:k s e n i a:
Early winter, the best time for a figure skater. Tournaments and shows are beginning, no oneās really better than anyone yet, except for the people who were better than other people last year; but skaters can change over the summer. It happens. It has before. Thereāve been times when Iāve beat someone by more than a hundred points and then they come out third the next winter. Still below me, but definitely improved; I always make sure to tell them that I appreciate their effort and that Iām proud of their progress, because everyone does work hard, no matter where they place, and they need to know that someone did enjoy their performance. I enjoy every performance, even if it wasnāt very good and I canāt very well lie to them about it. It works out for me, because Iāve become friends with a lot of these skaters from all over the world. Itās amazing how many of them actually speak English. I carry this translator everywhere I go just incase, and I try to speak in their languages so that they donāt have to try too hard to understand me or get embarrassed thinking theyāve messed up my language, because thatās never fun for them, and I want them all to have a good time. But four out of five times, they just laugh and tell me they do speak English. Unless they speak Russian, and Iām fluent enough that I donāt need a translator, and I donāt sound like an idiot. But I donāt mind sounding like an idiot as long as it makes other people feel comfortable. I think Iām pretty good at that.
āNice run, Sen. Next time, you need to get a little more speed going into that triple axel/double toe loop combo, or you wonāt be able to get enough height and itāll look like shit.ā My choreographer, Yvette Johansen ā who was fairly unknown before taking me on as a student ā has an interesting way of wording things so that I donāt question them. She was the one who decided it would be funny if she dubbed me after the KitKat chocolate bar and sat in the stands with a banner cheering for me with six of her friends. Iām allergic to chocolate, so I donāt think itās very funny. People started throwing KitKats onto the ice instead of the fluffy little animals that I can actually have. The thought is a little depressing, and I told my Mom, which was a mistake, I think, because sheās Russian. Very obviously. So the next time she got a hold of the announcerās microphone, she decided to make sure that no one would throw chocolate at me. I remember it like it was yesterday. āLadies and gentlemen. Do not throw chocolate at my son. He is allergic and will go into anaphylactic shock. That is all.ā It sounds really intimidating in a Russian accent. At least sheās getting better, though. We all try to support her as much as possible, especially since sheās started teaching ballet again now that my little brother, Feliks, is in school.
āAlright, Iāll try harder next time.ā I met Yvette where she stood just outside the wall of the outdoor rink as clouds began to float in overhead, threatening snow. One might wonder why, so early in the season, I had an axel/toe loop combo in my routine, as long as theyāre interested in figure skating, that is. And one might also wonder why Iād practice outside in Vancouverās November, when it so obviously looked like snow. I think itās because Iām half-Russian, or maybe because Iām Canadian, but Iām sort of immune to the cold. You know those people who go outside in -10Āŗ weather in a t-shirt and vest and complain about being too hot? Thatās me. I can wear shorts until it hits 0, and then Dad yells at me and tells me Iām thick-skinned like my mother the Polar Bear. And then she punches him in the arm, they argue playfully, and then they retreat inside and we donāt see them for a few hours. By ātheyā, of course I mean Alena, Feliks and I. We spend more time outside than most human people, so even our parents ā who claim that theyāre āoutdoors peopleā ā canāt keep up. Thereās always something to do outside, no matter what.
For instance, itās my responsibility to clear the snow off the rink Dad made in the backyard, if I want to be able to skate on it; and itās Alenaās responsibility to take care of all four of her horses if she wants to keep them at all. I hope that someday theyāll get loose and run free to Alberta, because Iām pretty sure they could if they wanted. And, even though itās really mean to think this way, I secretly hope that Miss Tequila Rose will get sick and die. Sheās probably the reason Iām so afraid of horses; she makes a point of stepping on my feet every time I have to get that close to her, and when she turns her ears outward they look like horns. Besides that, for the first year that we had her she bucked Alena off every time she mounted. When we bought her for Alena for our eighth birthday, we were told that she was a childrenās horse and that she would never hurt a fly. But as soon as Alena got on, she bolted and bucked and Alena came off. But my sisterās tough ā she always has been, so I suppose she mightāve been destined to be a junior world champion ā so she just kept getting back on until Tequila Rose gave up. Since then sheās become Lenās most frequently used competition horse, and my mortal enemy. I never thought Iād ever say that, let alone say it about an animalā¦. Iād rather be enemies with a human than an animal. Butā¦ humans are animals, so that doesnāt make sense. Weāre mammals, which make us animals; and I hate it when people disagree and say that weāre civilized so weāre not animals, because thatās not true either. Are we civilized just because we have cities and cars and technology and are destroying the Earth with it? I donāt see ants destroying the planet, and they have cities. I donāt see wolves destroying the planet and they socialize better than humans do. I hate to admit it, but most pack animals doā¦ including horses.
āDonāt try, Sen. Just do it, or I'll stuff chocolate so far down your throat that youāll choke to death before it kills you.ā I wanted to tell her that it didnāt make sense, but I was too scared. Honestly, she sounds really mean, but sheās doing it with my best interest in mind, I think. Or maybe sheās just mean. Except she told me once that she didnāt mean it, but she did it in a fake Russian accent, so I think she might have been lying and making fun of my heritage at the same time. I didnāt say anything about that, either, though incase she made me do warm up drills, and those make me wonder if she ever coached pro hockey before. By the time I finish, Iām so tired that I canāt even pick myself up from the bench and I have to watch Alena playing in the pasture with the horses.
It was what I was doing now that I had finished the run three times all the way through without stopping. As my trainer and choreographer, Yvette makes sure that I can do the routine three times through, back to back, so that I have more stamina than any of the other skaters; and she makes me do speed drills so that I'm faster than they are. Personally I don't think I'm any faster than anyone else, infact I'm pretty sure I'm slower, and I think that the speed drills aren't helping, but if Yvette's ever coached pro hockey like I think she did, then I might as well just listen to her. I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't so I thank her as often as I can.... But not in front of her because she hates it when I do. She's kind of a nasty woman. I think she might be Swedish.... But her last name suggests Norwegian, and that's definitely a possibility. It was Alena who decided that one, and she's always looking things up for me, so I believe her. Of course I do. Because she's my sister and I love her.
I watched her jump up on the fence and bail over it as Black Rock Shooter (also known simply as Shooter, or Jell-O Shooter by one of Alena's friends, Mykhaela) came galloping up behind her and poked his head curiously through the rails as she laid there. I saw genuine concern, as if he thought he hurt her, but she just jumped up and ran off along the fence. It took him a minute, he was stunned, but he followed her with his ears perked forward. If I were ever to like a horse, I think it'd be Shooter; he's so gentle, and he tries so hard to be Len's best friend that I actually have formed a kind of respect for him.... If I have to be in the stable, I stand infront of his stall because I know he won't attack me ā I trust him not to. The others ā Miss Tequila Rose, Cremation Melody, and Fate Rebirth (respectively, their barn names are Tequila, Macie, and Wraith) ā they're all... evil, maybe. At least, they don't like me, if nothing else. Especially Tequila. Especially Tequila. The mare form Hell. But I feel so bad saying it because she's Len's favourite, and she's so pretty.... I shouldn't feel bad talking like this about someone who directly and openly hates me so much, but I just can't help it.... Is it wrong of me? Dad asked me once why I could stand the cold so easily but I couldn't take any sort of abuse from a living being without crying. I don't cry; that's what I had to say about that. And that was it. I'm not sure why, but maybe all my abuse tolerance went into my uncanny ability to stand outside in a snowstorm in shorts.... I think that might be what happened.
And yes, if you wanted to know. Yes, my sister named three of her horses after VOCALOID songs. There's something about a synthesized voice that makes me marvel over mankind's ability to manipulate the technology they've invented to do whatever they want. We got into VOCALOID together at one of my competitions where one of the other skaters, who's now a close friend of mine, Hatsuko Yamaguchi, was listening to KAITO's Hayashi Uta in the change room and Len practically dragged me in there to see what the song was. She was embarrassed and didn't want to go alone.
"Umm, Yvette? What time is it?"
"Three something."
"Can I have my cellphone?" Yes. She holds my cellphone hostage during practice so it won't distract me and so that my friends can't get ahold of me, even in a dire emergency.
"What for?"
"I want to call Viena and see if he wants to do something later."
"You're sick, you know that."
"What? B-but.... He's... he's not... like that.... I don't think.... I've never asked him.... I mean... that's not what I want to do!" On the instant defense, as always surrounding... that subject, I could feel my face heat up and turn red. She just laughed and tossed me my phone, knowing full well that I only had to run through the routine once more before practice was over. Sometimes she can be kind of nice. At least she let me take breaks.
It would be a few minutes yet before I could fight a shaking voice and the colour rising in my cheeks so I could confidently call Viena. Maybe I'd have to call Cayman instead.
Early winter, the best time for a figure skater. Tournaments and shows are beginning, no oneās really better than anyone yet, except for the people who were better than other people last year; but skaters can change over the summer. It happens. It has before. Thereāve been times when Iāve beat someone by more than a hundred points and then they come out third the next winter. Still below me, but definitely improved; I always make sure to tell them that I appreciate their effort and that Iām proud of their progress, because everyone does work hard, no matter where they place, and they need to know that someone did enjoy their performance. I enjoy every performance, even if it wasnāt very good and I canāt very well lie to them about it. It works out for me, because Iāve become friends with a lot of these skaters from all over the world. Itās amazing how many of them actually speak English. I carry this translator everywhere I go just incase, and I try to speak in their languages so that they donāt have to try too hard to understand me or get embarrassed thinking theyāve messed up my language, because thatās never fun for them, and I want them all to have a good time. But four out of five times, they just laugh and tell me they do speak English. Unless they speak Russian, and Iām fluent enough that I donāt need a translator, and I donāt sound like an idiot. But I donāt mind sounding like an idiot as long as it makes other people feel comfortable. I think Iām pretty good at that.
āNice run, Sen. Next time, you need to get a little more speed going into that triple axel/double toe loop combo, or you wonāt be able to get enough height and itāll look like shit.ā My choreographer, Yvette Johansen ā who was fairly unknown before taking me on as a student ā has an interesting way of wording things so that I donāt question them. She was the one who decided it would be funny if she dubbed me after the KitKat chocolate bar and sat in the stands with a banner cheering for me with six of her friends. Iām allergic to chocolate, so I donāt think itās very funny. People started throwing KitKats onto the ice instead of the fluffy little animals that I can actually have. The thought is a little depressing, and I told my Mom, which was a mistake, I think, because sheās Russian. Very obviously. So the next time she got a hold of the announcerās microphone, she decided to make sure that no one would throw chocolate at me. I remember it like it was yesterday. āLadies and gentlemen. Do not throw chocolate at my son. He is allergic and will go into anaphylactic shock. That is all.ā It sounds really intimidating in a Russian accent. At least sheās getting better, though. We all try to support her as much as possible, especially since sheās started teaching ballet again now that my little brother, Feliks, is in school.
āAlright, Iāll try harder next time.ā I met Yvette where she stood just outside the wall of the outdoor rink as clouds began to float in overhead, threatening snow. One might wonder why, so early in the season, I had an axel/toe loop combo in my routine, as long as theyāre interested in figure skating, that is. And one might also wonder why Iād practice outside in Vancouverās November, when it so obviously looked like snow. I think itās because Iām half-Russian, or maybe because Iām Canadian, but Iām sort of immune to the cold. You know those people who go outside in -10Āŗ weather in a t-shirt and vest and complain about being too hot? Thatās me. I can wear shorts until it hits 0, and then Dad yells at me and tells me Iām thick-skinned like my mother the Polar Bear. And then she punches him in the arm, they argue playfully, and then they retreat inside and we donāt see them for a few hours. By ātheyā, of course I mean Alena, Feliks and I. We spend more time outside than most human people, so even our parents ā who claim that theyāre āoutdoors peopleā ā canāt keep up. Thereās always something to do outside, no matter what.
For instance, itās my responsibility to clear the snow off the rink Dad made in the backyard, if I want to be able to skate on it; and itās Alenaās responsibility to take care of all four of her horses if she wants to keep them at all. I hope that someday theyāll get loose and run free to Alberta, because Iām pretty sure they could if they wanted. And, even though itās really mean to think this way, I secretly hope that Miss Tequila Rose will get sick and die. Sheās probably the reason Iām so afraid of horses; she makes a point of stepping on my feet every time I have to get that close to her, and when she turns her ears outward they look like horns. Besides that, for the first year that we had her she bucked Alena off every time she mounted. When we bought her for Alena for our eighth birthday, we were told that she was a childrenās horse and that she would never hurt a fly. But as soon as Alena got on, she bolted and bucked and Alena came off. But my sisterās tough ā she always has been, so I suppose she mightāve been destined to be a junior world champion ā so she just kept getting back on until Tequila Rose gave up. Since then sheās become Lenās most frequently used competition horse, and my mortal enemy. I never thought Iād ever say that, let alone say it about an animalā¦. Iād rather be enemies with a human than an animal. Butā¦ humans are animals, so that doesnāt make sense. Weāre mammals, which make us animals; and I hate it when people disagree and say that weāre civilized so weāre not animals, because thatās not true either. Are we civilized just because we have cities and cars and technology and are destroying the Earth with it? I donāt see ants destroying the planet, and they have cities. I donāt see wolves destroying the planet and they socialize better than humans do. I hate to admit it, but most pack animals doā¦ including horses.
āDonāt try, Sen. Just do it, or I'll stuff chocolate so far down your throat that youāll choke to death before it kills you.ā I wanted to tell her that it didnāt make sense, but I was too scared. Honestly, she sounds really mean, but sheās doing it with my best interest in mind, I think. Or maybe sheās just mean. Except she told me once that she didnāt mean it, but she did it in a fake Russian accent, so I think she might have been lying and making fun of my heritage at the same time. I didnāt say anything about that, either, though incase she made me do warm up drills, and those make me wonder if she ever coached pro hockey before. By the time I finish, Iām so tired that I canāt even pick myself up from the bench and I have to watch Alena playing in the pasture with the horses.
It was what I was doing now that I had finished the run three times all the way through without stopping. As my trainer and choreographer, Yvette makes sure that I can do the routine three times through, back to back, so that I have more stamina than any of the other skaters; and she makes me do speed drills so that I'm faster than they are. Personally I don't think I'm any faster than anyone else, infact I'm pretty sure I'm slower, and I think that the speed drills aren't helping, but if Yvette's ever coached pro hockey like I think she did, then I might as well just listen to her. I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't so I thank her as often as I can.... But not in front of her because she hates it when I do. She's kind of a nasty woman. I think she might be Swedish.... But her last name suggests Norwegian, and that's definitely a possibility. It was Alena who decided that one, and she's always looking things up for me, so I believe her. Of course I do. Because she's my sister and I love her.
I watched her jump up on the fence and bail over it as Black Rock Shooter (also known simply as Shooter, or Jell-O Shooter by one of Alena's friends, Mykhaela) came galloping up behind her and poked his head curiously through the rails as she laid there. I saw genuine concern, as if he thought he hurt her, but she just jumped up and ran off along the fence. It took him a minute, he was stunned, but he followed her with his ears perked forward. If I were ever to like a horse, I think it'd be Shooter; he's so gentle, and he tries so hard to be Len's best friend that I actually have formed a kind of respect for him.... If I have to be in the stable, I stand infront of his stall because I know he won't attack me ā I trust him not to. The others ā Miss Tequila Rose, Cremation Melody, and Fate Rebirth (respectively, their barn names are Tequila, Macie, and Wraith) ā they're all... evil, maybe. At least, they don't like me, if nothing else. Especially Tequila. Especially Tequila. The mare form Hell. But I feel so bad saying it because she's Len's favourite, and she's so pretty.... I shouldn't feel bad talking like this about someone who directly and openly hates me so much, but I just can't help it.... Is it wrong of me? Dad asked me once why I could stand the cold so easily but I couldn't take any sort of abuse from a living being without crying. I don't cry; that's what I had to say about that. And that was it. I'm not sure why, but maybe all my abuse tolerance went into my uncanny ability to stand outside in a snowstorm in shorts.... I think that might be what happened.
And yes, if you wanted to know. Yes, my sister named three of her horses after VOCALOID songs. There's something about a synthesized voice that makes me marvel over mankind's ability to manipulate the technology they've invented to do whatever they want. We got into VOCALOID together at one of my competitions where one of the other skaters, who's now a close friend of mine, Hatsuko Yamaguchi, was listening to KAITO's Hayashi Uta in the change room and Len practically dragged me in there to see what the song was. She was embarrassed and didn't want to go alone.
"Umm, Yvette? What time is it?"
"Three something."
"Can I have my cellphone?" Yes. She holds my cellphone hostage during practice so it won't distract me and so that my friends can't get ahold of me, even in a dire emergency.
"What for?"
"I want to call Viena and see if he wants to do something later."
"You're sick, you know that."
"What? B-but.... He's... he's not... like that.... I don't think.... I've never asked him.... I mean... that's not what I want to do!" On the instant defense, as always surrounding... that subject, I could feel my face heat up and turn red. She just laughed and tossed me my phone, knowing full well that I only had to run through the routine once more before practice was over. Sometimes she can be kind of nice. At least she let me take breaks.
It would be a few minutes yet before I could fight a shaking voice and the colour rising in my cheeks so I could confidently call Viena. Maybe I'd have to call Cayman instead.