A Map to the Past.

As a child I used to enjoy drawing treasure maps. For some odd reason, the opportunity to draw them came up quite often in Canadian elementary school lessons, and each time it did, I would be overcome by a feeling of peaceful contentment. What can I say? I hadn't discovered the joys of Jack Daniels back then.

Today I was planning a lesson for one of next week's classes and I came accross an excercise in the textbook that involves drawing a treasure map. Instantly I felt the old feelings come back. However, they were more the feelings of sentimentality over my now distant childhood, rather than actual excitement over the idea of drawing a treasure map in the present ('cause that would just be weird right?... But I did spice/deface the text up a little by adding a few innovative topographical features such as a fully stocked beach bar). Anyways, I have no idea why I like treasure maps. I could do what I always do, which is over-psychoanalyze myself to death and try to come up with a reasonable and well thought out answer for my little map fetish but I won't. However, if anyone else wants to psychoanalyze me, feel free.

I also don't know why I've been so damn sentimental lately. Yesterday, while researching Croatia and the former Yugoslavia for my school's international day, I came accross the old Yugoslavian anthem that I had had to sign there as a child. I hadn't heard it in ages. It's a beautiful song, even though hearing it makes one think of WWII era tanks and bleak soldiers marching on a cold, overcast day in Moscow during the cold war. Hearing it again though, brought back so many memories of my little communist childhood and made me appreciate in a real way how many weird experiences I have had in my life. It kinda made me feel old as well -- which wasn't helped by the fact that the muscle pain spray that I am having to use due to recent overtraining smells like something that is used by legions of old people in some dusty nursing home somewhere in Florida. Really, thinking fondly of treasure maps and my Commie past whilst smelling like Ben Gay? Just hand me a cane and call me Granny.