Suprise, I'm cynical again

I want to start by telling you I’m not a writer. I don’t have these dreams of one day making it big, being acclaimed and all. I just want to tell a story and hope that some of you have the time to read it.

I always begin in the same way. It’s always the same way. I talk about where I am, what I’m doing, who I hate. I want it to be different this time. I want to have some glorious idea that I can’t stop writing about. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll ever get to that point.

Mortality is slapping me in the face, taunting me, wanting me to just give him and announce to the world, yes, I will die. I’ll die alright, I have enough habits to ensure it will happen, but before I do, I want there to be some big deal, something that will turns heads and say, “Hey, remember that guy Charlie? You do? Or wow, do you remember the time when…”, as I’m six feet under and smiling at my accomplishments.

I’m not there yet, wherever that is. In fact, I’m still struggling with finding the beginning, the gear that gets the machine in motion. Fuck, sometimes I could just scream out of frustration. It’s the unknown that kills me.

Christmas is approaching and all I can do is bite my lip. I mean, I want to contribute but it goes against all of my core beliefs. I want to be like everyone else and mask my contempt of consumerism but I can’t.

I’ve disappointed a lot people because of it. They call me cheap because I have a hard time conforming to the idea of their Christmas. Instead, I chew on my lip and fill myself with anxiety because I can’t go to malls, I can’t be around the drones of people, and it makes me far too anxious.

The whole time I’m there I think about how sad their lives are and how I never want to be one of them. I think about how fat people can get, how spoiled their children can be, whether or not they washed their hands after going to the washroom; I think about fecal matter and traces of urine on every door handle, every item of food being served, on every snot nosed kid who doesn’t even have the decency to turn away and cough.

And you wonder why I hate the masses?

I’ve even tried shopping online. Oh boy, store after store of needless things. I could just pick anything. I mean, that’s all that way, some expression of monetary love, but I can’t even do that. Everything just looks so bland and I hate it. So yeah, I guess it’s another year of being judged for not ‘giving’.

I have a little nephew and a brother who are the only people I’d really shop for. After talking to dad, I find out my brother already is getting an IPOD Nano and a computer for Christmas. I mean, really… why should I even bother getting him more?

My stomach rolls over just thinking about how many thousand will be spent on him. I don’t think I’d feel good about it, to give him one more thing he can throw into his pile. I hope you can see why I find it all so sickening. So I tell him he already has enough.

Brad, my - insert defination of relationship here - suggested I should get carbon credits for my family members.

You can make a cash donation to reduce carbon emissions and put it in someone else’s name. It sounds like a terrific idea. Only, I know they’ll hate me for it. They would think I’m crazy and tell me what a waste it is and only I will see the irony of it all.

For Christmas this year, I think I’ll help save the planet in my family’s name.

About the other night....

“So it’s like that, eh?”

“All this time together and we just part ways?”, as I search for something more. I try to read the unreadable, decipher something that isn’t there anymore. Find the only thing comfortable in my life all over again.

Today is a new day. I am tired from Hot Yoga, intense foods, great books, and a love for doing too much with so little time. I want to say today is glorious but I’d only be fooling myself. I know that everyone else knows how to read me so well - although I think I’m unreadable. I should take a note to fix that problem.

It’s a new day indeed. The sun is shining through the clouds, the rain; oh the down pour. Anyway, it’s shining dammit and the future is shaping itself all around me. The lush nature of living is becoming apparent and I am more then happy to continue on. I am more then happy to start a new path. I swear.

I asked an important question. What is fourteen divided by two? It’s a simple enough answer; you could even blurt it out if you want. It means a bit more to me. Fourteen divide by two is a number I’m not too happy with. It’s a number I approach with cynicism and doubt. It’s a number that has caused me much grief in the past week or so.

Fourteen divided by two is bullshit. How could you put a time on us? Are we that trivial? Seven days to think about whether or not we will spend the last seven days together?

I think you’ve already made up your mind. I think poking “your friend” in the head the other night didn’t help matters much either. Just for the record though, it wasn’t about you. It was my pride being insulted by an opportunitist.

You have no idea what he did. And if you weren’t there with him, I would have done the same thing. Because? You know me. You know I don’t stand for that sort of bullshit. I wanted a night where I didn’t feel bad, and I wouldn’t stop until I got it.

He added me to his MSN and said I should be his friend for his benefit, ha-ha. So I wouldn’t be uncomfortable when I seen him around. Because he met my friend Tino, and Giles, and you; He felt as if I owed him conviviality? And he wanted to ensure I wouldn't tell my friends what kind of person he really is.

I owe him that because he talked about me for the last eight months to not only you, but a number of other people? I'm trying to see the logic, I really am. Why do I owe him anything? I even asked God. And I quote, "God, please help me understand why I should turn the other cheek? I know Jesus did it, but does this apply to todays age? Does it apply to me, and if so, how will it make me a better person?"

He didn't respond, so I'm assuming he's stumped.

I want to tell you, I owe him nothing. And I had reasons for my behavior. God gave me clearance, and I cannot go against the divine. He's lead me true so far, why go against him now?

I'm sorry that was politically incorrect: Why go against him or her now? I feel better now. Don't tell me I'm selfish. I just included half the population in a mere paragraph...

I was never any good at forgiving. In fact, my parents taught me how to be strong, and how to pick up for yourself, and how I should never let people walk over me. From a very early age, people did walk over me. They taunted me. They made fun of my impediment. They took the joy out of my life and turned a sensitive kid into someone who hated the world around him. Why? Because there was no love around me. I let them walk over me for a very long time until I decided I’d rather be happy and proud of myself.

I don't want to hate anymore. I don't want to have these bad feelings. And sometimes, the only way I can feel good is to take the power back. I have to stand tall. Don't you understand? I have to keep the people who think they can use me and let them know it's unacceptable.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is: it wasn’t you. And I do apologize to you for the events that night. It started by me picking up for you. You didn’t even see that and it's another story all together. I went out of my way to pick up for you.

I don’t feel bad about the situation, though. In fact, I felt pretty good when my friends and I walked home. I was like, “Wow, way to go Charlie. Way to stand up for yourself”. It’s not childish. It’s anger. It’s pride. It’s passion. And it's me missing our friendship. Don’t degrade those emotions and blame it on youth, innocence, or lack of wisdom. It was me living!

I think it made me that much closer to personal self-fulfillment.

So long

Tired but I ain't sleeping
Thinking about some sad affair
And why I should be leaving?
Some of these thoughts only seem to take me outta here
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make

Thinking about tomorrow
Tired from all the time I spare
On what I still believe in
When none of my talk ever seems to get me anywhere
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make

So long bye my friend so long
So long, will it ever happen again?
You know that I've been waiting for you
I've been creating for you, so long
You know the light ain't fading from you
Nothing could save me from you, so long

Tired but I ain't dreaming falling into solid air
And why I must be leaving
Or one of these days I'm gonna pull out all my hair
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make
These habits are so hard to break and they're so easy to make

** 2 weeks divided by 2 equals an eternity

I get it

Sometimes you have to lose everything before you realize what is important. I’m thinking about that now, about how I did lose something so close to me, so comfortable, and now after exhausting myself emotionally and mentally, I get it.

I see my faults. The things I didn’t do right, or the thoughts that I had that were unwholesome and never talked about. I see my shortcomings and I am happy to oblige each and everyone of them. I mean, what’s the point of being human otherwise?

I talked to my ex today. I miss him and I want him to know that I would do anything to have him in my life again. We aren't exactly talking but I know he's there for me and vis-versa. It goes both ways.

I tear up thinking about it. I’m one of those people who are so hard on the outside, but deep down inside, I am as human as anyone else.

I had became what I always hated. All the things I judge, I became. If you want the truth of it, I became that way because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the short period of time I have left – although there is probably is more – and I have been afraid of losing out on an experience or something that could change my life entirely. I try to do, see, experience, and feel as much as possible. I don’t think it will ever be enough and I have to accept it.

I am reminded of the time when I read Tuesdays With Morrie. It’s about an older gentlemen who gets Lou Gehrig’s disease and looks back on his life. A great book although I read it and ridiculed the story the whole way through until the end when he passed. I then cried through the last chapter or so.

Morrie was ok with it ending because he had no regrets. He lived a fulfilled life. He said what he felt, he did what he felt and because of that he had an enriched life surrounded by people who loved him.

The book made me think about whether or not I would react the same way - with no remorse. I feel as if I’d be clawing my way out of the grave. But I'm working on it...

I should have given you a reason to stay.

Songs:Ohia : I've been riding with a ghost

While you was gone you must have done a lot of favors
You've got a whole lot of things I don't think
That you could ever have paid for
While you've been busy crying
About my past mistakes
I've been busy trying to make a change
And now I made a change

I've been riding with the ghost
I've been doing whatever he told me
I've been looking door to door to see
if there was someone who'd hold me
I never met a single one who didn't see through me
None of them could love me if they thought they might lose me
Unless I made a change

See I ain't getting better.
I am only getting behind
I am standing on a crossroad trying to make up my mind
I'm trying to remember how it got so late
Why every night pain comes from a different place
Now something's got to change

I put my foot to the floor
To make up for the miles
I've been losing
See I'm running out of things
I didn't even know I was using
And while you've been busy
Learning how to complain
I've been busy learning
How to make a change
I made it (almost) (again)

I'm not that predictable

It’s that kind of afternoon again, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were sinking every time you left the house, or the office, or wherever it is people congregate.

I do two things this morning. I shake my head because I realize it’s Friday; normally that’s ok, but god, time is whirling around me and passing by so fast that I can only fear that in a year or two: I will be eighty. The second kicker is that I am just realizing this now.

I pack on the layers today. First, jeans, then a t-shirt, a sweater, a scarf, and my black jacket with so many buttons and such a conservative design; one might think I were joining the military or some sort of ah-hoc feminist movement that hasn’t ironed out the “oh, by the way NO MEN ALLOWED” details yet. I am wearing too much black today.

We all need gimmicks.

I hear the muffled sounds of people today, sometimes I have more in-tune with my surroundings, but today I am blissful of my ignorance. I find time passes by quicker when I find something to zone out one. I’m a programmer most of the time so it’s easy to stare into the computer screen, filled with logic and possible areas of improvement, and then focus; minutes turn into hours, then the day is over.

I have these two screens, with various applications opened on them both, music on random, eyes have focused, and my brain constantly churning. Sometimes I find it a bit too bright. Sometimes I wonder how much radiation has passed through my body and whether or not it’s creating or killing the cancers that are at everyone’s backdoor.

I limp out to my car, depending on my knee, or foot, or back, and I may or may not be rushing due to the rain. I may not even think about how life could be so predictable this time of year. Because of the weather you have to compartmentalize your life, otherwise you become listless and susceptible to the ever popular seasonal disorder.

This is how it stands (work is a given Monday to Friday):

Monday is spin class with funny haired guy. It’s insulting I don’t remember his name but he doesn’t know mine either. Besides labels are better when describing strangers to people who may have seen the face but have not caught the name. I think it’s important to label everyone in your world.

Tuesday is gym day. There are far too many hot, straight guys that go to the Y. I need a new gym.

Wednesday is Hot Yoga. After the class I tend to replace a lot of the toxins I have sweat out with new toxins. Then I complain about how Hot Yoga is ruining my back.

Thursday is spin class again. This time it’s with Carey. We all know his name because he’s the only instructor that plays half decent music in the evenings. He’s the reason I started spinning. After the class my roommate and I go grocery shopping and watch America’s Next Top Model. I think after a few years of this show, I am finally getting sick of it. I don’t want to tell Michael for fear I will hurt his feelings. I will still pretend to love it.

Friday is work out day. Then martinis. I worry I am becoming too predictable.

Saturday is Hot Yoga. I tend to go out Saturday nights. It’s one of the few nights were Victoria is alive. I know, I’m getting to old to go out, but hell, I’m single and alive. That’s got to account for something? Please tell me I’m right.

Sunday is open ended and depends on a lot of things.

My life in the winter. I have left the summary of my days rather short. There may be other things happening like a trip away, or baking, or cleaning the toilet. There are a lot of other things I do, but this is a fine example of how things become unsurprising.

I'm fucked

I lost my friend…

What can I say? I can’t communicate. I’m a wreck of a person.

I wish we could dance the same as before, but I don't have it in me anymore

I’m preparing myself for a war.

I woke up this morning to a cold room. My skin is shivering with the thought of getting out of my sheets. I can almost feel my breath. The heaters are off, but not for long. There is a small glimmer of light outside my window, but my optimism fails me as I look out to see the grayness.

“Oh and to be loved”, I sarcastically whisper. “Oh to want glory”. There are no birds singing, none of nature's life scurrying about in the yard.

I frantically put on as many layers as possible before I head to the bathroom. I’m not accustomed to being cold. Well I am, but not in that sense. All the toughness accumulated in my youth has worn off. I have become mush. Weak and livid. Questioning and defiant. I’m looking at the back of my hand again…

And all the while, my God is laughing. I see him in the trees, changing the leaves of the eucalyptus tree in plain site of my window. He’s ravaging the garden, which I once thought was beautiful -- It’s not now, and I wonder if it’s ever been. It’s been depleted by the seasons. By him. Even the bugs can't take anymore of his scrunity.

My neighborhood is waking to the sight of God. He’s shining whatever light he can today into the eyes of his followers. The rest of him is covering the light, in plain sight we see it; a mass of clouds. He’s relentless in his approach. There is no bargaining, nor would I bargain, I have too much pride. I will prove to him I can withstand the onslaught.

He killed my Aunt Rita yesterday and God knows who else.

I understand death but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m assuming she died in her sleep. I have to assume because nobody from my family has had the decency to tell me yet.

She was older and healthy, strong-willed and a caretaker. She died without regret.

The school yard is full of life today. The children are running into the school across from my house. They are clad in winter garb, there arms are flailing with their speed, their anxiousness to get to class on time. The kids range from 5 to 10. Most short, most stupid.

The parents are like zombies. They silently walk with their kid(s), a gait that is almost an acceptance of life lost, their defeatist attitudes, struggling with the lack of freedom and choice. There energy is sad at times. I don’t see the smiles this early in the morning; I see their grief and wanting, and there questioning eyes that sometimes look at me and wondering what my life is like. They are clad in discount clothing, probably from Wal-Mart, because now their looks and physical well-being are overlooked.

“God how I loath denim jackets and bright colored, cottony shirts that just aren't cotton. How I hate the sight of fleece and lulu lemon. This is everything that is wrong with society…”, as I stare at them with disgust. I want to walk up to one of the mothers and slapping and shaking her. “Wake up! The time is now. Free yourself from the clutches of youth. Live again! Make the revolution”. But I can’t. It’s not my life to save.

Oh parents, how I do not envy you. Your protectiveness and self-righteous behaviors that are non to apparent to us lowly beings. Because why? You created life? Pffft. I create life everyday. I change the world around me with a mere sentence and just because I didn’t give birth doesn’t make me any less of a creator. Abomination!

I do appreciate the fact that you have been closer to life then I. I have tasted it, held it, wondering about it…but it’s not for me. I don’t think I can come to terms with it. The fact that, yeah, my life would no longer be focused on myself, and that my fate is now sealed unless a mishap occurred. I can’t give up that easy.

As I wait for my car to warm, and watch the remained of the techno-colored generation that will become the leaders of tomorrow, I get it. I am pledging to be no longer weak. To no longer seek gratification. To whisk myself away from this ungodly pattern of thoughts and free myself from romance.

Breaking up

“I think what you need is a rebound; it would probably speed along the healing processes”, I suggests over some green tea and gin rummy.

I find breaking up hard. You have to see your ex out around, especially if you live in a smaller community, and you have to adapt. It’s strange because you want to move on, but as long as the other person is around, it’s that much harder.

“Why did you have a rebound yet?”, he asks. I know the question well. It’s the sort of question I would ask just to hurt myself, just so I could hear the answer that I envision in my mind. The answer would help me push the other person away.

“No, of course not I answer…” As I shift uneasily in my seat. “I am not even that into sex, and you know how much I detest most gay men.” It’s enough of an answer for him to not press the subject.

“I don’t want anyone right now…”

I like to watch

I watched a mother and her three young kits on Friday night when I staggered home after a night of drinking. It’s amazing. I was in awe of the fact that these beautiful creatures are among us, adapting, in a city of a million plus.

In Vancouver raccoons are apart of the West End. They swim in the ponds that Stanley Park has to offer, they cross streets, they hide in bushes; they could be considered a staple of the downtown area.

They were huddled together with their mother making cooing and chirping noises. I think when a raccoon coos they are content or happy. So knowing they weren’t threatened by me, I slowly make my way toward them to get a better look.

They smaller children are pawing through the wet leaves on the streets, searching the near by grasses, and making sure they aren’t too far away from their mother.

They are aware of me now. One of the younger raccoon stands on his two feet and dutifully stares at me. I guess they are accustomed to people, and they know that we are not a threat. Otherwise, I think the mother emergency call would be sounded and the kits would scurry off to their dens and burrows.

When I stand there in the dark, alone in a city of a million or so people, I know peace. I am so drawn to these creatures. I guess there were a lot of thoughts going through my head at the time. I’m thinking of the recent break up, and I am thinking about the near-distant future, with is empowering. I’m thinking about romance. About why am in this situation. I’m thinking about why I’m in Vancouver…

It seems that after every visit to the city I come back feeling a little down. I can’t tell you why. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t have community here. Maybe it’s the fact it makes me aware of my alienation. Or maybe it’s because I’m lonely. Or it could be something else…

I think I watched them for a good twenty minutes and then walked away. I left them picking through the leaves and scanning the lawns to find whatever it is they eat, you know, I don’t even know what they eat. I should.

I feel a little jealous of their lives. They are free to roam the city, doing the most instinctual things without too much thought. They feel basic emotions and don’t have to worry about who’s wearing what, who’s dating who, the bills they have to pay, and the job they have to work. They don’t have to worry about any of those things.

I hate Raccoons.

Alone

Nobody wants to be alone. I mean, if I had a choice, I would choose companionship and it’s not because I’m lonely; it’s because I’m human. Yesterday I choose to be alone. Not by choice, it was by a need to discover myself again.

I find myself teetering on brink of a mild depression. It’s purely situational although I am no stranger to it. My mind sometimes relishes in the idea. It wants to feel bad, to write sad poetry while eating whatever ready made meals are at hand, otherwise I’d go hungry. It very romantic, you know. Some of the best writers, songwriters, creators were strugglers also. They were restless; so romantic, so in despair that all they could do was create the most wondrous things in our existence.

I have been known to head to art galleries. I wear my best hat, dress in a manner that suggests I’m a free thinker, and I ponder every which way, folding my arms, relishing in the colors, and letting out sighs of appreciation. I know sub-consciously some of it’s an act. It’s as if I’m stuck in this morbid fantasy where I would be picked up by the most wonderfully creative and handsome man. He would paint for me. He would fill me in on the history of art, and later he would because disillusioned because he would realize I am a fraud. The picture he painted of me was premature.

I’m heading back, you know. I think there is a new exhibit opening in Vancouver and I have a year long membership, and the card itself is dusty. It’s time to start grabbing a hold of things that will stabilize me mentally.

So yeah, I am finding a lot of things are becoming familiar as of late. I just recently moved back to the grassroots of Victoria. I have moved back to my first home when I moved from Newfoundland to the West Coast. Initially, of course, because of the culture shock, I found it to be a seedy area. Now, it’s everything I ever wanted. It’s so me.

God, I can’t stand listening to myself.

I’m being blinded by florescent light.

Some studies have linked office buildings with this particular type of lighting to increases in depression and various other emotional disorders.

Some studies would go so far as to say: we are all slaves. We are all being harnessed for whatever talents we possess and there is no longer say. All we have are the hoards living their lives in some ‘unique way’ when in essence a larger percentage of the world does the same thing; something considered specialized isn’t really, only in our little cubby hole of the world. We want it to be special just to get through the day.

They say we’re all dying slowing; rotting away and we don’t even realize it until it’s too late.

I want to meet them, whoever they are. I need to know how to avoid this unavoidable trap. I want to ask them philosophically, rendered questions and peer into their notions of attainability. I want to know if they are happy, and if so, how did this come to be? I want to know if they aren’t bullshitting me. I need to know if there are alternatives.

I guess winning the lottery could solve these issues or even finding some sort of sugar daddy that would tend to my everyday needs.

But even if I were self-sustaining I would complain about other things. I would wonder why I wasn’t helping more people, or I would question the apathetic world we live in and point out the various differences of class and struggle. I would be an advocate for socialism and express my concerns about the starving children in third-world countries - we so early turn a blind eye, without cause.

I would then conform to the world of being rich. I would be selfish and buy furs. I would eat expensive cheeses without regard for my starving cousins, my friends on the zenith of welfare. I would think they were all trying to use me and revert into my own world where my every whim is met, without regard for the people who shaped me in the first place. We all become selfish in time. We all learn that without yourself, who is going to look out for number one. Who’s going to fulfill your needs and maintain the equilibrium of peace that we – oh so – desire.

I don’t want money. I couldn’t be that person. If I were that person and approached that brilliant light on my death bed, I’d probably feel the heavy weight of hell upon me. Oh no, I don’t want that indeed. I’d rather be the simple peasant. I’d rather be the conformism in today’s world, the guinea pig of corporations; the unseen man. I’d rather be humble then obnoxious and cold with fulfilled want.

I think when our rotted and overly consumed soul approaches the time to perish; we will look back and hopefully be satisfied.

Being satisfied could be as simple as seeing the world, or finding the right friends in my lifetime. Would I be happy just to spend my remaining days in Victoria in the routine I have grown so accustomed living? Would it be enough to make me die without remorse?

I talk about death like it’s at my backdoor. It’s not, you know. I mean, it’s possible I could drop dead tomorrow but I won’t. I’m not even thirty yet. I see friends sky-diving and speaking of their various trips to Europe, Asia, or any other continent for that matter, I become jealous and sad. I become envious of their lives and curse myself for being so practical. Then again, I think I’d have to lose everything in order to get to the same point that they relish in so freely.

I want more, you know. I feel as if sometimes I let the people down my life because I can’t break free of the struggle of livelihood. I can’t make that break between current life and the ‘life I am told I need to live in order to feel accomplished’.

I walked out to have a cigarette a few minutes ago. I am an on again, off again smoker. I smoke when I lose hope. I smoke when I no longer care about the people around my or myself for that matter.

When I started smoking, it started as some romantic ideal that was brainwashed into my wiring. It was the Marlboro man who sat on his horse, isolated and withdrawn, but still full of great pride and dignity. He was the thinker. He was the renegade (think James Dean, think Andy Worhol). He was the idol of ever teen boy, although if you asked them why they would shrug it off. It was the imagery, without question, that influenced our decision making process, and the funny thing is, we didn’t even think about why, we accepted it full-throttle.

There was also the lone house wife, dressed in the modern garb at the time sucking back on her minty cigarette while popping some cookies in the oven for the kids. I guess we didn’t realize at the time that she smoked because she was trapped by the system. She smoked because doctors told her it would help her lose the domestic fat she put on due to inactivity. She was fulfilling what was expected of her and no longer cared. So why not smoke her fucking brains out? All she had left of her was an overworked husband, her kids who were the product of post-war sex that would fill up the trades with vigor and later develop distain towards anything and everything; I bet you she wondering what the point was…

Now it’s more a cancerous causing chemical that eats away at my body. The romanticism is gone; it’s the habit that lingers and cannot flush out the 20 years of advertising that has brought me to this point.

We have all these traps set up at the office to catch crickets. It’s an epidemic this time of year and you can hear them rubbing their legs together in just about any nook you pass by. The trap by the one of the exits had a large spider in it. Its legs we’re stuck to the cricket-trap gluing and all I could think was “lucky bastard”.

No one sees the tragedy except for me.

This weekend

Imagine this: a twenty minute hike through rainforest carrying our goods; there is a tent folded up on one arm, a back pack, blankets, and a cooler of food; this is followed by a small hike across the most magnificent landscape known to man; followed by a resting place found in the middle of nowhere, where time waits for no man.

I’m not a spiritual man most of the time. In fact, I hardly have time to think because my world moves so fast. If you strip all that away, leave me with nature and I can paint the most amazing stories.

I can take you back to that night. It is a night where we are camping on mystic beach surrounded by forest on one side and ocean on the other. There is no escaping what we have found. You can either move a few meters in one direction and meet waves, or a few meters opposite and start traversing the forest. There is no in between and we now realize that we are in a realm of our own.

I can see a few things occurring all at once, around me, that is. The tide is moving out, which is a good sign since the waves were nearing our post. The backdrop is full of tree-clad hills, rocks, and mist as far as the eye can see. A waterfall is about thirty meters down the beach, falling from a rugged and worn hillside. Everything is blue and amazing, and all I want to do is live on the shoreline for the rest of my life.

Yes, we lack visibility. Yes, we are alone minus a few like minded people, and yes, I am very happy. And I don’t even have to question that anymore. Happiness, that is. I know it when I curl up in my sleeping bag and listen to nature.

The neighbors are obviously on drugs. After borrowing an axe and making our campfire, we can hear the screams, roars of laughter, and the fire in the distance. “I’M SO FUCKING WASTED”, one girl yells. “WOOOOOTTTTT”.

I can see their massive flash light swerving in and out of reality. At one point it’s being turned off and on, and at other points, it’s not walking a straight lie, it’s veering from side to side while we see its target – the ocean – in the distance. I can see the three of them clearly now, they are huddled around a fire with a blanket stretched out. A male – who is the caretaker – and his two female companions.

I can tell you it was interesting. We paid a short visit to our neighbors a little later in the night. They were a bit too much at times but I laughed quite a bit. It progressed from meeting two boys, 13 and 15 buying pot for their parents, and then us lecturing them on good music.

“Sonic Youth, man. You have to look them up. No more of that Chemical Romance shit!” I yelled at them. Their eyes are fixated on the lot of us. I think they are amused and at the same time thinking they will never end up like us.

“Courtney Love is the devil,” screamed our new camping buddy. To be honest, she kind of resembles Courtney but we all know that she is a diehard Nirvana fan at heart. We play some trivia with them and take off.

I think the most gratifying part of the night though is when I’m laying in the tent and listening to the ocean. Sometimes you forget how powerful it really is. This massive body of water that can both create, destroy, increase, and diminish; it is an unstoppable force.

All I can hear are the large waves bringing a variety of different sensations, different noises, and finally when it hits the shore the sound of pebbles being eroded slowly. When it hits the shore we know that if it came just a few meters closer, it could drag us and everything else around us back into its body. I appreciate, and I can admit to being humbled by its majestic and long life.

The world is magic. The world and its beauty is everything I ever wanted and more. It reminds me that I am just a man, and that I am small when compared to everything we as humans take for granted and fail to understand. I can only ask permission to use it, and pray that it treats me well, for I have no control over it and it has my life in its balance.
How can I ever measure up to it?

The Trip Home

I’m heading home in three weeks to that place I wrote about previous to this. That small town that I carved out in some of my earlier blogs . I’m heading home and am anxious. I’m not sure if I can play the role of an adjusted family person. I mean, my family can’t, so why should I?

My sister is now living with her boyfriend Ryan, who initially was my friend, but when I left for University they started dating. They tried to hide it, although they were together most everyday. They would initiate hanging out. They played me for a fool. The one thing I hated more then anything about the situation is the fact that they actually thought they were smarter then me.

I’m not sure where they are living, or what they are renting for that matter. I have a four to five year old nephew that I have seen once; I have family that I haven’t seen in close to five years besides. I owe them at least closure. I am on a different current now, and to be lead back into the bowels of my creation, into the land that shaped me and formed me, it will be a struggle to say the least.

It’s a shame I haven’t spoken to my sister over the phone in such a long time. I couldn't even give you an estimate as to how long it’s been. But to blame myself is selfish; we have both contributed to this breakdown in communication. The last few times we did talk, it was about negative things, and I called her on it. I called for her to gain strength over the situation, but instead of it being accepted, I was attacked. And after I throw out the line, I can’t give much more, I can only retreat, hoping one day reason will prevail.

What else has changed? American’s are now buying up cheap waterfront property in the smaller communities for vacation purposes. It’s cheap, and with a fraction of the cost, they can get the home they have always dreamed of.

Tourism has also changed the small output communities that litter the coast. Since the days of the moratorium Newfoundland has struggled to mark another industry to subsidize one of the greatest loses in Newfoundland history. Thanks to oil revenues, we are able to fund a lot of projects centered around heritage renewal, and with that, in floods the tourists.

--------------

To Quote Dorothy Allison “Two or three things I know for sure, and one is that I'd rather go naked than wear the coat the world has made for me”. When I arrive I will be a newborn again. I will be coming of age in a community that will know me truly for the first time. This time though, I have power.

So what has changed? The outer shell of a place that will always have the same spirit. The same energy, people, isolation will always exists. I will relish in the foods I ate, and the people who interested me, who inspired me to think differently.

And what do I know? Nothing. Something? I know I’m still here. I know that if someone calls me a fag, it will no longer break me. I know who I am. I know that nothing can ever hurt me again with respect to my sexuality. I know I’m full-formed, completely, and utterly comfortable with myself.

There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind. But keep in mind that letting go isn’t the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new life.

So I begin again in a few weeks. I test the waters of all the relationships I recklessly left behind, without remorse. I hope I haven’t changed in their eyes, and in a way, I hope they have made changes. For there was a lot of things I left behind, being grateful, at the time. We will see….

I'm back

"The world is divided into two kinds of people. People who divide the world into two kinds of people, and people who don't." - Gloria Steinem

Hello fellow bloggers and readers alike. I just want to tell you all that I am sorry. I will never let love come in the way of writing again. And you know why I am back, don’t you? I mean, it must be obvious. We’ve called it quits.

I just want to promise you that I will not dedicated an entire blog to this guy. He’s deserving of it, but the wound is still fresh in my mind. Let’s just talk about nonsense instead.

I have been reading the Best of the Craigslist the last week or so. There were times when I was sitting in the office, reading about some annoying Barbie doll from SoCal who annoyed everyone in the coffee store so much, that someone wrote a small essay about it. It was hilarious. I was envious that I wasn’t the person who claimed to have split coffee on her…

Am I ok? Yeah. I mean, kind of. I have some shit to figure out now. It’s like I went in hiding for so long that I now have to figure out all the things that made me satisfied before I met Brad. My life is already busy enough so I don’t think it should take that much effort, though. I am ok. I’m better then ok.

What else…hmmmm. Oh yeah, Global Warming, it’s been done. The summer is non-existent and all the old eighty year old fucks in Victoria are reminiscing about what a real Islander summer is like. I’m not saying it’s not happening or anything but hell, there are weather trends also. It could very well be a weather trend.

Ok this is sad. I’m gonna have to take my laptop out with me and spy on really annoying people for inspiration. Right now I have nothing.

I miss him guys….

What am I doing?

There’s this forge and this ungrounded feeling that serves me ill. All along the paths I have taken, I have succumbed to the same broken thoughts, the doubts about who I am, where I am, what I am doing. My forge, which is within me, which could be around me, is starting to reek havoc on my well-being.

Whatever happened to the good ole’ days? The days when kids didn’t shoot up their parents, or when gays where secretly hiding and being miserable, or when the governments and our democracies hid their errors thanks to a lack of global broadcasting and free speech adjustments. What happened to the freedoms we once has in a time that was so restrictive?

This morning I awoke in my partners home. He can’t sleep without the aid of white noise, so I awake to the fan that is constantly churning in his bedroom. I’m on a single bed with a handful of sheets on top of me, red mind you; all I hear are the crows outside. I swear they get louder ever year. As I lie in his bed, awaiting his return, I know that this is all I want. I could make a life out of this and never question what I may be missing out on.

When I get up, I find him home already. He’s making breakfast for me to send me off to work. It’s a nice gesture but I am so out of it, I can’t acknowledge my thanks or even wish him a good day. I’m a stumbling fool at this point, but he understands, we had a long night celebrating his birthday.

I swear that everyday he gets even more handsome. Everyday I want to look at him even more, and the feelings I have for him are getting stronger. Everyday I am falling more and more in love with this guy. And trust me, I tried not to. I came up with so many excuses as to why I shouldn’t be with him. Even a month into it, I wasn’t that into him. I mean, I liked aspects of him but the entire package wasn’t there. Now, now I’m becoming more and more pathetic as the days go by. I’m officially convinced.

Relationship Update

The world is so pale next to you.

Brad and I aren’t moving forward; in fact because of our busy schedules we are now taking a step back. He only wants to see me on the weekends and he has stated that he ‘wants to have his cake and eat it to’. I’m not sure how to handle this. Do I want to be a weekend guy?

We went to a party together this weekend and there was this really hot couple hanging out. I was introduced to one of the guys, and I also flirted indirectly with his boyfriend. They both were masculine, and the boyfriend, who I didn’t talk to, had a beard; I guess I could say he was REALLY my type. The temptation was very difficult. I couldn’t help but notice him and want to be with him. And I guess now that we are taking a step back in our relationship, I wonder, should I? Is this what I really want? Should I say fuck it and inquire about bearded guy and his bf? I mean, nothing would come of it anyway. And I think the only way I would be interested is if he were single. So why even bother?

I think the point I am trying to make is, I am very pissed off about where this is going. I though we were doing so well and then I get blindsided by him. I know he still likes me, and I know that he is in to me, and I also understand his schedule and the things he needs to resolve in his life, but at the same time I guess I don't feel as needed or appreciated as I would like. When I am with someone, they should be willing to be there for me any day of the week, not just weekends. It sucks because I have opened myself up to him and now, when I actually want to spend time with him, he pulls away.

The man in me is still fucked. I am one hundred percent committed but the one thing I can’t stand is temptation. It wasn’t like this before in my previous relationship. I all wanted was my partner and the thought of other men didn’t even cross my mind. Now, it’s different…

Dudes in a car

I’m driving home last night after watching a movie with Brad. He’s caressing the back of my neck, which I love, and Brad mention to me that some dudes to my left took notice and said something nasty.

I look at the car to my left and I see three guys. A darker guy in the back giggling and pointing towards the guy in the passenger seat, and then to my amazement, I see what’s happening.

The guy in the passenger seat is getting the back of his neck caressed also. He's mocking us. They are ofcourse trying to put us down; they are trying to be complete assholes and make us feel bad for being two gay men who are publicly showing our affection; so I have to respond.

“Hey hot stuff. Looking good,” I say in a much stronger tone then my usual self. I’m looking right at the driver’s side passenger after giving a quick scan of the situation. The first thing I notice is the guy visibly jumping - I guess he didn't think we were on to their joke - and taking notice that my window is down.

They are obviously bothered now but they aren’t responding. In fact, they are not even looking my way anymore. They can talk the talk but when push comes to shove they have been dominated by one of their fears. A gay male has put them in their place. All I see now are the two people in the front of the car turn to eat other, whisper something and giggle.

I have to respond though and I do. “Yeah, that’s pretty hot man seeing your boyfriend rub the back of your neck like that. Man, I wish I could be a part of that!” Brad is in shock. He’s had bad experiences with men in the past. I guess being out at an earlier age gave him a few more experiences then myself. I haven’t had a physical confrontation before but am not opposed to it.

“HEY,” I say with an even more aggressive tone. “Maybe you should come over and rub my neck, hot stuff,” I reply. I look to Brad and I start laughing. And I see a few things happen. I see the power they once have slowly fade away, and then hand that was once caressing this guys neck is now quickly back on the steering wheel.

I’m furious and I am staring right at the dudes in the car. They, I think, are now afraid of how far I will go. What has turned into something so demoralizing for Brad and I has now turned into a situation where I have all the power. I am laughing and taunting these guys and they are too wimpy to take it to the next level.

I’m happy about this. I’m very pleased that I am at a point in my life where I am empowered and proud. I’m glad that I will not let people walk over me. After those three guys drove off, I was smiling ear to ear.

Lovely

Sometimes I still listen to the American Beauty soundtrack and think about that damn paper bag. I think about how significant something so plain and ordinary can be. I think sometimes I’m finally here, ya know. I’m finally contributing to society, and, I finally have friends, a boyfriend, and a family who I can understand. I have it all…yet, I feel empty. It’s not depression, or being unsatisfied in anyway, it’s just that I wonder if this is all there is? Is this my life?

I really should do something brave. I don’t know if I can be stuck in the same job, doing the same things, living in the same place. It’s not my nature. I was never like this. I was a rebel and I was only happy whenever I had a new project or something to obsess about. Now, I obsess about a presentation I have to give next Monday or the garden in the backyard, or my relationships with the people I love. I’m missing out.

There’s this change occurring. We all see it, no matter how sheltered or disillusioned we have become, the ice is receding friends; corporations are getting stronger, and the world as we know is losing species at an astounding rate.

The honey bee in America is in trouble. The honey bee which pollinates almost every fruit producing plant, every harvest crop give or take a few things like potatoes and like matters; the honey bee is dying. If the honey bee dies, then our cattle, our pigs, our animals that rely on these crops will also die. And then we are left with nothing. You see, it’s not just oil and gas anymore, it’s not temperature increases and floods, and it’s everything our species needs in order to survive. We’re dying.

I want to leave you with these thoughts on my Friday evening. I want you to think about your actions, because if we don’t, we aren’t going to have a world where it’s safe to live anymore. Our children, our nieces and nephews will struggle; they will suffer. And at this zenith, this epic time, when all life is in the balance, you can no longer turn a blind eye. You can no longer be ignorant because if you are, then all is lost.

I beg you. Think. Take yourselves off the grid. Lobby our governments. Change the world. It starts at one person at a time. I don’t want the people in my life to know who affected I am by this, I mean, I’m sure they are also, but I can be all doom and gloom.

When I mention these things to my parents, who live in the backwards fishing communities of Newfoundland, they think I’m crazy. They tell me they will hang up if I keep preaching these things. I don’t criticize the fact they have an SUV and a large Ford Truck, or that they do not recycle as much as they should, or that they are wasteful with energy, or that we don’t have much time left. I just tell them things will change in their lifetime if they don’t start thinking.

The last Glacier in Germany is melting away. I watch the news today as the German’s were desperately trying to cover large parts of the mountain with a tarp to deflect the sun. They have a couple of years left really; the last glacier in Germany will join the books with many other countries that have already lost their ice sheets. The polar bears are dying. Parasites and opportunistic species are coming back in full force. In fact, the pine beetle in BC is stronger then ever and on the East Coast the Spruce Bud Worm.

I see acres and acres of land failing us. I see the trees we so desperate need to keep this global warming crisis at bay; dying…it’s all I see anymore. I see it so clearly. The death around us and I want to scream at the masses. I am so angry. I can’t do anything only grieve ahead of time so that when the big day approaches, it will be out of my system and I will be ready to react.

My life is nothing but a sham now. It’s going to change. I’m going to see the world before it dies. I’m planning. I’m almost ready. And I don’t care about the responsibility of it all anymore; I will be content working on a farm somewhere, harvesting the land until it can’t support me anymore. I’m happy taking myself away from all this greed and destruction; this consumerism that has brainwashed so many.

Television, Radio, Billboards, Buses, Schools, Sidewalks, anything, it’s all been taken by these giants of consumerism. We’ve all be taken and we don’t even realize it. So how can we do something proactive in a world that has brainwashed us so badly? How can we change when all our youth can think about is the next release of Play station or World of War craft? Our children have been sucked into this void. This awful and dangerous place where it will take strength to escape. They have so many of them now and the numbers keep going up. If you don’t see the dangers, then you are one of them also.

Hornby Island

This is picture was taken on Hornby Island. Brad and I rented a cabin and also camping for a night while visiting this Island and it's brother, Denman Island. It was an awesome vacation. Very meditative and relaxing.

Enjoy.

I went to Sombrio Beach this weekend. We hiked along the ocean, climbed down mountain cliffs using ropes and ladders, walked through some old growth forest, and finally walked across a twenty story suspension bridge.

Life doesn't get any better.

I don’t know how to begin this one. In fact, I’m not even sure if I want to begin telling you what has happened. I do want everyone to know that I can’t wait for the summer and I plan on buying a bike rack and doing tons of camping and exploring.

The second thing I want to tell everyone is that I am in love with Brad. He’s a great guy, and, yeah, we have a few things to work on (mostly figuring out the sexual part of things) but regardless, I want to let everyone know how lucky and privileged I am to have met such a great guy.

I am still a little shocked about it all. I’m getting over it and really working on opening my heart to him. I’m not afraid anymore. In fact, I now understand what it’s like to have someone in my life that treats me the way people should be treated. I no longer want an emotionally unavailable guy who treats me poorly. I want to be with Brad, a guy who is totally into me, who cares about me, and who I know will respect me and make me smile for the rest of my life.

Ok, I’m being a little dramatic.

The new guy...

hill, originally uploaded by copeseticnature.

I remember a time when the city was full of architects and debutantes.

Brad and I are going strong. And yeah, I know, I won’t be writing every blog about this guy. I just want to let everyone see the good things in my life also. Most of the time I rant and I am judgmental, critical, dissatisfied; really I’m not though.

We were lying in bed last night and all I can do now is smile and look into his eyes. He smiles back and I start to get the ‘butterfly effect’. If you asked me how this would have played out six weeks ago, I would have told you I’m going to fuck around for a week or two and it’s over. Cause I’m not the settling type.

And here I am. I don’t want to mess around with anyone else. I am really turned on by the guy and my weekends involve planning things with him. We have our Sunday’s together – it’s common knowledge, and if we were to miss a Sunday, I would worry.

I have been saying some nice things to the guy. I first asked him what kind of guys he responds to; guys that treat him poorly and are emotionally unavailable or guys that are affectionate and kind? He picked the latter; I’m glad because it’s the way I generally am when I am into someone.

I told him that I enjoyed his company and with him all my problems and stresses disappear. I also comment on how handsome I found him and relayed the fact that I do ‘Like him”. I can’t say the other words. I am afraid of the response if I told him everything I am feeling. It’s too soon. One day.

Let me tell you all something. I’m a little scared. In fact, I’m terrified that I am going to fall for this guy and one day, he will get sick of me, or hell, he’ll cheat. I know he’s not like that though. I know a winner when I see one. But still, I think because of my earlier relationships with men, I am not used to dealing with someone who is actually an upstanding person. I’m not used to dealing with someone that treats me like a person. I’ll have to play it out. I mean, what’s the point of going through life without taking chances?

I can see a lot of things with us. I can see us settling into some small community and living a rather slow-pace life. I want some kids, a nice garden, and maybe start up our own business, travel a little…anyway, I’m over thinking things.

I’m seeing a new guy and he’s great. That’s all we both need to know.

I can't take my eyes off of you

I think I'm falling for him.

My Imagination

What's the immaterial substance
that envelopes two,
that one perceives as hunger
and the other as food.

I wake in tangled covers,
to a sash of snow,
you dream in a cartoon garden,
I could never know.

Innocent imitation,
of how it could be,
if when the music ended,
you did not retreat.

In my imagination,
you are cast in gold,
your image a compensation for me to hold.

Parallel lines, move so fast,
toward the same point,
infinity is as near as it is far.

Parallel lines, move so fast,
toward the same point,
infinity is as near as it is far.

Life, man

Living is breathing full, opening your eyes to the world around you and not wasting time on the trivial things. It’s standing tall, full of conviction with thought provoking ideas and a smile that isn’t limited to a particular time and place.

Living is going to bars with strangers who know as much about you as you know about them. Living is dressing with zest, owning art, eating good meals. Living is pretending you know what you’re doing when you don’t know anything for certain and what you do know seems to be changing all the time. Living isn’t about a plan, it’s about an ideal.

Living is knowing when to quit. It’s knowing when to call your bluff and take a plunge into the unknown. Living is about being everything you can be, and, the best you can be no matter who or what is stopping you. Living is knowing your wants and needs. It’s filling Maslow’s hierarchy to the nth degree.

My hand is numb today, numb to the pain; the throbbing muscle in my carpel that seems to be getting worse. My fingertips are vibrating and my right hand is usually purple in the mornings. I keep thinking it’s going to get better. I’m an optimist! It’s not. It’s only going to get worse. One day, when I least expect it, it’s not going to be better and I will have to make the pilgrimage into the doctors office and request the snip.

There was a time when my hand was fully functional. It was before I started working and realizing that life is about entrapment. Life is about taking a person so full of promise, so full of expectation and love for the world around him, and putting that person in situations where he no longer has a choice. We have to beat them down. We have to manage and control, we have to take the people who grow up with promise and let them know that it was just a dream.

Living is rolling with the punches. It’s letting people take advantage, or even letting people lie outright and noy even skipping a beat when you find out. It’s about shedding all the moral righteousness that people wear on their sleeves. It’s about seeing past everything and finding a place that no longer affects. It’s about become cold and numb to the nuiances in life and becoming totally selfish and absorbed in your own pleasures.

The real world is a nightmare and as much as we want to wake up, as much as we want to acknowledge that this is just temporary – “I’ll work for a couple more years, save up, then I will do the things I want” – it’s just a dream. It’s hope that we all have; hope that we hold on to; we want purpose. It’s ok though if you are content. Obviously I have given it much more thought as you.

I want to live. I want to consume as many positive things as possible. I want to meet as many interesting people as I can. I want to smile constantly, live life to the fullest, pass each day knowing that I did as much as I could and it’s not lost. It’s never lost in my eye. I want to be surrounded with color, compassion, love; I want everything. I want my soul to be filled constantly with no downtime.

Want destroys perspective. I know I want too many things. It’s been with me all my life; I think it’s because I missed out on so much when I was younger. I was too patient, I was too timid, and I didn’t find strength and conviction until a much later age. I think I was 23 before I snapped out of it. It being everything in my line of sight, everything in my life. I didn’t see until a much later age, you know. And now that I see the beautiful, the promise, I want so much more.

I am in my office and looking from office to office, noticing my co-workers. I feel sorry for them, caged up so. Some are young and full of energy. They are fresh out of school with a “I will succeed attitude”. They want it so bad and they haven’t been in the working world long enough to see. They haven’t lived their lives. And, yeah, I know I am projecting. I haven’t lived my life. I am totally being a hypocrite as I sit here and judge them. Sometimes I feel as if this is all I know and will ever know. As much as I complain I have this great fear that five years down the road I will be doing the same thing: critiquing everyone but myself.

I feel anxious about succeeding in a mediocre world and I’d rather live.

Relationships and worries

I used to be afraid of the dark, even until my later teen years. I would stumble home on a Friday or Saturday night and head downstairs to my bedroom. The whole time I would think about the monsters lurking in the dark, some unknown presence that could jump out and grab me and pull me away to its dark lair.

As I have gotten older, I no longer fear the demons in the dark but I want to be clear about this: I do have demons. I think they prevent me from getting close to people. They are my guards. They are the reason why I am so adamant about not falling in love or being in a relationship. They tell me I am better off alone.

I am fighting my demons so I can still be with Brad. It is a difficult struggle and I am constantly fighting my mind to rid myself of the doubt, or the strength I accumulated after my last devastating break up. Regardless, it’s happening, although I can’t measure it; I am in a different place right now and the future will only tell where it will lead me.

As I head out this weekend and enjoy St. Paddy’s Day. I can’t help but notice all the men – the majority straight – guys who are around. They are clad in the usual dress, and once or twice I manage to strike up some conversation.

One guy in particular approaches me at a small pub Brad and I went to. He tells me he’s bi and would love to fool around with myself and a girl. I flirt a little; he flirts back, and then behold, Brad steps forward to end our fun.

He tells me it’s because he thought the guy was being rude. The funny thing is, I really don’t mind. When he stepped in between us and had a talk with the other guy I was smiling. Normally I would be profoundly upset, but this act actually made me like him more. He was jealous although he didn’t admit it.

The past few weeks have been a trip. I have been very open to spending my time with one guy. We have cooked dinners together, went for hikes, watched movies, and even smoked a little pot.

He makes me laugh. He makes me a little jealous. He turns me on to no degree. I am asking myself why I don’t love him. Why I can’t – after 6 weeks – be totally and utterly smitten with this dude. Victoria’s number one bachelor and still nothing…well, there is something, but it’s not the unbridled passion I seek.

It’s for the best, I guess. I don’t want to be one of those people. I don’t want to fall into the trap of being head over hills. I like still having my wits about me. But oh, how I miss that romance; how I miss the gripping, uncontrolled, tumultuous passion I once had.

There is only one thing left to do. Play it out. Maybe I will find this same passion but in a different way. Maybe I’ll never find that passion again? Maybe I’m getting old and I really can’t be as picky as I once was. I still have my looks, and I have so much more, but how long will it last?

I see so many old and haggard gay men who troll it up at the gym. They walk through the bushes at parks, and they pick up hitchers, hang out in hot tubs and hot springs, and walk the local hiking trails.

They are everywhere. It’s so strange, you know. How five years ago I could go to these places and be oblivious to it all; now, it’s all I can see. I can smell them, sense their eyes raping my body, and, their desperation.

I don’t want to be an old troll and if it means finding something that is close to passion, which never equals what I once had, so be it. Besides, I don’t even like hot tubs.

Can't feel a thing...

When did I realize that everything I ever knew in this world was false?

I’m 28 now.

I’m single – business as usual if you ask me.

And, I’m living the American Dream. Accumulation, wealth, material possessions, cars, good careers; God, when will it change?

I think most people are ok with it. I think I should be ok, but I’m not. If anything I am getting worse. I find myself wanting to retreat more and more and my mind is fantasizing about something more romantic. That’s why I write, I want to secretly be a great writer, or photographer, or join some sort of green peace organization where I travel the world empowering people with purpose.

I want more….

I’m seeing a guy named Brad now. It’s been close to a month and this is – on record – one of the longest relationships I have had. We don’t just spend a couple of hours together; we spend weekends together.

Brad makes me laugh; Brad makes me smile; Brad makes me realize that no matter how great someone can be, I still don’t think I’m capable of being in love again. And, trust me, if I were to be in love it would be with someone like Brad. He has everything I want in a guy…

I think some people are destined to live a different live. Not everyone is family material. I dream of the white picket fence with children, PTA meetings, soccer practice, but I don’t see a partner in my life when I live that life. I can raise children on my own and I don’t feel as if I need the family unit to do so.

This weekend I’m heading down to the naval recruiting office to fill out an application. I have my transcripts, which I will have to dig around for, and I think I am ready to do something completely different in my life.

Soon I’ll be 30…

A Tree

You're dead to me

I have had my first taste of gay drama! Oh God, how I loath the word drama. I want to give you two sides of the story, and then, you can form whichever opinion you want.

How I loath the word drama. So many people use it. Drama! I associated the word with really bad pop music and the gay culture. Everyone is screwing everyone else over, and in our culture, it can be taken literally and metaphorically. I am in one of the most competitive sub-cultures out there.

My roommate Sandy, who I think is a complete a-hole, is hanging out with my on Valentine’s Day. We’re having some wine and I proceed to point out a guy on my MSN that I am talking to. He leans in, takes a look at the picture, mentions he’s cute and then goes in his room for a bit.

An hour later, Sandy reappears telling me that he’s know this guy for a few days, but he didn’t want to say anything, and that the guy proposed sex, and blah blah blah. In other words, Sandy wanted me to stay away from him. So fair enough, he lied about knowing him…

The next day I decide to talk to my online buddy and I mentioned that he knows my roommate. Now, I get a completely different story. He tells me Sandy added him the night before – the night I point him out – and that Sandy tells him that he got his MSN from my computer.

To make the story even worse, Sandy is the guy who asks him for sex, and he even goes so far as to point out the fact that he is better looking then I am. All the while, I am sitting in my room… I had no idea someone could do something so devious. And, he even has the gull to come back to my room and make up a story, lie to me, and expect me to believe it. I’m not a stupid guy…

The first thing I want to talk about is who is better looking…haha. I have to. I can’t help it. I have been with a lot of hot guys, in fact, some of them – including my ex’s – have gotten to meet Sandy, and they find him gross. He’s a hairless, fake tanned, overly feminine Toronto boy with a nasty attitude. I think you get the picture…

Secondly, I was warned about Sandy. I have caught Sandy talking behind my back, telling people that I was after ‘his men’ and was talking to people online that he was interested in. From a psychological point of view, he is projecting. The only men I have seen this guy with were people I have already had dealings with. There is no competition; we are two completely different people. He’s gross, man.

Third, my gut feeling tells me to believe the guy online. He has no reason to lie, and judging from my past encounters with my roommate, I think there are a lot of issues he has to work out. He’s talked about me, he’s lied to me, and I have caught him lying to other people as well.

I was so angry yesterday. I yelled at him, slammed a door, and he hasn’t been back sense. I know he’s guilty and now we need to have a talk about how people should respect their roommates. I have been nothing but good. Seriously! But now, it’s over. He will see how I am with people I dislike. I want him out. I want the energy in my home to return to normal, because it’s dirty and depressing right now with this leach around.

I have heard the word Drama about 40 times this week. I think I'm going to pretend to like women for now on...

Wayfaring Stranger

Bricks, originally uploaded by copeseticnature.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
A-traveling thru this world below
But there's no sickness, toil, or danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my Father
I'm going there no more to roam
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
A-traveling thru this world below
But there's no sickness, toil, or danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my mother
She said she'd meet me when I come
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home
I'm just a-going over home

We get no second chance in this life

It’s Valentine’s Day.

My car has starter issues and I had to ask a friend of mine, who I have known for four years, to bring me home from work. I work with him and know his wife also. It seems like he has seen my life progress since I have arrived in Victoria.

Yesterday he told me he’s getting a divorce. Everything in his life, for the past seven years, has been a lie. They are both at this cross roads where neither of them knows who they are…We talk about this on the twenty five minute drive home and on the drive to work today.

What can I say? We’re all trying to figure it out. It’s a shock to see a couple, who I assumed to be solid, dissipate. Now they will have to explore the world again, fresh eyes, new intentions, and, it could be exciting or it could be the thing that brings them back to one another.

It’s not uncommon to divorce and share custody of a child. I am not worried at all, because I too am a product of a home that split apart, and fortunately back together again after a few years.

Its life, you know? We’re all just trying to figure it out. Sometimes people reach an age where they start questioning their existence, combined with the onslaught of issues of the future: the global economy, global warming, population increases, and the world of greed. I am bringing it up because it’s the same things we talked about yesterday. The world is dying and it’s changing the way we view our lives.

I know most people think we’ll be ok, but in twenty years when we start hitting the reserves, it won’t be. I won’t bother investing in real estate and I would think twice about RRSPs; I think you should start thinking about how to survive, maybe take a few courses on self-survival.

I think we need to start learning how to grow organic foods (crops), learning how to live off the hand, learn how to be human again, learn how to build shelters and heal ailments.

I don’t want to mix doomsday with Valentine’s Day but they are related. Flowers are being shipped all around the world this week for spouses, girlfriends, even boyfriends; this is done by plane and this contributes to our world problems.

If someone asks why you didn’t buy them flowers this holiday tell them you no longer want to contribute to the world’s destruction. Start talking about it. You have to. Time is running out friends.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Lazy

“I know why he’s not standing... he’s lazy!”, my instructor spells it out to me, 45 minutes into the class, after I have did everything in my power to please her.

Not only did she call me lazy, she does so in front of twenty other people, half of which will never try this class again. I turn red; I am embarassed, but I direct all the negative energy towards my legs, towards the bike, and use it as fuel.

“I was spinning four times last weekend! I’m not lazy,” as I stand up one last time to do the last five minutes of class.

My legs are sore, in pain, it’s not because I’m lazy. In fact, I was pushing the hardest in this class. I am sweating the most. I have put a hundred and ten percent into this class, and what? I’m fucking lazy.

It’s good to be motivated. And, yeah, I made the mistake of asking this crazy, pregnant lady to push me when she sees me slacking off. It’s totally my fault.

I push my towel over the tension on the bike so she can no longer keep tabs on me and my eyes go to the floor. I’m infuriated and want to prove to her that I can do it.

Selfish Pricks

The day breaks and everything is new…

I want a hybrid so I can scowl at people driving their SUVs and 4x4 trucks. I even feel like rolling down my window and giving them the finger while screaming "Wake up you retarded assholes!". I'm even tempted to spit at them. I need to do something, my conscience is giving me a hard time as of late.

The glaciers are retreating; even George Bush is starting to push for environmental changes, yet still the number of selfish people in the world increases. The temperature of the world is increasing, evasive species are now making a come back because of shorter seasons and climate change, diseases that were once controller (West Nile, Bird Flu, etc) will become more and more common. Where do we draw the line? When does it stop? When is enough, enough?

When I was in Calgary with Christa, I think back to dinner on night; I watched her open can after can and then proceed to throw everything I consider recyclable into the garbage. I was shocked. I mean, I recycle everything, including the more menial things, and as I watch the garbage fill up with waste, I ask her if she has a recycling program in Calgary.

“Yeah we do, but it’s a lot of effort…” she responds already visibly pissed.

She considers me a hippie. I am Green because I acknowledge the fact that our world will be destroyed if we don’t take action. I am because I attend green rallies and drive an energy efficient car, I hang my clothes to dry, I recycle, I am generally concerned and very passionate about the world I live in.

Driving to work today I look at all the vehicles around me. Gas guzzling machines with owners who choose to buy these beasts because they are selfish. Do you need a 4x4 truck in Victoria BC? To what, pick up groceries? I question their motives.

Why on Earth would anyone throw things you can recycle into the garbage when we have a recycling program that picks everything up at your doorstep once every two weeks? We have landfill after landfill filled with things that will never biodegrade. We could build an entire city over these wasted pieces of land.

There is this quest for adulthood in today’s society. We are measured by what we own, how we dress, how much real estate we own, and of course the size of our pocket book is very important. I think we are moving in the wrong direction. I can’t believe how people who are engrossed in the media and commercialism could be converted so easily.

So I have all these questions; I have all these problems with the world we live in. And, if I voice them I am judged, for the most part, unless I can find people on the same page. They should be the first to go. I want them eaten up by deadly flu viruses, and I want their bodies thrown into landfill next to all the products they refused to recycle, and in the end, I want the world rid of these diseased minds.

Grow up people. It's happening.

...

Why wouldn't I be trying to figure it out?

Lights

I'm traveling on a bus - I was 10, I think - after a student trip to Gander. We were all bussed in for the weekend for the Royal Conservatory Music Festival, where classes form choirs and compete, where young gay men are forced to share beds with their peers. I am hit with this great paranoia after spending the weekend in Gander.

My friends have distance themselves on the bus, and I am thinking back to the night before where I had to share a bed. Did I do something in my sleep? Did I give away the very thing I have been trying to hide since I hit puberty?

The world keeps flashing before my eyes. I am prone to these long boughs of depression, already at the age of eleven or twelve, and I know if it keeps up, if I don't resolve it, it will forever own me. Even at this age, I already have a few enemies and I am already an adult. I have them and they know me well. It's not because I am a homosexual, although I think it is; I think they know who I truly am. And I see one of them passing around notes.

I think the notes are about me. I think the enemy who I have shared a hotel room has finally discovered the truth and is passing around notes about me - he's outing me with little to no respect for my feelings. And I sink. It's apparent. The children around me see it and they ask "What's wrong?"

In my bought of paranoia, I even see a few kids look at the notes being passed around, then look at me, and whisper to one another that it is truly "a sin", which in Newfoundland dialects means "I feel sorry for you".

I'm sure it was something stupid. Like, a note saying "Charlie has nice glasses" or something along those lines. It's wasn't about me being gay. Although, in my mind, it was always about being gay. I have always struggled with it, and this is a small example of what I had to go through.

After that trip, and the two hour ordeal, I head home, crawl into my bed - it's four in the evening - and my mind is racing. I haven't had to deal with it in such a long time, but thinking back it was awful. It was so consuming I couldn't even function. My mother would visit and worry and I could only reply "I'm tired mom".

You see, just because I could pass, doesn't mean it was any easier for me. If anything, it was the most horrible experience of my life. I didn't have a city to hide myself in, or explore in, I had a small outpost community with nothing to look forward to. I had the worst despair you could possible imagine, the worst yearning, the worst case of depression I have ever experienced in my life.

It wasn't short term; it was from the age of eight right up until I left for BC. It was fifteen years. A lifetime. Don't ever say I can't relate, or I don't understand…

Horses

I rode a horse this weekend and was labeled as a natural. Do you know how good that feels? I mean, I knew I would be a great horse rider; I could just tell that as soon as I sat on a horse I would know what to do. We have this psychic connection, you know? It's as if the horse knew I was a good guy and decided to let me take control.

I spent this Saturday helping out on a farm. My downstairs neighbor Alice invited me to go out and I decided to go - spur of the moment of course. When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the view; they live on a massive farm with the mountains in Washington as the backdrop. All I could see was the rolling hills of grass and farmland mixed with a mountainous range that still retain elements of snow.

The second thing I noticed was the abundance of women. The farm was filled with about eight or nine women working together, communicating, being emotional, and looking great - I guess that's what women do. A few were lipstick lesbians sporting low cut shirts, with breasts, long flowing hair, smiles; they were gods, Amazonian wonders. And I was shy for the first time in a very long time. I was out of my element and I think considered shy and uneventful.

At first - because I am now assuming this is a lesbian dude ranch - they were a bit taken aback by seeing me. I am sure I was labeled as the straight guy who was checking out Becky's jugs. I was a little apprehensive and picked up on the energy at the ranch. They were definitely guarded towards me and I knew right then and there society still has a lot of differences we don't see outright.

My daily chores consisted of digging out a trench to redirect some water, digging another trench to hide some wiring - note: I was digging horse hit, and also setting up a watering area and redirecting a hose. One of the women on the farm wanted to make it clear that she was a lesbian. I guess, maybe, they thought I was really into all the hot chicks working the farm, but I then quickly responded, "Yeah, I know, I'm gay, and it's no big deal". Her eyes lit up and a smile appears on the corners of her mouth.

The delightful part of the conversation was seeing how a lesbian's demeanor can change. In fact, it was delightful seeing how all the women responded to me after I was ousted. They smiled, they hugged, and I was now openly accepted into this environment of women who were initially guarded. I was one of the girls!

Later in the day, after all the chores were completed, I dress up as a jockey. I have the hat, a pair of farm jeans and boots, and I proceed to take this large white pony out on the tracks. From first seeing the horse I could tell he was shy. He was nervous around me initially and would look away when I addressed him. I could also tell he was stubborn.

Riding him was great although whenever the other horses came around he would disobey me and follow the pack. They are pack animals and it's something inbreed. I think I need to be more forceful with him to relay the point that I am the master. So I grab a stick - I don't' hurt him - but he knows I have a stick which accidentally grazed him once and caused him to jump.

There is nothing more rewarding then riding a great beast that has survived throughout the ages. I was propped up in the air, feeling like a giant, and watching the beauty that surrounded me with tranquility. This will be one of the times in my life when I can look back and smile.

We rode for a while and I think I developed a relationship with this unknown. I want to ride horses again and work on the farm. I want to learn how to be a farm hand because who knows what the future will hold. I may just have to revert back to that style of living once global warming completely destroys our environment. I might as well cover all the bases, I think.

Vacations...

After a recently dismissed vacation I now have a plane ticket to anywhere in Canada or the United States. Initially, I had a ticket to Florida to accompany my parents, but, it turns out my workmate booked time before me so I am stuck.

I know, I know, I would have been real keen on staying in a resort village, attending Disney World and other money grabbing intuitions that keep Florida going, and oh, the arguing, how I will miss the tears, the sun stroke, the competing to get other family members on your side. I will miss it all but right now I have a ticket to worry about.

The last time I was in Florida with my parents – 2003, I believe – we had a few major arguments and I remember my last words to them: “Hear me well; I will NEVER EVER go on another family vacation with you crazy fucks again”. I said it. It’s true. The whole point of vacation is to go and relax but when a redneck from Georgia becomes your best friend at the local resort bar while you share Sam Adams beers, you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, I was pissed at first. In fact, I wanted to hunt down my work mate and have an all out confrontation but now I see the light. I now have control over my destiny and my precious two weeks will not be planned out by my overbearing father. I have the power.

When I phoned to cancel the ticket, which was under my name, they gave me two options:

A) Cancel the ticket and send a refund (the amount paid in taxes because it was an aero plan ticket) to my father.

B) Take back your life, regain control; cancel the ticket and leave it in your name. Note: if you choose this option your father may find out and start another argument. There is a fifty five dollar rebooking charge, period.

It was tough deciding what to do. The ticket was my Christmas and Birthday gift – although it was a bit grand – but I feel as if it’s still mine.

I’m thinking I’ll head back to Newfoundland. I mean, it’s what I really wanted to do in the first place when I found out we weren’t going to St. Pete’s or Miami and my father cheeped out and rented a condo in the fucking resort trap we call Orlando outskirts. I will go home and see ALL of my family. It will no longer be inclusive and I will get to revisit my past. My home. I haven’t seen my nephew, sister, brother, mother, aunts, uncles, grandparents in over three years. I think this is a no brainer.

I’m thinking April. I’m thinking I will rent a hot car, visit the fishing village I grew up in as an ousted gay male, and have a fun time with it. I hope to get into at least one bar fight, open a bottle of beer with my molars, have sex with a guy I always questioned, and not give two fucks about what other people think about me. The community will be tense and I relish in the chance to be there experiencing it.

After they chase me out with pitchforks I will proceed to a few more small towns where my relatives live, then, off to St. John’s for a weekend of partying in a city. I’m going to take my sister and Nephew and put them up in a hotel. The nights will be reserved for me…I don’t care what she has to say about it. I need to get laid at least once on this holiday.

So I’m excited. I’m glad everything fell through. I’m glad my co-worker booked around the same time I did – knowing full well I already had a vacation planned in Easter.