Monthly Archives: April 2005

Weightless Notebook

I’m at the point now where I don’t need to carry around a note­book to keep track of the sub­jects and ideas I want to write about later. There are so many things to say that I only end up remem­ber­ing the impor­tant ones any­way. It’s like a sub­con­scious way of fil­ter­ing out the things that aren’t worth mentioning.

A good feel­ing. As if life never ceases to be inter­est­ing, and there’s always some­thing to expe­ri­ence, to learn, and to tell.

Long Weekend, Longer Session

Jeff and Darren are over for the next three days. They came five hours from Toronto to hang out with me, before they begin work for the sum­mer. This makes me feel special.

I’ve taken the rest of the week off. I expect to be con­scious for a few hours between now and Sunday. Thank god for paid vaca­tion days.

Three more hours and it’d be an all-nighter.

To Get Two Cats Together

I finally got Nala and Dolly to eat off the same plate. It took a few cans of Fancy Feast (the only wet cat food Nala will eat), and about two weeks of serv­ings in pro­gres­sively closer prox­im­ity. Food seems to be only thing that will get them both to brush whiskers with­out con­flict. Even if one cat sim­ply walks by the other, there’ll be a paw swipe or two. I doubt that they’ll ever com­pletely get along. Neither cat seems to be com­pat­i­ble with other cats, even after get­ting accus­tomed to each oth­ers scents.

When The Night Hides Nothing

Even before get­ting in bed, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep because of this. I knew that as soon as I woke up to roll over, I wouldn’t stop think­ing, won­der­ing about the sit­u­a­tion I’m in.

Somewhere in my mind I want to run away again, sim­ply because it would be the eas­i­est thing to do. Fortunately, I know bet­ter, and real­ize that I have to face up to the deci­sions I make, as well as the con­se­quences that result.

I can’t tell if the hard­est part is not know­ing or not assuming.

The Second Introduction, Part 1

There’s a group of peo­ple I once knew well, past the bar­ri­ers of for­mal­ity and beyond any bound­aries of unac­cep­tance. Unfortunately, cir­cum­stances didn’t go our way, and I had to leave. It may have been con­sid­ered a self-imposed exile, but exile sounds so severe. Leaving was the only thing that I could think of. I’ll be hon­est and say that I don’t know from what I was running.

I just know that I was run­ning. I just know that I needed to get away, to dis­tance myself from some of the only peo­ple who have ever treated me with respect. From some of the only peo­ple who have ever treated me like fam­ily. With no expla­na­tion, I left, and they have every right to never speak to me again.

Now, years later, I find myself miss­ing what I had. How selfish.

Perhaps it was the com­mit­ment. Perhaps it was my intol­er­ance. Perhaps I was try­ing to pro­tect oth­ers from get­ting too attached. Most likely, it was a com­bi­na­tion of every­thing. I won’t say that I made a mis­take, because I make my deci­sions based on lim­ited knowl­edge and cur­rent, unde­vel­oped wis­dom. I will, how­ever, apol­o­gize and admit that I’m sorry. Sorry for ever caus­ing any sort of pain, to the last peo­ple in the world who ever deserve it.

This is me at my most humble.