day 10193: pounding blinding headaches and other nasty nasties

Nothing much to say. Have been feeling "under the weather" for the past little while. Word of caution - never take more than 1 extra strength advil gel caps at once. Not good for you even though it makes the pain go away.

Question... why does my doctor only work until 12 noon on Friday's? Obviously I'm in the wrong profession.

day 10191: flying high

I wanted to believe that I was different. I wanted to think that I wasn’t like everyone else and didn’t experience the same things that everyone else does when they *sob* breakup. I’m special, I told myself, my feelings are that much more intense than anyone else’s, I loved him that much more deeply.

[Insert pseudo-drama voice here, here and here. Flutter eyelashes here… a little more... perfect…]

I’ll love only once, I’m strong, I’ll recover… yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah…

*slap, slap*

Wake up, chickie and stop deluding yourself.

*slap* Once more for good measure…

Then the haze faded, I woke up, started smelling the rank leftovers of old Corona bottles, and realized that hey, I was like everyone else, I had been deluding myself, people go through breakup crisis all the time. They survived. I’ll survive. And so I did survive.

I’m finally at the peace and acceptance stage (which was very likely helped along by my unintentional overdose of Advil Extra Strength Liqui-Gels of which I was only supposed to take one at a time, but mistakenly have been taking two… oops), but nonetheless, I’m decided recovered.

But, to torture myself one last time, I’ll relive it just for you. J-the-actress styles...avec dripping drama and all that glorious crap…

anger/denial

Damn you, I started the conversation. How DARE you be the one to break up with me? I’m the one breaking up with you. I DUMP YOU. What? No way. Go to hell, you piece of poop. You don’t mean anything to me. He doesn’t mean anything to me, right? We’re not really broken up, we’re just on another break again. We’ll get back together. No we won’t… Sex with the ex is the best, right? We can still be friends… can’t we?

mourning/bargaining/depression/regret/despair/blame

Damn him. He didn’t know a good thing when it stared him in the face. I miss being his friend more than I miss going out with him. *sob* I’ve lost my best friend… *wahhhh*

Please God, make him realize what an idiot he is and make him come back to me. Or at least make it ok for us to be friends again. If I can’t have him in my bed, I still want him to hang out with me… please God… don’t you love me? Why don’t you just tear my heart out and feed it to the Devil? You’re punishing me for having premarital sex aren’t you… I swear I’ll never look at another boy but him again… I swear it… please with a cherry on top?

Damn me. I never should have slept with him.

Damn her for hurting him, why can’t he get over her already.

anger/fear of the future/lonely/revenge

DAMN HIM!!

I’m never going to find someone as cool as him again. I need a rebound boy. Lonely, I’m so lonely I could die… I’m never going to love again… Memories, like the corners of my mind

I hope he dies. I hope she dies. I hope all his hair falls out in chunks. I hope he never gets laid again. I hope someone keys his car, breaks his heart, steals all his furniture. I hope he can never have children. I hope he becomes allergic to beer. *gasp* Now I’ve gone too far…

learning how to be single again

What the heck did I do with my time before “us.” I have no idea who I am. I must go find myself. Oh where, oh where has my little J gone… I don’t know how to be alone. I can’t stand my own company. I hate watching tv by myself. Anyone want to go clubbing on Monday? Kill me, shoot me… just don’t leave me!

peace and acceptance

Good times, good memories for the most part. But it’s over and done with. Sure, still think about him on the occasion, but he’s not my first thought of the day, not the last thing I think about before I sleep either. Peace at last and undisturbed sleep.

By myself.

I am a survivor.

day 10189: would you like a side of trust with those fries?

A lot of people don't understand why I'm having such a difficult time finding a climbing partner. You could climb with so-and-so or so-and-so's friend climbs, why not climb with her, etc etc. You could climb with just about anyone in the gym, just hook up with them and offer to be a belay slave, buy them beer, etc etc.

Not that easy.

You see, I have a little trust issue. When it comes to my life and my health, I don't care how well I know you. I don't even care if you're one of my closest friends. If I can't trust you with my life, there's no way I will climb with you.

Climbing is all about trusting your partner. No ifs, ands, or buts.

One of my friends was in a climbing accident this weekend. Hairline fracture on his vertebrae. Total time out from active lifestyles - 6 weeks. 6 weeks of no climbing, no kayaking, no snowboarding... ugh.

All because his belayer was inattentive, had too much slack in the rope, or had the gri-gri open so that the rope ran out. It doesn't matter. Fact is fact. She failed to catch him when he needed her most.

They're both lucky it wasn't worse.

day 10186: when worlds collide

Previously, whenever people (specifically BMW) bitched and complained about their worlds colliding, I rolled my eyes, said "whatever, don't worry about it... you're just being anal" and went on my merry way. You see, it wasn't so much a lack of sympathy, or a lack of understand... no, it was more a lack of truly experiencing the feelings that you get when you find out that the world is a lot smaller than you'd like it to be, and people that you never thought you'd see in certain situations pop up when you least expect it.

I apologize from the bottom of my heart, BMW.

It is quite traumatizing. I'm sorry I failed to completely understand your anxiety.

As I was tying in for a 5.8 overhang last night, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye... a cousin who I hadn't seen for 8 years before my grandfather's funeral in May. A cousin I hadn't planned on seeing for another 10 years or so.

I thought I was seeing things. Unfortunately, I was not.

This cousin decided to start climbing two months ago because his "friend" climbed and he had nothing to do with his weekday spare time. This cousin's "friend" is also friends with one of my climbing friends for whom I was trying to find a replacement pharmacy student earlier on in the year.

Ick. Small world, eh?

And guess what, it gets worse...

This cousin also works at the same monkeyco as Triscuit and knows Triscuit, though he doesn't know about Triscuit history.

Suffice it to say, I was completely freaked out to the point of major distraction. I fell off the roof overhang, did big swings, gave little girlie-girl screams of "AHHH" as I free fell until John caught me. Fell a billion times off a couple of boobi-ful yellow 5.10a's and generally wouldn't have had a good climbing night had I not finally finished the 11b.

My worlds are colliding and I'm scared. Someone hold me. Please?

day 10185: what’s in a number?

An episode of sex, toys and chocolate caught my attention the other night as I attempted to channel-surf my way out of boredom. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this little Discovery Channel tidbit, the format is simple – coffee house style discussions about the sex topic of the day… very informal, very light hearted, very honest… and very, very eye-opening.

Very eye-opening. Especially for a prude like me, and especially because the topic a la carte was promiscuity.

They discussed numbers; first the women by themselves, then the men, then the women and the men together.

Surprise, surprise, the men had numbers like 25, or “under 50,” or the guy (who honestly only looked 25) interviewed in Miami who had “200.” They had stats that detailed how many women they juggled at once, how many different ones in a day, how many they’ll actually admit to a woman they’re in a relationship with, etc.

I couldn’t help but think… ew… men are slime.

But the real surprise was the women. They didn’t even know… Sometimes, they didn’t even know the guy’s name (or at least his real name). To them, it was the adrenaline of going home with a stranger, the experience. The conquest…

Wow… okay. omg sluts… where did they find these girls… ew yuck…

I must be the world’s biggest prude or something. I must have assumed that all women are like me, and that sex is a personal act that means something. I must be deluding myself that it means something to the other person, because quite obviously in a lot of situations, it doesn’t mean a thing.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how different my thoughts and beliefs were from the North American mainstream. Maybe it’s the Asian background, maybe it’s the lack of experience… maybe it’s the influence of the friends I keep or whatever. Or maybe it’s just me.

Admittedly, the situations on the show might be a little extreme given that they were trying to make a point. But really, with shows like Sex and the City, this one, and the whole slew of other ones out there, I think not. I think that somehow, it’s becoming more and more acceptable, and that people are just becoming more and more promiscuous.

And then I wondered if I’d ever be that way. And laughed at myself. I want to think not.

day 10184: nothing to say today

Just happy being me.

Oh, and I think I might have an idea for the NaNoWriMe... scary.

day 10183: i’m falling in love

It could be the sounds of the city, the honk of the errant horn, the incessant beeping of the traffic lights for the visually impaired, the quiet lap of the water against the pier, the damp mist that surrounds the city the odd morning…

It could be the crisp, cool autumn air, the way the sun peeps through the yellow and red leaves on the trees, the wet pavement that glistens under the carpet of said yellow and red. The season of change before the season of hibernation…

It could be the phone calls in the middle of the night, the ones from the airport in Chicago, the ones at work, the stray email here and there, the ones asking, the ones yelling, the ones offering nothing but a shoulder to cry on and ears to hear something they’ve heard a thousand times before, but will hear a thousand times again and again until the tears stop flowing and the smiles start breaking out…

I don’t know exactly what it is, but I think I’m falling in love…

In love with the city, in love with fall, in love with my friends and family – more so now than before…

In love with life…

And maybe even an itty-bitty in love with myself…

I’m starting to like myself, to accept myself for who I am, to change what needs to be changed and learning to know when to leave well-enough alone. I’m reading new books, starting new projects, rediscovering old passions, discovering new passions, becoming reacquainted with old friends, and getting acquainted with new friends. I’m finding myself a little at a time.

Baby steps.

day 10182 1/2: god help me...

I want to do this.

Words of encouragement/disuassion etc etc... very much appreciated.

Ideas, subjects, plotlines very, very, very much appreciated.

And if I do commit to this, can someone deliver me Caramel Macciatos or Caramel Corretos in the middle of the night?

Thanks. I'll see you all in December.

day 10182: predictable me

In a fit of boredom last week or was it a couple of weeks ago, I did an online handwriting analysis. And seeing as how I only check yahoo mail once a week, I didn’t get my results until this morning. Pretty cool. Mostly accurate:

J has a healthy imagination and displays a fair amount of trust. She lets new people into her circle of friends. She uses her imagination to understand new ideas, things, and people.

Agree. I trust just about anyone – even if they’re not worth trusting. Apparently.

J is very self-sufficient. She is trying not to need anyone. She is capable of making it on her own. She probably wants and enjoys people, but she doesn't "need" them. She can be a loner.

Disagree. I am a very needy, dependent person. I am not capable of “making it on my own.” I can’t stand my own company sometimes. I’m working on it though.

One way J punishes herself is self directed sarcasm. She is a very sarcastic person. Often this sarcasm and "sharp tongued" behavior is directed at herself.

Semi-agree. I can direct sarcasm at other people too… but on the other hand, I can poke fun at myself with the best of them!

J is a practical person whose goals are planned, practical, and down to earth. This is typical of people with normal healthy self-esteem. She needs to visualize the end of a project before she starts. She finds joy in anticipation and planning. Notice that I said she plans everything she is going to do, that doesn't necessarily mean things go as planned.

Agree, agree, agree… I am a planner who has to plan to be spontaneous. How pathetic.

J basically feels good about herself. She has a positive self-esteem which contributes to her success. She feels she has the ability to achieve anything she sets her mind to. However, she sets her goals using practicality-- not too "out of reach." She has enough self-confidence to leave a bad situation, yet, she will not take great risks, as they relate to her goals. A good esteem is one key to a happy life. Although there is room for improvement in the confidence category, her self-perception is better than average.

Semi-agree. This is a toughie. Self-esteem issues are being resolved as we speak. Definitely better than two years ago. Let’s just call it work-in-progress…

Because J has zigzag'ed shaped 'm' and 'n' hump, J is an analytical thinker. Her mind sifts and examines facts. She interprets all facts by separating them, breaking them down, and organizing them from a critical point of view. This pattern of clarifying facts contributes to her strong reasoning ability. J mind is constantly analyzing all situations that she encounters.

Semi-agree. Why think unless you really have to? I only analyze the really important things. Honestly, in this paragraph, I couldn’t get past the word “hump” until the third time I tried to read it. And still, I giggle. Bad thoughts, bad…

Diplomacy is one of J's best attributes. She has the ability to say what others want to hear. She can have tact with others. She has the ability to state things in such a way as to not offend someone else. J can disagree without being disagreeable. J will be candid and direct when expressing her opinion. She will tell them what she thinks if they ask for it, whether they like it or not. So, if they don't really want her opinion, don't ask for it!

Semi-agree. It’s all about the tact and lies baby, and I will sugarcoat it. A lot. But, I’ll never say anything unless it’s asked for and even then, I’ll probably hem and haw for a good while first.

J is moderately outgoing. Her emotions are stirred by sympathy and heart rendering stories. In fact, she can be kind, friendly, affectionate and considerate of others. She has the ability to put herself into the other person's shoes. J will be somewhat moody, with lows and highs. Sometimes she will be happy, the next day she might be sad. She has the unique ability to get along equally well with what psychology calls introverts and extroverts. This is because she is in between. Psychology calls J an ambivert. She understands the needs of both types. Although they get along, she will not tolerate anyone that is too "far out." She doesn't sway too far one way or the other. When convincing her to buy a product or an idea, a heart rendering story could mean a great deal to her. She puts herself in the same situation as the person in the story, yet she will not buy anything that seems overly impractical or illogical. J is an expressive person. She outwardly shows her emotions. She may even show traces of tears when hearing a sad story. J is a "middle-of-the-roader," politically as well as logically. She weighs both sides of an issue, sits on the fence, and then will decide when she finally has to. She basically doesn't relate to any far out ideas and usually won't go to the extreme on any issue.

Agreed. Agreed. Agreed.

*whew* It’s nice to know that I’m so predictable.

day 10179: i've seen bigger racks than those

Last night in typical we're-such-great-friends-we'll-do-almost-anything styles, ICBBQ, BMW, Terry, Suz and I went to H**ters to "celebrate" ICBBQ's b-day. We've walked by for years, but somehow never felt the urge to partake in the resplendid glory of H**ter's Almost-World-Famous-Wings (amongst other things) and probably would never have except for a promise made in haste without thinking... but nevertheless still kept.

And you know what? It wasn't that, that bad.

It wasn't good, mind you... the food was edible, the Sol was cold and crisp, the girls... um... yeah... nevermind the girls.

Anyway... it wasn't that, that bad. No real difference from any other bar, really. Except for the tighter tanks, the shorter-and-blindingly-bright orange shorts that were very non-flattering to any of its wearers, it really was just like any other sports bar that you go to for cold beer, wings and conversation with good friends while keeping an eye on the game.

I think it's the reputation really that made us never-want-to-step-foot-in-the-door... and the dread of having to admit that *whisper* J, went to H**ters. *gossip gossip gossip* Don't tell anyone... *sigh*

On the other hand, I guess, it's no different from admitting that I've been to a strip club... a fact that I quite proudly announced to Triscuit's mother once upon a drunken night oh so very long ago.

*sigh*

What is this world coming to.

day 10178: the unexpected

Last night as I waited for the light to change at the corner of Bay and Lakeshore a homeless man came up to me asking for spare change. I rummaged through the little container of change I keep in my car and pulled out a handful of coins - mostly pennies - and dropped it into the pro-offered coffee cup.

"Thank you most kindly" he said to me through my open window.

"You're welcome," I replied "Have a nice day." I smiled and nodded.

"Wait a moment. I have something for you" He ran off towards the side of the road, the echos of my "It's not necessary, don't worry about it" fading behind him.

He ran back to my car. Reached in, and put a little bobblehead dalmatian on my dash.

"That's for you." He grinned a toothless grin. "See, he bobs his head." Poked at the dog's head to demonstrate.

The light changed. I thanked him and drove off, my head and the dog's head bobbing to the beat of a warmer heart.

day 10177: “MISSING DUCK”… big reward… any info. please call…

Have you ever felt lost, even though you know perfectly well where you are?

Have you ever felt incomplete, even though your life is supposedly grand and satisfying (in everyone else’s eyes at least)?

Have you ever wanted more – more from yourself, more from others, more from life in general…

But you don’t know what is more, or where to find it. You don’t even know where to look first.

You run ragged day to day. You hurry from place to place, run errands, have drinks with friends, pop in to see the family once a week. You climb Mondays and Thursdays, act on Tuesdays and have catering class on Sundays. Fridays and Saturdays might be reserved for drinking and partying. Wednesdays for lack of something better to do, you might hang out at home with the dog.

You like your Monkeyco, somewhat.

You love your friends, most times.

Life is full.

But you are tired, and constantly running.

Running from what? Running to what?

Days run into weeks. Weeks run into months. Months run into years. And still, you are running.

It’s not day-in-day-out. It’s something else, because everyday you’re doing something different, trying new things, maybe even meeting a new person here and there. But it seems empty and almost even meaningless.

Like you’re just killing time until the next big cataclysmic event happens in your life…

And until then, you don’t know what you’re doing… because you’re lost.

”MISSING DUCK”

Colour: yellow & orange feet

Loves: French fries, club soda, bubble bath

Last seen at Bunny’s birthday party.

BIG REWARD. Any info. Please call 777-1234

Day 10177: Hypotheticals…

Hypothetically, say someone was looking for a car-pool-buddy and was semi-desperate because she really wanted to car-pool regularly at least twice a week, and posted on a car-pool-buddy website. A couple days later, that someone’s ex-car-pool-buddy decided that he wanted to car-pool again and they agreed to car-pool on Thursday. At the same time, say a 24 year old Registered Massage Therapist and Personal Trainer responded to the post and wanted to car-pool, but had only car-pooled 6 times before, but can car-pool at the same level (seeing as how he’s gotta be a spectacularly fit PERSONAL TRAINER) but not with the same technique or finesse, but nevertheless, our special someone invited him out to car-pool with her and her now-not-so-ex-car-pool-buddy on Thursday to make a car-pool threesome.

What a night that would have been.

Old-car-pool-buddy, meet younger, probably much hotter, new-car-pool buddy.

The tales we could have told. The things we could have done.

Alas, and get your mind out of the gutter as this is not a ménage a trois, the 24 year old RMT and PT has decided not to join the car-pooling dynamic duo, seeing as how he’s posted his own car-pool post on the car-pool-buddy website.

Good luck buddy… regular car-poolers are not so easy to find…

But wouldn’t it have been funny.

Hypothetically.

day 10172: downtown observations log #46273284...

incident #46273284:

place... the northeast corner of Yonge and Queen

time... lunch

details...
1. shabbily dressed woman walking towards me yelling "Diarrhea! Diarrhea!"
2. view is partially blocked by typical asian kid with spiky hair and bright yellow sneakers
3. I dodge left to avoid crazy woman as she passes typical asian kid
4. then she yells... "DIARRHEA!!! Can you hear me?" into a silver cell phone.

conclusion...
Not every shabbily dressed person yelling "Diarrhea" is crazy. Some of them just have deaf friends.

comment...

A tad hasty with the judgements. Typical asian kid was probably not even asian. Nice dodge there. Check that urge to run.

grade...
B+

Good job soldier! For that, you deserve a Coke!

day 10171 1/2: chicken shit and other weird and wonderful things

chicken shit...

It really irritates me that I've been dealing with the entire Triscuit's-b-day-present-snowboard-pass-thing through Betty G.

Now I have a headache and it's all your fault.

weird and wonderful...

Since the day I joined Monkeyco, I've been staring out the window at that Eternity perfume ad with the two disgustingly happy people in bed. Just now, I get back to my cube, look out the window and see an entire new two disgustingly happy people (not in bed) advertising Calvin Klein Eternity Moment.

"When the heck did they change it?" I asked myself.

Then I see it... it's staring me in the face...

The slogan of the ad...

"Just one moment can change everything."

day 10171: in memory of a legend...

I received a distressing SMS from BMW last night. King's Noodles in Chinatown is closed. For good. Don't know why. King's Noodles where late night food is guaranteed hot and good. King's Noodles where we grew up buying the barbeque pork and roasted duck hanging in the window, where the bright orange octopus parts gleamed in sweaty display under the heat lamps, where the yellow cladded waitstaff were always hustling and bustling, but always remained relatively polite for an Asian restaurant. King's Noodles who is the ultimate supplier of downtown comfort food... of which I need lots.

How sad.

I never even got to say goodbye...

~ we used to stand outside the window after Chinese school, waiting for the mothers to come back ladened with the weekly groceries. The kids were herded in, we'd order our favourites and read books and play cards until the food came.

~ it was where my dad and my aunt shared a table in typical Chinese "dap toi" styles and didn't even realize it until they were both finished eating and looked up from their empty bowls. Yes, the food was that good that you just want to stuff yourself with more and more until your belly was full and your insides to the point of bursting.

~ it's the restaurant that everyone knows... even the non-Asians at work talk about it

~ it's where Triscuit and I went after "Moving-John-Holland" when we missed the fireworks because "someone" forgot the key fob in the condo and we were locked in the parking garage.

~ it's where we went after Duckie practices sometimes when Sunnyside cafe wasn't open and it was still too cold to sit outside on the patio

~ we went there after we moved BMW - he, his friend Sel, and I... the night before the Centre Island race and we were running through Chinatown looking for a Vietnamese sandwich store that was still open at 10pm because I promised that I'd feed the team the next day.

~ it's where we went after BMW and ICBBQ killed LZ and her boy in tennis and won a free lunch... I was just along for the ride... :)

~ we bought ICBBQ's congee there last weekend on the day he got sick and had to bail on his own housewarming party... remember that?

Oy, the memories...

Goodbye King's Noodles. I'll miss you. May you resurrect one day.

Somewhere. Soon.

day 10170 1/2: ultimate mean thought #1

email: "I'm pregnant... it's yours."

wait half an hour

email: "just joking..."

*******
[ed note: Where the heck did that come from? Must admit though, when it popped into my head, cranberry juice almost came out my nose...]

day 10170: project “find-J-a-boy”

I need a boy. Ok. Fine. I don’t need a boy, so much as I need a bed warmer. But I would like a boy.

I woke up to an unfamiliar sensation this morning. It was unpleasant.

I was cold…

I was shivering those little shivers that come just before your teeth start chattering and all your muscles tense up in one big knot. Forget the knot. I was already curled up as tightly as possible in a little ball, blankets drawn up over my head, trying to suck heat from the dog snuggled into my stomach.

Did I mention that it was cold?

I like being warm, and cozy. Fuzzy even.

So, I think I’d like a boy, now. I’m ready for one. I think. The dog just doesn’t do it for me anymore. Sorry Toots.

And for those of you argumentative types, there are tons more reasons (other than a bed warmer) why I would like a boy…

Such as…

I can’t reach my kitchen light to replace the bulb. I don’t have a chair or a stepladder. I can’t reach when I’m standing on a stool. Let’s face facts. I’m short. What I do have is my counter top and my stove. But even though I can do the splits and can probably reach the light fixture, I still need someone to spot me. You know, someone to, say, strategically place a hand on my butt should I start to tip over. You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself or anything, would you? And not just anyone is allowed to touch my butt… a girl’s gotta have some standards, you know…

I hate staying at home and watching television by myself. I need someone to make fun of the shows with me, and to laugh with me, at me. More importantly, I need someone to snuggle up with, and wake me up to tell me to go to bed after I’ve fallen asleep on the couch for the umpteenth time watching midnight reruns of CSI. Waking up at three in the morning to scantily dressed women advertising phone crap on television and hauling my own ass into a cold bed is no fun. I get grumpy the next morning… beware ye who cross my path before I’ve had my tenth cup of coffee… see it’s for the better good of the world…

I need someone to lead climb with, or at least someone to take the course with. Someone I can trust with my life and not worry that they’ll drop me 10 feet to the ground, or open the gri-gri and yell sit before I’ve actually put my weight on the rope… sure I can climb with a girl, but if I have to stare at ass while I belay, don’t you think I’d rather be staring at a boy’s bum, instead of a girl’s… what can I say, I like cute tushies…

It’s October. It’s almost fall. What better thing can you think of than walking through the outdoor marketplace, coffee in one hand, boy’s hand in the other. Wearing matching suede jackets and cool, funky, comfy jeans, bright red autumn leaves floating down to the ground beside us as we browse from stand to stand. Oy, I think I’ve been flipping through one too many Ralph Lauren catalogues...

So, as the story goes, I'm officially announcing the launch of Project Find-J-A-Boy. Friends, Romans, countrymen, spread out across our fair city and search high and low for my *sigh* one and only.

Good luck and Godspeed...

I'm off to my mother's house to "borrow" a couple more duvets... :)

day 10168 1/2: F$%#@ IT, @$#%$ IT, F!^@%#& IT!!!!!!

I think my freaking biological clock started ticking today. I really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY hope it was something I ate.

Day 10168: thanksgiving…

*sigh*… What good is a long weekend if you don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do?

Thanksgiving weekend is fast approaching. Save for the flying lesson and a potential b-day dinner that “may-or-may-not” be rescheduled, I’m planless. How ironic. For all the days that I’ve been crazily running around, the weekend that I should be out of town running around doing silly pointless things like shopping or sightseeing, I’m not.

Why? Because good ‘ole new-monkeyco has requested that I don’t leave town… “just in case.” Fantastic.

[ed note: NOTE SARCASM]

Instead, I’m stuck in the city sans familia as my mother is going down to La-la land to spend some quality time with the Sista before she departs on yet another Caribbean cruise and HK for a month! Whew!

So I’m thinking maybe I should play tourist in my own fair city. Take one of those hop-on-hop-off bus tours, spend the day in Yorkville eating fresh baked pastries and drinking steaming lattes on the patio while reading some highly-touted-book-about-absolutely-nothing, go to Queen St West and go shopping in the Fashion District or go to Gerrard St somewhere to buy some sari cloth to cover my f-ugly grey IKEA rolly shelves and eventually, when my feet are tired and my eyes are shiny from the autumn sunshine, I’ll find a place that serves turkey dinners to other fellow lonelies and strike up a conversation with whoever happens to sit on my left.

Pub crawl anyone?

day 10165: happy birthday, da

He would have been 57. I think. Maybe he would have been 58. I can’t remember anymore. He stopped aging in my mind 9 years ago… I think he was 45 then. But that would make him only 54 now, wouldn’t it. I could have sworn that he was 30 when I was born just like my mom was 30 when my sister was born. Nothing makes sense anymore. I can’t remember anymore. It’s only been 9 years.

He wasn’t my first thought this morning. Instead, I thought about hockey and about how Triscuit is supposed to be there tonight… and *sigh* as ashamed as I am to admit it, I thought about what I was going to wear… to hockey… besides the shinpads, kneepads, shoulder pads, shorts etc etc. Hockey… wow, October 1st already… October already… October 1st… Da’s b-day… whoops… I almost forgot.

Happy birthday, Da? Dad? Daddy? Ba? Pa? Oh my God, I can’t remember what I used to call him. Ba-ba? Pa-pa? Daddio? Dee-dee? A-Ba? What the heck was it? It’s only been 9 years, and already I’ve forgotten so much.

I remember the year we forgot to get him a Father’s Day present. How we stole a tie out of his closet, wrapped it up, and gave it to him with a home made two-minute card. He loved it and was nary the wiser. Over the moon and around the corner… and then we burst out laughing our asses off and the game was up.

I remember how he used to pick us up from school everyday. He’d walk into the after school day-care, we’d come running and show him the little arts and crafts things we did, or our test scores. And even if it wasn’t so nice and even if we didn’t do so well, he never really said anything except “Wow, and that’s really good.” We’d all walk home together, we’d race the last little bit from the street to the house, and he’d cook dinner while we messed around in the house and pretend to practice piano when all we ever did was sight read top 40 songs, Les Miz and Phantom of the Opera. He’d sometimes try to sing along… I think he was a tad tone-deaf.

I remember the last trip we took to Tremblant together the Christmas before he died. How we ate chicken flavoured ramen noodles and frozen Clementine oranges for breakfast as was our custom. How we stayed off-resort in town and had steaks for dinner one night but had to smuggle out some salt and pepper from the cafeteria because we didn’t want to spend the $1.99 to buy a whole bag when we only wanted a sprinkle. How my mom was home by herself and she thought there was a gas leak, when really it was just the musky odour of the dried shitake mushrooms she was rehydrating and how we laughed when we figured out that she was perfectly fine and just extremely paranoid.

I remember the last thing that I said to him before he collapsed in the gym during our fencing lesson. He was teasing me about having a boyfriend. I said, “What boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.” I didn’t say “I love you.” I didn’t say “You’re the best dad in the world.” I didn’t say any of the things I probably should have said had I known that those were going to be the last things he would hear from me. I remember his last meal – chicken with cream corn over mushy rice. I haven’t eaten it since.
I wake up sometimes thinking that he’s still alive and that I’m so excited about something that all I want to do is find him and tell him my news. And then I remember and imagine my conversations with him anyway.

J: Morning Da…
Da: Hey baby. How’s everything? [he never really talked like that, but I can’t remember]
J: Getting better, Da. Everyday is getting better. Things are going pretty well these days.
Da: I can see that. You’re smiling a little more. You’ve lost a little weight haven’t you? How’s your mom?
J: Mom’s fine, I think… she seems happier, a little. She’s stronger than I am.
Da: You have to lean on each other more. Be there for her. Family is everything. Go have dinner with her more often.
J: Yes, Da. I’ve been busy. I’m seeing her tonight though. I’m staying over at her place after hockey. What have you been up to?
Da: Not much. Catching up with your Grandfather. Little things. You should see the view from up here. Gorgeous.
J: I wish I could see it. Must be nice.
Da: You will. Just not right now. Enjoy things while you have them.
J: I know. That’s not what I meant.
Da: I know you know. Be careful down there, I don’t want to see you any earlier than I have to.
J: I will. I miss you sometimes.
Da: I miss you too… but hey, that’s what memories are for.
J: Yeah, but I’m starting to forget.
Da: Everyone’s like that. You remember the important things.
J: I want to remember everything…
Da: You’ll remember things when you need to remember them. Now, let’s talk about your boy.
J: What boy? I don’t have one, remember?
Da: Yeah, I know. Go get one. One that will love you and appreciate you… maybe even that loves you a little more.
J: I’ll try. But it’s hard, you know. I have to get up and get dressed now. Lots to do today.
Da: Ok. I’ll talk to you another time. Things happen when you least expect it.
J: I love you.
Da: Me too… I’ll talk to your mom and the surfer chick later… she needs a little talking to too! Crazy kid… I saw that giant wave she surfed…

Happy Birthday, Da…