Transit

With the new job being on the otherside of this city's "downtown", I have been been at the mercy of the transfer to another bus. The first bus is one that I am accustomed to. The usual mix of suburbia dwelling nine-to-fivers, emo-hairstyled highschool kids and blue collar construction workers. It's the transfer to the second bus that makes me a little apprehensive about public transportation. It's undoubtedly the shortest bus ride imaginable, but it saves me walking through the construction area that is a pretty sketchy part of the city. Sadly, it puts me in a confined space with the dirtiest, smelliest, most filthy human beings I have ever laid my eyes, ears and nose on.

I am, after all just a boy from small town Ontario. I can't understand a religion or culture that is against the liberal use of deodorant. Worse, is the men that remain sitting while woman, in heels, stand during the journey. I was shocked at how many baby strollers, bad haircuts and illfitting outfits I am daily exposed to.

I love my neighbourhood, tucked away, on the hill, minutes from downtown. I love the fellow passengers on the usual bus... I want them to transfer with me, and several bottles of febreeze, who am I kidding, Lysol is the only suitable weapon for the other.
I can't imagine living wherever that bus ends up. I can't imagine it at all.

waiting to feel sleepy

Another schoolnight case of insomnia. I haven't felt like writing lately. I suppose that has a lot to do with the fact that there isn't much new. Things are getting better, but nothing is new. I have even failed to make the usual silly observations. No awkward moments of chaos driven by an outburst from my mouth.
No hangover mornings full of regrets and painkillers; My liver is taking a holiday. There are a few new people in my life, but they are very new. Infact, I am sure several of them might still have that new car smell.
I have a handful of blog posts saved as 'edits'. i haven't really contemplated their release. I wondered how important any of myramblings are, and why they always had to be about me.
My feelings for, reactions to, hidden agenda of...etc. What about telling the stories of the people that I know?
Would my friends get paranoid and assume I am taking notes on them? If they are unnerved, I think I like it.
Between several handwritten letters, the journal that is constantly near me, the book I am developing characters for and the book I lost-found & lost again- I can't possibly keep up with this gratuitously sensitized recount.
enough about me.

The Supposed Five Year Plan.

Someone asked about my 'five year plan' today. Maybe it was the fact that this person doesn't really know much about me, or the unnatural heat we are experiencing for the end of September, but for the first time in ages- I was speechless. By the time my thoughts had come full circle it was embarrassing to acknowledge the fact that I had no plan.
She had only asked a simple question. It was not in an way, shape or form controversial or inappropriate. She could have asked me anything about my childhood, my sexuality, or my past relationships. I would have been able to answer any form of question with an air of knowledge, but this was one subject in which I have no concept.
I decided to think about it.
I don't want to be a waiter for the rest of my life, and as good as I am in the industry- I am a little apprehensive about working my way into a management position ever again.

The Flip Side

Feels like I have finally landed, solidly... after a very turbulent travel through time.
The summer was spent bouncing irresponsibly from self-indulgent to self-destructive. And the tippy train wreck has seemingly been avoided. I was really terrified about answering the phone, opening the door, cracking a window and experiencing the many flashbacks awaiting therein. I hid away from how I was actually feeling with the usual crutches- it stopped working. I denied myself in order to make someone else happy- it didn't feel right. I took for granted the things that actually matter- and luckily realized before it was too late. I spent an obscene amount of hours working for a corporation that I knew lacked integrity, responsibility and compassion- only for the money. I forgave everyone that I was harboring grudges for- but not myself. I forgot how to trust, how to love and in the process fooled myself in and out of several illusions.

Tonight, a friend asked what the deal breaker in a relationship was to me, and I didn't have to consider my response.
"Respect," I said, explaining that to me that encompassed trust, honesty and compassion.

I spent so many days feeling nothing aside from slighted and resentment. I was full of the feeling of nothing, a strange and marvelous degree above rock bottom was looking me right in the face. I was so worried about the wrong things, and it is about time that I woke up. There is an abounding amount of 'catching up' hovering around me. I tried so hard to learn how to look at myself objectively, but forgot to honour the importance of expanding my soul. It became clear to me that I was impossible to head in any direction, good or bad, while on a treadmill.
I placed the blame on merlot, cabernet, shiraz, pinot noir and the most confused person I have ever met.

After a few terrifyingly real dreams; the kind most would label nightmares, I knew things had to change. I lookedk at everything around me, and made a vow to bare in mind that I too was worth just as much as the one's I raised onto soapboxes. I am happy to have finally put an end to my very own 'dark era'.
It's so fucked up, the way some of us can discount ourselves enough to repeat history's mistakes, over and over until the pattern explodes off into some kaleidoscopic twilight zone.
It took a little while to catch on to my gut instinct. I had seemingly turned my radio dial to all of the wrong stations; inviting all of the wrong satellites to bounce signals into my once fortified galaxy.
The thrill of the rollercoaster is nearly lost when you can't tell if you're going up or coming down, so I have started several new projects, ones that will advance and encourage my growth-and love ain't far behind.

It's been a while...somethings have changed.

I have been home from my whirlwind tour de force for almost a week, and have just found the time to sit down and reflect.
I am still in shock that I managed to pull off each and every date that I had planned, and even added a few extra visits. I developed a pretty intense cold/flu during the first twenty-four hours of my Ontario experience, but with the help of lemons, oil of oregano and ginger tea I successfully defeated the infection... it required that I take a few days to relax, which led to several afternoons of daydreaming, interviews, and a sincere goodbye.

Upon reviewing the week back "home" I realized how much of an emotional high it really turned out to be.
Between giving Holly away during what has to be one the most beautiful wedding ceremonies ever witnessed and deciding last minute to return to Calgary so many things happened.
I spent time in Hamilton, Cambridge, Guelph, Mount Brydges , Strathroy, London, Stratford (twice), Bayfield, Goderich and London. I had two flights, a train ride, several taxi trips and countless car rides with faces new and old. I woke up countless times wondering what town or city I was in, where the bathroom was and how many more days I had left. It was like I was in a race against time, and had so much to do, so many people to see and so many conversational updates to experience.

I saw some friends and family that I hadn't seen in several years, I saw a face that, at one point this year I was certain I would never see again, and also met someone for the first time, sorta. I am tired of the ridiculous nicknames for the sake of hiding identities, but don't want to gratuitously incriminate him either. It was strange to finally meet him and still feel like he was an old friend from highschool.... rare are those instances.

My last night home was when I made the decision that I was not going to extend the tour to relax. I woke up Friday morning and hitched a ride to Stratford in a bitchin' Subaru with a fucking awesome feminist who led me into some amazing conversations. I waited around that quaint little city for a few hours, had some breakfast, some coffee and got on the next train to London. I managed to get onto the standby list for the one and only flight back to Cowtown, and felt exhausted.

Right after my plane landed the parental units whisked me from the arrivals gate, back to my place and then downtown so I could make it to a friend's going away party. The party was a mixture of emotions, sadly, judging from the looks on most faces there, none of them seemed authentic... another room full of closet cocaine fiends. I often wonder about that drug. Why are these people ok with doing a drug they have to hide? I could never imagine excusing myself to the washroom to smoke a joint, unless I was at church, and even that's pushing out. Watching the door of the VIP room swing open to reveal a stumbling, sniffing and snorting version of a friend is terrifying.

I have been looking for a new job since my return to this oddly warm and sunny city, and feeling pretty good about most of the leads so far.

The kid left today. We said our goodbyes at the train station, as it is par for the course. It was hurried, but not painfully so. Somewhere in the realm of reality it seemed that it served as the bandage ripping away experience for both of us.
I am apprehensive as to how I really feel about the aftermath. But there are so many other things to be paying attention to... including the laundry still in my suitcase.