The Equity of Memory

Sorry for the length, but this is what happens when I wait a month between posts: my brain needs to empty it's lint trap, and this comes out so my thoughts can... um... dry better.

In the darkness and cold of this Canadian winter, I have been thinking a lot about my travels last year, if only to distract me from the perpetual blocks of ice that used to be my feet (damn you, poor circulation!). Driving home the other day I realized something interesting about my memories- it's going to be a weird analogy, but bear with me. Like a well renovated home, certain memories seem to have more intrinsic value than others. Obviously this isn't a monetary thing, but in the long term, some events or periods in your life just stick with you more. I'm not talking about traumatic memories or even really seminal moments like a wedding or significant birthday. Looking back at the last eight months, there is very little that stands out in my mind. Even though I am back in my home town with limited funds or social life, I have still had some pretty fun and interesting experiences. But compared to even the most enjoyable things that have happened to me in the last while, it's the banal days of travel that I remember; driving fourteen hours through the Australian Nullabour is not stimulating in the least, with the largest shrub being about waist high and nothing but gas stations to look forward to for 1200km. That sticks with me. The monotonous days behind the counter at the Auski roadhouse, saving money so I could afford to see more of Australia than Perth and the Outback. That sticks with me. Driving 6000km across Canada this fall, sleeping in the van, with several stops along the way to visit friends. This does not stick with me. Why?

When I let my mind drift, the current of my thoughts inevitably bring me to some random day in the first half of 2009. Whether I was wandering the streets in some unremarkable New Zealand town (there are more of these than you would think), or chilling out in some un-named park or roadside turnoff, eating noodles, I can instantly recall the situation, if not the date and exact location. I think this is because during this time, even though I wasn't doing anything particularly noteworthy, and there were ups and downs along the way, there was a very long period where I was consistently really happy. I would wake up (either in my car, my tent, or my hostel bed) and it would be 6 or 7 in the morning and I couldn't sleep anymore because I was so excited to start a new day. It sounds incredibly cheesy to write it down, but it was a very common occurrence for me to stop in my tracks and look around and just be stupefied by how awesome my life was, those "Hell, yeah!" moments. Not to say it's terrible now, but the jubilant appreciation of just existing is missing lately. I think it's this "high on life" feeling that ingrains even the most banal of days I had over there in my memory more keenly than the last few months or anything before that.

Lately I have been feeling this anxiety in my guts that has nothing to do with being semi-unemployed or living in my parents' basement. Even though it's only been eight months, I feel like I am wasting time. Pretty much every year of my life since high school has been dedicated to achieving something I wanted to do. 2001, First year of University (aka learning what life is like outside High Prairie); 2002-2003, recover from cancer; 2004-2008, get a university degree/see what it's like outside of Alberta; 2008-2009, try being a geologist/see what it's like outside of Canada/ see how long I can survive on noodles and jerky. I got back from the Southern Hemisphere in June of 2009 with a few stamps in my passport and a scuba diving license but no direction other than to wait out a recession and make some money. Eight months later and I am in the same position I was in June. No wonder it's all been a haze with no definitive moments. I may be only 26, but I am also already 26. If I keep sitting around waiting for things to happen, then nothing will. There are people who wake up at 40 and finally get it. I think I get it now, and I think I got it when I got over cancer, but sometimes a person forgets. Whether you are 26 or 40, there is never any time to waste. Do what you need to do to be happy. Don't settle or if you do, at least settle for something that doesn't make you regret it later.

-A.