I was listening to an old mixed disc I made years ago, drinking a beer and wading through the boxed remainers of my life until now when I chanced upon a folder from the OAC Writer's Craft course I took nearly half a lifetime ago.
The writing was the same as all the writing I have found so far in my cleaning - touches of skill mixed with touches of pretension muddled with teenage angst and bravado. As Dylan sings, "But I was so much older then / I'm younger than that now".
Anyways, stuffed in the front pocket of this folder was an acceptance letter from York University. I never did take them up on that offer, though I thought of it. Instead, that summer, I worked for the military for a month and a half and then I hitch-hiked to Vancouver (strange travel suggestions are dancing lessons with god - k. vonnegut). I came back, took two morning classes, worked a combination of four jobs and then went to Laurentian the next year.
There's a part of me that wants to fill the forms out and send them in with a note apologizing for the delay and stating that I am ready now. Just to see what they say.