Oh the Humanity

We as human beings, constantly underestimate our fragility.

We take a lot for granted. We don't mean to. It's just the way it seems to play out. Our lives revolve around instant gratification, dispensability, and an overexaggerated sense of self-worth, which rarely allows us the opportunity to look more broadly at the world.

Relationships come and go with the blink of an eyelid, toppled over by a magnitude of hardship about as violent as a zephyr. Grudges are forged from the most trivial of matters and alienate friendships or familial ties between people who really genuinely care about each other. Good fortune is recklessly squandered by greed and excess. And our health is something we don't know the importance of until it is challenged, usually in a grossly indecent attack on our mortality, through sudden near-fatality, or the loss of someone close to us.

We need to take more time to evaluate ourselves against the bigger picture. The good things in our lives are rarely cherished as much as the bad things are censured. And as the instigators of this illogical imbalance, only we have the ability to alter it.

So change it, before it's too late.

Rouge

The tantivy hit like a freight train
it moved through my body 'til it came
up through my core
and out of my pores
and flushed my face redder than rouge

Acrimony

A girl last night told me she liked that I had attitude. Since when did I have attitude? Maybe it's something that comes with being downtrodden one too many times. Maybe it's my age, or new-found independence, or a build up of years of repressed indignation finally rising to the surface.

Lately I've started to uncover some parts of myself that have been buried deep. Anger. Selfishness. Impatience. Solitude. They sound like bad words. Bad feelings. Bad feelings with bad connotations. Looking at them you would think that I would consider it a positive thing that they've been ensconced. But I have mixed emotions about their concealment.

I feel like there's been something brewing inside of me. It started as dull as a pilot light. Now it's a roaring campfire that's been juiced up by a jerry can of petroleum. I think we all deny ourselves these feelings too often. Write them off as if they're not as worthy of our time as their emotionally-positive counterparts.

But I am sick and tired of tip-toeing around them. I've decided I'm going to embrace them.

Respect me. Listen to what I have to say. Don't fuck with me. And we'll be just fine.

Shadow Puppets

Today I've done nothing much but sleep and bum around on the computer replying to emails and such. I've picked up a cold so I'm not feeling that energetic. In any case I forced myself to venture out this afternoon because I hate the feeling that I've wasted a day. I knew that some fresh air in my lungs would do me good.

I went to a little cafe on Ossington Avenue that roasts their own beans. The girl behind the counter was welcoming and polite and made a nice latte. I sat down on one of the comfortable orange velvet chairs, sipped my beverage, and wrote in my journal. I wrote a lot. It just spilled out of me, probably as a consequence of feeling overly emotional.

After an hour or so I packed up my belongings and wandered back out into the streets. I decided to walk an alternate way home; a way I'd never been before. I was looking down at my feet as they passed the cracks and crevasses of the sidewalk. And then I looked up and I saw the sun slowly setting between the bare branches of a tree up ahead.

It struck me that life itself mimics these trivial little moments of our existence. For so long my head was facing down as I went through the paces of the everyday. But now I'm looking forward and what my eyes can see is hopeful and boundless; a future just as bright and beautiful as a sunset through the branches of a tree.  

I'm a Single Cell on a Serpent's Tongue

I never thought loneliness could make me happier. But here I am, feeling the pangs of loneliness, verging on tears every two minutes, and happy. It's this week. This week I am longing to be around those people I can sit in a room with and not say a word, but know we're having a conversation. My heart aches thinking about it.

So why the fuck am I happy?

I've always understood the value and importance of the people in my life, but never to this depth. To feel so loved and missed from a place so far away from home is truly beautiful. It means my life means something; that I've touched people. 

In the words of Bright Eyes: "I'm happy just because, I found out I am really noone". And that's just it - I am noone in the big scheme of things - noone is. We're all only someone to those who love us.

I'm no celebrity. I haven't found the cure for a disease. I haven't discovered a new land. And I probably won't ever be ridiculously wealthy. But I'm okay with that. Even though I'm noone, I feel like the most adored, intelligent, adventurous and rich person to walk the ground beneath me.

Attachment Theory

I think Bowlby was on to something with his attachment theory. Consider me an infant and Tronts my 'primary caregiver'. Let's leave this thought to marinate for a little while and come back to it later.

So I went to Montréal last week. It's a beautiful city. I haven't been to Europe so I can't comment on how the architecture or the culture or the cobblestone paths compare. All I can say is how it made me feel and it did feel like how I would imagine Europe would feel. That's vague and whimsical I know, but walking the streets and being swept up in the Parisian-like atmosphere and the bilingualism, made me think I'd left Canadian shores. Well, right up until the point where I started to converse with people in English and suddenly they weren't speaking French any more - they were speaking English with a Canadian accent. It's hard to explain the unique interwinding of old and new that the city seems to balance so well. There's something terribly romantic about it all.

Some of the highlights of Monts included:

• the view from the top of the mountain which gave the city its name, Mount Royal (or Le Mont Royal to the Frenchies);
• the light and sound show at the Notre-Dame Basilica and its thoroughly entertaining (albeit saccharine) depiction of the history of Montréal and the church - let's just say that watching people mouth French words on a screen and listening to an English version through headphones makes for some hilariously funny viewing and;
• the most frightening bathroom trip I think I will ever endure at the 'Le Club Sandwich' restaurant (picture walking into a very dimly lit, creepily silent, enormous, yet empty bathroom).

On our last night, Alex and I went to a lezzie bar in the Gay Village called 'Le Drugstore'. Lame name, but it was a pretty cool little hang out. There were at least two other girls there wearing flannel. It is reassuring to know that girl lovers all around the world share a similar fashion sense, even the French-Canadians. There were two big television screens in front of us broadcasting a live NHL game. It just so happens that that night, the Montréal Canadiens were playing the Toronto Maple Leafs. The Leafs won by one goal in the end. I couldn't help but feel a little twinge of pride.

As I was boarding the bus to travel back to Tronts I felt a sense of relief and calmness come over me; the same feeling you get if you've been travelling for a while and you're returning home. I was only away for three days but I missed Tronts.

In attachment theory it is my understanding that infants become attached to primary caregiver adults who interact with them for any extended period during their early years. When a child starts to experience and interact with the world around them, they look to these caregivers for support, and they act as a secure base to explore from and come back to. Once removed from a caregiver, separation anxiety may occur.

I'm no psychologist, so maybe I'm just bending theories to suit. Or perhaps my ramblings have some backbone and I've got a mummy named Brisbane and a daddy called Tronts.

Shawarma

It's 10:30pm Sunday night and I'm chilling the fuck out watching Grey's Anatomy online and imbibing some quality Australian shiraz. A few minutes ago I started to feel an all-over 'warmth' and momentarily I was confused as to why because I had only had two glasses. The befuddlement dissipated once I glanced over at my Tyrannosaurus Rex wine vessel.

A shawarma sandwich is basically a more civilised version of the kebab. Zahir and Nadya (collectively I shall henceforth refer to them as 'Zan'), my employers, bought me one today, just because they are delicious and they thought I should try one. I just realised that sentence made it sound like I think Zan is delicious. I also received a text message tonight: "thanks for all your help, see you next week". Amazing.

I just worked three days straight for the first time in two months and I'm exhausted. I was sitting on the train on the way home feeling a whole range of things - proud, tired, sore, calm, agog, thankful. Proud because I know I'm doing a good job. Tired and sore because I'm getting on and I have a dodgy ankle and I'm used to doing my work from a comfortable office chair. Calm because I feel like I'm finally blending in here - I even got asked for directions yesterday. I did not know how to help the girl get to Millicent Avenue, but I must have looked like I did. Agog because I'm going to Montreal on Tuesday. Thankful because I found a job where I'm treated like a person, not just an employee. And I like the fact that I can somehow, albeit minute, make a positive impact on someone else's day just by smiling and being polite

Tyrannosaurus Rex is empty. Two final thoughts enter my mind: I need to go to bed and; I hope to fucking God I haven't spelt anything incorrectly in this post.