I switched from day-old crème brûlée to calorie and sugar-free sparkling summer peach beverage. The weekend usually has me drinking various combinations of liquids, including honey water and coffee with half and half. It’s difficult to understand how normal it becomes to alternate between drinks while under the right influences, like only being able to take a swig from a bottle of vodka during a hangover. Sobriety makes the senses aware.

This place has become sick and uninspired. I miss living at Lees, with the edge of the downtown core, as well as my university, out my 8th floor window. I do have a nicer view here, especially since I’m living on the 16th floor now, but it’s not on my side of the apartment. What I see is mostly construction, aggravating colours, and unmatching wood grains. I put on different movies to absorb their moods.The raw, open-air feeling of 12 Monkeys. The emotional, effusive settings of the everyday in Bleu. The psychedelic adventures of Army Captain Benjamin Willard through the humid jungles of Vietnam in Apocalypse Now. Nothing ever works.

I can’t wait to move. I can’t wait to give my room the perfect mood. I can’t wait to get a nice, sleek desk. I can’t wait to create three perfect levels of lighting. I can’t wait to have a place where I can completely relax, surrounded by the comfortable feeling of a well furnished room.

I pointed out the only cute one to Shirley, and she teased me about it for the rest of the night. I only chose her because she had those glasses and that look. She was the type before I discovered discovered that I have no type. Almost every time something like this happens, I realize that they’re almost twice my age, and I wonder if there’s anything wrong with me. The other guys I know feel guilty cause they talk to girls who are sometimes 10 years younger than them. I feel guilty cause I catch myself flirting with women who are more than 10 years older than me. I feel even more guilty when they decide to wear their ornamented engagement rings when wedding bands would be more appropriate, or when they show me pictures of their kids.

In almost all my relationships, it feels like I’ve been waiting for my girlfriend to catch up. The only one who seemed to be on par or perhaps ahead, was simply fucking nuts. To me, the only saving grace was a mix of open-minded vulnerability and the ability to channel this vulnerability into change, but most had one but not the other. Perhaps I’m biased in believing that a woman, not a girl, would have enough strength and experience to posses the proper mix of both. I realize that I’m probably usually wrong in this belief because most of the older men and women that I know are still very blissfully ignorant, and have become too old to change their ways (and this fact was a cause of a lot of my previous loss of faith in humanity). Every now and then though, there’ll be one woman who stands out because I can read her like a book.

And she’ll be enough to keep my faith alive.