It’s hard to have a proper perspective on anything when you’re sitting in the middle of that any thing. When a million possibilities and outcomes present themselves, it’s hard to figure out what’s plausible, what’s vulnerable, and what’s nonsensicle.
I’ve always been comfortable with not knowing things. I always felt the journey was more important than the destination. There’s a cool pleasure to be found in taking the time to smell the roses. There’s wisdom to be gleaned from seeing the patterns.
But there’s no vulnerability in that. I’ve spent a good portion of my life closed off and unemotional about certain aspects of my life. The idea of making myself vulnerable to anything was scary and contrary to my way of being.
But I have made that decision. I will give up my power over that part of me. I am scared for the first time in a long time about what will come of my journey. The walls have come down and the armor has been removed. The slightest glancing blow will injure me greatly, but the tenderest touch will elevate me to intoxicating heights.
Is this what it means to drink fully from life’s cup? I’m really really scared of this unknown place.
I walked into O’Hanlon’s last night, and as I was settling into my seat the bartender brought me a pint of Kieth’s. I didn’t even order one, he just knew that I wanted one. Over the last week or so, I’ve been in there a couple of times with my laptop open, sitting by myself and doing work. He said he recognized my pattern. I felt really special, in a not retarded way.
It reminded me of my days as a paper boy. I was 13 years old and my paper route finished up near a Taco Time. Everyday around 5:30pm I’d set my bike against the wall, walk in, and by the time I got to the counter, the guy already had a Taco Burger ready for me. I thought that was really cool. I was ‘a regular’. I was like Norm from ‘Cheers’.
Shortly afterwards, I began to realize the responsibility that comes with being ‘a regular’. You have to show up regularly, and you have to always order the same thing. One day when I got to the counter, I wanted something different, but the guy already handed me a Taco Burger. Instantly, I was faced with a dilemma. Do I change the order and fuck up my prompt counterside service for all time? Or do I accept the Taco Burger on go on for the rest of my Taco Time existence eating nothing but Taco Burgers, despite a menu full of really great food?
This was the first really important decision of my whole entire life. My parents weren’t involved, and the ramifications of the next words out of my mouth would forever affect my relationship with the Taco Time guy. It would affect my ‘regular’ status. The pressure to make a decision was immense, and I only had a few seconds to make it.
That day and its accompanying big decision marked the beginnings of my entrance into manhood.
(jerking off for the first time in the previous year didn’t count because my brain wasn’t really involved in that activity)
I came home from my coffee date feeling… not myself. I was light and airy. My skin tingled and my heart was beating erratically… as if it were captured by some kind of alien who forged an opening into my soul. My feet weren’t even touching the ground when I walked. Maybe the fog in my London Fog came from a bad part of town. Maybe it was an extreme case of vertigo. Maybe it was the way she took my breath away when she touched her lips to mine.
Time froze with my eyes closed and all I could think about was not thinking about anything but this one perfect frozen moment inside a moment, captured and set free, to be forever living among the best of my memories.
Over the course of two pints I finished a writing exercise for my philosophy class. It’s entitled, ‘Boredom, Assholes, and Gods Big Swinging Balls’. I’m really happy with it and I can’t wait to show you… all you have to do is ask.
Today was pretty eventful at the office. Out of nowhere… momentum for a project that seemed dormant. I don’t want to get into details right now, but we’ve have two broadcasters from both sides of the 49th parallel talking dollars. A million things can go wrong between now and then, so I remain grounded, though cautiously optimistic. I should have some news by the end of the week.
In a few minutes, I’ll be having coffee with the girl of my dreams. My headspace is all…. floaty. I don’t know what to say. I’m either smitten, or I’m coming down with a serious brain condition. The symptoms are identical.
It’s the first Monday of a new month and anything can happen from this point forward. I’m waiting to hear about our projects from MIP. I’m also waiting for more feedback on my play… shit. I still have to send it off to a couple of people. It’s also a critical month for the Mother’s Day Game. If something doesn’t happen this month, our timing could be compromised in a big way.
It’s also a good time to think about more of those backburner projects I had written about previously. I’m working on a philosophy exercise that kind of reminds me about one of those projects. The assignment has us pondering our beliefs about six different concepts. What do we believe about these concepts, and why? What are the contrary arguments?
I’ve taken a different approach that will either fail me miserably, or give me the highest mark in the class. I’m taking all six unrelated concepts, and linking them through a narrative debate about their merits. It’s becoming the narrative track for a half hour documentary.
I’m also becoming concerned about my laundry situation. I developed a skin irritation from the soap they use at the laundry mat, and doing laundry at mom’s makes me feel kind of pathetic. The laundry room in my building is a bit of a drama. It takes four hours and I wind up married to my building for those four hours. If I don’t get to my clothes on time, some old lady is throwing them on the floor. I also need to stock loonies and quarters.
I dunno. November hath many things in store for me. Clean underwear, news about my projects, and new conceptions. The year may well end with a bang.
I’m waiting patient for the scene to unfold, for the way to show itself towards the door, for the ideas in my mind to play out, for the shadows to reveal the details of the aether all around.
I’m trying not to lose my perspective on the situation, to stay above the fray, to be apart from all the motion in the swirls, to become clear about the balls bouncing in the air.
Yet my breath gets takening, my pulse gets to quickening, my soul to shakening, and the earth starts to break away from beneath my feet.
I fall in contact with the motion doing the swirling and commotion, finding myself becoming distant from that place I came to know as once upon a time my point of view.
And 15 minutes pass, marking every shaking thing and nothing seems to end up everywhere. I have to reacquaint the surroundings I contemplate with the once broken bits of memory lost in space.
And as I free fall down the stream, upon the currents taking me, the one truth striking into me is her to thank for words that stir inside of me.