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Real Art

I am here to explain a story and I’m trying to explain it the best way I can so the beginning seemed like a good place to start. Let’s rewind to my first year of university. Do you want to learn the real me from the beginning? Well, if you don’t, why did you pick up this book? Sorry, please don’t close the book. Just let me tell my story. After, you can throw it in the fire if you still want to.

All my friends were leaving the city to go to such places as Guelph, Kingston, and London. London, Ontario, not England and no one seemed to be staying in the city and it kind of sucked. So I thought if everyone was moving away from their hometown, I would move away too. I applied to all the universities my friends got into just in case I could make it, but none of them accepted me. Their requirements were too high. Well, too high for me. I was your average seventy-five percent student, not some eighty-five percent genius. And that’s what all these schools wanted. So I applied outside of Ontario. I applied to such places as Alberta, British Columbia, Montréal, and Nova Scotia just to see if this eighty-five percent requirement was a provincial thing, strictly Ontario. Nope, it was Canada wide. But lucky for me, U.O.K. (University of Kelowna) was a small university and accepted me. Actually U.B.C.O., which stands for University of British Columbia Okanagan (you know, basically U.B.C.’s reject campus), also accepted me but I thought U.O.K. sounded funny and no one wants to go to a university’s reject campus anyway. That name U.O.K. would become much funnier later so I guess you could call this foreshadow of humour. Like I wrote before, I’m not a writer.

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