My first blog post was published on May 13, 2000. It all started with:
I don’t write like this anymore. For the first year, I couldn’t type the word “you” in its entirety, which never made sense because I’ve always been an exceptionally fast typist. It was not a time-saving strategy. I was being a Millennial back when Millennials were the young generation.
I posted 12 more times that month, some posts were a single, short paragraph. I kept it short and sweet, sometimes too literally, such as when I scanned Lucky Charms marshmallows.
Three and a half years go, I knitted my first scarf. Since then, I have knitted four toques. I nearly finished a fifth in the time it took to drive from Montréal to Vancouver, but when I got to the stitch decreases for the crown, I decided my handiwork was a waste of fancy yarn and unravelled the whole thing.
I’ve started something new, but it is not going well. Reading a knitting pattern is a skill I have yet to master. It goes something like this:
1: K1, P2, K2, K1togbl2, *K2, P2; rep from * across, end K2.
2: K1below, P3
3: Alternate between rows 1 and 2, until you realize that you’ve spent hours doing the wrong thing, and clench your jaw so hard in anger that your teeth shatter.
In 2002, a deaf friend came for a visit and stayed with me in Vancouver. During that time, the roll of film that I had dropped off at the drugstore a few days earlier had been printed and was ready for pick-up. (The excitement of seeing your photo prints has been taken from us since the popularization of digital cameras.) I wasted no time and dragged my guest to the drugstore. We sat on the curb out front to look through the photos, but before I opened the envelope, I warned her that the images were not for the faint of heart.
She’s one my best friends. Surely she’d approach this with an open mind, I thought.
Prelude: I’m happy to report in the last 11 years I’ve learned to go easy on the run-on sentences and apply my makeup with a light hand. I routinely break 300 points in a real game of Scrabble. My fridge is still a Moffat.
Preface: The BC Experience was a short-lived tourist attraction in Victoria’s historic Crystal Garden building. The exhibition shut down before my friends and I had the chance to reschedule our plan to visit it.
I’ll also note that I currently work at the very place I used to clean, which is mentioned in the following throwback post:
While writing my last post, I skimmed through my Flickr archives, which contains about 10,000 photos. Many have been set as private, not because they’re scandalous, but because a good chunk of them are completely mundane photos that nobody wants to see. I shared some of the more amusing ones with Yann, who remarked that it was strange how I had a vast collection of snapshots of ordinary things such as a cuppa matcha latte, a box of latex gloves, store-bought apple pie, and an out-of-focus photo of a former co-worker eating charred vegetables.
I’m a pioneer of over-sharing on the internet. This behaviour is now openly embraced through apps like Snapchat or Instagram. I was doing something socially acceptable 10 years earlier than most!
Allow me to take you guys on a mundane stroll down memory lane: