I can tell I’ve had enough of winter when I start to enjoy the days above 0 more than the ones below. Those are the days when the air is clear without being frigid, and you’re only cold when sun isn’t on your skin. I know I’ll be okay when such heralds of warm weather appear. Spring is coming just in time this year.
Constant plans and new projects are making the weeks pass as quickly as ever, only now I mark the time by my days with Lisa. We’ve set aside every other Thursday for each other, and it’s the only commitment I have in my life now, something I haven’t had the pleasure of sharing with someone in a while.
Step one in making cat food: get over the fact that the souls of a million chickens will eventually haunt you at night for grinding up their hearts.
She recently started helping me make my own cat food, which involves her schlepping a meat grinder, vitamin supplements, and giant tub to my place every time, but she loves taking care of my cats as much as I do. We can both agree it’s well worth the effort when seeing how much they appreciate fresh meat and how healthy it makes them.
The rest of our time is spent with Miley Highrus and Zelda Hitzgerald, sharing the things we’ve grown to love by ourselves as much as the things we’ve yet to experience together, watching Skins and learning that I like Chris cause Chris likes Angie and I really like Angie. Some weeks, this is the only time we have off from the rest of our respective lives, and the things we can share only in person make it all the more special.
I can’t help but question what I know about love and happiness and truth and the world and myself. I’ve been trying to let go of the things I understand and the way I feel, giving myself time to let everything settle, but embracing the groundlessness hasn’t been easy. It often leaves me feeling very much out of my element no matter what I’m doing, and longing for some semblance of stability. The most I can do is keep in mind that there’s no pressure to be a certain way, and that answers will come in their own time.
Before playing at Slaysh we decided to call ourselves The Jeff Band, featuring Jesse as frontman and Father as Dad. Our half-hour set consisted of five songs, Jesse charming the audience with his banter (as always), and not a single unrecoverable mistake made.
When there’s only one take, it’s easy for me to get caught up in focusing too intently and losing my place. That’s why no matter how much I practice, I’m always nervous about playing solos and carrying vamps. Nevertheless, it’s good to know I’m still capable of such feelings, and that in some ways, we’re forever children.
Howard the Fox Project on her Godin 5th Avenue, an archtop with curves in all the right places.
Slowing down hasn’t been easy. Being efficient is an old habit of mine. Only now do I understand how much passes by when you’re constantly going at full pace. I’ve been savouring every experience, holding each one in my awareness and letting it be as intense as possible.
If only it didn’t feel like I’m falling every step of the way, constantly expecting to land on solid ground. I’ve never been so unsure of everything. The book says it’s natural to experience some unnerving groundlessness when the foundation of old beliefs falls away, but knowing this is all part of the process doesn’t make it any easier. I never would have expected to be going through so much upheaval at this point in my life.
French toast loaf is the most ingenius thing since syrup.
Good company has been helping me ride out the storm. People have been nurturing my sense of secure attachment by saying the things I need to hear, helping me get shit done, and taking the initiative to make plans. If only it didn’t leave me feeling even more overstimulated and distracted at a time when I’m constantly trying to remain focused and present.
I’m ready for the winter. To be reborn with the first snowfall that covers the grass, awash in muffled serenity.
Time is measured in weeks, not by the cycle of day and night, and this makes everything pass at a blistering pace. The good weeks involve bacon breakfasts and people bringing me food and new projects and Magic nights. The bad ones involve battles with my old arch nemesis, acne, and his side-kick, scarring-on-my-fucking-nose.
I’ve been dealing with this overwhelming sense that anything can change. So much has left me feeling like there’s no certainty anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve stopped dreaming. I have no idea what to expect from the future, and I don’t know if that scares me or gives me hope.
To stop myself from thinking about it too much, I distract with all the right things and few of the wrong ones. It’s a fragile form of stability. Some days, the strings, they don’t do enough.
I had been writing non-stop for weeks. I’m not sure if it was restlessness, or if I had too much to get off my chest, or what. Sometimes I wrote two or three entries at the same time, because my mind went off in so many different directions. It’s always been a habit to over-analyze things.
Then at some point, the world stopped making sense. My mind went blank, leaving me with nothing to say. It’s like my brain had given up on trying to figure it all out. I guess it’s better than thinking too much.
I feel so distant from everything now. A strange numbness, unlike anything I’ve felt before. The things that used to matter don’t seem important anymore. Or maybe I just stopped caring.
Every now and then, I get a surge of emotion, and I’m unsure of whether I should fight it or embrace it.
Twice in one day? What?
Five years ago, I wrote that hope was the mindkiller. It can be a euphoric feeling, but as the result of several bad experiences, the potential for disappointment outweighed the gain.
My way of dealing with disappointment was to assume the worst. It made me comfortable. There was certainty, and I could move on.
So I had learned never to hope. This is how I changed. This is how I adapted. A defence mechanism I used to protect myself from being hurt. I had been fine with this, until today.
Perhaps it was having Julie tell me that I’m better than the attitude I have, or the life I lead, but I’m filled with hope again. For once, I dare to dream of something greater.
I want it and hate it at the same time. It gives me courage, but throws my world into uncertainty, like I’m setting myself up to be hurt again.
But Julie’s strong enough to believe in me and stubborn enough not to give up, because I’m not capable of believing in myself.
And maybe that’s enough to break the cycle.