November 30, 2003

more 48 hours

I don't know if adulthood is a line that's crossed as much as it is a path: sometimes a frolic through meadow glades, other times a heavy-hearted trudge through hell and high water.
Even then, getting there is half the fun.
I don't think I've made it to the end, but I can recount a few of the bigger steps I've taken along the way:
Making the decision to skip a grade.
The entrance test for my high school.
The first bus ride to, and first day of high school.
The first month spent sleeping on the couch when I refused to share a room with my sister.
The school trip to Oregon; planning and cooking meals, seeing plays twenty times older than I was, the now-infamous Honk If You Want More Skin bus ride back.
School-based work experience; stabbing myself with a razor - barely missing a vein and a nerve, requiring three stitches, responsible for the scar at the base of my left hand. More work experience; the slow horror of an office job and the agony of being stuck at a desk all day.
Being put in charge of the yearbook: 6 people to work with, 1400 people to satisfy, 5 administrators with whom to fight for the privilege of mercilessly crushing fragile high school egos with a mere caption, carefully placed photo, or misquote.
First actual job.
First beer/joint/smoke ring.
First kiss.
First day at UBC, abandoned in a sea of people.
Finding the AUS; the value of teamwork.
Vomiting profusely at Whistler; the value of finding and respecting limits.
Judging people with Spencer; the value of nonsense and friendship.
Making billboards with Graham; the value of perseverance.
Long talks with Vanessa; realizing that I was an excellent judge of character.
Phone calls to Paige; the value of hope and the element of surprise.
Working at the PNE; knowing that this was something I couldn't do for the rest of my life.
Every minute I spent working on ACF, honing skills I never knew I had, becoming an instant expert on putting up walls whose only purpose was to get vandalised, dealing with angry tour managers (knowing when to call for help), mini donuts and topless bullriders spotted over the shoulder of my mother.
18th birthday and all that came with it.

I still call for my dad if there's a spider larger than a loonie.
My Etch-A-Sketch sees regular use.
I don't know what I want to do with my life.

I'm no adult. There will be a day when I pause and realize that I am (probably while shaving, knowing myself), but until then, I'm happy to remain a traveller.

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