Thursday, August 9, 2007

We'll go dancing in the dark...and reminiscing

Fifteen Years Ago:
I was 17. It was 1992 and it was the summer between grade 11 and grade 12. I was living in a condo with my mom, her mildly annoying boyfriend, and my sister, who was nine at the time. I don’t remember a single thing from that summer, but I’m sure it was delightful, that I swam a lot in the condo pool, and that I had impeccable fashion sense.

Ten Years Ago:
I was 22. It was 1997 and it was the summer between finishing a political science degree and that weird year where I took classes with no apparent purpose. (Little did everyone know that my aim was to take classes that would be useful the following year when I started my education degree. I went on to receive that degree but in the end, it had no apparent purpose either.) I was full of ideas about social issues, politics, and saving the world. Yes, I was silly, but I was passionately silly. I was working at an international youth hostel and I’m sure it was great. Summer was always a fun time to work there, as I got to hang out with the exta summer employees as well as our guests, who were largely fun, young people from all over the world. This is in stark contrast with winter, when all the guests were creepy, watery-eyed, limp-handshaking businesspeople and weirdos sent to us from Social Services.

Five Years Ago:
I was 27. It was 2002. I had been working in a call centre for 10 months already and I’m sure my spirit was broken. Actually, no – that was back when it was still fun and our days were filled with playing crib online and trying to wake co-workers up from their hangover comas. I was living in a house that was awfully cold during the winters and surprisingly temperate in the summers. Even if one part of it turned sauna-like, the basement part remained refreshingly cool. I was happy to be one half of a couple as well as the owner of one (1) cat. I went swimming a lot in the community pool across the street. That pool had its pros and cons – it was free (yay) and jam-packed with little brats all summer (boo).

One Year Ago:
I was 31. It was 2006. I was a sad, sad Nat. I had been dumped 4 months prior, a close family friend had been murdered 2 months prior, and my grandpa died 1 month prior. I was living in my awesome apartment that I’m in now with my three (3!) cats. I was still on the phones but unlike many of my co-workers, I didn’t mind. I enjoy jobs with little responsibility and ample opportunity to talk, check e-mail, and slack off. It helps deal with the crazy people on the phones.

Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away… Oh. Sorry. Um, yesterday was largely unremarkable. I worked. I went home. I had supper. I watched So You Think You Can Dance. I played a bit of piano and then a bit of flute and then a bit more piano. I read a few pages from Feed My Dear Dogs by Emma Richler (which is really quite good, even though I didn’t like it at first). I went to sleep. That is all.

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