Day 10102:  Finding Jam-o

  
I'm getting really rather excited.  In one hour and fifteen minutes, I will be off on my own little weekend adventure.  The dog and I are hopping in the car, stopping briefly at Canadian Tire for flashlights and an air mattress and then heading towards parts unknown.  First stop, happy place #3 - somewhere on the Severn River.  No idea what the place is called, but I'll know it when I see it.  Hopefully, I can find a little diner or something, use their port-o-let before bed and then bunk down in the back of my car.  If not, worse comes to worse... well... I've done it before. 

And from there, pure joyous freedom.  No one to answer to except myself.  I can go skinny dipping in the morning, roast marshmallows over the car lighter at night.  It'll be great.  And Monday will come and I'll be back - refreshed, rejuvenated and ready to face the world again.

Have a good weekend people...

Day 10101:  Eternity

My window overlooks a billboard advertising Calvin Klein’s Eternity.  Two very happy looking people frozen with perpetual smiles gaze lovingly at each other as if by some chance spraying on eau de toilette has given them the secret of love, life and happiness… they lie in bed, he’s got the sleepyhead-tousled-I-just-woke-up unshaven look, and she’s got the I’m-so-in-love-with-you-I-don’t-care-how-bad-your-morning-breath-is look.  I feel a little like I’m intruding in their secret little world every time I look out the window, complete with the little snickerly “hee-hee” that you sometimes get when you see two people on the subway... you know what I’m talking about.  A touch here, a stray lock of hair pushed back there, it’s refreshing in a world where everyone seems to be out for themselves.

Two people married for love; each with a history of past relationships and marriage – one ended in failure, one in circumstance.  Together forever, they sing, happy karaoking with their friends.  Karaoke because he refuses to line dance, and in wanting to spend time with him, she’s given up some of the things she once liked to do.  She brings two daughters into the family – he, two sons… a modern day Brady Bunch.  The kids get along well enough – they don’t live at home anyway, so it really doesn’t matter.  Of course, the girls are a tad more happy and supportive for the happy couple than the boys… but isn’t that always the case?

Fast forward three years.  Boys are off doing God knows what.  One had a stint as a part-time Aussie, one had a place cooking pasta at Scaramouche. Girls, oh those responsible, well-behaved, caring girls, are doing the responsible work-life balance with the occasional partying to “liven” things up a bit.  After all, girls just wanna have fun, right?  Oh, and the happy couple, well… they aren’t so happy anymore.  And really, they aren’t a couple anymore.  It’s not really a secret.  The family knows.

Two people both in their fifties, with years of supposed history and experience try to make a go at a better life together and fail.  How then, can two people in their twenties or early thirties even hope to successfully accomplish something that by all human nature is inevitably impossible?  And then still expect to provide valid “guidance” and “advice” AND expect to be taken seriously?

Am I being selfish in thinking that I want no part in it.  Up, down, upside down, it matters little what the outcome is because I want to stay as far away from it as possible.  These days I’ve been walking around like a chicken with it’s head cut off – very zombie-like, living the day in, day out, hoping that everything really does look better in the morning… word of advise, it doesn’t always.  Sometimes things look even worse.

I am going to do something to improve my situation… I’m calling in all favours, calling in all loans, paying of El Banco de Mama, finding a place on the waterfront, selling my dear, dear JP and taking control of my life.  It’s time to pull myself out of the funk – it’s not my life, it’s not my problem.  I need to be responsible for me at the moment.  Sounds selfish, I know, but I’m the only one who has to deal with the guilt.  No one else. 

Ironically, this is today’s horoscope from the Globe & Mail…

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23 – Dec. 21):  Stop rushing around and take time out to think about what you are doing and where you are going.  Sagittarius is a sign which likes to take action but action for its own sake rarely results in anything worthwhile, so slow down a bit and ponder the meaning of your existence.  There is a grand purpose, despite what the skeptics might say.

So, off I go tomorrow to ponder the meaning of my existence.  The dog and I will hop in the car and drive to parts unknown.  Where I end up, I end up… even if it’s the parking lot at the end of the street. 

Day 10100: I could use one of these right now...

Amma

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I only wish life gave me lemons... that would be a whole heck of a lot more fun!!!

Prince concert was great! I had such an amazingly awesome time... laughing, cheering, clapping until my hands were raw. Who knew that His Royal Purpleness was sooo cool in person. I can sense sudden wave of Prince fan-dom coming over me. Quick! Someone give me some CDs... going into withdrawal... urgh...

Day 10099: Wear Something Purple

I'm busting out! Gotta do me something spontaneous and exciting... something I've never done before. Something... Chasing Liberty-ish.  Chick flicks and teeny-bopper movies are so inspirational...

I want to hop on a plane and disappear - take only my passport, my wallet and a toothbrush. Where I end up, I end up and if I don't come back, then so be it. 

Let the fates decide. They can do with me what they will. I no longer care...

Day 10098: Drunken whispers…

“I’m not allowed to jump you anymore,” I whisper to him softly.  We wait by the elevator to leave.  The club is packed, the music is booming, base turned up full blast.  I’m toasty and happy, and oh-so-definitely-not-horny (not that I’d ever admit it anyway)… 

He. Laughed. At. Me.

So sums up my weekend.  Which wasn’t particularly spectacular or good or fun sometimes, but I survived, and now I’m home.  Dizzy and headachy, recovering from who-knows-what I consumed and/or drank.  Cuz I have no idea whatsoever.

Friday was a fun kind of day.  Seven hours in the car with Triscuit listening to Prince in prep for the concert on Tuesday.  Bored out of my mind.  Seven hours… what the heck was I thinking… obviously though, it wasn’t distance.  I should have been thinking distance.  But all I could think of was “Jump him, jump him, jump him…” while my conscience said “No, no, no, no, noooooo!!”  And as luck would have it, my bladder kept saying, “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee…” 

Boy leaves me alone in my downtown Montreal scummy looking hotel room.  It’s late, I haven’t eaten – he’s got a plate of dinner saved for him by his Frenchy friends who like Grey Goose and red wine…

“See you tomorrow,” he says as he ducks into the elevator. “Go out for a walk or something.  Explore downtown.”  No be careful or lock your door, or any other equally concerned/caring statement...

Enter stage right, Malfoy and other members of the team.  We go for dinner, have some beers, make merry… and end up at Triple X.  Which is exactly what it sounds like - a peeler joint, a strip club - somewhere I never expected to go in my life, and probably would never go again (although I’ve heard that they make a TON of money, but that’s beside the point).

I kept my eyes politely averted. (How the heck did she do that on the pole???)

Saturday morning, early races.  People were late, so we grabbed people left, right, and center.  Ran to the marshalling area, got on the boat, paddled and lost.  Second race... oops, we missed the call, and ended up waiting for a couple of hours for our rescheduled race where we did worse than the first race.  Bad omen for the weekend. 

Dinnertime.  Forty five minutes stuck in traffic.  Waited another hour for roomies who were stuck in worse traffic... ended up drinking cranberry and gins and eating appetizers at the bar.  I'd wax eloquently about the succulence of the escargots that melded perfectly with the tasty tartness of the vinegary balsamic tomatoe and the tender morsels of chicken and mushroom tartlet with the flakey cripiness of the paper thin phyllo, but really, I was more happy with my cranberry and gin.  I swear those 'shrooms looked a little poisonous.

An eon and two elevator rides later, Club 737, multiple shots with an ailing PlBoy who refused to order the drink-du-jour (bj's), and an idiotic display of misplaced affection... I have come to the conclusion, that regardless of how little I wear or how cute I am when I'm drunk, boys don't like me.  Simple truth and fact.

Home in the wee hours of the morning, to be up two and half hours later and on the water for our 7:54am race.  Shameful, I know, but I was still a wee bit toasty.  Paddling my guts out with an already spinning head didn't really help un-quease the stomach.  Nor did the bowl of cereal I was "forced" to skarf down so I'd have energy to "race".  Not like we did, anyway.  We missed the final race for reasons that relate directly to Malfoy, but shall remain unexplained for lack of venting energy.  But, can we say that we don't like being ripped off and we don't like nasty emails...

After endless hours of shopping and food fun, we head home, trying to salvage what remained of the weekend, trying, beyond hope to transform it into a "great" weekend.  Spoiled once again by Malfoy et al who just happened to be at the same reststop as us... what the hell are the chances?  Too funny...

Now, can someone get me an Advil or ten, a good masseur and a shotgun so I can blast that freaking bagpiper outside to kingdom come... 

Day 10095: Excuses...

~ 5 in a car would be too uncomfortable
~ BMW bailed on me - I was stuck without a ride
~ how the heck do I get up to Whitby, of all places?
~ I don't wanna be a third wheel
~ I wanna get into town early and PARTY... (ahem... with who?)
~ I don't wanna drive by myself...

Ok, I admit it.  Probably not the smartest thing to do to ride down to Montreal with Triscuit, but hey, what's done is done... now get off my back or I won't tell you about the backless wonder and kabuki pants I packed for the trip...

Today's horoscope:
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21): You have learnt many things over the years but how many of those things have you experienced for yourself? The sun in Leo at this time of year urges you to be more adventurous, to discover first hand what life is about. There is only so much you can learn from books and other people. There is no end to what you can learn for yourself.

Day 10094: Why working from home just doesn't work...

I meant well.  Yesterday afternoon, stupified and suffocated by the unrelentless summer heat of downtown TO, I packed up my bags with the variety of assortment of things I was to work on, and came home.  Actually, staggered home, more like it.  With a laptop, a three inch binder full of oodles of working goodness, and two bags, it was a struggle not to pass out.  I tried, I tried really, really hard, but with a bag slung over each shoulder, I must have looked like I was going to war... or something.

It started off well.  Almost on the dot of 8:30, I called into reception,  "I won't be coming in today, Ms. Reception-Lady-who-barely-knows-my-name.  I'm going to be working from home today... by the way, how do I check voicemail from home"  (note... not that I ever get any in the first place but one must keep up with the illusion that one deserves her pay)

I tried, it didn't work.  I logged on to my email (and have been religiously checking it, for all the two emails that I've received today...) and mailed our tech guy for instructions - which so happened to be COMPLETELY different (and much easier) than what the receptionist had told me.

So, finally settled, I decide to set up my laptop to work on, checking email on my slow Rogers-lite account (I sooo regret downgrading), but horror of horrors... I had thought that I had an extra power cord at home... NOPE!  Damn... can't turn on laptop unless I absolutely need it... can't even download stuff from laptop to home computer because Ms. Genius here, forgot the silly little memory key, and doesn't have a spare.

Well then, I'll just have to take a mental break, walk the dog, eat breakfast while I decide what the heck I'm going to do.  Luckily, I had printed out a lot of tedious small print data to look at - that should keep me occupied for a good little while.  Ugh... breakfast isn't agreeing with me.  Maybe I shouldn't have eaten expired eggs - they smelled fine, and only tasted a little weird, but no big deal, right?  Ugh.  The aftertaste is killing me... I've brushed thrice, and still can't get the eggy sulpher taste out of my mouth.  I've decided that I'm done with eggs for now - they make me want to puke.

Now dizzy, nauseous and half blind from staring at size 7 font, I decide to take a "20 minute power nap" instead of eating lunch.  I've never before in my life been able to limit my "20 minute power naps" to 20 minutes... *strrrrrrrrrretch, yawn*... an hour later, feeling only a little refreshed, but also feeling a little groggy from oversleeping, I wake up.

Crap!  I haven't checked email or voicemail in AN HOUR!!!  What if someone's trying to reach me... yeah, right.

Afternoon, not so much better.  Fielded a few phone calls, dealing with a few odds and ends here and there, but the bulk of the work can't be done until other people get back to me... 

So, finally tally... working at home = squat done.  Oy, I'm so going to get fired. 

Day 10093 1/2:  No A/C... dying...

A/C at work blew this morning... my cube faces west so the afternoon sun is killing me.  I'm sweating like a hotdog grilling on the barbie.  Ick, what a non-girlie-girl image.  My skirt is sticking to me, and riding up with every single tiny movement...

Waiting in the lovely airconditioned lobby of FCP waiting for BMW to come down and lend me a bag so I can take everything home and work there in relative comfort.  Red head guy carrying lunch and a pack of smokes walks into the lobby.

"Woooo, weeee...." *whistle*

I turn my head to look at him, thinking what the heck?  Who's he whistling at?  He looks at me, immediately turns bright splotchy red, and mutters,

"Sorry, wrong person..."

Day 10093:  Gone Fishin'

So, there's a guy I see on the subway almost every morning.  He gets on at my stop uptown, and gets off at my stop downtown.  He's probably 50-ish or so, beer belly, shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, unruly beard, always the same grubby white t-shirt and dark blue jeans.  He's eloquent, fascinating, definitely opinionated... and he talks to himself.  Not the normal kind of muttering one would expect from a self-talker, but full blown conversations as if he's talking to an imaginary friend.  Sounds almost like he's rehearsing for a play.  He talks, pauses to "listen", answers, and so the process goes... all the way downtown.

Interesting...

They've talked politics, had arguments, talked about weekend plans and drinking with buddies... man... this guy has more of a life than I do...

I'm jealous!!!  :)

Day 10092:  Today...

- panic attack - couldn't breathe, couldn't stop tearing... chest hurt
- went for a walk to starbucks.  paid $1.50 for a cup of hot water with a little bit of flavour.
- came back - still couldn't stop crying...
- went for lunch - walked aimlessly for an hour - ended up in a church
- boys choir
- couldn't stop crying...
- finally stopped.
- headed back to work
- found quiznos.  long line. went to mcdonalds.
- filet o fish and a cheeseburger...
... excuse me while i go puke my guts out.

Day 10091 1/2:  Downtown Toronto, lakefront living for only $350/month...

Downtown, lakefront, 10 minutes walk to Queen and Yonge, close to all amenities, restaurants, bars, etc.  All for the low, low, LOW price of $350/month...
 
... let me begin by telling you the story of a young, naive, possibly spoiled girl (who shall remain nameless) who wanted nothing more than a brand new car.  Life was good - good job, low rent, good friends... great lifestyle.  So happy as she was, she bought one - a black little Vibe, she nicknamed JP.  Alas, things were not meant to be for the poor little girl.  Somewhere along the process, she was screwed by the dealer and forced to use up her entire life savings and borrow exorbitant amounts from El Banco de Mama to pay for her dream car, not realizing, of course, that El Banco de Mama would have crazy inhuman exorbitant repayment demands as well.  Then came a time of trouble, and the girl (who is no longer as young and naive as she used to be...but that story, we'll save for another time... oh wait... read Day 10085...), strapped for cash, felt cornered and hopeless.  Until one day, a not-so-little fairy (aka ICBBQ) sat down beside her and listened to her bitch and complain... while he spoke, oh-so-happily of the new condo lease he had just signed... downtown, lakefront property... 10 minutes walk to King and Yonge... close to amenities, restaurants and bars, all for the low, low... HELL-NOT-SO-LOW price of $1250/month (give or take a penny or two).
 
WTF???  Who can afford rent of $1250/month?
 
"Not I!" thought the poor little girl, and went back to bitching and complaining about the crazy monthly payments she was making to El Banco de Mama.  Crazy monthly payments which after her high cost of living will leave her with $500 in the bank... if she's lucky, and IF she sticks to the budget that she's already gone over for the month.
 
*Sigh*  Resigned to her fate, she stared gloomily at the Swiss Chalet chicken sandwich and soup she bought, but didn't really feel like eating... more money down the drain... *sigh* ... how to live downtown, away from El Banco de Mama, but still be able to make the crazy inhuman exorbitant loan payments... hmmmm...
 
Then all of a sudden.  A brainwave.  An idea of such great magnitude, that I (oops SHE) was dumbstruck.  For a split second, she couldn't think of what to say, but then... then, the words just started pouring out.  Can't sell the car, can't figure out how to make MORE money, not willing to give up the great lifestyle... so what if... No, could it work?  YES!!!  SHE COULD LIVE IN THE CAR!!!
 
expenses: 
                    monthly parking downtown lot...       $200.00
                    dogsitting when not "home"...              150.00
 
                    total cost                                                 $350.00 /month
 
$350/month ... too good to be true?  Oh, but it isn't.  In fact, it's so ridiculously possible that I don't know why I never thought about it before... so ridiculously affordable, that I don't know why more people don't do it.  Sure, it may be a little unorthodox, and maybe a little teeny weeny bit cramped, but I'm positive that the Toot and I will be quite comfortable.  It'll be cosy if nothing else.  AND, it gives me options... 
 
A nice air mattress, a ton of pillows a sleeping bag or two - a couple of curtains for a little *ahem* privacy... what more does a girl need.  She's got showers and a locker at the climbing gym.  There's restaurants, movie theatres, bathrooms and friends nearby... she's got privacy, NO ROOMMATE, no utilities cost, A VIEW... what more could a girl possibly want...
 
Have house, will travel - how easy can it be... car-living... Ahhhh, that is the life...  I'm so excited, I'm going home to pack!
 

Day 10091:  The Rules of Engagement...

What are the rules of breakup?  While neither the dumper nor the dumpee, my lack of experience in all things relationship makes me uncertain as to how I should react.  While certainly not-so-happy about the turn of events, I don't believe I'm devastated or depressed, or even too-too sad.  Actually, I'd consider it more a "quiet thoughtfulness" type of feeling - one of self-reflection, and ponderment.  Sure, there's the missing and the thinking-about-what's-he-doing-now, and the I-know-he'll-love-this-sticker-for-his-snowboard-so-let's-buy-it-for-him kind of thing, but on the whole, I think I'm doing rather well. 
 
But what to do, if say, he calls?  We're still friends.  We'd both like to stay good friends.  No hard feelings if I can't love you, but I love being your friend, right?  Do I hang up on him, tell him to p-off, screen his calls?  I still like talking to him, and no, there were no pangs of heartache or anything when he called me 9:00 Sunday night to find out how my day went - which when you think about it, he's never really done that before.  He must have been extremely bored or something.  But, it was nice to know that he still thinks about me, and gosh-darned-it... dare I even think he might *gasp* miss me a little... whatever... it doesn't matter anymore. 
 
And what to do when people ask me about him?  As far as I'm concerned, (and in BMW's words...) "it was the world's worse-kept secret."  Everyone knew, or everyone suspected.  Those who didn't were even more delusional than I was.  And yes, I think I do have a slight problem telling people that we've "broken up" since the official word was that we were never seeing each other in the first place.  But, too, he has a right to his privacy, and it doesn't bode well if I, in all my drunken glory, go around spewing stuff that no one really has the right to know if he doesn't want them to... though from my perspective, I really couldn't care less who knows and who doesn't. 
 
Q:  "What's Triscuit doing today?"
A:  "...ummm... how the hell should I know?" 
 
Q:  "Why isn't Triscuit here?"
A:  "...ummm... because we didn't call him..."
 
(...insert cheering from the studio audience... "Good answer!  Good answer!!!"... )
  
We were better friends than lovers.  I can keep on deluding myself that the past year was spent in winter-wonderland-pink-cotton-candy-Santa's-village type of bliss, but why bother.  Half the time we were together, we were hanging out with our other friends, the other half, we were rollerblading, climbing, snowboarding, movie-watching or just sleeping - oh yeah, there was a lot of sleeping... napping, dozing, falling-asleep-while-he-watched-tv... and yup... mostly just plain sleeping (damn).  But really, we were just doing the everyday hanging out with a good friend kind of thing.  No romantic walks on the beach (except in Cali), no fancy schmancy dinner dates... just a lot of plain everyday honesty-to-goodness kind of fun. 

So it's been a week.  It's over and done with.  The hardest days are done, and I rather like to think that I'm somewhat ready to move on.  And the quest for continued friendship?  Yeah, I can deal with that... maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday... it won't be the same, but it can still be fun.  Someday...  ;)
 

Day 10088:  Perspective...

I must remember... no matter how bad things go in my life, no matter how crappy things might seem, there's always something far, far worse than anything I can possibly imagine. 
 
I just found out that some friends just lost their baby girl on delivery.  To go from a moment of supreme happiness to one of ultimate sadness...
 
My heart is aching for them, but there's nothing I can do.  They're Triscuit's friends.  I've only met them twice, yet I feel like I've known them forever.  And had circumstances been any different, I know that I would be there now trying my best to help them through this time.  But they're not, and I can't do anything except think about them and pray.
 
Life is good.  Treasure it always.  May the gods be with you, S & MC... 
 

Day 10087: In search of the girlie-girl... the continuing saga

I've worked hard over the past year to rediscover that little imp of a princess buried deep inside of me. I’ve lotioned and lathered, plucked and tweezed, shopped until I’ve dropped, suffered countless blisters from pretty and pretty impractical shoes, learned to smile prettily, pout prettily, and all those other nice “now-do-what-I-want-please” kinds of things. And to what avail, you might ask. Well, the answer, of course, would be none whatsoever.

Quite simply put – no matter how much pink I now have in my wardrobe, no matter that I wear skirts and dresses and heels to work at least three days out of five (if not more, might I add), no matter that I can now occasionally flirt with a total stranger and have him literally eating out of my hands, no matter that I’ve mastered the girlie basics of make-uptry and can apply liner, blush, shadow, mascara, lipstick and gloss all within four minutes and twenty-eight seconds – I’m still that shy awkward little girl who imagined herself being a princess for Halloween when she was seven, but ended up being a clown.

In the continuing saga of the quest for girlie-girlness, I bought fab new nine west sandals: black leather criss-cross, white stitching and the cutest little heel imaginable. Of course, after only an eon of wearing them (read: one and a half weeks), the heel isn’t so cute anymore, the leather is a little scuffed and who knew that the criss-cross would give me blisters in four different, yet very painful places. Regardless, I’ve persevered and worn them again and again, and smiled happily to myself as I look at my bright pink shiny pedicure.

“I am reaching true girlie-girlness,” I tell myself on my way to work this morning. “I’ve got a great outfit on. I’m already planning what I’m going to wear tomorrow… something pink, I think…“

“Look at me! Look at me!!” my heart screams as I walk through the Eaton Centre. “Look how far I’ve come from the girl who used to wear really icky baggy clothes and those funny Reebok pump sneakers... Yeah me!!!”

I walk with confident, BUT lady-like steps into the office lobby, march straight into the elevator where, oh shit… I stop dead in my tracks. Or rather, I’m forced to stop. My heel is caught… in the elevator door crack. And all I think as I desperately try to free my cute not-so-new sandal from it’s evil metal captor was… so close, so close, so close… every time the door tried to shut… on my shoe.

Day 10086: the littlest of things...

~ kisses on my shoulder in the middle of the night
~ stickers just for the heck of it
~ goofy little mischievious lopsided grins
~ winks when no one else is watching
~ fingers running through my hair
~ playing with his curls
~ falling asleep curled up in his arms
~ ice cream fights
~ the sparkle in his eyes when he's thinking about something "special"
~ double takes

Day 10085: Goodbye Triscuit... it's been fun...

He called himself my lover. I never really knew what to call him… friend with benefits, I guess, if I had to label it as anything. I always refused to define anything, justifying it to myself by saying that it was no one’s business but our own, and that really, it was just another label, and that it didn’t really matter whether or not he called me his girlfriend, because we were happy. We were great friends. I was happy being with him, and that was all that mattered and that it was ok that he didn’t want to commit, because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life anyway.

Once upon a time, I thought I was one of the luckiest girls in the world… he was cool – he knew so much that I didn’t, taught me to do so much, introduced me to new things, new thoughts, new concepts. In the past year, I’ve gone mountain biking, kayaking, canoe-trip-camping, learned how to rollerblade somewhat properly, played hooky to go snowboarding, you name it, I probably did it. I had someone to hang out with, someone to climb with and rollerblade with. Someone to talk to, who was there for me when I needed someone to be there… only, he could never really tell when I needed him to be there – I always had to ask. He was kind of stubborn that way.

The one thing I never understood – why me? Of all the people he could have gone out with… been the “lover” of… why me? And so I asked him…

“I always felt really comfortable around you, you seemed to like me, and
you turned me on. Very simple. We got to know each other and had lots of fun last summer before I left. It was easy to just be ourselves. We became friends and eventually lovers. It's the lover part that is causing this trouble now. It's a fine line to cross, but so hard not to, especially when you feel really comfortable and close anyway.”

Only this time, I know – there’s no going back. I can’t and won’t change my mind again. Even if I wanted to, the “selfish” part of him won’t want anything to do with it. But, the absolute worse part is… I’m not sure I can be “just good friends” anymore.

I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did – one year, one month and 3 days. Of course, I’m the only one who remembers – he probably couldn’t care less. And because we lasted as long as we did, I allowed myself the tiniest of tiny fragment of hope. But really, deep, deep down, I knew that nothing had changed. He would never care for me the way I cared for him… never want to get married, and definitely never want to have children – not that I do either at the moment, by the way. Perhaps that’s why I procrastinated so long… I knew that even the slightest beginning of “the talk” would lead to the total annihilation of “us.”

I know now that I’ve been wrong, been blind to the situation, let my heart and my …ummm… hormones lead me where my head has always told me not to go. I drew lines, he kept stepping over them, and after a while, I didn’t really care about the lines anymore… I was happy, or so I thought. I put myself in a situation I shouldn’t have; romanticized it in my mind, saw something that didn’t exist and didn’t even have a hope of existing. I created a pseudo-Triscuit that I fell somewhat in love with. I thought, obviously erroneously, that if I could be nicer, funner, cooler, things would just fall into place… damn those Harlequins…

There are things I cannot undo. Things I’m not sure if I regret or not. But while it lasted, it was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had. There’s a part of me that would like to play the “if only” game. If only yesterday didn’t happen. If only I hadn’t gone to Lenny’s party. If only I had met him a couple of years early, or even a couple of years later… If only I hadn’t hemmed and hawed and gotten upset about other stuff. If only I wasn’t pms-ing… but fact remains… what’s done is done… the fat lady *ahem* has sung…

As per Mr. BMW… “It's not a bad dream, you've done something good for yourself. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is the right thing. No, you can't take back what you said, but you also can't change someone. And deep down, you had hoped that things would change between the two of you because of the time that had passed. In the grand scheme of things, you've done something good for yourself. You've decided that you're better than this, you're worth more to someone than just a casual fling. You want and deserve something more substantial.

It does hurt, no doubt about it. But everyone hurts and it's part of the process. Trust me J, everyone gets their heart broken at least once in their life. You have, I have, your sister has. But everyone bounces back, and so will you.”

Sista says… ”Well, I think it's ABOUT TIME that you stuck up for yourself too and voiced your thoughts. I don't think he was being fair to you and he wasn't treating you as well as you should've been treated. Even though I know that you told yourself that it was ok, and that he didn't treat you POORLY, he didn't treat you WELL, either, considering your relationship, which really WAS a relationship, and not just a "good friendship" that you keep saying it is.. Anyway, I think friends help - not that you need to tell anyone at all, but it's nice to know that the support is there if you need it.”

Thanks for being here, guys.

So, no more drunken text messages, no more middle-of-the-week-spur-of-the-moment sushi picnics, no more trips to the beach house, no one to indulge my every whim and fantasy, no one to go fly a kite with me on a totally unwindy day. Damn, I’m going to miss the boy.

… well all you single guys out there… I’m available again… time to start lining up… :)

Day 10084: Orange and yellow m&ms…

Sunday afternoon, I’m floating upside down in my kayak, holding my breath for what seems like an eternity… tapping the bottom, waiting oh-so-patiently for a T-rescue. *glub, glub*… crap I accidentally opened my mouth and now all the water’s rushing in… I’m going to drown. It’s bad enough I can’t do the C-turns through the eddys like everyone else can… crap… Oh well, it was nice knowing you world. Too bad I never got good enough at this to even paddle across the rapids…

Rescuer finally comes and I accidentally pop out trying to do the T-rescue…

John: That was only two seconds!
Me: Oh…

Next time I flipped…

John: That was only two seconds!!!!!
Me: Oh… it felt like five… *blush*

*****
Saturday afternoon, I’m floating with my upside down kayak in freezing cold Lake Ontario, head in the cockpit trying to lift the damn thing so I can practice my self rescue techniques… Accidentally propel myself too far down and start glugging water…

Triscuit: Don’t swallow the water!!!
Me: *glurp* …
Triscuit: Don’t even lick your lips… ecoli…
Me: *glurp* … great… if I don’t drown, I’m still going to die… *glug*
Triscuit: Drama queen...

Day 10079: Summer

Sirens flashing, horns blaring, the sound of people yelling and cheering in the glass muffled distance... we rush to the windows to see the scantilly cladded, blonde Molson girls leading the Indy convoy. Truck, after truck, after truck, Molson, Corona... whatever other racing teams there were, escorted by non-other than Toronto's finest... on motorcycles. At the beginning of the lunch hour... prime attention-getting tactics...

Those marketing people really know how to live it up.

Day 10078: Crap, I've lost track again...

Broke down and cried four days in a row. Saturday night's while drinking at Bamby's... I blamed the allergies, but everyone knew they were tears. Last episode huddled in a corner of the climbing gym calling my mom using the courtesy phone while some wacko was pacing around... can't you see I'm on the phone? Go find some other phone to use... idiot.

I'm soooo not good with emotional turmoil. Can't eat (anything except unhealthy food), can't sleep... can't do anything productive. Work sucks, feel stupid... when can this life end and the next one begin?

:(

Day 10075: No one said that being a control freak was easy

I came to the realization a long time ago that I can’t control everything around me. Not that it ever stops me from trying. Nope, I get myself into the thick of things, force myself into situations where I’m not needed or wanted, and all because it stresses me out to no end if I can’t do anything about it. My life, so it seems, is centered on who I can help, and what I can do… even if my contribution results in nothing at all.

I hate to see people upset. Try my best to solve other people’s problems. Wipe tears. Hold hands. Utter threats about going postal on the offenders with supersoakers… anything to see the person smile, and provide maybe a split second of respite from their worries.

They’re not my problems, not really. They might affect me, here and there, but really it’s someone else’s to deal with. My input means nothing. My life, though affected, is not the issue at stake. And although the world generally *ahem* revolves around me, sometimes it isn’t and I need to be there for the people who need me most. Even if I can’t do anything about it. Hopefully just being there helps.

Two ears to listen, and two nice sturdy shoulders (jelly-flops arms and all…) to cry on. Hopefully, that’s enough. And if it isn’t… well… anything goes… anything.

Day 10072: The Dark Side...

There are days where I hate myself. Hate how I look. Hate how I feel. Hate how my allergies have turning me into a flakey green swamp monster from some cheap-low-budget-non-Hollywood-made-for-late-night-tv film. Hate how my life has turned out. Hate how I unconsciously decided to ignore all of my friends and family, and essentially sequester myself in Hamilton. Hate how I don't fit in at work. Hate how I can't seem to do anything productive while I'm there, and end up doing dick-all for the week, and will have to work the weekend to "catch up" and can't go camping. Hate how today is one of those days.

I saw a picture of myself today. Clicked on Steve's Rubber Duckies site, saw the jelly flop arms and beer belly gut, saw pictures from the same time last year, and hated myself. I had won the battle, but not the war, and when the battle was over, I forgot about the war. Kept forgetting that if I went back to my old habits, the battle would have to be refought again, and again. I am UG-ly, and I am fat. I can't keep up with anyone on rollerblades and can't really blame it on my almost-ten-year-old blades. I look hideous in a bikini - why didn't anyone tell me. The truth hurts, but not as much as knowing that it's captured on film forever AND posted on the Internet for the world to see.

I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought I could be one of those people who let their friends slide to the side when they're seeing someone. Yet, it's happened. Things happened. I find out about my sister's life through my friends who apparently spend a lot more time talking/im'g with her than I do. But then, I don't even know what's going on with my friends these days either. Between Triscuit, the new job and all the family drama over the past couple of months, I've lost touch with people. Lost touch with myself. Can't seem to sort out my own priorities anymore.

I wish things were what they were last summer. This sucks...