Juggling Act

After months of my juggling act, it became painfully clear: I was losing rhythm, coordination and stamina.

To say I am impatient is an understatement. Something about waiting for something triggers my anxiety, and I panic, choke up and have to refocus on the ability to breathe. Being trapped on a city bus for over an hour on the way home from work pushed me to an extreme that I have never been to before. There had apparently been a multi vehicle crash on my bus route and traffic was backed up an hour in each direction, at rush hour.

I started thinking about how much of my time was being wasted trapped with fifty other people on this diesel fueled nightmare. I don't know why I felt I was so pressed for time, or why that triggered the clammy palms and throat constriction.
I then started wondering about bills, deadlines, upcoming projects, failed relationships, new prospects, friends I haven't heard from in a while, friends that probably think I am ignoring them, the boy in the hospital, the boy in my dreams, the lady who's ice tea refill I forgot to deliver to at the restaurant--everything.

It was a good thing that I had a seat, beside the window so I didn't look so crazy closing my eyes and pressing my forehead against the cool glass to cool off. Calming down has never been a strong ability in my personality, it falls somewhere between thinking before I speak and minding my own business. As my heart rate began to race, the claustrophobia turned this entire experience up a notch, and I needed out! I looked to my left and noticed that we were stuck in the middle of an overpass, and started to recall that bridge collapse in America a few years ago. After sizing up my fellow passengers-literally, I concluded that I had got onto the bus with a shocking percentage of the city's obese.

Some lady next to me started to rattle her newspaper, and bitching loudly on her cellphone about how she was about to be late for dinner. My kryptonite, a bitching woman, sitting right next to me. I turned my music up higher. I caught her looking at me, looking at her watch and nervously tapping her right high heel encased foot. She shook her newspaper a bit harder and louder, I was thinking; "this bitch thinks my music is too loud", so I decided to turn it down a bit. As luck would have it, my ipod wasn't agreeing and turned up to maximum, deafening me and attracting a lot of attention. "99 Problems (But a Bitch Ain't One)" by Jay Z began blasting from the skull candy around my head, I looked at the newspaper lady, smirked and commented "sorta speaks for itself, eh?" Eliciting several laughs from fellow passengers, I got a little shy and was happy to see that it would take a little longer, but I could walk from the next stop.

I heard on the news at eleven that a man had lost his life in that accident--It made me wonder if the bus ride was the my only wasted time yesterday.

A Leo baby; born several months too early in a muggy Ontario city twenty-five years ago, during a thunderstorm grows up to one day find himself alone, with a severely over poured glass of wine, a bag of weed and a severe appreciation for run-on sentences.

gardening

I woke up with the notion that I was at a breaking point.
Nothing seemed worth writing about-barely worth discussing, and yet I did. I came to the realization that there were some definite decisions on the horizon, and they were abounding.
Of those boys in my life, I am confused. Perhaps there are just too many of them, perhaps there are just not enough for me to be distracted away from trying not to develop feelings. I have been forced to relearn the importance of ignoring the first impression, and have embraced the impression of the first time they are up to bat for me. Sadly, this only knocked one boy off the list.
I started to tell myself that I deserved to feel heard and appreciated; only one more boy fell off the list. It took me weeding through the importance of being touched, understood and respected before I actually began to notice the bachelors fall one by one. I then concluded that it had little if anything to do with these guys being ALL of the things I wanted in a relationship-- but more with these guys not being in direct opposition to them.

in search of...

Recently I found myself on a very dead-end date, something I realized all of three minutes into it.
The boy was cute, and sadly that is where it ended.
His major accomplishment in life had been being a hair model for redken, and the red flags were abounding.
He was the same age as me, and I was hoping that there would be more in common-there wasn't.
I was convinced that he kept leaving the room to snort cocaine, and at one point I brought the conversation to a screeching halt; "True or false, you are high on coke right now?" He denied it, and to be fair, he was taking ecstasy.

So there I was, trapped at some bar downtown with this hyper little fruit bat. I sipped my grasshopper, and started day dreaming about being there with someone that I found interesting. Inspiration finally hit me two and a half hours into this date from hell. I called up a friend and demanded he come and kidnap me, it seemed like the only logical decision. Thirty minutes later, and I had been kidnapped from the date and moved to a second location.

I was dancing away, when jealousy entered the room. My jilted date, with a little help from a co-worker, had found me at a dance club forty minutes after I had pulled a Houdini and vanished. He made his way over to me within five minutes and managed to pull it together enough to ask "what's up?"

It took me a fragment of a second to come up with a response, and it found me tearing into him about being the most boring person I had ever met. I ended up drinking far too much for the remainder of the night and suffered every consequence the next morning.

...

I feel all wound up.