It’s all a bit of a blur now, especially since we agree it feels like it’s been a year since my responsibilities as a son and a cousin and a friend in Toronto. I do remember trying to balance the caffeine — so I could be clear-headed and enjoying myself — with the insomnia that comes from having so much energy every night. Also, these acts of guerrilla happiness where messages of hope were expressed through posters and spray paint. It would appear that vandalism crosses over into art only in cities with a skyline worth mentioning.
We ended up at the Ontario Science Centre twice, once as nerds and again as wedding guests, which worked out cause the only exhibit we didn’t get a chance to see one day ended up being the only exhibit open to us during the reception. The highlight is always the planetarium though, in all it’s bean-bag, time-traveling glory, the experience itself worth the price of admission. With the exception of a poor facsimile of dragon’s beard candy, everything worked out.
Continue reading “the distances we travel and yet how far we’ve still to sail”…
I’ve been trying to stay vocal about my needs, lest I fall back into old life traps and defence mechanisms. It means I’m still applying lessons learned from last year, still trying to be open even if it means being vulnerable.
As far as I can tell, this has been working in my favour. Otherwise, Seth wouldn’t be coming over on Saturday to teach me how to play the acoustic version of Sean Rowe’s Jonathan, one of those songs I’ve always wanted to learn before I die.
As a side-effect, it’s been a struggle to balance my relationship needs with overstimulation. The other night we smoked an apéritif in the car before spending three hours gorging ourselves on all-you-can-eat sushi, learning that the small but significant privileges of our class come in plates of bite-sized fatty protein made to order. Then we watched the entire first season of Tim and Eric, Awesome Show! Great Job, and played Magic until 4:30 in the morning.
It left me burnt out and I must have lost two days, yet it still feels like I don’t have enough nights like that, sharing real moments with people who don’t perpetually have somewhere else to be or someone else to see. I need more of those times in my everyday life, not just in the days marked on my calendar.
Thank you winter for making my cats super cuddly and slow-falling snow and the chance to wear new cardigan-dress shirt combos. You are totally worth the hassle of having to warm up my car (for now). It’s because of you that I learn how trust is found in the gentle cooing of girls who fall asleep on your shoulder.
Mornings are spent upstairs in the breakfast nook, now that I have work I can get done on my MacBook Pro. To be bathed in the cool sunlight reflecting off the snow was a change of pace I never knew I needed.
Jesse’s birthday brunch at the Lieutenant’s Pump.
I’ve been living without any sort of schedule. It’s nice to be able to make my own hours cause I’m far more productive at night, but it also makes my life free of the structure that keeps me paced and balanced. The only reason I have to keep any sort of regular sleeping pattern is so I can be awake when my friends are.
Still, I tend to stay up past the point of exhaustion so I don’t get stuck in an endless cycle of thought when trying to fall asleep. Otherwise, the cider always helps.
Soon, hunger will overtake the fear of punishment.
It’s one of those weeks where I’m feeling antsy cause I don’t know when I’m seeing Lisa next and I haven’t heard from her in a while. I don’t pursue the issue cause she has her own life, and I have so much to do that it works out anyway, but that doesn’t make me miss her any less. Our time is special cause there are so many things I share only with her, our exclusive little club for Breaking Bad, cat walks, and super hotties.
It feels like I only talk about my friends lately. Probably cause that’s what my life is filled with now. They’re the good that’s come out of the bad, the ones who picked up the ball when others let it drop. They validate me and notice what I wear and listen to me cause they believe what I’m saying matters. And at the very least, they’re a chance for me to care about someone else.
Heather G made reservations for us (and Sergey) at the Back Lane Café last week. We hadn’t seen each other since the summer, before they were homeless and I started recovering. Last time I saw her, she left me with a takeout Hintonburger and a meditation audiobook that she hoped would help me feel better. It was so sweet that she didn’t understand at all what I was going through, but tried so hard to help with very thoughtful gifts anyway.
This time, she wouldn’t let me pay, even though she treated me last time as well, and she said please with such heartfelt intent that I knew she’d be hurt if I didn’t give her the honour. We’d been playing phone tag for weeks up to that point, and between their careers and camping, they could only spare themselves for a meal sans tea or dessert. It made me realize how precious their time is nowadays, and the fact that they made the time to see me meant so much more than the two hours we spent catching up over a great food and conversation.
Poached shrimp salad, with Niagara nectarines, bibb lettuce (for it’s tender texture), endive, lime, and hazelnut dressing. An appetizer good enough for a main.
Continue reading “reduction”…
Two hours later, I woke up without any sense of direction.
Now I’m trying to figure out how to stay awake so I can be tired enough to fall asleep again. The fatigue isn’t enough to keep me down. I had a big breakfast, something I haven’t done in as long as I can remember, owing to the fact that they used to be the ritual of a person with weekends and a need for rituals.
At some point along the way, I realized it’s easier to take care of my friends and help them fix their problems. I can’t figure out why I’ve avoided dealing with my own, but I decided that as long as my distractions are fulfilling and healthy in themselves, there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, there’s nothing else one can do.
In turn, they’re helping me through this odd passage of time, where I find myself unsure of what to do or feel. I’ve had to open myself up to give them a chance to help me. It always leaves me vulnerable at first, but when they listen and understand and support me, all my insecurities go away. It’s a tangible love that goes far beyond words and intentions.