Before you start reading, play this song. It’s a Deftones cover of The Smiths. There have been a few other artists who have done covers too, including Muse, but only Chino has the kind of raw emotion in his voice that matches Morrisey.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

This song was written for right now.

I’ve moved mainly to video. Getting a little tired of the still photograph medium. I had my first commission this weekend at the NAC, recording a jazz trio concert in exchange for a few tickets for my friends.

If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been obsessed with colour tones and vignetting lately. Making my photos look like old memories. Maybe this is a way for me to go back; reverting to past experiences, drawing inward as an introvert, regressing to a different time, when all I had was innocence but that was enough.

I’ve been strangely serene. Sleeping well. When things get complicated I’ve been less stoic, and more light-hearted.

Maybe it’s the house being clean. Maybe I’m satisfied with the the new decorations. Maybe it was the last weekend, getting caught up on errands and tasks, finally feeling like my head is above water.

Maybe it’s the weather. The rain. The wind. The warmth of the sun. The temperature drop. The way I can leave my window open at night.

Maybe it’s feeling socially fulfilled. Seeing friends, laughing hard, trips out of town, trips on my own.

Maybe it’s the nights spent holding her, caressing every inch of her skin. Maybe it’s the way she held me too.

Maybe it’s the acceptance. A way I’ve let go where I’ve found myself finally free, and living. Something I always think I’ve been able to do, only to realize a day later that I didn’t before, but I have now, honestly.

Maybe it’s all the movies I’ve been watching in the time between, seeing myself in every character, every situation. Going back to high school, being back at university.

I’m not sure what it is, but I know this feeling won’t last forever. It never has. It’s the flux between storm and serenity that moves me.

Been writing this entry over the last week.

In a couple days, this blog turns six.

Maybe I just had a few good weeks.

It’s a world where every song is a journey, every chord is more dulcet than the last, and I don’t want to, I need to dance.

It’s not a simple feeling. There’s so much to consider — new realizations, unfamiliar territory, questions of fate, unresolved proprieties, inevitable change — that it’s all a mix of emotions unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. But who says that life has to be simple? All I know for sure is that I love her, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

And for now, I’ll wear this smile like my heart on my sleeve.

Our bodies burn like flames in an oven, so we kick off the covers. I slip my arm around her waist and press her body close to mine. She holds my hand to her chest, fingers wrapped around fingers, legs wrapped around legs.

The morning light comes in blue and soft and subtle through the window, and the stars begin to fade.

I want to hold her like this under a tree in the summer and pass the time in her company, alive to every moment we’re together. I want to hold her like this when the cars and streets are buried under snow outside, so we may truly know what it is to be warm and comfortable. I want to run my finger along the softness of her face, so I may learn every landmark and feature, and never forget. I want to read to her my favourite books on lazy Sunday afternoons, so I can take her to where they’ve taken me. I want to feel her breath against my skin, the breath that gives her life, and me joy. I want to wake up to find she’s not away in another bed, but next to me, lost in slumber, for there can be no other such simple happiness.

This is where I’m perfectly content, lost in a moment when time has stopped and nothing else matters.

But I know it won’t last forever. She’ll soon be gone. I won’t be the one to do these things with her, the one to love her the way she was meant to be loved, the one to love her as deeply as she deserves. There’s no use in thinking about it now.

The one who inspires me to create wonderful things, to make beauty as I see it in her, so that others may share in this feeling. If I had a million words to describe her grace, it still wouldn’t be enough.

I could be sad, but I’d rather be happy instead.

So as the sun begins to rise, I indulge myself a little longer, and hold her closer before drifting off to sleep.

The crooked become straight
The empty become full
The worn become new
Have little and gain much
Have much and be confused
So the Sage embraces the One and becomes a model for the world

—Verse 22, Tao Te Ching

Yesterday, I woke up from a nap at four in the afternoon. Usually, when I wake up from a long nap, I feel groggy and uneasy, but this time I was bright and rested.

When I went outside, the rain had stopped. It washed the bird poop off my windshield, it filled the air with the lingering scent of cleanliness. In my car, Becky started singing in the stereo.

And every time she hit me with the words “cavalry of light” in her wavering vibrato, I had to sing at the top of my lungs along with her, my voice cracking, my dignity left behind me.

This morning, I was running late for work. But by the time I got to the car, the sun had been out long enough to warm the breeze. I could roll the windows down and let the air in. The traffic made me even more late, but it let me take my time too. It gave me the chance to enjoy Lenny crooning to me about how true love leaves no traces.

It’s like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, because I’m not used to things going this well. But nothing’s going wrong. Things are be working out. Everything has a reason, no matter how small or trivial.

Taoist theory says that surrender brings perfection. Don’t force anything. Allow things to happen, and they’ll naturally balance out. Perhaps I’m finally believing this, instead of simply understanding it.

When things are going badly, you’re not really behind.

You’re just waiting for the good that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.

Turning over and over in the sky, length after length of whiteness unwound over the earth and shrouded it. The blizzard was alone in the world; it had no rival.

When he climbed down from the window sill Yura’s first impulse was to dress, run outside, and start doing something.

—Doctor Zhivago

When one looks outside their window and sees this, this blanket of purity, what else can one feel but serenity, contentment, and hope?

The art of longing’s over, and it’s never coming back.

—Leonard Cohen, Death of a Ladies’ Man

They ask me why I’m crying. I tell them the song is too good, not to cry.

They ask me why there’s a bounce in my step. I tell them I’m in love, and I don’t care.

They ask me if she’s taken. I tell them she is.

They ask me if she knows. I tell them it doesn’t matter as long as I feel this way, and I’m never letting go.

They ask me, “Why her?”.

I tell them she makes me happy without trying.

Yesterday was grocery day.

I looked out the window, and it was raining. “You can’t wait for the perfect opportunity forever”, I told myself, so I grabbed my toque, my hoodie, my jacket, and stepped outside.

The rain wasn’t heavy, but enough to soak through in a couple minutes.

On my way to the store, I thought of putting an ad in the classifieds.

WANTED: RAIN DANCER

Looking for cheerful model to dance in rain for photo project.

Should be slim build. Light-brunette to blond hair, no longer than shoulders. Bring own clothes, short-sleeved with no logo preferred.

Will offer digital negatives for portfolio as compensation.

It was a short walk.

At the deli counter was the regular bunch of hooligans, a group of unmotivated, lackadaisical guys with whom I’ve dealt many times before.

I was about to say something to get their attention when another young man (whom I initially assumed was part of this group, with the same facial hair and the same mug), walked up to greet me.

“Barbecue chicken?”, he asked.

“Please”.

I stood there waiting for less than a moment before he came around the counter with something in his hand.

“Wipe your glasses off with this shit”, he told me, and seeing the beads of rainwater on my glasses, handed me a wad of paper towel. The uncouth manner in which he presented the paper towel made his gesture all the more warm.

Handing me my dinner, he said “Take it easy, bro”, and touched his fingers to his forehead in a mini salute.

The rain stopped before I stepped outside again.

And I haven’t cleaned my glasses, or stopped smiling since.

Yes, I’m up again. Not even, but up.

I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t think straight when lacking sleep. I get very grumpy, and Bronwen knows not to get in my way when that happens (and not to call me “Mr. Grumpykins“). Still, even with enough sleep, I don’t think it would have changed how I was feeling.

So I picked myself up by reading the parables of Chuang Tzŭ¹. Though it’s still well beyond my grasp, I’m slowly learning how to achieve utter emptiness and single-minded stillness.

Sometimes I wonder if I sound like a born-again Christian, only with Taoism. One of those people who gets preachy, where everything they say relates to their new-found faith. It’s as if my brain processes everything through a Tao filter, and I see everything in a different way. I try to be conscious of it in conversation, to avoid boring someone who wouldn’t really understand anyway, but I can’t help but write about it here.

Nevertheless, I feel enlightened, though still human²; I’m not sure if I’ll get the rug pulled out from under me again. It’s a strange feeling. In this mindset, it’s as if nothing can stop you. Until something happens.

Part of me wishes I wasn’t feeling this high. That I was more even, like Pat. It’s a balance of emotion that I seek, not the dramatic ups and downs. I’ll be content when I can achieve that.

Hence it is paradoxically said, “Perfect happiness is to be without happiness; the highest praise is to be without praise”.

1. Dave helped talk some sense into me as well. I think part of my recovery was that our discussion led me to feel as if he’s a kindred spirit. [↑]
2. When looking back on this entry, I realized that I wrote about picking myself up twice in one month. I don’t even remember writing it the first time. [↑]

I was talking to Pat the other day and the subject of my sizable debt came up. Debt used to trouble me. I did everything I could to stay debt-free, and was successful until this year. For some reason though, I stopped caring about money. “You must be really happy”, he said, “if something that big doesn’t bother you anymore”.

It was true, but I never realized it until then. All the good things in life have easily outweighed the bad. There isn’t a single thing that I can point to and explain why, but it’s happened — gradually, progressively — over the course of the last year or so. I’ve become very comfortable with myself. I’m happy with who I am. The confidence I’ve gained, my luck in meeting Bronwen, the resolution of the situation with my mom have all contributed I’m sure. The small things don’t bother me anymore, and almost everything is a small thing. I still lose sight of the big picture every now and then and get in one of my moods, but they don’t last as long as they used to.

Now a new design.

I’ve had my own site since 1996, and looking back on all the different versions (around two dozen in all) I realize that they’ve all been dark — less than 30% grey. I used to be a dark person, and the designs were a reflection of this.

This new design serves two purposes. Metaphorically, the light grey (93%) represents my feeling of mirth. Technically, through various tweaking, I can take advantage of different design elements, such as strong (these were links in the last iteration) and emphasis. I also wanted to go back to the traditional underlined links, with a slight hover flourish. Pixel icons have been updated for extra playfulness. Also added is a colophon in the About section.

Not a complete layout change — really, it’s mostly colour — but probably the most drastic change I’ve ever made to the site.

And it fits perfectly with how I feel.

Megalomania is watching a man with a brain in a jar court a woman who laughs like a mule, and believing that it’s the story of one’s life. Weakness is losing a thought to a pretty face. Concupiscence is the interpretation of awkward roughhousing as a prelude to fucking. Jealousy is wondering why one never had the same opportunity, and acceptance is realizing that one did.

In the end, it’s not the situations we relate to, it’s the hopelessness of being stuck with the decisions we make. Of being caught between the risk of settling, and the fear of not doing any better.

Happiness is freedom from both.

We were at the house late last night, building desks and filling drywall holes. I decided not to sleep in this morning, because I needed the time to get work done, although I also needed sleep to get it done properly. There are mailouts to complete, statement stuffers to design, bitmaps to vectorize, and countless other things for which I’m responsible. I convinced myself that I’ve (begrudgingly) gone through enough torturing days of little sleep for someone else, so it would be more appropriate if I did it for myself now.

Stepping outside, the chill of winter morning still in the air against the early light of spring, I skipped nine tracks until Claudio started singing, in his shifting, melodic voice:

Bye bye beautiful
Don’t bother to write

My lethargy turned into energy, as I thought of how things have worked out based on the decisions I made. How I could die happy right now, although I’d prefer to wait at least two weeks if given the choice.

The way I seem to have everything I deserve, and nothing that I don’t.

There is a risk, there’s a risk when your dealing with love
You could snap my neck
Any speed you drive can be dangerous
When this frame fails me
Will I trust you to carry me through?
I know there’s no such thing as safety
But I know what a promise can do

—Trust, Thrice

I’ve alway been one to put a little too much faith into people. Although this often ends up hurting the parties involved, myself included, I’ve always felt like it was worth it. I’d rather give someone the benefit of the doubt, and perhaps this is why I end up being let down so much (John would add that my intolerance is partially to blame). Some people don’t like to take that risk and need others to make the first step, need others to make that leap of faith. I know, because in some cases, I used to be one of them. One may hold back until they know that the other person has as much at risk as they do. It’s the easiest way to not get hurt.

There’s always one person who has to make that first step, to lay everything on the line. It’s one person who has to be the first to go for a kiss, the first to say, “I love you”, without knowing what the other person will say in return. It makes it easier, of course, if one can understand or accept the fact that there are risks involved in any sort of relationship, that not everything will go the “right” way.

There’s a Simon and Garfunkle song that goes, “The roller coaster ride we took is nearly at an end / I bought my ticket with my tears, that’s all I’m gonna spend”. When Paul Simon penned those lyrics, in the manner which he plays with words and rhymes to create his beautiful, renowned lyrical verses, he should have written, “That’s all I need to spend”. There’s absolutely nothing more that one can give.

Tears are a small price to pay for a chance at happiness.

With change comes the need for control.

And with emotions running through me in an almost uncontainable, effusive manner, that need for control has never been more necessary.

Usually, this comes easily. It feels as if I’ve been training my whole life for such a thing, that I’ve spent most of my time working towards becoming a cerebral person. Except that in the past, it’s was to edulcorate the pain.

Now, it’s to control the happiness. The almost ineffable feeling of euphoria.

Sometimes, I can barely contain the surge of emotion, and I have to stop myself from acting out, to keep my mind in check. I refuse to be one who acts out of emotion. I refuse to be one who’s at the whim of whatever mood I’m in.

I will be stronger than that which has become so important to me. I will be in control of that which I’ve sought so long to have.

Because balance is more important than happiness.

Emotional. Oh so emotional. Maybe it was the pint, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the presence of others, maybe it was the second-hand compliment, maybe it was the raw night sky, maybe it was the Moon Mix pumping in my ears.

I just know that I’m happy.

And loving every minute of it.

So today I woke up at around eight, checked my daily blogroll, found out that I have $6 in my bank account, cooked some breakfast, went back to bed. I got a call letting me know that I’ve been hired for a new job, my highest paying one to date, ending to my fourteen month unemployment stretch. Got dressed, bought a bus pass, went to school, ate lunch, skipped the last half of class. On the way home I bought a book, looked for a wristband, finished reading a chapter from my economics textbook. Got another call, letting me know that my application with Trolley and Wheaties into a beautiful 16th floor apartment has been accepted. And here I am, sitting in my furnished apartment next to my cat, watching people improv characters on a GO train.

I start work tomorrow. I’m scheduled for a table tennis marathon with Pat this month. My pork chop defrosted in time for dinner. Things are getting even better.

More than 170 people were killed today, in a war I know nothing about, concerning things I don’t understand, with people I’ve never met, at a place half the world away.

This is the first time that I’ve ever felt guilty to be happy.