Before getting on his train, Jason asked me if I was a hug-person. It was the right question, because I’m most assuredly a hug-person, and we embraced before he stepped out onto the platform.

We grew up at the same time in the same neighbourhood — a small suburb somewhere in the middle of the 500km that separates us — but never had a chance to meet until he gave a presentation in town for the HR Council for the Nonprofit Sector. Until now, we only communicated through blog comments and e-mail exchanges.

When I first met him, it struck me how much tall he was, and how much deeper his voice was than I expected.

Jason is like me in so many ways, something I find extremely rare. We share a strong self-awareness and a penchant for self-improvement, as well as the same views on love and tastes in women. Perhaps it could be said that Jason is an extroverted version of me. We could discuss things we normally reserve for our close friends, and continue as if we had already known each other’s stories for years. He’s a true kindred spirit, and many times I felt like believing in him meant I believed in myself as well.

Brunch was filled with such stimulation that I forgot to take a picture, so I settled for this one when I went to see him off at the train station. I’m so glad I was able to capture his perpetual smile, that same smile I see in his pictures when he traveling the world, in Budapest, Ghana, New Orleans, and other places with names too foreign for me to remember.

Cause stuff like this can happen any time.

(I love Audra’s laugh. Conversely, I hate mine.)

(+50 bonus points if you get the song reference.)

Whenever I’m catching up with my married friends, it feels like I’m the only one talking. I felt really self-centered, until I realized I’m the only one with any updates. Aside from some construction or new furniture, they don’t have any news, much less, drama.

I wonder if I’ll ever be settled like them. If my life will ever be drama-free, without all the instability in my relationships, both good and bad.

A good wingman says “no problem bro” when you ask him to go with you, and takes it as an opportunity to hang out.

He listens and commiserates and backs you up on your feelings when you’re catching him up.

He even pays for dinner when he’s the one doing you a favour.

He keeps a lookout in the sea of people so he can be aware of the situation and warn you.

He stands facing the door so you can have your back to it when talking to him, and won’t be caught off guard.

He teases you about the cute ones, just like the good old days, when you went drinking in places too loud to talk.

He leads when you’re too nervous or self-conscious to do anything, and he follows without question when you take action.

He has a great time, and thanks you for the night.

Bronwen and I agreed to a marriage pact, where we would marry each other if we weren’t in a relationship by a certain age. The thing is, she’s six years younger than me, so we decided that her expiration date is 35, and mine 41, because it’s easier for men to date/marry than women, at an older age.

Note how I didn’t say “easy”. Heaven knows I had a hard enough time with dating in my teens. And twenties. And probably 30s.

According to her, we also have a suicide pact, even though I have no recollection of this. The only reason I can think of agreeing to that is if large parts of the world were destroyed by meteors, leading to the collapse of the economic system, creating anarchy, and reducing everyone to hunter-gatherers.

Bronwen and I are most certainly not hunter-gatherers, and we’d probably suffer unbearably just trying to survive, or be killed soon after because we’re too naive or compassionate for a dog-eat-dog world. The thing is, if that happened I’d try to join forces with Pat and Jen, because they always have everything together¹. So maybe if they were also killed by this cosmic hailstorm, then it would still be an option.

1. Pat’s the one who believes that at least one person should be in control in every group at all times, and that he is this person. The only time he was ever inebriated was for his bachelor party. [↑]

They’re in France now, and I feel like a part of me is missing. I know they aren’t gone forever, but they’re so far away that I can’t just drive over to their house on a whim to talk anymore. They were people who really understood me, who introduced me to so much of the world, who inspired me, who gave me confidence.

Before getting on the bus to Montreal, Frédéric told me that we’ll go on lots of adventures together. I hope it’s sooner rather than later.

Oh, and listen to this.

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Sometimes you wish your friends lived far away so you could drive home forever, and sing off-key into the darkness.

But at some point you have to come home and undress, you have to stop the pressure of the water running down your back and step out of the shower, you have to go to bed for the sake of your colon, you have to put aside your thoughts for another day.

There was something about his expression that made you believe that you’re better now. You’re safer. Maybe the realization that your mistakes are your own to make. That you’re stronger now than you ever were, and that people care about you, enough to tell you the truth when it’s the last thing you want to hear.

Praise the night, for this wouldn’t be possible any other time.

 

Sunday pot luck brunch was a little different this weekend; instead of heading to Tim’s, I was at Pat and Jen’s. It was collection time for a sit-up competition (where Julie destroyed everyone in both the largest total sit-ups and most improved over the last two months, winning $60), and we decided to get together to see how everyone was feeling, perhaps compare a six-pack or two.

There were homemade waffles, fresh fruit, honey bacon, French toast, pigs in blankets, smoothies, croissants, and cheesecake. So much delicious food that I could eat, now that I’m on medication to control food induced flare-ups, and I happily gorged myself.

It was such a lazy Sunday. Long conversations sitting around the table, then hanging out and playing games for hours while the food digested.

Pat later told me he used to come here and read about what’s happening with me, but has stopped reading altogether. The reason — and he paused as he was telling me this so that I understood the gravity of it — was that he would rather hear things from me personally.

While this is far from the first time I’ve written about my friendship with him, it still amazes me. We rarely get any one-on-one time, even when I’m over at his house on the weekends for food and conversation, unless it’s on the phone.

Pat always takes such a concern about what’s going on in my life. He asks all the right questions. He listens wholeheartedly without interrupting. He never judges me. He calms me because everything he says makes so much sense. Just being able to open up, where I’m vulnerable, and have him completely accept what I’m saying makes me overflow with emotion.

I think I’m going through a period where I’m not getting enough social interaction. My friends are too busy, or our schedules don’t work out. It’s left me confused and disillusioned.

Everyone seems to fit somewhere, but I’m not sure where that leaves me. On days like this, when I’m surrounded by people, it makes me think that perhaps I still don’t know where I belong.

My friends know I don’t celebrate my birthday, because I don’t believe in rituals¹. I went through most of Thursday without anyone mentioning anything, aside from Louise calling me from the road, reminding me that we were going out for lunch the next day — which the three of us do on our birthdays at work.

So when I got home around 9:30 that night — tired and hungry after Tai Chi — I was surprised to find a letter taped to my front door. This letter lead to my birthday game:

Then, before I went to bed, I realized I had two phone messages:

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Hearing Dan and his family singing was awesome, but hearing my dad’s voice was something else. He had never called to wish me happy birthday himself; it was a day only my mom would remember, and she would always pass the phone to him.

It seems like every year I expect nothing to happen, but I end up being surprised in one way or another.

1. And this was before I discovered Taoism [↑]

Pat doesn’t worry about me. At first, I was hurt, but soon I understood.

And this is enough to make me believe that I’ll be alright too.

I’m going through another phase where I’m tired of the comfortable stagnancy I’ve created for myself. I need to throw my life into a bit of disorder so I can fix it again.

So amongst the projects that have been occupying most of my time lately, I’ve started making plans to see friends I haven’t seen in a while. It’s about time for another long drive out to Toronto, a trip to John’s cottage, or playing host for dinner-and-a-movie-night.

There’s a different sort of comfort to be found in other people. It’s a different voice, instead of the one in my head. A way of gaining some objectivity. The key is finding right people. Fortunately, my friends all fit this category.

Maybe I’m trying to occupy myself, as a way to stop thinking so much. Maybe I’m just craving a change, because I think it’ll fill a little part of me that’s empty inside.

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.