Four Summers Ago

First published on Facebook: Monday, May 12, 2008 at 11:01pm

I had a revelation tonight. This is nothing new. I have revelations every single day, but I feel this one might put me over the edge, so that makes me happy again.

I realized today that I keep referring to the summer four years ago. That summer was the first summer living away from home. Not exactly my first summer living in a city, but the first time that I felt like I was a real citizen of a city - Vancouver.

Vancouver in the summer is the best place in the world. Or at least that's what memories of that summer make me think. Edmonton has its festivals and Meadow had the lakes a half hour away, but Vancouver had an amazing transit system, great bike roads, beaches, pubs and clubs (and it was my first "legal" summer...although Meadow Rodeo Dance the year before proved that that doesn't matter on the prairies), music and an innocent young girl ready to explore it all.

One of my fav memories from that summer was going to Numbers' Amateur Strip Night with some coworkers. I was the innocent, young country bumpkin being taken to not her first gay bar, but her first strip show at a gay bar. I didn't want to be the young girl though, I wanted to prove my maturity to my friends, all of them five years or more older than I. So, when Travis suggested that I shout at one of the amateurs when he was taking too long, I thought it was a good idea. But Travis had to give me the que. And he did. I wanted to egg on the first one, but Travis said no. I knew I was going to shout at the second one, but Travis told me to wait. Nobody else knew what I was going to do, and Travis didn't know how loud I'd be...but loud and clear (a prairie bumpkin after two beer can still enunciate), "Show us some cock!" And the crowd loved it...afterwards a man came up to my friend and asked, "Was it you that shouted back there?" She said, "No, that was this one here," pointing to me. He looked at me and dramatically said, "Gi-ir-l, you sounded hungry! Where you from?" And when I told him Sk, he understood, "yah, I've been to Prince Albert, I understand..." That was such a great night, I felt so alive, so much apart of the group and so different from the person I was back home.

That was a summer of so many firsts. It began with my first time smoking pot. Yes, ACF 13 was my first spliff, while listening to K-os sing "The Man I Used to Be"...that was an awesome party too. I developed my first addiction - to Starbucks' Oat Bars - and I discovered exactly how I like my coffee - slightly Starbucks-burnt, with loads of sugar and cream, an indulgence. I proved myself to another employer, and this was a major corporation too. I had the first group - my Chapterites - that I really felt I belonged to, and I made others fit into it too. I talked openly with friends and strangers about religion and decided to start my own. I decided for the first time that I was going to have a career as a prophet, professing my philosophy for life on the streets of Vancouver (I never actually did that). And I rollerbladed, not for the first time, but a lot! It was my first HSBC Celebration of Lights (and I ditched work for the first time to go watch it...and then go to a friend's birthday party). I had my first flaky roommate, and she took me to my first CD Release party. It was the first time I heard hick hop! I explored Main Street for the first time...and discovered my all-time favourite cafe - JJ Bean - if only because they make the BEST Americano....oh, I would donate a kidney right now to sit there and enjoy one tonight! And that was also the first summer I came to terms with my asthma and decided to stop using it as an excuse. It was the first summer that I actually believed that I had asthma, and it wasn't just made up when I was little. It was the first time I had a minor mental breakdown, not a "real" one, 'cause one of my friends did instead so I shouldn't steal that from him. It was the first time I actually couldn't breathe because of my asthma. That was the summer that I realized that it's stress-induced. And that was the first time I had my heart-broken.

I moved on, I got better. I'm no longer the little young innocent, but instead the wiser, crazier friend in the group. I learned how to cope with the asthma and how to reduce the stress. And that was a biggie. I needed to feel in control of my life, and I wasn't at the time. I needed to have some structure and feel like I could get things done. So I began planning my days out - by half-hour sections. And this was what caught my attention tonight and let me back to that summer.

I have turned "routine" into something that I need. But there are so many things in this world that interrupt that routine, and life is always changing in a way that the routines I often try to create never work out as they should. Two months ago, my belief in the necessity of routine was cracked by a single cup of coffee with a friend who was leaving shortly. At first, I felt bad 'cause I knew it would only happen this once. But then, I relaxed because it was still a really nice treat. It improved my day, but I didn't need it to have happened to have had a great day anyways. It could never happen again, and that was ok. Sometimes all we need is one chance meeting for our lives to be improved by the people we meet along the path of life. And I've forgotten about that.

The fall after my first summer in Vancouver, I met a man on a bus. (That summer before I had met another man on a bus, and met my first stalker....which was interesting in its own way, but I'm glad I wasn't drunk enough to actually have gone to his house to use his phone to call my flaky roommate to come get me 'cause I was lost. Yet another crazy story from that summer!) I had been stuck in a lirbary all day and felt like crap - like I was getting nowhere. But this man cheered me up right away by talking to me about life, spirituality and growing up on the prairies. He was so enthusiastic about everything that after the twenty-five minute bus ride to work, talking to him, I was a completely different person. One month later, during Christmas Rush, he walked into Chapters and we exchanged numbers. The week I returned home from Christmas, we met up and he gave me a present. Every few weeks after that I received a call from him, when he was in town shooting a movie or something. Six months later he stopped calling, and I was relieved. The chance meetings were good, but the erratic routine was disruptive to my life, especially without caller id.

A year ago, I began my "vagabond existence," but I still hold onto the ideas of routine. In order for this to work, though, that is the first thing that needs to go. And not the day-to-day things like brushing my teeth before running to the buses. Those routines are fine. It's the routines like writing in Costa for three hours in the morning before retiring to the library on my one day off (I think my new routine of the gym Sat ams is WAY better for me). And the routines that involve other people. I need to stop relying on others for my routines to work, especially if I struggle to find serenity without my routines.

It comes down to the same reason why I started the routines. I needed to know that I could do it. I needed to know that I could achieve short-term goals. I forgot about the long-term ones because I've never been good with dealing with the long-distance future. I needed to know that I was achieving something in this life, and it was nice if I did that every week.

The point of a vagabond, though, is that everything is different. Things are always changing, even ourselves. But tonight I had another revelation. I was thinking about my future again and I saw this music video: "New Soul." And I want to be the girl in that video. I want to have my own apartment and move in my own stuff. I want to have a clean slate and create what I want there to be on it. Does that mean that I'm ready for my next adventure? No, not really. I still don't want to leave this one. But I see where I want to be a little more clearly now. And I think I'll get close to that by fall 2009. In the meantime, I'll start following La Agrada's advice and become more authentic the more I become the person I imagined myself to be.

I'm not the girl I was four years ago - none of us are. I'm stronger now, I'm wiser now, and I have a better understanding of who I want to be in this world. I knew that woman three months ago...but she got lost in the routine. That's ok, it happens, and I need to forgive myself for that. Well, I'm not sorry it happened. I am sorry if anybody else got hurt in the process, but I think they'll get over it too. There is no such thing as regret, just past experiences that we learn from. Sometimes we can do it in a few weeks, and sometimes it takes years. The beauty of life is that we never know until one day it hits us. Then we can take a stroll down memory lane and remember the person we used to be, while dreaming of the one we aspire to become.