Salvage

Just reading over some of the earliest postings on this seemingly dead blog... and wondering what happened to that guy. Where did he go? ("He" being "me". )

I remember writing the words. I remember the enthusiasm.

There's nothing to be done to get him back entirely. But I am on a salvage mission of sorts.
That comes with no promise of additional blog entries, though "who knows". I did love this once. Everything just got so damned sad that it didn't seem the type of thing that anyone would want to read, and my circumstances certainly became too painful to document (for me anyway).

I wonder if I can find that guy. Does he remember me?

The Curve

This weekend has been a chapter in learning to live alone. I'm getting there. And I can assure anybody that there is a lot to be learned from spending all the "firsts" by yourself. The May holiday weekend... it's the "first" weekend of the summer by many standards. I'm not proud of the mopey manner in which I spent most of it, but here on the twilight day of it, I've taken two long walks, got some much needed sleep, had a paradigm shift in my attitude about my search for "romance" (let's see how long that lasts) ... AND I washed all my living room windows, inside and out.

I watched a half-decent movie last night, "I Love You Man"... (half-decent, but not recommended necessarily). It's one of those comedies I had really low expectations for, but despite some RRRREALLY painful (intentionally) awkward scenes, this movie hit home on a fundamental level. In a nutshell, it's the story of a guy who's never taken the time throughout his life to make "guy" friends. Instead, he's devoted himself entirely to relationship after relationship with women. When faced with marriage and the realization that he doesn't even have someone close enough to ask to be in his wedding party, let-alone be best man, he sets out on a search to make male friends. There's so much truth and sad irony in the isolation we set ourselves up for when we hit our stride in a relationship, never thinking we need anyone else after being so completed by the love we've found. Couple that with the lack of opportunity to even pursue "new" friendships as an adult... and what other people are undoubtedly laughing about (in this movie) has me taking a long, hard look at my life and wondering just "how long" I'm going to be alone.

I think I may have erred entirely in my lack of maintenance with female friends in particular, in an effort to find the elusive "something" I'm looking for in guys. But then, I think I'm hard to wrap your head around, be you male or female, and though I know I'm kind and respectful, I'm also extremely "judgemental" in that I look for magic, and the moment there's a hint of it's void, I know (or default that) the relationship holds little reward. Not because I expect someone to instantly fulfill everything I want them to be, but because I know exactly what I don't want.

That makes me sound like an ogre. Hmmph. Maybe I am one. They certainly live a life of solitude in every tale.

I'm just thinking out loud.

This song... a curious choice I'm sure. But I've got my own cryptic reasons for picking it.

Something Stupid - Robbie Williams (with Nicole Kidman)

I know I stand in line
Until you think you have the time
To spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance
I know that there's a chance
You won't be leaving with me

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you

I can see it in your eyes
You still despise the same old lines
You heard the night before
And though it's just a line to you
For me it's true
And never seemed so right before

I practice every day to find some clever
lines to say
To make the meaning come true
But then I think I'll wait until the evening
gets late
And I'm alone with you

The time is right
Your perfume fills my head
The stars get red
And oh the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you

(INSTRUMENTAL)

The time is right
Your perfume fills my head
The stars get red
And oh the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you

C.S.S. Rudderless: I Am Not My Expectations

Expectations.

My life is full of them.

The expectations I place on myself, and those I hold up to other people... daring them to live-up, or let-down. I try not to worry about the expectations I put on other people. Quite frankly, I keep the bar extremely low. But sadly, I keep that bar equally low for myself in that I don't seem to accomplish a whole lot.

I am in wheel-spinning mode. Not "down" or "depressed" per say, but certainly feeling "rudderless". I think that would be the name of my boat if my life were a boat... the C.S.S. Rudderless. Just kinda' driftin' around... following the same course without plotting a new one.

There's a course (of the educational variety) at Humber that I'd like to take, but upon inquiring, I've found I'm going to have to save up some cash, and won't be able to do so before the course start date of... Hey... It's tomorrow. Ahh well... the next time it's offered for sure. Oh, and the course itself is all about "Career Planning" and "Occupational Assessment"... perfect for someone like me. But then, leave it to me to need to take a course to find out which courses to take thereafter. *sigh*

Refusal to berate myself for it, is integral right now. That is my resolve: I will not beat myself up for not knowing what I want. I don't have to know what I want.

Even writing in my blog is undue pressure I put on myself I think. Not that I don't enjoy doing it. I just "feel bad" when I don't. What's that all about?

With this talk of expectations I think I would wish for a life free-enough that it wouldn't matter to me whether I have purpose or not. Free-enough to view life as a gift no matter what I'm doing, and free-enough to know that expectations should instead be "joyful pursuits".... not a "to do" list with boxes for check marks in the left hand column.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

A Life Full of Ticky Tacky

Quite obviously, Facebook is bad for my blogging.

Not to mention... I can't quite put my finger on it, but I have a theory that Facebook depresses me. Perhaps it's that other people appear to have more eventful/meaningful lives than I do, or perhaps it's all that activity and interaction going on, knowing full-well that people aren't really "thinking" about you, or wanting to spend time with you. They're just slapping a post-it note on your head to let you know you're still friends.

At any rate... I'm having a rough time of things this week. And "that" is also bad for my blogging. 'Cause nobody wants to read about how sad or lonely you are. I know this, because I don't want to "write" about how sad and lonely I am. And furthermore, I want to be one of those people who's perfectly satisfied with his own company, and uses the solitude to accomplish fulfilling things.

I just can't seem to get a handle on that yet.

Anyhow... anyhow, anyhow, anyhow... in much more enjoyable news, I have discovered just how much I thoroughly enjoy the show "Weeds". I've had the first season on DVD for literally years now and just this weekend, decided to crack the plastic and give it a whirl. The result was a 6 hour marathon to watch the whole thing because it was just that good. I just couldn't stop. The show in general is quite clever and volleys back and forth between provocative and humourous, but there are moments of incredible tenderness. One episode in particular ends with "this scene" (clicky clicky) where Nancy (Mary-Louise Parker) is watching a video of her and her husband Judah while they were making love. Poignant because Judah, is her deceased husband, and the entire premise of the show is her trying to care/provide for herself and their two sons after his death. Prior to what you see here, she has just gone through many things she never thought she'd do, and questioning her decisions with regret and takes a moment to reflect and allow herself to miss him. Her grief is not something they dwell on throughout the entire season, but when they do...
...Yeah... I cried a lot. It's unfortunate this particular youtube clip cuts off the song before it finishes throughout the credits, because it really is perfectly fitting and heart-wrenching.

"Ballerina" by Leona Naess (this link contains a rough recording of a live performance)

I'll never feel the weight of your hands
Inside mine, like diamonds
Lace so fine, ballerina
Cupcake and my earthquake
Wakes me from my sleep that
Never comes, are you breathing?
Waiting for me

I didn't really want you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

The room spins
Pull you from me
My body burns
Tell me all the rainbows
The colors that the rain throws
Ballerina dance softly
She knows when to come only
When she's called on, slowly coming to

I didn't really want you
But I need you
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

So, so sorry
Just come back for me now
So, so sorry
Just come back to me now
Or soon

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Wanted to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
That you will always be mine...

Mmmmmmm.... Pop.

Sometimes I must admit my unapologetic sweet-tooth for the sugary goodness of pure orgasmic, melodic pop.

Tonight as I was sitting at work ridiculously late with little or no reason to be there other than not wanting to go home to an empty apartment, I decided I would indulge in a trip to HMV. (The big one on Yonge) I figured I'd spend as long as I wanted going through every single row of CD's and pick one or two. I spent over an hour and a half doing so, and enjoyed myself thoroughly, 'cause I haven't done that in forever.

I was hoping to get some really, really good deals and wind up with a bunch, BUT... because I was determined to at last pick up the latest Sam Phillips CD: Don't Do Anything, (which as expected was effing expensive) I stuck to my guns and only got two. I don't regret for a moment that I bought the Sam album, 'cause it's fantastic, and I will revisit that in a later post.

Here comes the explanation of "unapologetic". Y'see... I am NOT an American Idol fan. I don't hate it for the sake of hating it, nor do I deny there are some genuinely talented young vocalists rolling off the line in it's fully greased machinery either. BUT... other than Kelly Clarkson, I have not been a patron of the factory American Idol represents. HOWEVER.... like a year or two ago, on YouTube... whenever it was that I relented some hype to pass through my gates, I saw this button-cute, little guy sing "Imagine" by John Lennon. And he sang the fuck out of it with about as much passion and tenderness I've ever heard. For those not-in-the-know, his name is David Archuleta.

Now for some reason unknown, he didn't win his season, and since even his beautiful take on that song couldn't coerce me into devoting any time to that show, I couldn't tell you with any sincerity whether he was robbed or not. All I know is that the boy can sing, and I've been paying attention to the singles from his debut album, and since the first time I heard "Crush" (the first single) I knew I'd be buying this CD. Tonight I did. No apologies. I love this kid's voice. He does not take a single note for granted and his debut is pure pop bliss. I love it. I've already listened to it 3 times.
I'd go beyond merely recommending it, and insist you go pick it up. It's simply called David Archuleta.

Repeat after me: we love him.

Seriously, I can't wait to see what he does when he has more control over the material he sings. Though he does have a hand in writing a couple of the songs, and does more than justice to a cover of Robbie Williams "Angels".

I'm a giddy school girl fan of an American Idol. Oy! Oh well. Pride and an empty sack is worth the sack. I'd wear a David Archuleta t-shirt if I had one. He's that good.

"Your Eyes Don't Lie" David Archuleta

(I won't bother posting lyrics, 'cause if you watch the video link and hear the song, --which I strongly encourage you to do-- some fan crazier than I, has already done the work in far more entertaining detail.)

Good Things Happen

My friend who was in danger of eviction, is now in the clear. I couldn't be more relieved for him.

And I got to sleep in til 10am this morning! *yawn, stretch, sigh* This is particularly wonderful because I went to sleep at about 11pm last night.

I dreamed about Ted quite a bit, because he was on my mind a lot this weekend. I don't remember all of the details, but I know we argued, and then we were getting along really well.
There was also a sexual element to the dream, involving me and some guy I met working in the garden centre of a hardware store, which I won't detail.... 'cuz I'm classay like dat. But the dream ended with me tending this huge front-yard flower garden that I knew wasn't mine. And "no", it wasn't the garden of the strange man from the hardware store or if it was, I wasn't aware that it was.

Dreams... ...they're like an inflatable "jumpy castle" for your brain.

No One Need Die. Just Let Me Do My Laundry.

Laundry room etiquette 101:

If you return to the laundry room of your apartment building and there's a big gay guy sitting, swinging his legs, obviously waiting for something... you might want to survey the room to realize that there are no available dryers, and he might just be waiting for one. If this should be the case, then it may not be the most considerate time to proceed to fold each individual item as you remove it from the dryer you've finished using. Perhaps you could instead, remove all the clothes like a normal person and fold them elsewhere instead of slowly, steadily sealing your death with each maddening gesture of oblivion to your fellow tenant. Consider if only for a moment that others also happen to pay rent which entitles them to use the laundry facilities, and quite likely before you've folded your last pair of panties.

Yes, the big gay guy is not above stuffing your delicate little frame inside said-dryer and forgoing another cycle, just to rid the world of someone with your glaring lack of manners. But instead, he'll just suffer silently and write passive-aggressive evil intentions towards you in his blog before creating a soft little lint voodoo doll out of the filter remnants you did not clean out. (adding insult to injury).