A Questionnaire Instead Of

1. Where were you 1 hour ago?
Sitting in this exact position, on a red couch cushion in Darryl's apartment, Saskatoon, SK.

2. Who will be your next kiss?
Someone I have yet to meet.

3. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
Look who you are asking! I am wearing a pink tanktop and pink sweater. Hmmm, me likes pink.

4. When was the last time you went to a shopping centre?
Today...because that was where the movie theatre was and I took myself on a date.

5. Are you wearing socks right now?
These aren't any old socks...these are Polar Feet.

6. When was the last time you went out of the country?
August when I went to Lindy Hop in Seattle with Eric.

7. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Yes...this afternoon...but it was so bad that I am not even going to tell you which one it was.

8. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Bottled water. I am so exciting.

9. What are you wearing right now?
Scrubs, polar feet, a pink tank top and a pink sweater.

10. What was your last purchase?
Besides the movie, I paid to have Darryl's keys cut so I could have a copy.

11. Last food you ate?
Chili and bread with garlic butter. Is that how you spell Chili?

12. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
Darryl. hmmm...are we seeing a theme here?

13. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
I bought a brand new fall/winter jacket. Chocolate brown. It is applause worthy.

14. Do you have a pet?
No.

15. What's the last sporting event you watched?
Basketball. I know. Very random, but true.

16. What was your favorite class?
Tap when I was a kid, Creative Writing in Grade 4, Drama when I was in HS and Scene Study when I was in College. But I have mostly loved my Science of Mind classes and all my private web/graphic design tutorials Jo gave me.

17. If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
Unfortunately, I would probably be in the past - this time two years ago. If I had to stay present, I would be somewhere hot with someone a'dork'able.

18. What is the last thing you purchased online?
An attempted birthday gift for Jennie.

19. How old are you?
THIRTY. God, that still freaks me out.

20. What's your favorite soup?
Tomato (wif grilled cheese, please) or cream of anything.

21. Do you miss anyone?
Jordan like a hole in my heart. Kyle even though I hardly knew him. I also am currently missing my 404 gang, but I am gonna see them soon. I always miss my nieces. Yes, wow, I miss alot of people.

22. Last play you saw?
Last Musical: Cats in Kelowna. (shudders at the horrible memory) Last Play: Midsummer Night's Dream, Bard on the Beach.

23. What are your plans for the day?
Well, it is night time now but I suppose I am gonna wait for Darryl to arrive home from work like a good little wife and then eat Spitz with him and theorize, for the rest of the night, how we both ended up 30 and alone.

24. Who is the last person you messaged on myspace?
Alexandra Jaye, my new friend from Illinois.

25. Ever go to camp?
Dude, I lived at a Bible Camp of all things for most of 2006. I am also trying to get myself to a huge lindy hop camp in Washington at Christmas time. I am a camp nerd.

26. Are you an honor roll student in school?
I am not in school, but if I was you can bet I would be overachieving as usual.

27.What do you know about the future?
I am not even 100% committed to what I am going to do on Monday, so I am not exaggerating when I say I KNOW NOTHING.

28. Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
not right now.

30. Where is your best friend located?
Moose Jaw. Her name is Mom.

31. Do you have a tan?
I still have my summer tan. I love it. I never want it to leave.

32. How old do you want to be when you have kids?
Well, I am 30 and single without any prospects of a partner or a clear life purpose. At this juncture, I am not even confindent that I am ever going to be having kids. But If I had to throw out a number, I am going to say 33 because that is when Mom had me...

33. Do you collect anything?
People.

34. Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
Other than my earlobes that were done when I was 5, no, no and no. But I have finally kissed someone with a lip ring and that was actually pretty cool.

35. Have you ever drank your fizzy drink from a straw?
Yes. Straws are great props. Very phallic.

36. How do you like your fizzy drinks?
Fizzy. Duh.

37. Do you like hot sauce
Taco Time hot sauce especially.

38. Last time you took a shower ?
I am about to take my nightly bath. I like baths. Less effort.

39. Who do you look like?
My big cuz Leanne

40. What is your mood?
These days, erratic. Actually, that isn't true. To everyone body on the outside looking in, I would seem very positive and funny and happy. But truthfully, I am a bi-polar mess. ;)

41. Are you someones best friend?
You know what? I don't know. I have been. But these days I am not really sure. That makes me sad.

42. what's the last TV show you watched?
I just watched the entire first Season of Scrubs. Tried to watch Episode 2 of Grey's last night and found out that CTV played Episode 2 by mistake last week instead of the premiere episode. Talk about Twilight Zone. Serves me right for watching TV at all.

Nanaimo Squares, Scrubs and A Best Friend Called Mom

I love my mom. Here are some very specific reasons that I love the woman who gave me life. Last night, after a hellish day at work, she came home after her shift and we got into our pj's and snuggled under blankets and cracked open a box of nanaimo squares and watched way too many hours of the Scrubs Season One boxset. We laughed and ate and I introduced her to my obsession with Scott Foley and when, in a quiet moment, a sigh of worry about my life escaped my mouth she simply reached over and squeezed my knee. I love her because I can talk to her about stuff nobody talks out loud about: orgasms (or my lack of them lately...lol...), suicide and what it takes a soul to get to that place, credit line debt and debt's role in our life choices. I can dream out loud with her and I can sing her songs and I can know that even if I sleep in, she'll sleep in even later.

I leave Moose Jaw tomorrow and head to Saskatoon. It seems there could be Saskatchewan work opportunities, but I will cross those bridges when they appear and, until then, keep on with the original plan. Toon town this weekend, Edmonton Monday and home by Wednesday evening.

So, what else is going on?? Hmmmmm...well, I went and had my eyebrows 'sugared' this afternoon. They told me it was less painful than waxing. Total lie. I have also fixed the boots and axels on my car and eaten more food than four people combined. At least that proves I am no longer heart broken. I added a new photo gallery of Leanne and I running about this month. Check it out here. Oh, and in light of Lee and I potentially planning a trip around the world, I strongly encourage y'all to submit to my latest Konkin Question about where you would travel and why. Your suggestions might be a source of inspiration. Plus, it will better than having credit card companies spamming my Konkin Questions page. Grrrrrrr. And I dug out my Poem of Phospheresence to put on the Konkin Poems page. Want to put music to that poem soon...speaking of that...

I have also been spending lots of time at the piano singing and writing and doing that creativity healing thing. It has been good. There is just always so much to process when I come home. So much has happened. I used to sit in this exact bed, in this exact bedroom and write poetry and dream of moving to Toronto and now, here I am, fifteen years later and so much has happened.

My heart swells with it all.

Sukanen

Just outside of Moose Jaw there is a ship. It sits strangely in the middle of a big, open, flat prairie field - awkward and beautiful. A man named Tom Sukanen built it back in the 30's when most people around those parts could hardly find enough to eat. It was Sukanen's Field of Dreams so to speak and the ship - never sailed - remains, in its enormity, a beakon of hope. Or at least that is how I see it.

I can not explain exactly why I feel like a Tom Sukanen. I have not built anything besides a website that houses my confusion. But there is something about a man that lives in the middle of acres of land and decides to build a ship that resonates with my soul. There is something about that kind of Lost Dreaming amounting to what most would call a Complete Failure that touches me. Wandering around my life, car hopping from city to city, building a ship that I am not sure I will ever sail and knowing that I am criticized - if only by my Self - I acknowledge and understand Sukanen. Just outside of Moose Jaw there is a ship. It doesn't fit in, it has no obvious purpose and in some ways looks downright foolish. But I love that ship. That ship is me.

I don't want to come home, but I can't stay here. Leanne suggested we take a trip around the world in the new year. We figure we could do it for about $10,000. We would take three (?) months and hit Central Europe, UK, South Africa, South East Asia and South America. She would use her money from the divorce and I would use my Visa. This weekend we planned the itinerary and started researching. Both of us, ships in wheat, are looking for ways to avoid our quiet one bedroom apartments. Perhaps we are also celebrating the freedom that comes from not having anyone or anything to be responsible for. The only thing that I must be careful of is the reality that will still be waiting for me when the trip is done and my Visa is maxed out. Like a drug, like a high, I would have to come down sometime.

Side Note: Finally saw The Last Kiss which was featured on my Finds last month. It was good. It was about becoming 30 and panicking. It was about jealousy and love and trying and heart break and doing whatever it takes. Worth seeing if you have ever turned 30, had your heart broken or lusted after Zach Braff.

Tomorrow I am getting my car fixed. The sun is out today - hot and heavy - and I am no longer cold. Wednesday I go to Saskatoon to research schools and visit friends. Monday I will head to Edmonton and see SJ in her show at the Mayfair. Eventually, though, I need to get back. There are bills to pay and plants to water and income to create and an empty one bedroom apartment to embrace. The 'thing' eludes me. Writing off men is a noble exercise, but difficult when they smell so damn good. Ah, me. Am I building a ship that will never sail?

Or am I merely paddling around in a rented canoe?

Restaurants Connected To Gas Stations

Ah, Moose Jaw.

Non-stop complaints about the health care system, doing lunch at the gas station on the highway, boarded up storefronts and wall to wall people in the walmart. It is my hometown and I come here to heal and I come here to feel safe, but I drive around this town and it makes me feel sad and small. I look at myself changing my mind every other day about what I want to do, pacing my mother's basement apartment, hoping that something - anything - miraculous will fall into my lap at any second and make it all okay. I look at myself acting like this and it isn't that I think I am too good for Moose Jaw in all its small town simplicity, it's the opposite actually. It is that I am years behind the occupants of this place. These people have spouses and jobs and children and bowling teams and rider's games and new pickup trucks. They know what they are and they have a plan. Even if it is a simple plan, it is a plan. Sad and small is how I feel tonight. Sad and small and alone.

Yet, mostly I am happy, I think. That is a strange sentence, isn't it? I am happy, I think. But it sums up perfectly how I feel. For the most part I am enjoying my visits with friends and family and am at peace with the exploratory nature of my life right now. I have faith that I will find work that will get me enough income to support my exploration and I know that when I am healed and 'ready' I will fall in love with an amazing person who will love every single inch of me and build me a magic cottage where we can grow old together. I've got good friends and an awesome apartment waiting for me in the prettiest city in Canada. I am happy. I think. Kinda like being a canvas covered in this brilliant hot pink paint with a small blot of black right in the corner. It is this blot that doesn't want to go away and leaves me feeling like, under the happy, I could fall apart at any second. Inside this blot rests all the tears that my heart still wants so badly to cry.

Sometimes I think that that is how everybody feels. Almost happy. Happy, they think. Content, except for. I acknowledge that this may be because we are all scared that if we let go completely of the pain, the angst and the drama, we would no longer be interesting or interested. Because let's face it - who wants to hang out with someone who is always happy, all the time? Maybe the black blot is okay. Maybe I just need to focus instead on all the hot pink.

I send you 1987 Buicks with flat tires in front yards, greasy poutine with a half bottle of ketchup, toques in the middle of September, falling asleep in the sympathetic arms of your snoring best buddy, greys anatomy premiers as the highlight of your day and 8am appointments with mechanics named Mike.

A Goodbye Anniversary

[...on the 1 year anniversary of Rev C's death, I reread my post from the day of her memorial and could not help but note how much heart break and healing I have been facing for the last year of my life. With all the cracking open my heart has endured I must have a Big Love waiting for me somewhere, out there. One year later, I post below the words I wrote with so much sad wisdom a year ago and still thank you, Candi, for being irreverent and hilarious and bigger than life...and ultimately, bigger than death.]


I just got home from RevC's memorial.

It was painful. Painful and beautiful and even joyful, but painful. And it was the kind of memorial, held by the kind of people, in the kind of place where you were asked to breathe into the pain and not run away from it. So, not only have I just spent hours dancing and crying and laughing and singing, but I have had no where to hide from it and right now, I feel raw.

Raw and drained. I look at my apartment which needs cleaning and my emails which need answering and supper which needs making and I feel like it is all useless tasks done in a feeble attempt to deny that at any moment it could all be taken from me and, even if I want to tell myself something different, there is nothing I can do about it.

In moments of great pain, one's faith is tested.

I feel my faith slipping and sliding, looking for its Centre. The voices of my atheist family scream in my head that this is all hocus pocus mumbo jumbo derived by humans to make the sheer force of death taking away our existance easier to process. The voice of born again Christians remind me that, if what they say is True, Candace will burn in hell forever more. I hear my own voices, angry and sad, trying to figure out how it could possibly be that Candi chose to go when she so seemingly wanted to live? I hear the whispered voice of Candace in a grainy recording played this afternoon say... I love you... and life is good

and good

and good

and good

and good.

Sitting at this computer, I am not sure which voice to listen to, but I stop tyring to choose and breath in the pain. I am simply scared and human and I miss her. That, I know is real and so it is that which I hang on to.

Life IS good. I choose it. I choose health. I choose to stay and be human and flawed and sad and angry and confused and clear and happy and laughing. I choose it. If I could, I would choose it for you and I would have chosen it for Candace. But it wasn't my choice to make. And now I must let go of ever knowing why.

I ask you to send me light in your thoughts when you read this. I will need your help to find my Centre again. It will return home soon, I know. Right now, I cry.

"The heart that breaks, is opening, once more, to love."

And so I heal.

My Best Friend, My Enemy

'I should check my email' has become a habitual thought that runs continually through my mind. These days I think the thought more than any other. Thing is, when I think the thought these days, I get a sort of shortness of breath and a turning in my stomache. Checking my email has been, for more than six months now, filled with huge highs and shocking surprises and cruel words and gut wrenching disappointment. I have started to hate checking my email and yet I do. I check it all the time. All the time. What am I looking for? What am I hoping to find in my inbox? Why has there been so much to dread?

Have I come to believe that this laptop is the portal to my future? Open up this neat little white plastic and steel box and magic appears on my screen. In front of me - schools I could attend, friends that I can invite, men that I might love, money that I could make, a world of things to buy. I live a virtual reality where everything exists as Possibility. I stay tucked inside the pocket of whatever room I sit in and connect with a life that I am too terrified to live. I gather the information on the programs I could take, read the pamphlets and then stick them in a file. I send out hellos to people I would like to call friends, but who don't know my dreams. My inbox is filled with men who I keep at arms length because the ones I let in a little farther stop showing up at all. I research my dream jobs and send resumes and then lose interest and wonder when the part comes where I figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Hell, I don't even order Chinese food anymore without calling up an online menu first. This little white box keeps me so connected that I am more alone at 30 than I ever was at 21 when I had never heard the term myspace.com.

Then I blog about how I can't seem to stop. I blog and glance down at my Mail icon to see if any new mail has arrived and note all the new blips coming from my Skype and my Messenger and my iChat. I google the new guy that I met, listen to a friend's podcast and download an ex's new trailer off of youtube.com. I think about challenging myself to not touch my iBook or ANY computer for an entire week. The thought is thrilling and scary and is only interrupted by a corresponding thought that reminds me...

I should check my email.

Untitled From Lack of Creativity

Brown is definitely the new black.

Now that that is out of the way...HELLO FROM SASKATCHEWAN!

When I stopped weeping and got out of the car, I realized something...

It is freaking COLD here. On my drive here I drove through snow storms. To keep myself focused I sang Christmas carols. I packed summer clothes and one sweater. I am freezing. I am searching for my 'thing' and decorating my cousin's condo. It is good to be home. I made the right decision. Life is good.

Hmmmm. Wow. That is about all I have to say. Well, there it is. I have officially become the most boring human being on all of planet earth.

What can I tell you that might be interesting? Ummmm...I am enjoying having written off men because I no longer have to brush my hair or wear uncomfortable footwear. With the loss of hope in love comes the joy of laziness.

Oh, and I spent the night last night teaching my two teenage girl cousins how to put on a condom. Besides feeling like I was doing a good deed, it was fairly depressing because it is possible I may not have sex again for A GAZILLION YEARS. Oh well, at least I know If I ever do, I will have refreshed myself on how to effortlessly apply a male prophylactic.

(jeeez, there has got to be something that has nothing to do with men or sex that I can talk about!?!)

I fell in love today. His name was the new MacBook Pro...80GB hard drive, 1 GB of memory and powered by the sexy new Intel Core Duo processor. Oh, the way we looked at each other. I saw our future. And it was a beautiful thing. I can't get him out of my head. All I need is $3000 - or a job - and we can be together.

And that's all she wrote. I am officially out of anything else to say.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Thursday's Post On Friday

I awoke this morning at 6:30am and in the quiet still of a grey morning, I climbed into my car and began my journey home.

East 8th to Fraser, Fraser to 12th, Grandview onto the #1 there was a dull numbness. It was only around Abbotsford that something released in me and I started to cry. Synonomously, something released in the sky above as well and pounding rain surrounded my car. Through tears and rain, I navigated my heart farther and farther away from the last six months of my life. Through rain and tears, I left behind all that has been done and all that has been undone. The tears weren't painful, they were just the release of a body and soul that has tried to be so strong for so long. I cried and sang and even laughed when the rain turned to snow - snow in september! - and I relived and let go and let go and relived all that I have survived.

In my tears, the click of dead bolt locking behind Jordan as he left our home for the last time. In my tears, the apartment amputated and empty with only the long, lonely looking couch, like an awkward scar scratched across the room. In my tears, every single bedbug bite that stole my sleep and my sanctuary. In my tears, saying goodbye to Pender and the safety of Its Island arms. In my tears, the magical twelve hour walk I took with Kyle, followed by the slow realization that that would be the first and last time I would ever see him. In my tears, the dream job that was a nightmare. In my tears, being kissed for the first time since becoming single and, despite the soft tenderness of the moment, experiencing only paralyzing fear. In my tears, a celebration of seeing Jo last Sunday and feeling for the first time that I will survive. In my tears, a Saturday afternoon with the Zach Braff-ish Mr. Reimer whose declaration that I should avoid getting romantically involved for the next three to five years both irritated and inspired me. In my tears, Jennie choosing Toronto without a hint of regret. In my tears, an ache of sheer loneliness. In my tears, the power of being, once again, on my own.

Tonight I sit typing this in a small bed in Calgary. The rain outside is relentless. I am more than halfway home, more than halfway to finding the closure I seek. I am glad I am taking this trip. Perhaps this is the part where I find my 'thing'. Maybe when I return everything will look and feel new. Maybe, I won't return. All I know is that there is one more day of driving and a few more tears to cry and, right now, I am exhausted.

Exhausted and Open. And more than a little bit wet.

I Want To Be A Man

I have decided tonight that I want to be a man.
Or at least think like one.
Hear me out.

Men, I am discovering, do not expend much of their mental energy on women. Women are the icing on a cake, but not the cake itself. Men, instead, find a thing - a career, a hobby, a sport, a passion - and obsess instead over that. Their 'thing' becomes their reason for living and loving a woman, well, that is like the side salad.

Men do not allow themselves to define who they are by the woman they are - or aren't - with. Men do not suffer over heart break and if they do, the suffering usually takes the form of them focusing even more intently on their 'thing'. Men are awesome at distracting themselves from the suffering.

Men have no biological clocks and thus have all the time in the world. Men do not need to talk for an hour about 'what it means' when they have just shared a spontaneous kiss with a female friend. Men can drop off the face of the planet better than women. Men's guilt lasts for about 24 hours and then they focus their mental energy back into their 'thing'. That is for the men that feel guilt.

I want to be a man. Because after this weekend - this week - HELL this past year - I have decided I am Done. Done with men romantically. I resign myself to not having a partner. I am going to find myself a 'thing' and just focus on that. Screw the dating. Enough of reading the blog of a man I saw twice, hardly know and is obviously NOT thinking about me. Never again with loving loving loving the boy with the backpack who could not love me forever. No more caring. No more making them the cake. From here on in, I am a man. From here on in, men are something I no longer trust as keepers of my heart.

In honour of this, I have updated Konkin Poems with something bitter, created a photo gallery dedicated to my female friends and changed the Konkin Question.

(I am also going to go back to Moose Jaw on Thursday I think. Not that that has anything at all to do with anything.)

All I gotta do is find me a 'thing', get good at abandonment and become totally self-absorbed with no clue or care of how my actions affect those that feel...

Then, not only will I be a man,

but I will be myself, aged 20.

Konkin, Concise

Oh,

so...

no Goh.

Hanging On By A Fringe

to love in bursts and spurts of greatness
Is a fascinating way to love
like sprinting into the hot sun
at the crack of a gun
clay track beneath your feet
lungs full to bursting
breath in your ears
running

fast and hard
you give it your all
and then like flash paper
in a magic trick

poof

it is over before it even began
it is over before anyone could become real
and thus flawed
it is over before the relationship starts to sour
it is over
with only a cloud of smoke as evidence

and you stare at that cloud of smoke
reminants of what seemed solid
now floating, see-through
and either you see the love then
for the magic
or you see It
for the trick

and you wonder what's so damn great
about loving hard and fast?

and you wonder when love became a Van Damme movie?

and you long for a CBC Radio One kind of love.

I'm not dazzled anymore by illusions
and sprinting I am going to leave behind with my
Junior High Track and Field Days.

Yes, loving in bursts and spurts of greatness
may be a fascinating way to love

But I think it's time for a marathon.

Letter To Everyone

Hey Y'all.

Thanks for all the pep talks regarding my frustrating new job. Pep talks always make me feel like I have something to live up to...people who will be let down. Tonight, at a Clearmind lecture, Duane talked about being unequivocal in your choices. It resonated with me. I was so spineless at this time last year. So...what that means is this...I will either keep the job and not whine about it or quit the job and not apologize for it. I choose peace in whichever I decide. I know which way I am leaning, but tonight as I sit here and write this all I have decided is to go back in tomorrow morning. I will make the ultimate decision when the time is right.

Last night, when I discovered the comment on my A Public Goodbye post, I slowly bowed my head until my forehead was resting on my laptop and sort of laughed and sort of cried. After a day of trying to decipher Chinese, I found it just as impossible to try and decipher Male. I also started to question my addiction to my laptop. Seems I am starting and ending my relationships/friendships/connections on a computer screen. There has got to be something inherently unhealthy about that.

Which means maybe it was a good thing that last night, surrounded by a restaurant filled with Fringe actors, I sat beside a very intriguing man with total Zach Braff energy. In fact, he looks a little like Zach Braff, too. He was adorable. I hope to see him again.

And on Monday, I must note this, I hung out with Brent David and his gang of Commercial Drive friends and they were all so great. Really great. And Brent David was great. He has agreed to pseudo-boyfriend cuddle and care for me. And on Wednesday I am going to go see his band play. We are ex-lovers and awesome friends and flirtatious support beams for each other. BD started on a computer screen two years ago, but something tells me I won't ever have to say goodbye to him in a blog.

HTSNBN and our Sunday afternoon keeps stirring in my heart, of course. It was so good to see Jordan, so good to walk the beach with him and see him smile and dip our fries into little paper cups of ketchup. I haven't felt a shred of anger towards him since seeing him Sunday...just tenderness. Don't get me wrong...the thought of him wrapped in the arms of another woman will never be a pleasant or welcome image. But I love that man's soul. I miss him, too. As my partner, but also just him. The him that existed before we became an us. Not sure there is anything to DO about feeling this way - except celebrate that I have moved out of the anger phase. It is wonderful to smile again when thinking about him.

To top it all off, I have a very talented, burly South African man staying with me until the 17th. Leanne's summer love, Anton Smuts, is here to do his Fringe show - Stealing Venus - and I have invited him to crash on the couch. I enjoy the company of other human beings in this apartment and he is truly hilarious and masculine and comforting on some strange level considering I just met him 2 days ago.

So, see...life never stops being interesting in Konkin World. I will let you know about what I choose with the job. And the boys will work themselves out. But thanks for the pep talks anyhow...

it is always good to y'all are on my side.

a type of chinese hell

ohmygod my job.

it is like being stuck in the middle of some asain market place where all you need is to find one, specific, certain object and the only people you can ask DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH and you DON'T SPEAK ANY OF THE NUMEROUS ASAIN LANGUAGES and so no matter how many times you ask them and no matter how many times they try to answer you, you both accomplish nothing. besides developing a sort of headache and the urge to cry. this doesn't stop you from trying, mostly by just getting LOUDER and LOUDER. christ on a mountain, as my mother would say. my first real day at work.

at one point today i had about 7 parents hovering around my desk (all of who did not speak english as a first language) asking me questions i did not know the answers for, while i tried to search for documents that might already exist so that I could cut and paste together a - and get ready for this - PRESS RELEASE to be distributed to a list of media contacts by 4pm about a competition and dancer I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT, while I 'kept an eye' on somebody's infant child that they decided to leave with me to 'watch'. it was so loud in the office that i couldn't hear anyone on the phone - which was ringing off the hook - not that it would have mattered because, like everyone else involved with goh, 90% of them couldn't speak english either. it was beyond overwhelming. everytime i dared to ask a question or for some help i would just get myself into a deeper mess, drowning in paragraphs of extra instruction that will never be understood by me unless i decide to take some evening cantonese classes.

tomorrow i am to put together a press kit to follow up the press release that i created. i still will not know anything about the competition or the dancers or where i am supposed to attain photographs of the dancers i don't know. tomorrow i am supposed to update the website. of course, i don't have a clue of any passwords or FTP info or any of the jazz that helps a person trying to web master a site. oh, and i have been asked to work saturday as well. six days a week. of sheer ridiculousness. over forty hours a week of ...this...and i am sitting here wondering...what have i done?

yet can i really not do it?

oh god oh god oh god oh god.

what have i done?

A Public Goodbye

You who I can not reach, I will speak to publicly. Then perhaps, with curiousity dripping off your chin, you will end up here at my blog, like those who are sickingly drawn to the scene of a crime. Then perhaps, on a computer screen, you will actually show up long enough for me to say goodbye.

My heart is a bloody mess. I am not a victim. No one forces me to open up my chest and expose the bleeding organ to boys who are too self-loathing to handle it with care. I am not a victim. I told the world that next time around I would take nothing less than certainty and then I sat around waiting to see if you would call. I am a fool and that is okay with me. When I get into bed tonight and cry myself to sleep for the first time in weeks, it will not be because I never got a chance to kiss you, but because I didn't take better care of my poor, ravaged heart.

There is some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here. You are some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here.

Honesty is a bitch. Sunny days full of tears are a waste of sun. You are not ready. True Knockin'.

I have a piece of you pinned up on my wall and a journey of letters to sift through and five songs to wonder about and one short film to watch and a night of magical walking to remember and, now, another url to avoid. I know you just well enough to miss you. I let you in just enough to feel sorely your awkward disappearance. I like you just enough that this goodbye feels like shit.

Thank you for teaching me why two broken hearts can not make a whole. Thank you for reminding me that it is not my job to convince someone else of their worth. Thank you for bailing today because it hurt so much that I was able to spend the entire afternoon with HTSNBN and, in comparison to being avoided by you, it felt good and safe and loving and kind. Thank you for being the company when I was choosing misery and for making me realize that, despite having no control over the things I have control over, I no longer choose misery. Fuck misery. You want to leave by not moving, no one can stop you, but I want more than that. Thank you for being a catalyst for that epiphany.

Current Mood: Sad. Sad that you could be 'taken with me', but not by me. So sad. The night is drenched in this saddness.

So, goodbye. Pressure's off. I take back my Sundays. I shall not be the one to scold you. You now have one less person to fear you'll disappoint. My sweetest penpal...If I could shake you into bravery, hold you long enough to heal your fear, repaint your palette so that you could see the potential joy and not just the potential pain...I would do so. But I can not reach someone that is unreachable. I've tried that before...didn't work out so well. God, even reading back what I have just written makes me see what a big, fat pattern I've repeated. So, goodbye.

And, you know, maybe your post was not about me, for I am not small and you read none of my books. In fact, the more I read it, I see that I, who you have disregarded, can not be the one that causes you worry. But my post, this post, is in fact - in case there was any doubt - 100% completely and totally about you.

Dusting The Ficus Tree

If I could manifest anything right now, I would want...

the ikea delivery truck to show up, the possibility of safe, naked sleeping in my bed, a roundtrip ticket to sharmaine's wedding at the end of the month, a brand new MacBook like cait's, a digital camera, a phone call from lee, kisses on my neck, unity, tickets to the CWG preview screening on tuesday, a new boxset to watch, instant competency in my new job, contentment with whatever is showing up in my life and a big, fat fruit salad.

Things I should do even though I have zero motivation to do them:

sort my summer receipts, have my eyes re-examined, meditate more often, set myself up a much more healthy eating regime, consciously spend less time on the computer, embrace my single life, commit to a job for an entire year, go to the dentist, find some sort of physical activity to take part in this winter, go to the Bikrams class like i promised i would.

Most ironic information I have heard in a long time:

My ex Aidan has moved in with Martine's ex Cory in Toronto while Marty and I live side by side in Vancouver.

If you must see a show at the Fringe, see the one with my cousin's new lover in it:

Stealing Venus

My favorite turn of phrase these days:

"We'll see." Because who ever really knows? I am attempting to have less expectation. It is either that or live in a constant state of disappointment. "We'll see" just keeps me open to perhaps it happening, working, succeeding, flourishing, etc. or to perhaps it going limp before it ever gets a chance to become hard.

Piece of advice that keeps coming out of my mouth:

'If someone wants something badly enough, they will make it happen.' Excuses are just fear wrapped in words. Whenever I have wanted to talk to someone, I talked to them, providing that person wanted to speak to me. I have gotten on planes and flew to the other ends of the planet to spend a few days with someone I loved when it made no logical sense to do so. I have also watched myself tell these well articulated stories to people in my life about how I am not able to do something because I am too busy or too far away or too focused on something else. Truth is, I obviously don't want to do it, because if I did want to, I would figure out a way around the geography, the schdule, the object of my focus.

Why I love my mom:

At 63, she does not sit around knitting or playing shuffle board. The woman can lift large pieces of furniture with one hand, while vaccuming with the other, all the while talking a mile a minute about the political unrest in the Middle East. I love her because she will eat ice cream with me out of big buckets with two spoons at 3 in the morning. Because she is almost always up for anything, can shop for hours and hours and hours and is proud to be from Saskatchewan. I love my mom because she is the only thing in my life that has been a constant. She does not leave and, in fact, is at my side the instant I am in need. I love her because she is the kind of woman who will dust the ficus tree. I love her because I can talk about orgasms or vibrators or other hush-hush topics with her and because when she walks down a street she always notices the colors of the leaves, the scent of lilac bushes, the blueness of a sky.

If I wasn't afraid, I would...

Show up at _______'s door, grab _____ , kiss _______ and walk away.