10 years? Fuck

[thebitterguy]

Okay. Ten years ago.

You're probably not gonna care about this, so go checkout show_your_boobs or something until I'm done.

Yeah, so. Ten year anniversaries are tough. Because, you know, that's how many years you have on your hands in fingers, unless you're a high school gym teacher or some kind of flipper baby or something.

Anyway. Ten years ago, I'd just been politely requested by Carleton's administration to not take up that space and please, come back in a couple years. I'd applied to Algonquin, and gotten in for the test (I was #3 to get in; they had two spaces open up).

So, there I was. Stranded in my Parents Basement.

Amusingly enough, it didn't suck. I did some writing (although the crushing disappointment of being denied the chance to do Golden Age of Champions still stung), but it was all crap. Good enough that hard drive imploded.

What did happen that year was I got to meet a few very good friends (and a few creeps. I'm looking at Jeff, folks, not tall n' skinny n' beardy).

I discovered the proto net that was FidoNet and the BBS universe. And New Dimensions (of the people I knew then, I know exactly three right now; RickJ is, thankfully, not the same one, although I stalked him for a while back then).

Ten years is a lot of time to go by. Met a LOT of people since then. Buried a half dozen publications (one before I could even START).

But ten years ago seems so ancient. And I'm feeling old. There's the whole 'potential squandered thingy floating in front of my eyes.

...

Fuck that shit.

Look, while we can't all be annoying teenagers like adamjury or mindrobber, I'm starting to get a bit sick of my semi-nostalgic/mostly pathetic whining for 'days gone by'.

Criminy, I was pretty much an idiot in that phase. Hell, I got kicked out of fucking CARLETON (should have studied. Should Have STUDIED). Manage to talk myself out of sweet, hot, passionate lust-making at least twice (and there was some hott there in each case, so it was no act of self-preservation), and continued to let TSB walk over me like a doormat.

Of course, I was in my inter-wrestling stage, not watching anything (it all sucked in the early 90s, didn't it?), and I hadn't discovered Tanya Huff yet (props to msdemandypants for that heads up, btw) and Werewolf was only beginning to come into its own. I did enjoy playing Magic for a while, and The Golden Age was just coming out.

Regrets, while I may have had a few, were then again, too few to mention.

I Did What I Had to Do, and SAW IT THROUGH. Without Exemption.

Now: Well respected member of community that's feared across the world. Master of Groggy Style kung fu. Loving Husband. Good Friend. Perpetually frustrated worker (hell, they've got to promote everyone else who's qualified EVENTUALY!). Wrathful freelancer (fuckin' pwca).

Now, I go to bed. It's ten years later, sure. But I got plenty of time left.

(please, God, don't let this be one of those horribly ironic posts where someone posts tomorrow of how I was decapitated in a traffic accident. I hate irony).

This has been 'dark night of the soul lite'. Please stop looking at the boobs now.