minnasota [sic]. My great Aunt and Uncle live there. I think I was one year[s] old.
When I was 8 years old I lived in a big house.**** My family grew: Mom, Dad, Me, Ryan, Gus, Mac, Legs, Angle [Angel], Scals [Scales], Gunther, and Midnight.***** What happen [sic] to Shena [sic]? She died a long time ago.******
We had a funeral for Shena [sic]. She was my mom's first cat. We broght [sic] Mac outside even if he is and [sic] inside cat. We put a flower in Mac's mouth and made Mac drop the flower down the hole Shena [sic] was in.*******
Midnight was my early 9th birthday present. I got her from my mom's sister. She is a black cat. She is not bad luck.
Even from a young age, I was destined to be a story-teller; though I needed to work on my endings. Funny story, my mom did not like the ancedote in the first paragraph, and I remember yelling at her that I was "trying to tell a story, Mom" and she didn't understand my vision. Still holds true to this day.
*I like how, even in 3rd grade, I had to dramatize things.
**To this day I'm a
***Okay, so I fibbed here. While I was a couple weeks early, I was not put in an incubator. I did get a suction-tube shoved down my throat upon popping out because I decided to go into fetal distress and got meconium in my amniotic fluid. (For the record, I did not eat my own shit, thank you very much.)
****I don't know why I slipped into past tense here, considering at the time--and to this day--I still live in the "big house". Must've been for ~artistic reasons.
*****a mom, a dad, ME!, a younger brother, a dog, a cat, a frog, a fish, another fish, a dog, and a cat--all the animals have since passed on. My dad, too.
******Man, remember when you were younger and you thought one year was a really long time?
*******Another fib. But really, doesn't it give you a great visual of a cat dropping a flower on the grave of his former best friend? Beats the truth which is Sheena died while my mom and I were at my dance class. This was back before cellphones; so when Sheena died, my dad had to call the Park District, who had to get my mom, who had to go to the front office to speak with my dad, who was freaking the fuck out. So, I had to miss my next dance class, go home, watch my dad bury Sheena in a hastily-dug grave while still in my black leotard and pink tights. I also made Sheena picture of us to be buried with her; even though she was a righteous bitch half the time.
