Thursday, March 30, 2006

High Fidelity

I had a great dinner last night with my co-workers. The restaurant was very tacky and had a beach house feel to it, with netting and other trinkets scattered throughout. We had a table for eleven people; the majority were married couples, along with Andrew and myself. There was a lot of talk about weddings, children, and couple stories; to be honest I was a bit turned off from some of the conversations.

The food was amazing. I had a seafood medley of halibut, salmon, clams, and shrimp, along with vegetables. We were sitting at a long table and our window looked into the ocean. Sometimes throughout the night I would keep staring out there, wishing that I was out in a kayaking and not having to deal with the straight world around me. I feel rather disconnected. I feel as if my "culture" doesn't allow me to enjoy the same things. It would be difficult to bring a boyfriend who was monogamous, and who wanted children, and would be perfectly dedicated to myself and our life together. Maybe I'm just jaded or cynical...

The people around me are loving and caring. All ten of them are special in some way or another, and I am glad to know them. If I thought that a small town, depressed, closeted Newfoundlander, would be sitting at a five star restaurant eating a three course meal with significant and accomplished people, well, I guess I would have frowned at the idea. It's so beyond what my previous life was. That life, which I haven't visited in a number of years, is always in the back of my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if I have even imagined it... No, I know it's still there to some degree, and I think coming back to it will be a bit of a culture shock. I'm sure I have changed a lot, but it will not as noticeable as when I am actually back in my hometown.

I planned a trip, you know. I planned it, saved time, and was excited. It never works out, and I wonder if I'm wasting my time visiting a family that has enough problems without me. I feel as if I have pushed my family away from me, and forced myself to forget.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Gone to Earth


Tonight was very interesting. My gym friend Steve called me (also my next door neighbor) and asked me to head over. We went out to the temple along with Mickey and had a few drinks. I find it intriguing to meet some new people, and get their perspectives outside of the bar environment.

It's not so bad. As of four years ago, I would say everyone was cold and clicky, but it's really not the case. We are not different, no better, no worse. We are all thinking, reactive, and philosophical individuals.

I talked to Russ. He was quite drunk but insinuated there are some feelings still between us. I think I disagree, and it's not because I'm writing in this more visible environment. I tried, I learned, and I have realized that he has to loosen up and work on himself before he could accept others. The only thing I want out of it is a friendship...which could take years because our two personality types.

He actually said something that struck a chord though, I am more guarded than himself...I think he is right. I mean, I didn't invite him over, I am anal, I am uptight, and maybe we aren't that much different. Fuck, I'm fucked up like Russ!

I guess I have to invite him over now. I am not sure how, or what I could do, maybe get him to come over, than we go for a walk? This is far too complicated, but maybe this threw him for a loop when we actually dated. Maybe I don't understand myself at all. I realize there are some things I still have to let go of.

I love what I know about passion,
I love what I know about mercy.
I love what I know about patience,
I love what I know about soul.
And I know you.

I tell all my friends that I'm bound for heaven,
and if it ain't so, ya can't blame me for living.
I know what it's like, and it's worth this misfortune
know what it's like on the other side.
At least 20 years, I have loved one thing only.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

You are not helpless


Two women were at the coffee store tonight. One was probably 15 or 16 in age; the other I assumed to be the mother, dressed in black and smoking cigarettes as if she were dying. Her son, who didn't fit the genetic pattern I was seeing, stood over them, waiting, slurping on his damn coffee drink. From what I could see, the mother ignored him; her daughter was sat down, and the boy, that blond haired boy who actively slurped with little to no remorse, was left standing.

His blue eyes kept gazing upon the two women, demanding attention, almost needing their attention. His eyes were wide and open, and I would almost describe it as amazement, if I didn't already deduce he was very unintelligent.

The questions started. "Mom, how much money do you have?” The intensity of his eyes is overwhelming. He is leaning on one leg, and swaying, trying to play up his cuteness, and I am sure he knows how.

The boy is about eight years old, just standing there, and completely obvious to the fact his mother doesn’t have time for him. I regard him much like his mother does: as an inconvenience. I wonder why people produce. What satisfaction could I possible get from a snot nosed, spoiled, and completely confused child? I’d want to play chess with my child, read books together, enjoy documentaries; I have a feeling that it would never work that way.

She barely acknowledges him, and in her stupor replies "I don't have any money left". She is going through her purse searching for her next nicotine fix. Her daughter adds bluntly "You got that right". It reminds me of a made for TV movie, where the beaten down house wife has left her husband and is trying to make it on her own.

I couldn't take anymore. I had to leave and go for a swim, in the murky cool water at the Y. I think they have a senior’s workout class right before lane swimming, and I am sure they all pee in this pool. I am mortified every time a little bit of water gets into my mouth. I can imagine all these old seniors taking turns emptying their bladders into the pool. I know if I were over 50 and had a tired body, I certainly wouldn't go to the washroom to whiz.

The life girl at the pool was flirting with me. I mean, I am not egotistical, nor to I think people find me attractive, but she kept smiling at me. After I swam for sometime she approaches me and asks what my tattoo meant. I have three mandarin symbols on my arm; I tell her phoenix, and this lead into an array of other topics including spirituality, her brother, and other overly excessive things. I just wanted to get away. I pop on my goggles as we talk to hint that I'm ready to swim again, but she dismisses the hint.

I leave. On the way out, she is by the door to say goodbye. I mumble the same and take off. Now, the showers at the Y are quite scary at times. There are men who shower for long periods of time; some I know are gay, others I can only assume are also. I am pretty sure that this guy in the shower was doing just that! I just want to clean myself, but for some reason he thinks I'm interested in more. I blatently make avoidance the top priority, not only refusing to acknowledge his staring, but I have also turned my body so that he cannot see me front on.

I think the world is making me uncomfortable. Everywhere I go there are violations. It would be nice to be able to just say 'fuck off'. I think I’m easy going, but there are so many triggers and situations that I seem to run into, when all I want is to exist in my own space. I think living in a city will never give you that privacy unless you either shelter yourself, or find places where people tend not to congregate.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Sometimes the days are wonderful


Sometimes I wonder how long I could sit down and pay attention to nothing. I am completely absolved to the things around me, relentlessly stopping my mind, and shunning my vision. To mediate, and find nothingness; the quiet we all seek and yearn for, lost and found throughout the ages.

What brought this on you ask? I walked home Friday morning, after heading out with friends for St. Patrick’s Day. I walked for about an hour, five o'clock in the morning, from the Gorge to my home off of Fort Street.

The sky was starting to shift from night to day along the way. The birds have started to sing, and I hear tunes around me. They communicate so freely without regard of the predators that are ready to swoop down on them. The city protects them; they are less concerned about being hunted. All their instincts have adapted, and now they are more resourceful and cunning. Slowly, the one bird chirping turns into two, than more. They are basking in the morning silence, where traffic and people haven't had the chance to destroy their songs.

I see the homeless people - who are deemed invisible for some - waking, already conscious, and taking in their cold suffering. I can do nothing but harden my soul this early in the morning, the realizations and concrete visual stimuli of their lives was far too much.

One lady in particular is wrapped in sweaters and a make shift home on one of the corners along the way. She is serene and almost dead-like, wrapped in an orange sleeping bag that is completely engulfing her body. She is wrapped so tightly that I even wonder if air could get through that barrier. I pass by smelling the stench of urine, and the tangles of debris littered throughout the streets. I wonder what happened to her. How did she come to live such a life? Most happen upon this life because of their upbringings. It's too sad to even think of.

As I approach the Mac's store which is open all night long on Douglas, I see the normal group of homeless. One girl, barely out of her teens is fully clad like a street hooker. She is surrounded by a group of guys - some native, some white, all working the streets looking for their next victim. Another kid, on an old BMX bike, meant for a child, is short in stature and has the face of a defeated life. She can do nothing but gawk at me, and wonder the same things in return. The sight of seeing a man, dressed in green, with his girlfriend’s highly effeminate green scarf, wrapped tightly around him...who is this man walking so early in the morning? I am one of them; I know I am someone who they can’t relate to; nothing to them but spare change and fear.

I get the normal offers to buy marijuana and other fixes. Politely declining I continue my trek. The birds are chirping in full force, and as I look to the skies to see them, I notice the sun starting to make its progress. There is a limited array of clouds, and they are sparsely seeded in this vast puzzle. The purplish and lightly colored horizon is pure bliss; my soul can only be moved when I look upon it.

It all seems so different when you're walking utterly alone in silence; no traffic, no noise. My eyes scan the sky looking for something familiar; grasping to find this one thing that I know is out there somewhere, to find a familiar pattern in this maze of complexity. This in itself had far more meaningful that anything else I encounter on this day.

My pace has picked up. It's as if my legs are on fire, I can feel no pain, the cold has stricken me, and I can only wonder how the homeless feel. Ahead, another street kid walking with a gait, and dressed in white; pant and coat together white. His face his pocked and he is no doubt a Meth user even though if you asked him he would tell me he has skin problems. There are headphones on his head, over-sized and blaring with some foreign music. He spots me.

"Dude, wanna rob a liquor store with me?” and I am shocked. Am I to be confused with one of them? Is my attire "homeless drag", am I not accomplishing the remedial task of dressing and conforming to this society I live in? Am I failing? "No thanks man, take care of yourself ok", eying him, searching for something more.

I want to glimpse into their souls. It will be beautiful in its own right, but sad. I can't fix things that are broken, and to try is only to remind myself more and more of their suffering. And I am reminded of the things that have condemned them to this life. I am reminded of the ones I have known on a personal level. The ones who tell me how rough it was, how much they suffered, yet don't we all? What is the breaking point really that would send you spiraling towards hell - and I can assure you, this is a worldly hell.

I too have had my problems, and I know many others, yet we have dealt with it differently. I push the other way, I push to be able to live and survive, and shed my insecurities and hurts. I pushed. I only wish they could push as hard but it's too late.

The final hill was great. I climbed it, knowing full well, the top of the hill waits. My friends stunning home is to the left of me, it's an old three story Victorian home, and his lights are on. I'm assuming he went home and passed out without regard to turning off his lights.

To be wasteful is bliss, and really in our self-centered worlds - one person doesn't make a difference. One person can turn on every light in his home, start up the stove, play the radio, watch television at the same time, and turn up the heat; only to shrug it off and not acknowledge the environmental damage he is doing. Hell in a hand basket my friends. We're not changing. I thought we were... I thought that we were on the brink of an irreversible global warming, but I don't see anyone doing anything about it.

I will be home, warm again; surrounded by the things I know. I have a home. I have something to come home to, and feel at peace. They don't! They probably never will, and all we can do is turn a blind eye, and hope we never make a formidable connection to them. Never to make a human connection for fear of approaching emotions like guilt, sorrow, and loss. I even fear it, but I'm not that cold.

Make the effort to say hello. Listen to their delusional rants. Make the effort to at least care enough to treat them like the children of God. For they are no different that you and I, just a little more lost, a little more defeated. Need I remind you that you are defeat also; you have just handled it better. I always make an effort to bless them and wish them a good life, or hand out extra change or food, and the response I get is wonderful. They are happy to be acknowledged; they are almost tearful with happiness, and so am I.

When I get home, I do nothing but forget about it all, until it's time to bed, and the thoughts stagger into my mind. The events of the week come back to be, and I adjust, and examine, and am happy doing so. The days are never bad, just insightful; wonderfully spiritual sometimes.

Sometimes the days are wonderful.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Mine alone


I live on Vancouver Island, in Victoria, BC, alone. I have a silver laced bicycle, a cool looking lamp, and a number of insignificant materialistic items. It's my home now, and I cannot go back to my roots, I cannot put myself in that situation again.

Art, it's everywhere; something I cannot avoid. I hang the pieces throughout my small apartment. Three are grand in size and from an Artist in Victoria, three - the same applies, and the rest a just from random strolls and wanderings. Sometimes, I think it's the only think that keeps me sane when I sit at home relaxing.

It's unusual to come home at night; briefly and subconsciously searching for a place to lose everything on me, including clothes and such, and even my mind at times. Turning on one dim light, and sinking into restfulness after a weekend out. My mind sometimes races, I have troubles just sitting down and being. It's something I cannot muster the strength to master. The blood - my upbringing more importantly - ensured that idle hands accomplish nothing. It's not that I have issues relaxing, it's that Newfoundlander's always have to be doing something! Ask around, because it's every Newfie I ever met, and then some.

The people I meet are interesting. I enjoying going out on my own, being the lone ranger, and just encountering the people around me. There is so much uniqueness, many people who can offer so many different viewpoints and lives experienced. Sometimes, I get jealous, thinking 'why can't I settle into some sort of permanent group of friends?' - some people are just destined to do things differently, I'm guessing.

It feels like there have been safer days. I don't fall, and when I do, it's an epic event. I have fallen before, and am glad I don't think I will be falling anytime soon. The trick is to be weary, careful, and watch and do only when you're sure...only when you know they can't touch you in some meaningful way that changes everything you are. The everything I am, is completed right now, but it's not ready to invite someone in to turn my life upside down. Why do I always sink into this relentless pattern of thought? Is it telling me something? Is this the right path?
Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down, splintered down and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountains split.

I wake in a god. I wake in arms holding my quilt, holding me as best they can inside my quilt.

Someone is kissing me - already. I wake, I cry "Oh," I rise from the pillow. Why should I open my eyes?

I open my eyes. The god lifts from the water. His head fills the bay. He is Puget Sound, the Pacific; his breasts rises from pastures; his fingers are firs; islands slide wet down his shoulders. Islands slip blue from his shoulders and
glide over the water, the empty lighted water like a stage.

Today's god rises, his long eyes flecked in clouds. He flings his
arms, spreading colors; he arches, cupping sky in his belly; he vaults, vaulting and spread, holding all and spread on me like skin.

- Annie Dillard

Friday, March 17, 2006

God sometimes you just don't come through

I had to switch mice today. My right hand is numb and throbbing with pain...hmmm, it's either carpal tunnel syndrome which I have had in the past, or it's just poor ergonomics on my part. Luckily, I'm freak enough to be able to switch hands when using the mouse. It's a seamless transition and it's as if I haven't had to comprise my motor skills in anyway. Wow, I really do sound like a lame computer nerd.

Well, it's St. Patrick’s Day today. Traditionally, it is a very important day in Newfoundland. The streets, clubs and such would be packed with Irish/Scottish Mutts from all over the province, along with the wannabe's...hehe; you guys know who you are. Personally, I can stake a claim to my heritage since I am a black Irish English mix with a nice coat and fair complexion. The black Irish tend to have cool blue eyes, along with dark features and an identifiable look. Our eyes are usually squinted, and we are shorter in stature. Regardless, I came from an extremely good looking family on my mother’s side...I sometimes wonder why I wasn't as blessed. I mean, I do well, but if you could see some of my mother’s sisters - they are models minus the height issues.

This reminds me, America’s next top model this season is rocking. I know, I know, I have shed the evils of television, but I do download this program and watch it. I mean what more do you want out of a television show? There is Tyra Banks, the undisputed queen entrepreneurial conquests along with 13 women who will suck up and expand her ago into another realm of consciousness altogether.

Sometimes I wonder if this is it, you know, is this all I am getting out of life. I want to just pick up one day – not the near future – and just disappear completely. Travel the world and meet interesting people who may leave a lasting impact on me. I want to taste different foods and people. Photograph the images I see in National Geographic magazines and GQ. I want more. There is this desire, this fire that is so strong at times; it dampens everything else around me. I think one day it will happen. Either that, or I have to do sometime completely unconventional of a Capricorn like re-education. I know the main person holding me back right now is me. Nothing more, there are no excuses.

Looks like my other wrist is also going numb…

I want it now

it's bugging me, grating me
and twisting me around
yeah i'm endlessly caving in
and turning inside out

'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
and i'm breaking out
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control

its holding me, morphing me
and forcing me to strive
to be endlessly cold within
and dreaming i'm alive

'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
i'm not breaking down
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control

and i want you now
i want you now
i'll feel my heart implode
i'm breaking out
escaping now
feeling my faith erode

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

All the trees will clap their hands

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
And mine is about as good this far.
And I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

And I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
And will I be invited to the sound?
And will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you

Guilt...

How do we live with our guilt? Our knowing that we have did something wrong. Our knowing that if we sin, we cannot just shred the mistake. It has to hold us, consume us until we resolve it in someway. I am guilty about my last entry. I am guilty of contributing to a sin, that when I think about it, is wrong. I am guilty of lust. I have allowed another person to commit an act that is considered a sin. Now, it's eating me up inside.

Healthy, useful guilt is the feeling we have when we do something we rationally judge to be morally wrong or unfair. Just having the thought or urge to do something bad can cause guilt. That's good if it keeps us from doing something inconsiderate. Healthy guilt is our reasonable, fair conscience. But there is unhealthy guilt too. That is when we establish unreasonable standards for ourselves, i.e. we expect perfection, we want to accomplish the impossible, we feel responsible for misfortunes in other people's lives, we believe we are "good" only if we faithfully follow all the rules and do more than our duty. The unhealthy guilt does not allow for mistakes; we expect too much from ourselves and others.

Both guilt and social pressure are vitally important: they are of help in controlling "the beast within"--our greed, anger, and lust. They also help us fulfill our responsibilities--our work, studies, care and concern for others, taxes, show of love, etc. Our guilty conscience is vital in helping us be good. On the negative side, a guilty conscience can change our social lives, dampen our enjoyment of life, cause fears and worries, and create a heavy load to carry emotionally.

These people...these people, like the man two nights ago, has little to no remorse. We talked the next night, and he said he was no longer guilty, and at the same time was searching for another. I'm thinking this is wrong! It scares me to think that so many people live this double life. One of my problems right now, is that experiences like this are jading me. I know, I put myself in these sitations...but the world around me, or the world I am getting to know through others, is a vial, greedy, and lustful one. I think I need better avenues! One more reason why I should completely seperate myself from this scene. It's dark and distrubing...

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

It's alright bi


I miss the days when you were in my world
It seems like it was a lifetime ago
We said our goodbye with tears,
and promised to not let the years get away
but that's something you just have to say

In my pain...
is where I tattooed your name
was it a dream
was it a dream

I wonder what you must think about me.

Fuck. I hate this. I hate writing about happiness when there is a catch. I met a guy last night who is from Montreal and is here on business for a night. He's married to a woman, has a child, and is bisexual and more interested in men. When I met him, right away there was an instant attraction, and I would say he is one of the most handsome men I have had the chance to be with. Yes, you heard it right, I was with him...I couldn't resist...and my reasoning being, if it wasn't me he would have found someone else.

I did contribute to his cheating...sigh. I feel bad about it, but he was such a great guy and we really hit it off. We were comfortable with each other, that's got to mean something. He told me that he couldn't see himself ever falling for a guy though, and that friendship and whatever else is all he wants. Maybe he is in denial? I don't know, but I understand why he would have to tell himself that. He did admit he is far more attracted to men...so I think he is just copping out, he could definately fall for a guy. I slept over!

That was my night. I have to head to work now. We are having so many issues right now, and I have to hold down the fort. It's fun being busy, but at the same time there is a lot of stress with little to no recognition...I can't even remember the last time raise was mentioned. This leads me to believe I'm not doing a good enough job...I have no idea how I am perceived anymore.

UPDATE: Work has calmed down. The fires are put out.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Your hair is coxcomb red, your eyes are viper black

We are adrift in this microcosm, serving in and out of the realities that serve as grounds to keep us centered. Our universe is our daily activities, our passions...what we do defines us and the world we hold sacred. We are lucky to be Canadian. Lucky to have decent wages, a government - although corrupt - is a government that pushes for social standards. There are large portions of the world that don't have it as easy. I question why I am placed in white suburban Canada at times, when there is so much more.

Outside, it's raining. I wouldn't describe it as being a small amount of rain, we are experiencing a downpour. After a long and wet winter, I just want it to be over. I want to feel the warm of the day, to be able to take a walk without worrying if the weather pattern will change in an instant. I miss short sleeve shirts, casual shorts, coffees outside with friends. When will it change?

My friend is headed to Hawaii in a few weeks. Bastard! I'm saving up enough vacation time to do something decent; although inevitably I think Newfoundland will pull be back. I mean, yeah I miss my fucked up family, and it's been a couple of years; unfortunately, I don't think they will ever visit me, so it's time to clean up my stubborn act and admit defeat. I have been playing the 'who visits who game', and to be honest, I don't think I would ever see my family again unless I make an effort to go back - all expenses on me of course, that way everyone wins except for me. The more I think about it, the more I don't want to do it. I could be basking in Spain, surrounded by local hotties, and drinking whatever it is they drink for a lower cost…the plane ticket alone would cover a trip to Europe including hotel accommodations and meals. Hmmm….maybe I'll use that as a bargaining device.

I'm wondering. what would you do if you were in my situation? I thought about also getting a compromise, for instance, have my rich father fork over half the cost of the ticket, that way I have extra cash to spend in Newfoundland, and would be able to shop and hit the night scene in St. John's - note I will be going to St. Johns, I don't care how much my family complains.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

To be or not to be...

Existence.

Plain, boring, utterances, nuisances, predictability, zeal, accomplishment, to strive for nothing and everything...

I am grateful to exist, you know. There is something to be said about someone who can take a serious look at their life and be satisfied; to know that the decisions made, we're in fact the right ones. I'm not saying my life is perfect, but given the environment I grew up in, the choices I've made, the genetics I have had to deal with, it's pretty damned good.

I have a date on Friday. I haven't met this guy yet but we have been talking online, I have seen pictures of him, and have seen him on his cam, and heard his voice over the phone. He seems nice. I mean he seems like someone I would be attracted too and enjoy spending time with. I don't know. I'm such a critical person; both critical of myself and of the people I meet. I fear that because I have shaved my head, he may not find me as attractive. Or, I may not lead into a facainating conversation on our date and it could become dull fast. I may not tell enough jokes, or smile. I hardly ever get nervous, nor do I have issues with comfort zones, but blind dates always make me nervous.

I have a presentation tomorrow, highlighting how to present. I’m going to be judged and critiqued and I have to find a way to make it creative. First, I have to find out what I’m presenting about…it can be anything I think, and not necessarily related to technological knowledge. The presentation itself will not make me nervous, it will be the content, and finding out how to really interest people and use the skills I have learnt previous.