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.