Apparently 38 years old isn't as agile as 9. My ankles were mostly fine while I was playing soccer with my nephew... until the next day when I badly sprained one just walking down a path.
I've been reflecting on relationships these days. I'm not in one and I'm coming to terms with the realization that I won't ever be in one. As I age out of the era of one-night stands (which sucks because sex is awesome), I am okay to be single. While I like the idea of love, I am not sure whether I'm built for the compromises that demand it. And I like my own bed to myself as I'm a light sleeper. Occasionally, I'm a bit sad that it wasn't in the cards for me. There was a time where I really thought it might be possible, but I couldn't find anyone fearless enough to fight for being together. Nobody thought I was worth the effort, I suppose. That is what is sad.
I find myself compelled to do the same things again and again hoping for different results. Yes, I know what they say. Insanity. Like being stuck in a roundabout with nowhere to turn off and going back the way I came. I want to be different, to an extent. Is that the problem? I’m not willing to change enough? To build a new road out. Where would it even go? Or do I go off road? What does that even mean?
I’m now at a point in my life where I’ve reached that stage of outliving friends, childhood friends, and my friend’s parents. Life takes on new meaning now. Literally my friend went on vacation, broke his back surfing, came back a paraplegic and then died. I’m a space cadet and my mind is preoccupied and not present. I’m forgetting basics, my mind scattered. A woman yelled at me in a public washroom because I forgot to flush the toilet before she entered the stall. I apologized immediately and felt embarrassed. Try not to blow up when you perceive you’ve been wronged. Maybe people are thinking about someone’s fatal concussion or throat cancer and are preoccupied. Life can literally end tomorrow and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s scary and sobering.
Yes, that's what I want. I'm hiding from the sun. I don't like it being sunny all that much, especially when it's over 25 C. I miss the luxury of a basement.
I'm pretty sure I'm from some other time. I feel a tad discombobulated in this reality. I think I met a fellow time traveler but she's married now, so I should really just go back in time to try and woo her...but somehow I don't know how to do that.
I confess, I find it difficult to understand why some types of grief are considered to be socially acceptable and therefore supported, but others are not. It’s as if as a society we’ve arbitrarily decided that the only acceptable grief is if someone you love has died. If that’s the case you’re socially allowed to be sad and to take time to recover, etc. People offer support, at least for a while. But there are so many other major losses that affect people! Like losing a beloved pet. Or losing a career. Or experiencing a major disability that causes a loss or a partial loss of one of your senses. Or losing an important relationship with someone you deeply loved, and not by choice. Losing your home is also a huge deal. But somehow the only people that are truly given the compassion for a loss in our society are those whose loved one has died. The rest of us are just given a “oh that sucks” pat on the back and expected to get on with it. But what if you’ve experienced every single one of these losses within a few years and you’re just not able to cope anymore? Does anyone care? Apparently not.
Once upon a time they cared about their community, volunteered, engaged with others, gave to the less fortunate. Now they're angry, resentful, isolated, addicted to conservative YouTube podcasts, think the world is against them, only give to extreme conservative causes. Don't know who they are anymore.
My uncle George took me for walks when I was in my childhood. He almost got stung by a bee and got mad at it. Then many years later, I moved to East Vancouver, and my uncle George came to visit us from Montreal. We went for a walk to McDonald’s on Main Street and he saw another bee. He thought it was the same bee that remembers him and I was like say whaaaaat?” The guy smoked fields of weed right up until the last breath of his life. I loved him and still do. Rest in peace my dear WoWo.
Most of the others hate nights but not me. No management, slower and usually consistent pace, lots less traffic to and from. But trying to hook up isn't easy. Who wants to go for breakfast instead of dinner? And day drinking isn't cool.