I haven't really felt like writing lately.
That's a lie.
I have been writing, but in a different book, not even my journal. Perhaps my friend is right, and I am on the edge of some crazy realization, maybe I am just not that excited about much right now. In any case, I don't think that I ought to look into it so much. What if I am giving myself a recess from over analyzing every little thing that is going on in my life? What if I am only giving myself a deserved break from it all?
I am sitting in the living room-stoned. I am watching the redhead starlet create a denim gown, Lisa is tucked away, sound asleep in bed, and I am wondering why it is that I have not been writing.
Steak Palace was the usual tonight, annoying guests, managers with a severe lack of aptitude and sense of urgency, and the ever available alcoholic. I feel despondent when it comes to trying to relate to anyone, or anything in my day-to-day life. The other day the kid asked me if I was being quiet because I was "getting over" him? Not going to lie, that was awkward, but what seemed most insincere was my face made of stone barely offering an explanation.
Maybe I was bored, perhaps I was tired, it's possible that I was purgatorying between throwing in the towel and waving it as a white flag.
Alas, this. What started as a forced entry, almost seems invited.
stay tuned.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Rain, Shine or Snow-Play Ball!
It's been rainy and cold around here for several days, and I see the role that the weather has been playing in my most recent emotional roller coaster ride. If only it were that simple to blame the outcome of your day on the weather, aside from being caught in a tsunami or flood I just don't get it.
My mom is always a bitch whenever the pressure changes, in fact, the mere suggestion of a Chinook and this lady goes from saint(ish) to full out she-devil.
Grandma's knees ache when the weather is about to change, she is also an avid yoga-enthusiast, and from my understanding is over the age of sixty.
I on the other hand tend to blame the weather for cancelled picnics, river floats and outdoor concerts.
I wish that the weather could take the blame for all of the anxiety and restlessness in my life, instead I figure that it has to due with the random combination of the following instigators:
1) Occupation: I am a waiter-and yes I know that waiters are always artists of some sort, writers, singers, models, painters and unquestionably all actors. This job provides instant cash in hand, hilarious stories, an appreciation for the entire hospitality industry from cab drivers to strippers and countless opportunities to sell out and smile in the face of ignorance.
If i had a dollar, hell I would take ten percent of the amount, for every time I stood there, grinning like a complete idiot while Mr and Mrs Needy Cheapo patronized me. Initially most servers tend to develop a thick skin, and the ability to fully objectify themselves. Sadly, for most, the inevitable always sets in, " I fucking cannot do this motherfucking job for one more fucking minute." This can be a great if you are in the backstage area, in the walk-in cooler, or outside chain smoking with a friend stuck in the same job. What is going to be the outcome when I can feel this next "episode" about to happen several times per shift while on the floor and guest-side at the table? Strike One.
2) Caffeine: I need it to cure hangovers, snap out of being stoned, wake up, stay up, have the strength to pretend that i am energetic-basically I am in need of this shit to survive. Some people are addicted to Tim Hortons, and lovingly (sickeningly) refer to it as "Timmies" like for some reason this place should seem as familiar a place as a dear friend, or enemy depending on your feelings towards adding "immie" to the poor sob named Kim or Jim. (sorry your parents did that to you.) I, for one like to spread my coffee loving cash around, throw it at starbucks one day, good earth the next, it's all the same to me after I finish adding the raw sugar, honey and milk. The crash from this drug is unlike any other, mood swing, fatigue, loss of concentration-and the worst, headaches. Caffeine is the most threatening of the drugs out there folks, and they are selling it 24 hours a day, on every corner in the city. Another Swing and a Miss.
3) Alcohol, Marijuana, Cigarettes: I lump these three together in the same way my mother used to punish me and my two younger brothers for fear of having to actually figure out who was lying, who had done it and who was probably already the victim of said attack or ploy. I don't want to actually sit back and wonder which one is doing the most damage, as seemingly I love them all, and although at times have abandoned them each momentarily, I was never able to rid myself of all three in the same attempt. Take away my ipod, dvds and cell phone, but for God sakes, leave the joint, red wine and pack of camels with me.... we belong together on a very sick and twisted level. I didn't really accept any kind of blame here with these three, but there are several issues here, lets call this one a near-swing, but it was a ball. "Good eye Champ."
4) Boys. Grrr. If "grrr" didn't read like a prissy faced fifteen year old girl with braces and freckles that just found out that the "love of her life" had already asked Suzie Homewrecker to the spring fling dance at the local community centre. Borderline run-on there, hard for the eyes to focus... I am sorry.
I wish that finding someone to actually develop a relationship with wasn't such a fucking mystery. Just when you think "this is the one", they pull some bullshit stunt that brings you right back. Over the past few months I have had the privilege to have felt insecure, unworthy and confused by several men. I haven't gone and thrown the towel in on finding someone who isn't lacking brains, emotional awareness, or social skills. Why do I feel the need to employ such extremes when it comes to dealing with "problem" relationships with "poison" people? What kind of that process afforded me such unwilling compromise? If it's all just "in my head" why do my hands get weak, stomach turn and heart race? I often wonder if I am just attracted to these people because they are nothing but more exciting conductors for the roller-coaster, it's clearly shift work at the Ryan Amusement Park. Strike Three.
"You'll get 'em next time sport."
Curtain call, take your bow-it's a standing ovation.
Backstage, behind closed doors lie your true motivation.
I was distracted when the opprotunity to enter or exit stage right knocked, and missed my cue.
It was opening night, the critics had arrived, witnessed and published each view.
Depending on what paper you grab it could be a bomb box-office smash. "Predictible, Pathetic, Tragic and Funny but Lame."
I read the captions flipping the page refusing to take blame.
You looked at me- contact now eye to eye
and I starred back trying to figure out who was fueling the lie...
Dialogue distracting from the reality in this mid-spring play.
History says that in this spotlight I should not stay.
Stay where I was excited and ignoring the abounding fear.
Then I remembered that you were a series of characters made up of smoke and mirror.
And while we're at it, lets get back to the script:
intelligent, yes! But defenseless to a witty quip.
Thinking about it, I wonder if this came to you as a blow,
but if i am going to feel alone, I'd rather it in a one man show.
You probably think this is about you, and it was your plot twist to choose.
But I'm the one backstage, pulling the strings and the show's all you kid, I'll withhold my reviews.
It looks like snow outside my window.... thankfully I can sleep in again tomorrow.
My mom is always a bitch whenever the pressure changes, in fact, the mere suggestion of a Chinook and this lady goes from saint(ish) to full out she-devil.
Grandma's knees ache when the weather is about to change, she is also an avid yoga-enthusiast, and from my understanding is over the age of sixty.
I on the other hand tend to blame the weather for cancelled picnics, river floats and outdoor concerts.
I wish that the weather could take the blame for all of the anxiety and restlessness in my life, instead I figure that it has to due with the random combination of the following instigators:
1) Occupation: I am a waiter-and yes I know that waiters are always artists of some sort, writers, singers, models, painters and unquestionably all actors. This job provides instant cash in hand, hilarious stories, an appreciation for the entire hospitality industry from cab drivers to strippers and countless opportunities to sell out and smile in the face of ignorance.
If i had a dollar, hell I would take ten percent of the amount, for every time I stood there, grinning like a complete idiot while Mr and Mrs Needy Cheapo patronized me. Initially most servers tend to develop a thick skin, and the ability to fully objectify themselves. Sadly, for most, the inevitable always sets in, " I fucking cannot do this motherfucking job for one more fucking minute." This can be a great if you are in the backstage area, in the walk-in cooler, or outside chain smoking with a friend stuck in the same job. What is going to be the outcome when I can feel this next "episode" about to happen several times per shift while on the floor and guest-side at the table? Strike One.
2) Caffeine: I need it to cure hangovers, snap out of being stoned, wake up, stay up, have the strength to pretend that i am energetic-basically I am in need of this shit to survive. Some people are addicted to Tim Hortons, and lovingly (sickeningly) refer to it as "Timmies" like for some reason this place should seem as familiar a place as a dear friend, or enemy depending on your feelings towards adding "immie" to the poor sob named Kim or Jim. (sorry your parents did that to you.) I, for one like to spread my coffee loving cash around, throw it at starbucks one day, good earth the next, it's all the same to me after I finish adding the raw sugar, honey and milk. The crash from this drug is unlike any other, mood swing, fatigue, loss of concentration-and the worst, headaches. Caffeine is the most threatening of the drugs out there folks, and they are selling it 24 hours a day, on every corner in the city. Another Swing and a Miss.
3) Alcohol, Marijuana, Cigarettes: I lump these three together in the same way my mother used to punish me and my two younger brothers for fear of having to actually figure out who was lying, who had done it and who was probably already the victim of said attack or ploy. I don't want to actually sit back and wonder which one is doing the most damage, as seemingly I love them all, and although at times have abandoned them each momentarily, I was never able to rid myself of all three in the same attempt. Take away my ipod, dvds and cell phone, but for God sakes, leave the joint, red wine and pack of camels with me.... we belong together on a very sick and twisted level. I didn't really accept any kind of blame here with these three, but there are several issues here, lets call this one a near-swing, but it was a ball. "Good eye Champ."
4) Boys. Grrr. If "grrr" didn't read like a prissy faced fifteen year old girl with braces and freckles that just found out that the "love of her life" had already asked Suzie Homewrecker to the spring fling dance at the local community centre. Borderline run-on there, hard for the eyes to focus... I am sorry.
I wish that finding someone to actually develop a relationship with wasn't such a fucking mystery. Just when you think "this is the one", they pull some bullshit stunt that brings you right back. Over the past few months I have had the privilege to have felt insecure, unworthy and confused by several men. I haven't gone and thrown the towel in on finding someone who isn't lacking brains, emotional awareness, or social skills. Why do I feel the need to employ such extremes when it comes to dealing with "problem" relationships with "poison" people? What kind of that process afforded me such unwilling compromise? If it's all just "in my head" why do my hands get weak, stomach turn and heart race? I often wonder if I am just attracted to these people because they are nothing but more exciting conductors for the roller-coaster, it's clearly shift work at the Ryan Amusement Park. Strike Three.
"You'll get 'em next time sport."
Curtain call, take your bow-it's a standing ovation.
Backstage, behind closed doors lie your true motivation.
I was distracted when the opprotunity to enter or exit stage right knocked, and missed my cue.
It was opening night, the critics had arrived, witnessed and published each view.
Depending on what paper you grab it could be a bomb box-office smash. "Predictible, Pathetic, Tragic and Funny but Lame."
I read the captions flipping the page refusing to take blame.
You looked at me- contact now eye to eye
and I starred back trying to figure out who was fueling the lie...
Dialogue distracting from the reality in this mid-spring play.
History says that in this spotlight I should not stay.
Stay where I was excited and ignoring the abounding fear.
Then I remembered that you were a series of characters made up of smoke and mirror.
And while we're at it, lets get back to the script:
intelligent, yes! But defenseless to a witty quip.
Thinking about it, I wonder if this came to you as a blow,
but if i am going to feel alone, I'd rather it in a one man show.
You probably think this is about you, and it was your plot twist to choose.
But I'm the one backstage, pulling the strings and the show's all you kid, I'll withhold my reviews.
It looks like snow outside my window.... thankfully I can sleep in again tomorrow.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Hot Mess Revisited
An evening of enchanted events was in order. I made my way to the birthday party, and two hours, nine beer and several joints later we were boarding a suv-limo enroute to the dueling piano bar.
Between birthday girl's legs that didn't stop in short shorts, both of Paul's most recent lovers being in attendance, and half of steak palace taking over a section of the campiest bar in the city it was no wonder it didn't seem safe for any of us to be up on chairs dancing. By the time the boy showed up I was surprised there had not been any face planting, I was excited about him showing up, but I was also a little apprehensive. It's frustrating because he is so presentable, and knows exactly what to do or say whenever I am considering throwing in the towel.
We ended up leaving just after midnight to go dancing at the gay bar, something I knew would be the changing moment of the night. It was merely minutes before we ran into Signore Composto, I would have thought that the vision of those two meeting would have made me very uncomfortable, but in my loss of concentration and he fact that I had a lot to drink, it didn't seem to bother me.
Throughout the rest of the evening it felt like the tension between the boy and I was abounding. I was trying to think outside of the box, and there I was locking eyes with the bull while waving the red flag. He asked me what the problem was, and it was just like one of those dreams where you try to talk and nothing comes out. I wasn't mad at him, I wasn't even upset really.
I think I am more confused by him than I anyone I have met recently. And therein lay the issue I suppose.
Sometimes it seems that he is intentionally pissing me off, just to prove that he can make me un-mad with a kiss.
I think I am going to go unplugged tonight....it's unusual that I get the house to myself.
Between birthday girl's legs that didn't stop in short shorts, both of Paul's most recent lovers being in attendance, and half of steak palace taking over a section of the campiest bar in the city it was no wonder it didn't seem safe for any of us to be up on chairs dancing. By the time the boy showed up I was surprised there had not been any face planting, I was excited about him showing up, but I was also a little apprehensive. It's frustrating because he is so presentable, and knows exactly what to do or say whenever I am considering throwing in the towel.
We ended up leaving just after midnight to go dancing at the gay bar, something I knew would be the changing moment of the night. It was merely minutes before we ran into Signore Composto, I would have thought that the vision of those two meeting would have made me very uncomfortable, but in my loss of concentration and he fact that I had a lot to drink, it didn't seem to bother me.
Throughout the rest of the evening it felt like the tension between the boy and I was abounding. I was trying to think outside of the box, and there I was locking eyes with the bull while waving the red flag. He asked me what the problem was, and it was just like one of those dreams where you try to talk and nothing comes out. I wasn't mad at him, I wasn't even upset really.
I think I am more confused by him than I anyone I have met recently. And therein lay the issue I suppose.
Sometimes it seems that he is intentionally pissing me off, just to prove that he can make me un-mad with a kiss.
I think I am going to go unplugged tonight....it's unusual that I get the house to myself.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I wonder why I've not been writing...
I've grown tired with all of my most recent social experiments. I am sick of always over-thinking, over-reacting and over-doing. I wouldn't hesitate right now to sit back and let someone else do everything for me. Perhaps that is what is in order, first I would surely have to win the lottery or rob a bank.... the choices are endless.
I suppose that this burn out was an obvious outcome, I was rushing around both starting and putting out fires shamelessly, and it took a little time to discover that I was the one responsible for the shitty outcome.
I am growing tired of working at Steak Palace, I don't feel that I am working towards anything there, well anything aside from money to turn around and drink.
There has been countless sleepless nights over the past few months, and I have to remember that it was me who made all of these decisions.
So once again, it's time for some other reinvention. This journey is in desperate need of something fresh.
Stay tuned.
I suppose that this burn out was an obvious outcome, I was rushing around both starting and putting out fires shamelessly, and it took a little time to discover that I was the one responsible for the shitty outcome.
I am growing tired of working at Steak Palace, I don't feel that I am working towards anything there, well anything aside from money to turn around and drink.
There has been countless sleepless nights over the past few months, and I have to remember that it was me who made all of these decisions.
So once again, it's time for some other reinvention. This journey is in desperate need of something fresh.
Stay tuned.
Friday, May 8, 2009
TGIF
Spent the day napping after lunch with the ladies from the magazine. At around two in the afternoon I felt exhausted. It's really no wonder, this week has been a busy one, but not the usual brand of working like a dog, I managed to only put myself through 5 hours of Steak Palace torture this week, and used the free time to subject myself to another blend of punishment-unrequitedness.
True to form I would be busy reflecting on the conversations and pointing fingers, but this time I can only point the finger and the boy in the mirror. It's funny to see how one night out out can change everything. If I was investing in a fantasy, it would be safe to say that I reached my limit.
I often wonder how I wind up in these crazy situations, and have come to the conclusion that I have a severe penchant for the drama. I tend to seek out the absolute worst idea, and lock my radar on it, sometimes the battle plan is well planned and executed, other times it's a variant kamikaze attack.
It would be best for me to step back and observe this current situation objectively, that being said I rarely do what is best for me.
This weekend, I am ordering a quiet one, and hopefully in the process I will be able to re-focus, and perhaps find the way to be a little more selfish.
True to form I would be busy reflecting on the conversations and pointing fingers, but this time I can only point the finger and the boy in the mirror. It's funny to see how one night out out can change everything. If I was investing in a fantasy, it would be safe to say that I reached my limit.
I often wonder how I wind up in these crazy situations, and have come to the conclusion that I have a severe penchant for the drama. I tend to seek out the absolute worst idea, and lock my radar on it, sometimes the battle plan is well planned and executed, other times it's a variant kamikaze attack.
It would be best for me to step back and observe this current situation objectively, that being said I rarely do what is best for me.
This weekend, I am ordering a quiet one, and hopefully in the process I will be able to re-focus, and perhaps find the way to be a little more selfish.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
A Reason to Stay Inside
Awaking to the sound of rain hitting the roof is one of the most calming starts to day I can think of. If only I had a maid to clean up the empty bottles, a butler to bring me a dark roast coffee and croissant, and a hot tub I would be set.
Laziness has struck today, and I can finally putter around the house sans the guilt of not running errands. I decided to give away my shift tonight, in favour of meeting up with the Kid, encore une fois.
I have already called my hometown to send birthday greetings to a great friend, and decided that I did indeed have my cut my hair a little too short yesterday.
After several beer after work, Sara-Jane and I decided to crash Karaoke at the gay bar-we should have known better.
I ended up meeting a pretty cool guy, but just when I thought "I will keep him in my harem," I noticed the teeth-grinding, forehead sweat and eyes on high alert. Either I was sitting across from Whitney Houston or this guy was a not-so-rookie rail runner,
Sadly, Clive Davis was nowhere to be seen, so this guy was indeed in hailing his thrills through twenty-dollar bills.
I had made up my mind that this was going nowhere, naturally I realize where he was obtaining said thrill.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a slightly familiar face, the ex of Signore.
Drug dealers I can tolerate, they have and continue to provide me with delicious smokeables, and the random night of mushroom teaing. They aren't trying to be your friend, they are simply providing you with what you want, one stop show, wham bam thank you dealer.
Drug Pushers, on the other hand, are complete trash.
From the way they dress, their random trips to the washroom and ABM, and their compulsive need to be in the centre of the room they are easy to spot. This time was no different. The dirt-bag is filtering around the small crowd and enticing everyone to "elevate their consciousness." Later I learned that this douche is not just an abusive psycho, but he takes the cake as best in shit-show by getting all the boys hooked on drugs and back to his place into his supposedly very comfortable bed.
After downing a few more barley pops, and a lemon drop shot, I grabbed the Kiwi SJ and we were off, once again I was leaving a situation I was both uncomfortable and all-knowing of, with a beautiful girl on my side.
This morning the beautiful roommates were rushing around heading out for the day, as I brewed a cup of coffee, swung open the patio door listened to the falling rain and decided to hold the fort and marinate today.
Laziness has struck today, and I can finally putter around the house sans the guilt of not running errands. I decided to give away my shift tonight, in favour of meeting up with the Kid, encore une fois.
I have already called my hometown to send birthday greetings to a great friend, and decided that I did indeed have my cut my hair a little too short yesterday.
After several beer after work, Sara-Jane and I decided to crash Karaoke at the gay bar-we should have known better.
I ended up meeting a pretty cool guy, but just when I thought "I will keep him in my harem," I noticed the teeth-grinding, forehead sweat and eyes on high alert. Either I was sitting across from Whitney Houston or this guy was a not-so-rookie rail runner,
Sadly, Clive Davis was nowhere to be seen, so this guy was indeed in hailing his thrills through twenty-dollar bills.
I had made up my mind that this was going nowhere, naturally I realize where he was obtaining said thrill.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a slightly familiar face, the ex of Signore.
Drug dealers I can tolerate, they have and continue to provide me with delicious smokeables, and the random night of mushroom teaing. They aren't trying to be your friend, they are simply providing you with what you want, one stop show, wham bam thank you dealer.
Drug Pushers, on the other hand, are complete trash.
From the way they dress, their random trips to the washroom and ABM, and their compulsive need to be in the centre of the room they are easy to spot. This time was no different. The dirt-bag is filtering around the small crowd and enticing everyone to "elevate their consciousness." Later I learned that this douche is not just an abusive psycho, but he takes the cake as best in shit-show by getting all the boys hooked on drugs and back to his place into his supposedly very comfortable bed.
After downing a few more barley pops, and a lemon drop shot, I grabbed the Kiwi SJ and we were off, once again I was leaving a situation I was both uncomfortable and all-knowing of, with a beautiful girl on my side.
This morning the beautiful roommates were rushing around heading out for the day, as I brewed a cup of coffee, swung open the patio door listened to the falling rain and decided to hold the fort and marinate today.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Stock Exchange.
I think that I am really starting to appreciate being single. After much consideration, I find myself somewhat ashamed of my serial dating, there were some really great times, but to be honest, I started to feel a little left out.
I hung out with the boy yesterday. And I saw myself getting caught up in the young delirium. I swear that sometimes there is poetry in our dialogue. The problem with poetry is that it can be misinterpreted, reinterpreted and sometimes just not understood. And while I was on cloud nine, I still managed to maintain my composure. It's not that I am terribly concerned with a future with the kid, but I am starting to get a little worried about his perception of himself, his self esteem puts me to shame.
After listening him go on for over an hour about each girl that was head over heels for him, I had to wonder "Do you not know how I feel?" The black fact is that I at that particular time also had no idea how I felt.
Of all the boys, I decided to focus just on one, and maybe this time it is me.
The warning signs were everywhere for the past two months, and I think I chose to ignore them even though I was recognizing each and every one. I thought that things would be different in May, and I was right.
It may be a really great time to score some deals and invest in the stock market, but in the dividends and stocks of relationships, the recession is just about to hit.
I hung out with the boy yesterday. And I saw myself getting caught up in the young delirium. I swear that sometimes there is poetry in our dialogue. The problem with poetry is that it can be misinterpreted, reinterpreted and sometimes just not understood. And while I was on cloud nine, I still managed to maintain my composure. It's not that I am terribly concerned with a future with the kid, but I am starting to get a little worried about his perception of himself, his self esteem puts me to shame.
After listening him go on for over an hour about each girl that was head over heels for him, I had to wonder "Do you not know how I feel?" The black fact is that I at that particular time also had no idea how I felt.
Of all the boys, I decided to focus just on one, and maybe this time it is me.
The warning signs were everywhere for the past two months, and I think I chose to ignore them even though I was recognizing each and every one. I thought that things would be different in May, and I was right.
It may be a really great time to score some deals and invest in the stock market, but in the dividends and stocks of relationships, the recession is just about to hit.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Monday....
There is something a little unnerving about Monday.
It's the first day you can use to fuck over your week, but oh so much more.
It's the first day you can use to fuck over your week, but oh so much more.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Re-heat of Signore Composto
I was done. I had resolved to not put myself back in that situation ever again-two bottles of wine and a shot of espresso vodka later and there I was willingly climbing into the taxi enroute to a very poor decision.
It wasn't that I was mad that he had called me on my shit, hell I awoke that morning to a never-ending text message from the girl from Brandon letting me know all about how horrible I can act sometimes. It had little to do with the fact that he told me about some "date" he was supposed to be on instead of being with me, or the way he punishes me and then shrugs. My problem was that I didn't know how to feel, and he was not about to help me clear the clouds in my brain.
For the record, I knew exactly what was going on, and though he may never admit it, I was by far the less-drunk one.
When I awoke beside him this morning, it felt different, it felt like waking up beside a friend, and not someone that I was remotely romantically interested in. I could hear my heart and soul let out a sigh, for now the reheat could be frozen and shelved among the other supposed lovers, as a friend.
It wasn't that I was mad that he had called me on my shit, hell I awoke that morning to a never-ending text message from the girl from Brandon letting me know all about how horrible I can act sometimes. It had little to do with the fact that he told me about some "date" he was supposed to be on instead of being with me, or the way he punishes me and then shrugs. My problem was that I didn't know how to feel, and he was not about to help me clear the clouds in my brain.
For the record, I knew exactly what was going on, and though he may never admit it, I was by far the less-drunk one.
When I awoke beside him this morning, it felt different, it felt like waking up beside a friend, and not someone that I was remotely romantically interested in. I could hear my heart and soul let out a sigh, for now the reheat could be frozen and shelved among the other supposed lovers, as a friend.
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