Regrets; I’ve had a few – then again, too few to mention.

It’s a nice theory, except this is the internet and therefore I mention everything because I just don’t have the sense to keep things to myself once in a while. With that in mind, let’s talk about regrets.

Personally, I try not to regret things. It just makes for a big headache and a lot of wistful rainy afternoons, the kind they make Hallmark commercials about. Still, it’s hard to go through life without having ANY regrets, even if they’re as insignificant as wishing you had gone with the soup of the day instead of the baked potato at last night’s dinner. I’m really hard-pressed to regret even the major things like not going to university, because that would change where and who I am today – things I’m quite comfortable with, thank you very much. Sure, maybe a university education would have led me to be making more than two chickens today (highly doubtful since I would have gone into the Creative Writing program at UVic – if anything, I’d be making a chicken and a half less), but what sense is there regretting that I never did get to do dormitory life and have all those sexy 90210-style adventures? I got to do a whole range of other things I wouldn’t have been able to do because I was stuck in university, so it all evens out in the end (although I’m still totally open to having sexy adventures – any takers?).

Even though I have a sunny outlook on life and am generally pretty happy with how I turned out, I do have one huge regret that hangs over my life like a pregnant cloud of soggy doom. It’s been 13 years, and I still feel a pang when I think about it.

One of my favourite bands of all time is a ska band from Montreal called Me Mom & Morgentaler. I’ve been infatuated with them for years; their album Shiva Space Machine has been on my Desert Island List since day one. I heart them, a lot. I haul out the CDs a few times a year and get my early 90’s groove on; it’s one of those things that Ed totally doesn’t understand but knows not to fight.

In 1994, they played a show in Victoria. I was going to go – I was of legal age, the show wasn’t sold out, and I had a way to get to and from the venue. Except .. I didn’t go. No real reason; I could have easily gone by myself (I couldn’t find anyone to come with me) and had an excellent time, but at that time I didn’t really have the confidence to go to bars or clubs by myself (she says, like she has the confidence NOW or something). I chickened out, okay. I passed on seeing my favourite band play live because I was too scared to go to the bar myself. I managed to convince myself that they’d be back, and next time I would absolutely go see them play and have an excellent time doing so.

The band broke up two months later.

I’ve regretted not going to that show ever since, to the point of *forcing* myself outside to see concerts because if I don’t, I just know the group will break up the following week and I’ll never see them again. It’s happened once, so I’m not just being paranoid. Don’t let this happen to you – go to shows whenever you can! Pay the outrageous Ticket Bastard “convenience” charges! Don’t live a life of regret like I have! It’s not too late!

Oh, Me Mom& Morgentaler. How I wish I didn’t do you wrong by not attending that show in Victoria all those many years ago. Now I have nothing but your CDs, that awesome poster Mike stole for me from the record shop, and a whole lot of bitter regret in my heart. Damn you, Kimli of yore!

What do you regret?