My throat has developed something of a raspy tinge from talking all weekend. I’ve never had particularly strong vocal chords. I told myself I’d speak as little as possible today; we’ll see how long that lasts. Maybe I can drink some honey tea instead.

It wasn’t so much that I overbooked myself as plans going on for much longer than expected. Which pretty much means I didn’t get any work done, so I won’t be going to Toronto next weekend so I can catch up. Not that I really want to anymore, as the last two days have left me feeling overstimulated and satisfied. Anyway, Dan took a quick look at my chart for this month (on his own initiative) and told me not to do anything big on the 15th and 16th because it’s “risky”. I never let my horoscope determine what I do, but maybe this is the way the universe tells me to stay home.

I didn’t even have time to do my weekly grocery shopping. I’m eating stale bread and canned soups today.

The best part of the weekend was having an excuse to use the Numi Dancing Leaves teabuds and teapot that Louise bought me last Christmas, something I’d been saving for special occasions. Amazingly, I got three full steeps — which translates into six cups — out of one Golden Jasmine bud.

Those things I had been trying to forget got lost somewhere in the before I even realized it. Isn’t that what forgetting is about?

Sometimes I need these weekends. They recharge me, they give me hope, when hope is so fleeting.

I’m trying to ride that feeling, and let it carry me forward.

It’s late. I should really be in bed. My eyes feel super dry and tired. I don’t even think I have enough energy to floss before brushing my teeth, but I’m going to force myself to do it cause I have a dentist appointment on Wednesday. At least I’m showered, warm and comfortable.

I haven’t sat down in my chaise to write in a while, although I should because it feels so good. The two-day writing schedule fits nicely in with everything else going on in my life.

It’s been busy. Andrew and Alex left last week, so I have to the house to myself again. The company was a fun change. Through them, I met Ziny and Ellen, whom I did pictures of yesterday. Hopefully I’ll be doing some more of Paige tomorrow, as well as more work on my next project in the upcoming week.

My sleeping schedule is still somewhat messed up, but only because of engagements that keep me up late. Thanks to smoothie power, and a better understanding of how to control my eating through bouts of IBS, my stomach is much better. I’m still breaking out pretty badly though.

Went to see Dan today. I haven’t been to his place since last fall. Last time we hung out, it was for phở and to watch Being John Malkovich at my place. Every time we hang out, we play musical tennis, where we take turns listening to a song, and giving another song recommendation based on the previous one. This is super fun, and only Dan has a taste in music as diverse as mine to play this correctly.

Drove to Quebec for the first time, and the roads are pretty bad. The lines have mostly faded and the shoulder has encroached on the road, so you can’t tell where you’re suppose to be. On top of that there are potholes everywhere, and the usual assortment of bad drivers, and this makes driving in the French province less than fun.

Since I don’t take the bus anymore, I don’t have any time where I just sit down, hence no time to read. With the time I’m saving, I’m trying to read before I go to bed. My book rotation right now is the following:

• a fiction book, currently Last Light Of The Sun by Guy Gavriel Kay
• a Taoism book, currently Awakening to the Tao by Liu I-Ming
• a Tai Chi book, currently The Essence Of T’ai Chi by Waysun Liao
• a book recommended by my therapist, currently Reinventing Your Life by Jeffrey Young and Janet Klosko

In the next couple of weekends, I’m trying to hang out with Darren, Navid, Pat, Julie and Blake, Frédéric and Misun. I don’t like to mix friends. It’s not as efficient, but I prefer to concentrate on one (or one couple) at a time.

Through all of this, I’m missing Bronwen sooooo much.

I swore in front of Dan. We were talking about Monty Python, and I wanted to tell him about John Cleese’s use of the word “fuck” at Graham Chapman’s funeral. It was the perfect opportunity, because I wasn’t swearing myself, simply quoting someone else. I could have said “the f-word”, but I didn’t.

I’d been holding back for a while. I don’t swear in front of someone until they do it first, the way I don’t use the Lord’s name in vain around Christians until they do. I usually let the other person go first, to gauge their personalities and adapt. I think Dan was the same way though, and he was holding back. Like waiting for the other person in a relationship to break wind, someone, sooner or later, has to be first.

Dan swears in front of me too now. Nothing vulgar or excessive, but it’s good to know that clean-cut Dan has a hard edge too him.

An hour before arriving, he calls me, excited, to let me know that he’s running late. He explains that he got caught up in the calculations for my natal chart. Out of the hundreds of readings he’s done, both personally and professionally, he hasn’t seen a chart like mine. It’s described as a bundle, where all ten planets are contained within 1/3 of the 360° chart. This means that my energy is concentrated, focused, self-driven.

The reading takes four hours of calculations and preparation, with an hour-and-a-half session of thorough explanation. After helping him with his new computer last month, a trivial favour for me but a big one to him and his family, he offered a reading in return. I happily accepted, never being one to dismiss such a unique offer. He swore me to secrecy because he’s retired, and will only do this service as a special favour.

Before he begins explaining though, he tells me that I can take the information he gives me for what it’s worth. He doesn’t tell fortunes, he simply sees patterns in the numbers. It’s up to us, our personality, our decisions, to determine our fate. “Character is destiny”, he says.

There’s too much to him. Too many facets, too deep a personality. He’s a book unto himself. I could explain as much as I could about him, and one would still have no idea what to expect when meeting him. Even today, he surprises me every time I see him. I tell people that he’s a stay-at-home dad, an athlete, a writer, an astrologist, but I haven’t really described him at all.

The chart offers a subtle glimpse. The stokes are wide, large, and deep with conviction. It’s a mix of cursive and printing, a general insighting into his flexibility. His notes are messy, corrected. He prides himself on being accurate, not vague like the farcical daily horoscopes, and it’s for this reason that I start to believe him. There are things that he describes to me — my penchent for revenge, my philosophical pursuits, my affinity for certain sports — that slowly bring my ever-present, skeptical guard down. He says that I have a natural creativity, that I’m visually artistic, that I see colours differently from other people. Because of this, he encourages me to start making money off my art within the next 15 years, or I’ll have missed a good opportunity. Sometimes it goes over my head; the positions of my planets, my houses, my sagittarius ascendant. He goes into so much detail about my career, romance, sports, travel, and friends that I can’t begin to list it all.

Although there are a few points of inaccuracy, I have trust in what he tells me. Ceasar said “men willingly believe what they wish”, and perhaps I’m simply one of these men. So will this change me? Will I act on these new insights and become a self-fulfilling prophecy? Will I discard them, and end up with the same fate? Maybe it’s wrong altogether, some soothing snake-oil, although I don’t think this is true for reasons I can’t explain. It’s too soon for me to tell just yet.

All I know is that I’d like to be like this man. I’d like to be as complex, as indescribable as he is.

Maybe one day, if destiny is character.

I spent the greater half of Saturday practice trying to unlearn what I got used to with the 38mm ball. I’m probably not going to use that size ball anymore, for fear that it’ll fuck up my game.

Yesterday I was able to play Dan for the first time, who happens to be the best player at the club with good reason. He was the leader in the city amateur divisions at one point, and has won leagues, tournaments, money prizes, even coaching victories. The best part of playing him is his attitude. As far as I can tell, he’s the only person there aside from me, playing for fun. Everyone else is either playing to keep in shape or to win. It’s funny to go against these young cocky guys who get angry when they miss a shot.

Dan is able adapt his style to his opponent during rallies; for me he’ll go defensive and let me smash the whole time (which is my favourite part), though he doesn’t loop return as much as the pros. He’s amazing at returning too…he’ll be backed up against the wall about twelve feet from the table, arc the ball ten feet in the air, and it’ll still land on my side. He even adds a crazy amount of side-spin to throw me off. It usually takes about a dozen kill shots to actually win the point against him, and since I go all out when I smash, I’m wasted after five minutes of rallying with him.