Went to Sandbanks on the weekend. The weather was good, but danced from one extreme to the other along the course of the day. It was Trolley, Tomacini, Kate, Adam, and Eric on one site, Aaron, Karen, Nick, Alison, and me on another about 20 paces away. It was quite a different crew from the one I’m used to, but definitely the one I was most comfortable around. These are the people who never ask for money, who talk to you like you’re family, whom you can depend on to find some orange juice if you’re having a bad trip. We only got in trouble one night, but we were admittedly loud. Our attempts to thwart such problems by introducing ourselves to neighbouring campsites proved fruitless, as we were informed that the noise we were producing was being heard in a larger radius than expected. I took up position as the token Asian guy (keepin it cool) and Adam resumed his usual role as the token homosexual (keepin it fresh). The weekend went by quickly.

Aside from steak, the best part of camping is the campfire. When the deciduous trees flicker orange and the stars normally hidden by the city light show themselves against the navy blue sky. There’s something about the heat and the atmosphere that puts the mind at ease. Nobody cares if one speaks too much or too little, puts on some headphones and listens to music, intoxicates, or pulls out a book and reads. It’s where everyone can do their own thing, together.

Sandbanks has an amazing beach with large sand dunes, which makes it one of the most popular campgrounds, as well as one of the hardest to reserve a site on (Trolley and I had this weekend booked since January). The sand is extremely soft and smooth, and the beach ended up being the only refuge for a loud group, especially at night. It’s also where Adam was paid to market Gatorade to the homosexual population (and the funny thing is, Adam did his absolute best not to look gay in the photograph, but succeeds only in the doing the exact opposite.) The caption for the magazines would be, “ALL I DID WAS DRINK THIS GATORADE AND HOT GUYS STARTED LICKING STUFF OFF MY LEGS!”.

Aaron made his contribution to the Ministry of Silly Walks.

At one point, Aaron and I had to steal some firewood from the other site. We decide to give them some flowers in return as a joke. Aaron just happened to pass by a bunch of daisies, and plucked them from the stem as we were leaving our area. Unfortunately, the entire plant became unrooted with almost no effort, from the flowers to the roots. After a quick twig-splint used to fix a mangled stem, we planted the daisies in the middle of the other campsite. They stood out considerably, since they were over four feet in height, with nothing else around but gravel and dirt. In return, Adam planted a little vodka garden outside our tents.

Here I am, thinking that I have at least a single month to get into a regular writing schedule, and suddenly tons of things pile up, leaving me with no time to write. I suppose that being too busy is better than not being busy enough, especially with my history of idleness.

This is what summer is about: nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there. Nothing beats cruising through the city with a friend and his iPod in an air-conditioned, manual Jetta.

I managed to spend more than a weeks salary over the weekend, on five dress shirts, a pair of shorts, Birkenstocks, a beanie, two ties, a tie bar, a tie rack, a vest, Four Swords Adventures, and beer. It wasn’t very difficult; I’m meeting with a financial planner today, so I saw at my purchases as the last of my guilt-free spending before I look into investment options and budget considerations. Unfortunately, he’ll be giving me advice based on how I risky I want to be, the age I want to stop working, and the lifestyle I’d like to have at retirement. The problem is that I haven’t decided yet. I never really considered the fact that I might live past 30. On top of that, I never planned to retire. I don’t think I’d mind working past 60, although the requirement for this to happen is that I enjoy my job then as much as I enjoy my job now.

Most people start to invest when they start a family, and need to consider the cost of raising kids, including tuition fees, an extra mouths to feed, etc. I don’t plan on having a family, so I figure I should just start now. Of course, as Pat says, ones life can change in a single day, even with the best laid plans, and I really couldn’t agree more. I simply see investments as a sort of financial safety net.

I have learned to walk: since then I have run. I have learned to fly, since then I do not have to be pushed in order to move.

Now I am nimble, now I fly, now I see myself under myself, now a god dances within me.

—Of Reading And Writing, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

A long time ago, maybe almost ten years ago, I met a guy who was the same age as me named Alvin. We got along extremely well, which was a rarity for me at the time. He was a complete enigma. There was always an air about him, something in his stable demeanor, that told me he had everything figured out. I asked him once, “Do you feel any pain?”. “Only when I want to”, was his response. I couldn’t possibly understand.

How can I describe this feeling? How can I explain? I’ve been looking for the right words for so long, but nothing comes through. Only images and ideas. Thoughts without expression.

All I know is that it feels like I’ve arrived at something, like I’ve finally come to a point where I’m comfortable with myself. Where I can hurt without being sad. Where I can love without pain.

The key is understanding how dissatisfaction breeds improvement, how pain breeds happiness, how there must be a balance of good and bad, and living by these beliefs with committed industry and absolute humility. It’s what Taoists express as Yin and Yang, what Nietzsche was saying through Zarathustra. And when one’s life goal is self-improvement, everything falls into place.

Now there is no going back. Now I truly feel like I’m alive.

Now a god dances within me.

Girls = trouble, but stupid girls = uh oh.

Allergy season has made me realize that the only authentic Chinese thing I have left is an obnoxious sneeze.

Trolley’s Homestar Runner figures came in the mail a little while ago. They Rock.

And little Lego stormtroopers rock too.

If there was ever a time for John to put a contract on me, it would be now. Due to an unfortunate incident, he’s had to liquidate everything he has, take out tuition insurance, and assume a non-managerial position at Canadian Tire so that he doesn’t have too much money.

This is the guy who got accepted to UCC, got accepted to University College at the University of Toronto, finished his LSATs, and is waiting to get accepted to a law school. I also put his name down as the beneficiary on my assurance plan at work, so he’ll be receiving roughly $__k in the event of my death. I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell him, since I wouldn’t put a contract murder past him, but I figured that I couldn’t trust ANYONE in the world if I couldn’t trust him.

“I won’t whack you, no matter how much sense it seems to make”, he reassures me.

The two longest relationships I’ve ever been in, both bordering on the two-year mark, were meaningless. I learned a great deal from them, making them great experiences, but in all truth, that can be said about any of the relationships I’ve had.

My shortest relationship, which never even got into the three month range (and also happened to be with the only girl to break up with me), was the most meaningful.

And toxic.

I shouldn’t have been in that relationship, and I knew it. It was unhealthy, it was destructive, it was painful. Yet I kept going. I kept apologizing instead of accusing, I kept storming without releasing. Was I weak? Perhaps. Was I in love? More likely.

But I was scared most of all.

Scared of giving up a chance for happiness, scared of forever wondering, “what if?”. With lack of choice comes freedom from regret. It took more strength to push on, knowing that it wouldn’t last, than it would have taken to end it myself.

It wasn’t weakness. It was determination. It was an attempt at perseverance. It was an attempt at stoic resignation. I knew she was going to end it.

Because I never would.

The best thing about graduating university and having a job is that nothing follows me home. For almost all of my life, up until this point, I felt like a slave to homework, projects, and tests. I’d never have a weekend where I could just relax, and not think about the next thing that I should be working on. Even in the summers I felt guilty for not getting a head start on next years material.

Now it’s just pure relaxation. No more worry about failing something or running out of money. The only thing left to work on is me, and I have the rest of my life for that.

I think that most guys around this time of year pull a Pablo Francisco in New York, in this area at least, when the weather really starts to go up and a lot of girls are anxious to show off their new summer clothes. I suppose that I can admit to doing the same thing at some point, but I’ve sort of lost the feeling, so they say.

So many are in halter tops and capris (ugh, capris), or other skimpy, tight clothes, and it all just seems so boring now. I might get distracted if a girl dresses with some more fucking personality instead of dressing to show skin, but overall hizzotness just doesn’t do it for me anymore. There’s gotta be a little more, a little something extra to really keep my attention.

Hopefully, that means I’m growing up, not getting more superficial.

I always walk into clothing stores with my headphones on but my music down. I keep the volume low so that I can make sure I’m not in someone’s way. I keep my headphones on so that I can ignore anything that the salespeople say to me. People working on commission can be very annoying.

I had the chance to hang out with Sonas on Wednesday night. He brought over some wine and cigars just as a chance to relax. He graduated last month and is looking for a job before he looks for a law school. The thing is, he’s not tied down by anything at all. His girlfriend is in Seattle, finished her studies and working as a pharmacist, but he has no plans on moving there. He’s perfectly fine with moving back home, out west, or even overseas to find a job. I have to admire that kind of freedom, especially since he’s in a relationship. There’s a trust there that really goes beyond most of the other relationships that I know. We ended up ordering in and hanging out on the balcony. I can’t relate to him very well because I don’t know much about him, but I can definitely say that he’s an easy person for me to talk to, which is a rarity in itself.

Yesterday I had the chance to hang out with Pat, and just kick back with some Soul Calibur II. We were pretty evenly matched, although I had the upper hand because I actually own the game and have a steady character. We’d really learn each others moves, so it ended up being a game of reflexes and feints, instead of button mashing like it is against most people. He’s the only person I know who used to be a hardcore gamer the way I used to be, so it was great to be able to talk about fighter styles and relate on that level.

I should believe only in a God who understood how to dance.

—Of Reading And Writing, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

I don’t currently believe in a god, but if I did, I would imagine that he, being a god, would understand all the things that I hold as important. I couldn’t imagine a god without a great sense of humour, a good sense of musical taste, or a nice bowel movement or a regular basis.

And how megalomaniacal is that?