And until I stop breathing, my lungs will take her for granted.
Four Day Vacation
I’m in Toronto right now, at John’s house. He has the cottage for his birthday weekend, so I took two extra days off work to see him. It’s kind of strange how much I’ve been seeing him lately. In the past, we’d go over a year without seeing each other because he was in Windsor for law school and I was in Ottawa without a car. But now that he’s been called to the bar and I’ve obtained the Civic, things have worked out.
We plan on going to the Ontario Science Centre today — something I’ve wanted to do for a while1 — then driving up to the cottage tonight. We’ll spend two days at the cottage2, maybe take a day trip to another town, and drive back on Sunday. Aaron also called me yesterday about his co-ed baby shower on Sunday, which i’m not sure if I’ll be attending yet, since I’ll have driven eight hours that day.
Sunsets and Audiobooks
The drive was absolutely amazing. The weather was perfectly cool, and the sun took its glorious time setting over a few hours. I think the most satisfying part is getting to the section of highway where the 417 splits to the 416, and one can stay in the left lane and accelerate through the turn, leaving all the traffic behind.
I listened to some audio CDs of Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking on the way over. The concept is that our first reactions (made within a few seconds) are often intuitively correct, and that even after thinking about something for a long time, we end up going with our gut feelings anyway. We’re made to believe that the more important something is, the longer we should take to make a decision. I’m especially guilty of this3. Wally lent them to me in an effort to help me act faster so I don’t miss any opportunities. Not sure if they’ll help me, but the way it delves into processes of the human psyche is a very interesting listen nonetheless.
Feeding Butterball
Left Dolly lots of food, and I’m hoping she doesn’t eat it all. The reason why I feed her by hand is because she doesn’t have any sense of how much to eat, and balloons up if not controlled. In either case, I expect a lot of poo in the litterbox when I get back.
New Game
I bought John a copy of Assassin’s Creed for his birthday, which thankfully was on his list of games for which to watch. It was developed by Ubisoft Montreal, the same studio who made Prince of Persia, and plays very much the same way. An open-world concept with lots of stealth elements. Certainly a game I could get into. We take turns playing, and it’s made me realize that I haven’t been playing much myself in the last few months.
A Sense of Overstimulation
Life has been somewhat overstimulating lately, and I can’t blame anyone but myself. After spending a day shopping for housewares with Julie last weekend, the house is a big mess, with things scattered over the counters and floors. I haven’t even had a chance to write about the last time I came to Toronto. It seems like life is going faster than I can keep up. I’m just trying to enjoy it, especially when the weather is this beautiful.
After all, life is for the living. This won’t last forever. I get to look forward to some time alone when everything is settled.
- I don’t think I’ve been since grade 4, so over 18 years ago. [↑]
- Last time I was there was two years ago [↑]
- John says that I tend to over analyze things to the point of paralysis. [↑]
Trolley and Steph's Wedding
Not only the day that Trolley got hitched, but a chance to see Adam and Tomasini and Eric and Nick and Alison; the people I only get to hang out with when camping or partying at the farm. I missed Adam and his ever ebullient attitude most of all, something that never fails to buoy the spirits. Even though we didn’t get a chance to talk much through all the preparation, it was enough to hear his voice and laughter.
It was back to Stanley’s Maple Farm1 for the outdoor wedding. The rain continued up to half an hour before the ceremony then stopped completely, as if god himself had a hand in ordainment.
You just need to look at the smile on Trolley’s face to understand how happy he is.
The reception was open bar, with prime rib and a dessert buffet at the end. I had been waiting over a year to have the prime rib dinner, as I was going through an undiagnosed case of IBS at Aaron’s wedding and was left eating bread. Even Pat, my gourmand friend, said that it was cooked to perfection, and found out that the venue has a deal with the farm up the road to get the best cuts of meat.
We surprised the newly wedded couple with the shoe game, where they answer a series of questions without knowing how the other one will answer. They surprised us with how many they answered in sync. A good sign for the newly wed.
Nick humourously noted that there weren’t many single girls around, but being able to hang out with Aaron in the MC booth made me feel much less awkward and abandoned than the last wedding I went to.
At one point, Trolley came up to me and asked me _____ __ _________ ____ _____. It was his wedding, but he was concerned about me. I couldn’t believe it even entered his mind with everything going on around him, and it was certainly the part I’ll remember most about that night.
- The same place Aaron got married. [↑]
Life After Now
When you get to my age and most of your best years are behind you instead of ahead of you… it is a little easier to both appreciate what you have and to regret what you will never have again.
—Michael on Randomness and Disconnection
In this culture, we’re bred to believe that every step of our lives will affect the next one with dire consequences. If you don’t choose the right classes in grade 10, you’ll be stuck in something you don’t like in grade 11, and end up scoring poorly. If you score poorly in grade 11, you’ll limit your options for grade 12. If you don’t have the right classes in grade 12, you’ll have fewer universities from which to choose. So on and so on, until the C+ you got in history class means you’ll be mowing lawns for the rest of your life.
Maybe this is why I always feel like it’s too late.
I wish I never stopped learning piano, so I could have another medium to express myself. I wish I grew up learning Tai Chi, so it’d be more natural to me. I wish I bought a house sooner, so I could have capitalized on amortization in the rising housing market. I wish I had started contributing to my RRSPs at a younger age, so I could retire at the age I want. I wish I paid more attention in French class, so I could still use it as a language. I wish I had gone to therapy earlier, so I wouldn’t have messed up the relationships that mattered.
All these situations where I feel like I’m too old and passed the point where I can achieve something efficiently, or maximize my gains.
But then I see how happy some people are, who are twice my age, and haven’t planned for retirement yet. Or some who still live in an apartment, without a house or car for equity. Some are newly single at fifty, and dating, and happier than they’ve ever been (and here I am, thinking that I’ll be single for the rest of my life because everyone my age is already married). Even Lloyd, who just obtained his doctorate last year at 36, told me that one’s skills can take them anywhere, and that age is never a matter. I’m not sure if I believe that yet, but I’d sure like to.
It all makes me wonder: is it really too late? Are my best years really behind me?
Perhaps they’re not.
I Wanna Be A Trailer Park Boy
Cause Trailer Park Boys never give up.
Cause Trailer Park Boys aren’t stuck in the rat race.
Cause Trailer Park Boys smoke weed, drink, and eat cheeseburgers all day.
Cause Trailer Park Boys love kitties as much as I do.
Cause Trailer Park Boys always dream, hope, believe in something better.
Design Itch
Web design is a frequent itch for me, as inspiration comes from everywhere. Quite often, I come across a beautiful site that has a clever element here or an interesting pattern there, and get the urge to redesign my own.
But as there’s no such thing as a perfect athlete, there’s no such thing as a perfect design. Minimalism, while functional and accessible, tends to lack personality. Style — while beautiful and full of character — tends to be biased and stagnant. I find myself in a constant state of flux between the two ideals.
Right now, I’d love to have a bigger canvas, something like Days With my Father, where I can display my photos in a much larger format (because, really, the impact of a photograph is lost when it’s small). I’d love to have items organized by columns fit that perfectly in a grid, aligned along natural vertical rules. I’d love to have something a little more complex, something that invites a viewer to explore further.
But I’m happy with this one. It does what I want. It looks right, no matter what day or mood I’m in.
Having a design that matches my situation is important to me, which means they generally don’t last longer than a few months, as I tend to evolve within that time. There have been many times that I’ve written, “This is the last redesign for a while”, only to be unsatisfied in some way and to change it within a few months. I unveiled the current one at the beginning of the year, and it’s probably the one I’ve been most satisfied with. Whenever the itch strikes me, I browse through the archives and admire how clean everything is, and how different types of content seems to work in the same area. Then I realize how hard it would be to come up with something better, and the itch goes away.
So no redesign for a while.
Promise.
Bridgehead
We met on the bus, side-by-side, reading books that both won Nobel Prizes.
I was supposed to meet you here three years ago, and they’re out of apple cider. The cranberry cider is tart, but only too much when you sip it so. There’s a subtly distinct taste to it, barely enough to stop me from wondering if I just paid $2.45 for warm cranberry juice. I didn’t even want this drink; I just wanted to sit down and write.
I never would have come here if you hadn’t suggested it. There are too many people. Too many going for the freshly-grounded, shade-grown, fair trade bullshit that’s been marketed to the hipsters who think they’re doing the world a favour by patronizing the right kind of places. Pretentious people who come here to read, then put their headphones on because it’s too noisy.
I don’t fit in. That’s probably a good thing.
I was supposed to meet you here three years ago, but your boyfriend got jealous and wouldn’t let you come.
We met on the bus, and I haven’t seen you since.
The Fantasist
I hope John’s wrong. Not because he’s a pessimist, but because he’s a realist. I came to him overflowing with excitement, perhaps with a bright naïveté, only to be brought down in seven words, and the words have been ringing in my ears ever since. I use to think he was tactless and unsupportive. Maybe he is. But he tells the truth, and instead of my hopes, I can only turn to him for this.
That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a fantasist, who wants this right now.
Who needs this right now.
A Cold And Grey Summer Day
My room is a mess, a side-effect of my busy schedule. I should be cleaning. Hell, I should be sleeping, but I’d rather write instead, seeing as how I haven’t had a chance in four days. It would appear as if I’m going through some sort of expression withdrawal.
Vincent Gallo practically wrote this entry for me.
I had When by Vincent Gallo playing here.
(If you’re going to listen to this song, turn the lights down, or at least close your eyes. Remove yourself of any ambient noise. Breathe slowly for 30 seconds before playing it. This song deserves it. You deserve it.)
Even though it went up to 28°C today, the morning started cold and calm. There was so much moisture in the air that one could taste the grey.
It made me strangely stoic when I left the house. Something about the whether that reminded me of how comforting it can be to feel sad. It’s as if the earth had decided to compliment my mood with cloud cover. I can’t even explain the cause of my sadness, and can only guess that realization and acceptance are setting in. The only saving grace is that I feel confident enough to pick myself up and move on. Not that I want to do it alone right now. Wish I had the option.
As the day dragged on, things started to wear me down. Exhaustion dried my eyes. I kept trying to pick myself up, kept trying to hide my sighing sadness from those around me, to no avail.
Wish I had a smile in my wardrobe for days like this.
Pregasaurus
Tiana asked me to take some pictures of her during her pregnancy so she could have a record of what her body looks like compared to the rockin’ body it was before. In return, she posed for some other projects I had in mind.
It was an exercise in colour tones and mood. As I’m getting more comfortable in working with RAW files, I wanted to try my hand at adjusting tint, exposure, saturation, and contrast.
At one point I asked her how to spell “pregasaurus” (a term she came up with to encapsulate her girth), and she reminded me that it was a made-up word, with no commonly accepted way of spelling it.
The media makes pregnancy out to be such a glamorous affair, with designer clothes and celebrity births, that it seems to be deleteriously affecting the younger generation. I wanted to portray pregnancy in a much more casual, natural light. Hence the ghetto T-shirt and the belly sticking out.
Thanks goes to Tiana for not only getting nude for me, but for being so photogenic at eight months through the pregnancy, and working with me on these ideas.
Issues In Others
After going through therapy, I’ve started to recognize complexes and issues in other people.
Some put their hope in someone, then hurt them. Some only fall in love with people they can’t have, and as soon as interest is reciprocated, they lose the attraction. Strong signs of emotional deprivation, stemming from traumatic relationships. (Unfortunately, I’ve been the cause on more than one occasion, and it was my own issues that lead to this destructive behaviour where I didn’t treat a heart as delicately as I should have.)
Most people aren’t aware of their issues, but I’m always baffled by the ones who are aware and still don’t do anything about it. They repeatedly make the same mistakes over and over again.
I’ve always believed that self-improvement is the highest form of living, and I’ve been able to work through my own baggage, so I refuse to accept those who don’t work through their own.