Zero Score and Four Years Ago

I was on Facebook earlier today and noticed that most of my hometown was attending the annual Spring Supper fundraiser for grad.  I guess that means that four years ago I was dishing out food.  (Little did I know that six months from then, I would meet fellow blogger, Dillon.  And I would HATE HIM.  He was such a keener.  He sat in the front row of the most boring class I have ever taken and he turned around and glared at my friends and I whenever we so much as sneezed.  He was truly awful.  But I digress.)

A lot has changed for me in the past four years.  I’d never been out of North America, I lived with my parents and moved every Sunday, I had no idea what I was going to study at university (okay, that still hasn’t changed), I spent most of my days laying on the grossest couch ever in the student lounge, I had two cats instead of one, I didn’t have any tattoos or even pierced ears, and (not to get all heavy on you) my dad was alive.

It’s kind of crazy actually, thinking about myself four years ago.  Some aspects, like the ones I described above, are so different that they seem to belong to someone else’s life.  But there are other things that seem like they could have happened yesterday.  Has it really been four years since I started a rumour at Rumours?  Has it really been four years since my moustache fell off on stage during a play, resulting in a cast-wide laughfest?

Time has a habit of getting away from you without being noticed.  One day you’re in the Funcraft, fishing with your friends, and then you wake up and that day was almost five years ago and you haven’t seen those friends in ages.  One of the benefits of having grown up in a small town is that I was friends with people I probably would never have talked to in other circumstances, but it’s also one of the downfalls because it becomes apparent how hard it is to stay in touch, when your only common ground is in your past.  Now we can never make it past the small talk portion of the conversation.  But other times, with other friends, it’s as if nothing has changed and we fall back into an old pattern, as if four years never happened.  There’s nothing like the Streetdance to make me revert into some weird, previous version of myself.

Because no matter where I go in my life, that girl from four years ago is still inside me.  Maybe it takes a night at Outlaws to bring her out (unfortunately…), but she’s still a part of me.  I’m not so different as I think.  I am the product of my accumulated experiences.

Jazmin