Things haven’t been going my way. As much as I try to let them go, I can’t. There’s just too much right now. My mind jumps from one thing to another when I’m in bed.

I need to stay away from the blogosphere for a while. Not writing, but being a part of my usual cliques and forums. The drama lately has been really pissing me off, and it’s certainly not helping.

It’s six in the morning and I’ve been awake for…hmmm…two hours? Another hour before I’m off to work. Maybe writing this has helped.

Pick yourself up, you son-of-a-bitch, because no one’s going to do it for you.

Not necessarily lonely, but single.

Maybe it’s because I got accustomed to living with someone. Coming home to another person in the house. Going to bed with a warm body next to me.

My cuddle buddy has decided that she’s off-limits¹. I haven’t made out with anyone, let alone had sex, in months.

Dry spells are funny things.

During my last one, I was too stoned to even think about dating. The one before that was more of a challenge.

Sometimes people tell me they want to “introduce” me to someone, but I’m always antsy about hurting mutual friends or acquaintances.

One person even gave me the card of a girl they thought was “perfect” for me, whom she met while getting a mortgage approved at the bank. “Perfect in what way?”, I asked. “Every way”, she said, “Gentle, polite, petite”. For months afterward, she would ask if I called this person, and give me a disappointed look every time I said no, like a mother finding out that her son hasn’t borne her any grandchildren. I wish I could meet this girl, just to see what someone else believes I’m looking for.

My friends, who are in serious relationships or married now, talk about being single as if it was akin to their houses burning down. They’ve been in their relationships for so long that the idea has become foreign to them. “I’m too old to date”, they say, “Trying to find someone new, wondering if they like you, figuring out if you’re compatible..I couldn’t start over again”.

I always laugh, and think, “Then where does that leave me?”.

1. I hope it wasn’t because she thought I was leading her on [↑]

 

 

 

 

A few portraits of Gosia. She’s a first-generation Canadian, her parents being immigrants from Poland. One can tell she has a very European look.

 

 

These were taken with the sun coming from behind because Gosia was squinting too much otherwise. I tried my flash as a fill-in to balance the brightness of the background, which helped increased saturation in the foreground. I love the colours in these shots, they’re so dreamy.

 

Another addition to my body shot series. Gosia’s a competitive volleyball player, so she has awesome abs (not to mention killer curves).

 

 

 

A lot of guys are somewhat blinded by Gosia’s beautiful big eyes and curvy figure; they’re don’t realize that she’s quite a strong, intelligent person with a good head on her shoulders. The idea of these shots was to cover up part of her face, not through the framing of the picture, but using objects to help the viewer see past her physical beauty.

It’s the same thing every Tuesday and Thursday.

I get home from work. I have some yogurt. I power nap. I wake up. I eat some fruit. I take the bus to my Tai Chi class.

I’m more productive on the bus than at home. It forces me to sit, and removes me of all distractions.

Some days I like to zone out. I listen to music and let my mind wander. Lately though, I’ve been reading, to whittle down my list of purchased-but-not-finished books:

• Beautiful Losers* by Leonard Cohen
• Mao: The Unknown Story* by Jung Chang and Jon Halliday
• The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff
• Tai Chi Chuan: The Martial Side* by Michael Babin
• Power Taiji by Michael Babin
• Yang-Style Tai Chi by Michael Babin
• The Taoist I Ching translated by Thomas Cleary
• The Tao* by Mark Forstater

The one I’m focusing on now is the Mao book (which is a tome that breaks my back when I carry it in a shoulder bag) because I’m near the end of his life and it’s getting so good and so juicy. Nearly 10 months after Bronwen’s parents gave it to me last Christmas, I’m almost finished.

And I get so depressed when I read it because it’s filled with stories of such tragedy, cruelty, and misfortune. Mao proves to be such a monster, with over 70 million people dead from starvation, suicide, or torture, that it fills me with an almost infinite sadness.

Then I get to my Tai Chi class, and it’s so small and intimate, with such a great group of people, that I feel enlightened. It’s such a beautiful, tangible expression of my beliefs. My classmates are all generous, unpretentious people. The contact when I’m pushing hands, uprooting, force-deflecting — the only physical contact I have in the week now — charges me, and stave’s the loneliness for another day.

When class is over, I get back on the bus and read more about Mao, and hurt again.

I come home around quarter to ten and cook dinner and eat and write a bit and get to sleep way too late.

It’s an emotional roller coaster I go through twice a week.

As predicted, I left my house feeling nervous and excited, and put on my Top Rated playlist to distract myself. The music of Lederhosen Lucil has never touched me on a deeply intimate level, the way, say, a Leonard Cohen or Thrice song does, but it’s still remained very personal. I discovered L.L. at a time when I was feeling rather jaded from life. The music was silly, fun, and confident, so I embraced it with delightful hedonism. It lifted me when I was in a strange state of numbness and limbo.

 

 

 

I got there at what turned out to be an hour and a half early (though it was due to a mistake on the venue website), so I wandered the store until the show started, feeling like a fish out of water in a tiny room filled with handmade women’s clothing and jewelery. Though beautiful and impressively unique, they wouldn’t let me take pictures of anything¹.

As soon as I saw Krista alone, I began to hyperventilate, which was rather unexpected (I’m still getting over how hilariously embarrassing this was). I approached her and managed to spit out “Hi” in a whisper. I didn’t know what to say, so I just asked her to sign my CD (still whispering, unable to control the volume of my voice). I’m sure I’ll appreciate such a reaction in a couple years, as not many people can cause me to be so flustered².

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1. I’m guessing to protect the designs of the artists [↑]
2. Perhaps it was the strange feeling that Krista, who was now suddenly in front of me, had so unwittingly affected me, without ever even being aware of my existence. Or perhaps I was intimidated. I like to consider myself a creative person, but by no means a professional, earning a living off my creativity. Krista is, however, a born entertainer. [↑]