Monthly Archives: July 2012

just another diamond day

In the mid­dle of this heat wave has come a hail­storm that’s dented the shit out of every panel of my car, fol­lowed by a series of unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cally cool nights. I slept with the win­dows open, and the breeze kept me con­tent to be wrapped in my duvet until waking.

It may as well be a lazy Sunday morn­ing in Autumn as I write this, sit­ting by the warm light com­ing through the blinds, wax­ing nos­tal­gic about more than I care to admit. I’ve been try­ing to write, but I don’t know what I’ve been feel­ing lately.

airplane ride!

Maybe it’s cause I haven’t had time to think. And it’s only going to get busier in the fore­see­able future. I’d like to spend more time alone, but that seems a lux­ury that’s quickly dis­ap­pear­ing. When I’m try­ing to nur­ture the rela­tion­ships that are impor­tant to me, it’s hard to refuse a hang­out, and mak­ing reg­u­lar plans quickly fills the week.

playing Magic: The Gathering

Tiana taps two swamps to add two black mana to her mana pool, and increase her sex­i­ness to nerds every­where by 500%.

Probably a good thing, cause I also feel like I’ve been spend­ing too much time alone dur­ing my bouts of introversion.

It’s also been a while since I stepped out of my com­fort zone. I guess I did enough trav­el­ing last year to know where my bound­aries are. Since return­ing from my sojourn in the Old Dominion, I’ve been too com­fort­able, and slowly I’m being forced out of it as life catches up with me. But I know I can han­dle things, cause I’ve done it before.

So I’m try­ing to enjoy what I have now, caught some­where between day and night, iso­la­tion and over-stimulation, work and play, sum­mer and fall.

zhui long

There’s noth­ing in this world you can’t turn into heroin.

—Get Him to the Greek

At our last draft, Steph asked me what was new. It was weeks since we played, but noth­ing came to mind, and it felt strange to have no updates at all. It was only a few months ago that things fell apart. Things had been chang­ing quickly ever since.

And then, all of a sud­den, sta­bil­ity.

the hearth

The hearth.

Meanwhile, I’ve picked up an obses­sion with sort­ing my Magic cards. Darren came by a few weeks ago and he gave me his col­lec­tion, which we both started around high-school. I have about 8000 cards now, ordered by rar­ity, colour, block, and alpha­bet­i­cally, which took me the greater part of a week. There’s no deny­ing how sat­is­fy­ing it is to have a neat and orga­nized set, where I can quickly find a card instead of going through ran­dom handfuls.

I also started watch­ing Cops, sea­sons 20–24, non-stop. A strange addic­tion1 for a real­ity TV show that’s no doubt biased in favour of law enforce­ment and against low-income cit­i­zens, but not glo­ri­fied with a nar­ra­tor, a sound­track, or any mon­e­tary incen­tives. After watch­ing the same episodes a few times, I feel like I have some inti­mate insight into the peo­ple who choose to break the law, and those who make careers out of stop­ping them.

They’re signs that I’m a glut­ton now, hav­ing to lose myself in some­thing, whether it’s being pro­duc­tive or social or happy.

Love used to be my drug of choice, but nowa­days it’s any­thing I can get.

  1. I used to see an episode here and there when I was a kid, but it was never with any fre­quency, and I haven’t seen one in years. I have no idea why I find it so fas­ci­nat­ing now. []

He Who Cannot Be Tamed

Byron’s over a year old now, which means he’s offi­cially an adult in kitty years. I’ve given up on my dream of hav­ing another big cat to cud­dle, as he’s retained stocky limbs and long tail, but grown into a small and slen­der body.

Dolly more than makes up for that though, even though she’s still a lit­tle sore at me for bring­ing him home. She’s nowhere near as tol­er­ant to my teas­ing as before, but she’s still social and still nes­tles against my chest when she’s in the mood (usu­ally dur­ing naps, never at night nowadays).

he who cannot be tamed

Disguised in this inno­cent yawn is a silent roar from the killer within.

My rela­tion­ship with Byron is very dif­fer­ent from the one I share with Dolly. She’s a cat who appre­ci­ates the love and atten­tion I give her, and she shows me this with every nuz­zle and purr.

Byron, on the other hand, is more of a pet; a cat who’s nice to have around, but who doesn’t inter­act with me on the same level. He has a few social habits — hang­ing out with me when he knows it’ll soon be meal time, or jump­ing on me for a nice rub­down when he hears me stir­ring in bed as I’m wak­ing up — but that’s usu­ally as far as it goes. I’ve tried to nour­ish a stronger bond with him by prac­tic­ing con­trolled feed­ing and mak­ing sure I pick him up sev­eral times a day, but he’s always remained a kitty of his own.

nothing little about it

How is it July already. Jew-lie.

My anchors are the peo­ple I spend time with; the only rea­son for me to remem­ber the days of the week. Otherwise, I’d lose track of time as the sum­mer slips through my fingers.

It feels like I’m liv­ing the same life I had back in my apart­ment on Lees, soon after grad­u­a­tion; unem­ployed, sin­gle, keep­ing myself busy, co-habitating with two cats, not going out much, not hav­ing any long-term goals, and not over-thinking things. I’m doing what I want. My needs are being met. I’m invest­ing in the right kinds of rela­tion­ships. I’m enjoy­ing things as they are now, instead of try­ing to chase a sense of hap­pi­ness in the future.

This means I get to focus on one project at a time. Being able to lose myself in some­thing for days is a lux­ury I’ve rarely had. I think I’ve always pre­ferred to work like this, but hav­ing a 9–5 job tends to get in the way.

magnetic poetry

My eyes go straight to one line.

At the same time, I feel com­pletely obliv­i­ous to some things. I don’t have cable, so I can’t remem­ber the last time I saw a com­mer­cial. I never know what movies are out. I’ve started see­ing par­o­dies of pop­u­lar songs before I hear the originals.

I used to be afraid that these were signs I was los­ing touch with the world, turn­ing into an old man, but I don’t mind any­more. There’s so much shal­low con­sumerism, celebrity obses­sion, and dis­pos­able cul­ture out there, and I don’t want any­thing to do with any of it.

I’ll just live in my lit­tle world, big enough to get lost in.