As of this moment, there are six completed volumes in the story of my life.  The first is the least important; it is where I was born, what kind of child I was, what happened to me to make me the way I am; it is filled with dark and/or unpleasant things that I’d rather not re-visit or consider.  But it contains details that the reader should keep in mind for later.  For the other five volumes, the ones that encompass the past five years of my life in Edmonton, Alberta.  The events — the Oilers 2006 playoff run, my first time travelling outside of Canada without my parents, seeing Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, Bob Dylan, David Gray, Gordon Lightfoot and so on and so on and so on in concert.  My first film studies lecture.  My last film studies lecture.  My first floor meeting.  The first time I sang karaoke.  The first time I lost control of my drinking.  My very first creative writing class.  My very last creative writing class.  The day I handed in my stupid Abloy keys.   My first kiss.  My first real apartment.  The first time I took the wrong bus.  These are the events that matter.  These events are all contained in the last five volumes of my life.  Now those five are completed.  And the supposed ‘real’ volumes are supposed to begin.

I’m so happy right now.  Just so damn happy.

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