Memory Lane

It's funny how subtle things can bring memories... or at least fuzzy, vague recollections, trickling back into the foreground.

I'm not exaggerating when I say I have few clear memories of my life before leaving Grande Prairie. It's not much of a stretch for me to claim that I only really ever became a whole person once the last vestiges of that place were stripped from me and I stepped out into the world anew. This isn't to say I'm the best at the social interaction thing as it is. I can see from my relationships now that I still carry some of the baggage of what was, easily, the worst way I can imagine anyone having to grow up barring famine or warfare.

Thanks to the all-powerful Facebook, it so happens that I'm reliving some of the ... _less_ pleasant parts of my life so far, albeit with only one clear memory to act as an avatar of all of the unpleasantness.

This might sound funny, if you weren't the one to whom it happened, and moreover the one that doesn't really remember anyone caring or anything like that, and on at least some levels I find it funny myself.

This one time, at swim club...

Heh. No, wrong tone... too pop-culture.

It's pretty simple, really. I wasn't friends, to speak of, with any of the Piranhas. I was shy, awkward, and had the most amazing crush on at least two of them, which only exacerbated any and all awkwardness I had (and I had a _lot_ of it). I was, then as now, stubborn, and ill-disposed to let insults pass, and during one heated argument in the shower with one Michael O'Connor, the bugger actually **pissed** on me.

That experience sums up my life up to college in a nutshell.

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