An over due letter.

Behind the curtain it's different. It's obvious to the rest of us; you feel undeserving of all the attention you get-and still, you continue to perform for it. You'd think after all of these years, all of the characters you've become, you would have realized your real disadvantage. Not only your willingness, but your obsession to 'give'. That is not to suggest that you haven't been accused of expecting much in return... Love. And a lot of it.

Seems to me there is no point in resisting, years of smoke and mirrors and distracting have added up. Trying to protect yourself by behaving one way or another ran wild. Though a man with a large vocabulary, vast knowledge of trends and pop culture and a cut throat, witty quip slinging demeanor- emotionally, you are still a terrified teenager, not even much more than a child.

How annoying that you don't get always get your way? How disturbing that all of your methods of persuasion don't always pay off? How discredited and unsexy you can feel based on the opinion or review of another?

Once in a while someone will ask "did he really just say that?"... we both know the answer... 'of course.' Your ability to come up with something to say could only be rivaled by stand up comedians, but when it comes down to how you truly feel, that's off limits. You will gladly write about your crazy nights on the town, what's grinding your gears at that moment in time and how you feel horrible about the end of something in your life. But when you are really down for the count, all you can do is apologize. "Sorry I am late, sorry I didn't make it today, sorry I missed your call". Sorry you spent the day between laying in bed covering your eyes and stumbling back and forth to fill your water glass?

After a medical attention appropriate anxiety attack several days ago, you might start to investigate your options for escape. Just as a country encouraged to separate state and church, personally you must separate yourself from 'the show', and find a creative outlet a bit smaller than the lives of people around you and yourself.

What if everyone knew about the dozens of sleepless nights, waiting for a responding text message to cuddle up to? Springing from bed making sure the Britta had been refilled, the garbage was emptied, your ipod was charging, your work clothes were laid out on the couch, the patio door is secured, all of the dishes are hidden, the ashtray is empty, the plants have been watered, ensuring the guest bathroom is fully stocked, the humidifier is full... and that's just the shit you think about while trying to ignore the real issues. One day after completing all of the tasks, hoping you would be able to finally fall asleep, you fainted. lucky this time that you only hurt your nose and bled for a while. Lucky you weren't unconscious for longer, hopeful that it isn't too late to deal with an anxiety disorder.

They are gonna offer you advice, medication and suggestions on what to 'let go' of. You might learn to forgive not only the people in your midst that have hurt you, but yourself for not only allowing it, but encouraging it. You don''t always rush in with elaborately planned encounters full of candlelight, romantic dinners and designed moments of intimacy. Yet, here you go again. Once more accused of putting someone so undeserving ahead of yourself. Take a look at what's happened on account of your inventions, creations and productions. Take a look in the mirror, wonder why look so tired? Do you ever wonder why you seize up the moment you allow yourself to slip into a memory? Ever asked yourself if you have not only given enough, but your all in vain? Step back, superstar...you're starting to fade.

Ps. You'll never save someone else if you haven't saved yourself. If someone doesn't believe in happily ever after, they won't see it with you. Your audience still awaits, are you afraid you will only disappoint them?

PPS, your work clothes are ironed and waiting for your Christmas Eve day shift.

Baby, it's Cold Outside.

Sixty hour work weeks, unsuccessful gift purchasing, mint tea, children chewing on their mittens at zoolights and copious excuses to have another glass of red wine- tis the season.
Riding out this rollercoaster of a year has been exhausting. I have full intentions of abandoning my seat come the new year. There's a lot of changes going on, everywhere I look. I don't know why I am so frightened of change. I behave asthough I am always bored with the status quo.

When Christmas comes around I want to see distant family members, drink hot chocolate with that special someone... and feel like I am at "home". Here's Hoping.

the affair is over.

Ignoring my journal and forgetting all about this outlet. I feel like I have to give myself permission to express myself. I am afraid of saying too much. Please Stand By.

Table for two

I have always been skeptical of people. Always assumed that they were hiding something, pretending to be someone or distracting from what they actually are. Working in business that is hospitality is a constant reminder of the fact that nothing is what it seems. The typical restaurant is just a smaller version of all of those escapes created and beautifully marketed by Disney.

The seats, the floor plan, the characters and costumes. The way the lights hit certain areas and cast showdows on others. The first person you see, the last person you remember talking to. It's all part of the beautiful veneer of dining out.

Expensive wine, pretty girls, and steak with all the trimmings. Comfortable chairs, forgiving lighting and a font that makes you think you understand what the menu is offering. The bartenders pretend to give a damn about who you are waiting for, what you are going through and your idea of the perfect cocktail. The hostess pretends that she cares about where you want to sit, who is joining the party soon and that you'd rather 'hold on' to your jacket; not check it.

Your waiter hates you. Trust me. You can make friends with them, tell them that they remind them of your son/nephew/grandchild... it doesn't matter. They know what you are here for, and you are just buttering them up. Thankfully, this approach goes both ways. I let you believe I am the least bit concerned about your fake allergies when I know you are just watching your weight and making a bigger deal about it. I play along with the fact that you are your fourth highball, bottle of shiraz on the way... after all, you deserve it. I allow you to think I am actually taking care of you, when we both know it's an illusion. I put my two cents in, and expect twenty percent in return.

the thirty minutes before work

I could run another bath, i could smoke a few more cigarettes. I could listen to more sad music, I could find myself in an emily haines ballad. I could call you, and wait for you to answer, knowing you probably wont. I could do another load of laundry, I could start writing you another letter; only to throw it in the pile of the others left unsent. I could call my mother, but I don't want to hear about another failed relationship. I could finally start to cry, but my eyes would be red and puffy on the bus. I could do some banking, but I know there is nowhere I want to put my money right now. I could look for a new place to live, but I don't know who I am anymore, or where I'd want to be. I could pretend that I am doing 'fine'... and trick everyone else into believing it too. I can distract and dismay with my humour, interject with some witty quip about something. I can make sure my hair looks presentable, I could try to figure out why I am in need of so much caffiene just to get through the day, why I am a zombie stummbling to the coffee pot..... back and forth, back and forth... waiting for the telephone to ring... it won't.

after a year like this one

After a year like this one
I'm surprised I do not hate your guts
And after a year like this one
I'm surprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
I'm surprised I did not eat my young
After a year like this one
I'm sorry if I'm not cordial to everyone
After a year like this one
I'm surprised I'm convinced at all
And after a year like this one
I do not roll my eyes at the synagogue
After a year like this one
I can't help but wonder how they've been
And after a year like this one
I think I'll lease it all to my next of kin
After a year like this one
I'm surprised we're not all bleeping drunks
And after I realized this one
I want you to choose the restaurant
And after a year like this one
I'll need a good whole sixteen months alone
After a year like this one
I think I'll make the west coast beaches my new home

SECOND TO nONE

I didn't want it to be over, but I knew it was. The sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, late night adventures around the neighbourhood, moments by candlelight had all been halted.

Maybe I will someday find someone who appreciates my desire to build a life together, who won't bounce at the sign of trouble and understand the basic foundation of a relationship, and it kills me that this person isn't you. A resident of reality who understands the power of emotions and knows what meeting halfway means. Perhaps, one day you will be able to reintroduce yourself. Maybe you will become a tax paying, vote casting member of society who says "hello" to passersby on a sunny afternoon stroll. Good luck with your studies, don't give up on that too. Take your time with your baby steps, just don't be surprised when it feels impossible to "catch up" on other things.

Sometimes, it just is.


I'll miss ya mister.