First Dates

I love the possibilities that a first date represents. I love the blank slate, and all the potential that is inherent in each new man. I love that you only know a little bit about your date, leaving the rest up to your imagination or to the anticipation of finding out the rest of the story. Inevitably the reality never quite matches up to the fantasy and in some unfortunate cases it’s not even close.

Last week I went on two first dates. Date number one was a guy I wasn’t all that keen on, but figured why not. I’m new to this city, don’t know any really great places to go yet and at the very least it was shaping up to be a date rife with entertainment value. After morphing from a simple cup of coffee, to dessert at an upscale café with purportedly divine desserts, it finally ended up being a double date with two of his good friends at a new restaurant in town that was modern and trendy looking. While the man hadn’t really impressed me over the phone, or our email contact, I ended up having a good time, mostly because he was clever in bringing along two good friends. They were a really great couple and I enjoyed their company. The beauty of it was there were no lulls in the conversation or awkward moments because the double date provided a buffer for any of his nervousness, or an inability to come up with a topic of conversation. The bad part was that I didn’t really get a chance to talk to him one on one so there was no opportunity to see how he really was face to face.

Date number two was a meeting at Dairy Queen for Blizzards. Initially I had a great feeling about this one since we had been having really great conversations on msn and our phone calls had been pretty good as well. However, prior to our date I got a hint of the possibility it might not be all I thought it was. In person date number two did not live up to the hype. His personality and conversational abilities fell completely flat. Most of the time was spent with him talking about his job in a field I don’t know much about and doesn’t exactly make for riveting conversation. After a rather painful hour and a half of listening to him talk about himself, I was able to extract myself to breath a deep sigh of relief and head on home for some peace and quiet. While the ice cream was fantastic, the rest of it was a write off, since he couldn’t even be bothered to ask me any questions about myself.

I’m going out with the first date again later this week for dinner and a movie since he seems like a really nice guy with some potential after all. Plus, he deserves the chance to show me what he’s all about on his own. Any future overtures at a second meeting with date number two will be quickly shut down. I have no desire to spend any more time with someone who is that self-absorbed, and thinks more highly of themselves than is warranted. I’m thinking of just calling him up tonight and telling him that while he’s a nice guy, I just didn’t feel any spark between us and that because we’re both busy individuals I don’t think we should waste our time pursuing something that isn’t going to go anywhere. I’ve never been good at rejecting people, and for some reason my previous methods have always left the door open for them to believe that if they tried harder they could reverse my decision when nothing could be farther from the truth.

The Bright Spot in My Day

I love that you call me sunshine, just like my mother used to when I was a child.

5 Years Ago

Five years ago, I awoke to the sound of the phone. It was my Mother on the other end of the line telling me to turn on the television, something big was happening. It took my sleepy mind several minutes to grasp what I was seeing and I remember vaguely the words “World War III” coming from the somewhat frantic conversation I shared with my Mother that morning. What I saw that day, and in the newspapers the next morning sickened me. Images of people jumping from the burning towers were like a visceral punch in the gut to my 20 year old self. I bowed my head, closed my eyes from these horrible images and willed this to not have happened, but nothing could turn back time.

One image in particular struck me that next day. It was a small red-haired rag doll, nestled amidst piles of now useless paper, covered in ash and debris on the street below where the Towers used to stand. To me that image spoke of the futility of the life that was spent in those offices, amassing files and shuffling paper, only to have it blown out the building and rendered absolutely useless. All that work, and for what? On that day, no one spoke of missed work and deadlines. It was about family and loved ones and the sorrow of life lost. That doll seemed so out of place in that scene, yet so poignant. I later learned that this rag doll, Little Red, was created by Sarah Ferguson for her New York charity, Chances for Children. Their offices were located on the 101st floor of Tower One in donated space from Cantor Fitzgerald. This wasn’t the first time Little Red had been exposed to senseless acts of destruction.

Seven years prior, Little Red was present at the Oklahoma City Bombing. A young boy, badly burned was rescued out of what was left of the building. He was given one of Sarah Ferguson’s rag dolls for comfort while he was being treated by medical personnel. It is disheartening for me to see children so badly hurt by adults, and adult problems and the image of this doll resting in the ruins of an adult world brought that home to me once again.

I didn’t cry that day five years ago, but thinking of all the children who were affected that day, through no fault of their own, brings me to tears today. Perhaps it comes with age, a deepened sensitivity towards the frailty of life and time, which allowed me to gain perspective on that day. Whatever it is, my thoughts go out to all the families who lost a loved one that day, because every single person who lost their life that day was someone’s child.

Home

I took this picture for a photography course in Undergrad approximately 4 years ago now. It was a shot to use up the roll of film and ended up being one of my favourite pictures. It inspired a series of pictures taken of every day objects and scenes on the farm.

Shattered

Inch by inch you are breaking me down. Even my own self-loathing feels like sweet caresses compared to the stinging criticism and cruel remarks aimed for maximum damage. When nothing I do is ever enough, and nothing I am is good enough.

Shameful, dirty…depraved and unlovable. Backed into a corner and cowering.

I wish you would just hit me instead. I could understand the physical aggression, but this emotional and mental onslaught is insidious and confusing. Pouncing out of nowhere and retreating. Circling, searching for that tender spot and pouring salt into my wounds.

Where a victory is marked by my tears and an apology is never forth coming.

I wonder how much longer I can hold you off before there is nothing left of me. Before the desperation to end my pain, to end the pain you heap on me becomes all consuming.

I am left wondering what I ever did to deserve your vitriolic retribution.

Random Comment

"Look at that ass."

"There is so much pussy here this weekend," came the reply from the second guy.

I was already three steps ahead and a beat too far away before it registered in my head that they were talking about me. I had to laugh. I was at a baseball tournament for my oldest brother, who at 32 was the average age of the players here, and as far as I could see it was a sausage-fest. The few women around me were the wives and young children of the players- hardly what could be considered a target rich environment for these twenty-something guys. I was already late for the start of my brother's game so I just rolled my eyes and kept walking like I didn't even hear them.

I guess no one ever bothered to tell them that if they're going to talk about a girl's attributes they had better wait until she's farther than 3 feet away.

Swedish Berries

I went to the movies last night with a friend.
We snuck in contraband candy.
I then proceeded to gorge myself on Swedish berries until I felt positively ill. It was fantastic.

Jack

It’s amazing to me that one conversation can turn my emotions upside down so easily. Last night I talked to a friend I haven’t spoken to in several months. We were teammates this past season and really hit it off. I had forgotten how incredibly nice, supportive and genuinely interested in other peoples lives he was. I had also forgotten how confusing it could be to speak with him.

He has a girlfriend, but he only mentioned her once after a rather embarrassing exchange where I finally screwed up my courage and asked him out on a date. Since then I haven’t heard a word about her and he continues to talk to me in a manner that leads me to believe I am a temptation to him. I have no idea if they’re even dating still, but I imagine they are since I was led to believe it was a long-standing relationship.

If it’s possible to have a purely intellectual affair, then I believe that is what we have. It reminds me of Mr. Intellectual and I and how we had such a great connection in that respect. For a long time it was all about pure academia, intellectualism and really great thought-provoking conversation. Right now that is what Jack and I share, aside from our passion for Hockey.

It’s an interesting relationship, but it also stirs up feelings in me that I haven’t had in a very long time. I have always been attracted by smart men who border on the nerdy in their predilections. Jack encompasses all those things I have been looking for, it’s just a shame someone found him before I did.

Pretty

I bought these shoes on a whim this Spring. A total impulse purchase that has made me happy everytime I slip them on. It's hard not to feel incredibly sexy when I wear them. Something about the cigarette heels, the gold leather and the pretty, frivolity of the rhinestone encrusted sunburst. I think every woman should own at least one pair of impractical, but beautiful heels.

A Year In Review

I think I'd like to have a do-over for the past year, please?

If I could somehow just wake up tomorrow and it was April 2005, that would be okay with me. I think I'd trade in all the good moments just to erase all the bad moments, because there were a lot of really bad moments in the past year.

Quiet Desperation

My mind flutters to a start, but I keep my eyes closed, willing myself to remain in that state of oblivion that only sleep can bring. It’s still dark out and the street is quiet. What should be a peaceful time of day is anything but in my mind. While my unconscious brain struggles to wake up an unbidden tear slides from underneath my tightly closed eyes. The tears come before I can even wake up, as if I had already been crying in my sleep.

The thought floats wispily around my increasingly alert mind.

“The only way to stop this is to break your promise…”

Now that I no longer even speak to Mr. Intellectual that promise seems redundant and worthless. Why keep holding on when the person binding you to it has bowed out completely?

I roll over into a fetal position, the covers pulled tightly up to my head, and my internal monologue begins to compose the final note. I don’t know why I feel the need to explain to him the reasons for breaking our promise, when he never explained why he walked away from me completely. When he chose to disappear the promise become irrelevant.

I don’t blame him for his choices, but I am disappointed and part of me aches deeply for the loss of his friendship, which is why I silently continue composing the mental apology for not living up to his expectations. As the sun gently breaks through the cracks in the blinds I carry on creating the suicide note I will never put to paper.

Decision Time

I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a while. While lingering over my morning tea and surveying my new neighbourhood from my desk I realized I had some decisions to make.

It's time to move on from The Jock. He is the embodiment of the man I fear ending up with. We can occasionally have fun together and the sex is always good, but that does not a relationship make. He is in love with the possibilities I present and not who I am, which is evident from the way he dwells on my future earnings potential after the Ph.d is complete and what I can provide for him if we stay together. I am little more than a gravy train with a good body and skills in the bedroom. He of course would try to deny this, but I see it.

While all this is more of an annoyance than a reason to walk away, there is a greater reason. He treats me with zero respect for the majority of the time I’m with him and isn’t above cruel personal attacks, unwarranted sarcasm, and taking out his frustrations or depression on me. While I understand to a degree why he does this, there is a bigger part of me that knows I deserve better. I have never truly dated an asshole, just the occasional guy who pulls an asshole stunt, and I’m not about to start now. I gave him a chance to pull it together and start treating me the way I would expect a boyfriend to, but he hasn’t.

Today is the day I realized I’d had enough and to just walk away without looking back.

Stress and Control

Under stress I stop eating, or restrict when and what I will eat. This phenomenon is exacerbated when I happen to be living under my parent’s roof, where I’ll actually start skipping meals. There is something soothing about the pain of hunger and the martyrdom of abstaining. Like this small measure of control, and self-inflicted punishment realigns my world and makes the uncontrollable aspects of my life bearable.

I wouldn’t consider myself to be an anorexic since I don’t follow a strict regime of calorie counting, over-exercising and complete forfeiture of food everyday of my life. This is an infrequent habit that can last anywhere from a day, to the record 3 months of last summer while the stalking began and then took over my life. Perhaps I’m just in denial surrounding the whole thing, but eating and I have had an uneasy relationship since I was 8 years old. I didn’t realize it until last year, but I can actually pinpoint the day that I began to feel incredibly self-conscious and even shameful when eating infront of other people. However, that’s a story for another day.

A Moment of Depravity

Not long after I wrote this post, I decided it was time to get out there again and date. So, I posted a profile online and started talking to a number of nice young men. A couple of day’s later I got an instant message on one of the dating websites from The Jock. It was an interesting conversation but a little too heavily laced with sexual innuendo and a generally sexualized discussion. While I’m not a prude that’s usually the type of conversation I’ll indulge in every once in a while since human nature intrigues me, but it automatically garners you a spot on my “never to date” list, and I’ll rarely converse with this person again. If you have a one-track mind and aren’t afraid to show it immediately that’s not the kind of person I want to build a future with.

To this day I have no idea why I allowed it to go as far as it did, but in hindsight I believe the emotions I was feeling from the Anesthetize post were still very strong in my subconscious. It also appears that it’s that time of year again for me wherein I need to find a boy toy to use, abuse and then loose if I’m not in a committed relationship. However I’m wary of the “Friends with Benefits” relationship since last time I tried that I ended up with an emotionally unstable and delusional man who was unable to accept the arrangement and would not leave me alone when I tried to back out of it and disappear. The repercussions of that whole situation are still alive and well today and affecting my life.

During that conversation The Jock asked about pictures and after I was assured that he wouldn’t be sending me naked photos with below the waist shots, we exchanged headshot styled, normal photos. He turned out to be kind of cute in that curly-haired, boyish grin, preppy-dressing, slightly overweight Jock look. That’s not my usual attraction, but he wasn’t an absolute turn off. In a round about way it came out that he had a webcam and wasn’t adverse to showing me the full monty- after all, he said, “A cock is just a cock, not a huge deal.” I quickly declined the offer, embarrassed that this is the turn the conversation had taken, but we continued to talk about other things and now my curiousity was piqued.

It was getting late, curiousity got the better of me, and next thing I knew he had started a webcam chat with me. There he was across the city, unabashedly naked, and unmistakably aroused. In a moment of true depravity I didn’t click off, but sat there in a mixture of stunned abhorrence and fascination. I was just thankful that I had never purchased a webcam and wasn’t expected to reciprocate since there was no way I could have crossed that threshold. As loath as I am to admit it, I watched as this man jerked off to climax for me. To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to not only watch, but to continue talking to him.

A week later I had agreed to meet up with him for drinks, after much cajoling and discussion. I didn’t want to but he knew how to annoy, infuriate, get under my skin and in general push all my buttons until I gave in. For all his exhibitionist tendencies and overtly sexualized behaviour, there was something more to him that peeked out every once in a while- something sweet, and a little mournful. It was this imperfectly hidden person that I wanted to discover.

What It's Not

I rolled over to hug the wall for the night in a futile effort to minimize body contact, something I know he doesn't like too much when sleeping. There are no quiet whisperings of things accomplished that day, or hopes for the future. A complete absence of witty bantering back and forth and hushed laughter in the darkness, feels foreign to me. Instead as I stare wide-eyed at the pattern on the wall, in the ever-deepening silence, a feeling grows in me. Overwhelming sadness bubbles up from somewhere inside and I take deep breaths trying to silence it. I am hyper-aware of the body next to me and try desperately not to betray what is happening. A silent tear pools at the corner of my eye and slides noiselessly down my cheek, falling to rest on my pillow. Another quickly follows and joins the growing wetness. The trick of silent crying learned years ago saves me from waking him up to discover the pitiful scene.

As the tears continue to fall and the ache in my chest grows deeper I yearn for what is gone. The knowledge that I long for Mr. Intellectual at that moment hits me like a shock. It has been almost 2 years to the day since we broke up and for the most part I had put away all feelings I had for him, particularly in the bedroom, but apparently I was wrong. The contrasts between the man sleeping peacefully beside me and Mr. Intellectual are starkly blatant. That realization for unknown reasons makes me miss Mr. Intellectual intensely. It is in that moment that I know what this 'relationship' is not and the tears continue to fall.

Credit Card Theft

I received a call from my credit card company while I was at work recently. They wanted to verify some unusual activity on my card. I haven't used my card in almost 2 months, aside from the purchase of my class ring the week before at the University Bookstore. I thought perhaps that was the reason why they were calling since it had happened before when I put a large unexpected purchases on the card, like my laptop or a huge Christmas present. Turns out that someone had actually stolen the number and used it to gamble away $600 in online casinos or poker. I called the campus bookstore to let them know they may or may not have a problem at their store and it might be a good idea to look into the situation.

I guess I should be more upset about it, but the credit card representative assured me that I wouldn't be paying for the online gambling and a new card will be issued to me in the next week or so. I was also a little more preoccupied with moving to the new University town, and ending my work contract a couple of weeks ahead of the signed date. It has been a bit of a pain since I cut up the card since I would have liked it to make some purchases for the new place, but it's not a huge deal. Thank heavens for interac.

Moving

I moved to the new University Town this past Tuesday. It just so happens that Tuesday was also the hottest day of the summer. So hot in fact that I ended up giving myself heat stroke which including dizziness, nausea and vomiting. The worst part about it was that I didn't realize it until I was driving out with the last load of stuff in my car. I was 20 minutes outside of the old town and about an hour or so away from the new town when I started feeling horrible. Long story short I ended up calling the Jock who was about 15 minutes from where I was and stayed the night at his place. I felt a bit like I was imposing since we haven't really been seeing each other that long, but he was a real doll about the whole thing and was really sweet with me while I was sick.

Lunch Break

A few weeks ago I was out in the field for work. We happened to be by this private beach on one of the lakes in Ontario. This is where we stuck our feet in the water, enjoyed the sunshine and took our lunch break. Sometimes my job can be really fantastic.

Zero to Shit in Sixty Seconds

I was stood up by the Mechanic who was supposed to go out with me tonight on his bike- no phone call, email or explanation why he dropped off the face of the planet.

Add into the mix one horrible phone conversation with the Jock, who was able to make me feel worse than shit in under a minute and I'm still trying to figure out why. By the time we hung up I was in tears, unbeknownst to him and I'm still upset.

You know, I'm pretty good about making myself feel bad without other people helping me out.

Finally

I finally managed to score a ride on a motorcycle this summer. If the weather co-operates I'm going out for a ride tonight with someone new. I would have to say that it's not too bad for a first date activity and I trust him since he teaches the motorcycle safety courses as a side job. Otherwise I would not be getting on the back of a virtual stranger bike.

Pondering

At what point does the guy you're sleeping with on a very regular basis transition to the guy you're now dating?

Housemate Woes

I just got home after working the evening shift, along with some unexpected overtime. I'm tired. So tired I was falling asleep on the road. As I pulled into the driveway I could hear music, and singing. The guy who rents the basement is a musician of a sort in a band. He's currently playing an electric guitar in the basement and singing- with speakers, amps and a freaking microphone. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep but I suspect he'll be up for quite some time since he's composing a new song. To add to my annoyance he has chosen to locate his studio in the bedroom directly below my bedroom so everything, including the vibrations from the bass and what not, filters directly up through the floor to my bed.

This is why I want to move out in a hurry, and also one of the reason's why I've spent the last 3 nights at The Jock's. In fact I've slept over at his place more nights this week than in my own house. I was half thinking of sticking around here until the middle of August, but after tonight I'm moving out July 31st and going up to my house in the new University town where I know there is peace and quiet and air conditioning as well! I can't get out of here fast enough.

A Pleasant Surprise

When I got home Monday morning after spending the night over at The Jock's house (a tale for a later date), I recieved a pleasant surprise. My brother and his wife had been at my parents house over the weekend and had dropped off some things at my house that my Mother had sent up for me. Including these carnations, which were sitting on my desk amidst my textbooks and thesis materials.

The best part of it, was that either my brother or his wife had been kind enough to put them in water for me. In a beer bottle. That definitely made me smile.

A Moment of Clarity

At times, sex is the only thing that reminds me I'm still alive.

Stat-Counter Stomach Drop

I uploaded the StatCounter software to my blog a few days after I began it. I was curious about who was reading it and where they were from, but mostly I wanted to see if Mr. Intellectual would bother dropping by since he was the only person I knew in real life who had the address. To this day he has never read my words.

I check in to the program every once in a while when I see the number at the bottom go up significantly. For some reason my stomach drops every time a location close to my hometown or my current University town shows up in the list. I know that none of the people who wander through know me in real life, but sometimes knowing that someone who's virtually a next door neighbour to me reads my words is a scary prospect. As an anonymous blogger I'm afraid of being outed and loosing the one safe place I have to put my inner turmoil without feeling judged.

Preparations

Earlier this week it was brought home to me that my grandparent's really aren't going to live forever. At the same moment I realized I don't have an appropriate outfit for a summer funeral, and remembered back 3 summers ago to my maternal grandfather's funeral when I had to scramble to find something. So, I went out and bought a pair of simple, yet stylish black pumps that can do double duty for when I'm in the classroom and later this week I'm going to the mall to look for a black skirt. The last thing I want to go through is looking for funeral clothes in a mall after I've heard the news and am upset.

Online Dating, Take II

I put up a profile on two very different dating sites one week ago, just to see what would come of it this time around. Last time was a consumate disaster. Between the two I had contact, either through email or IM, with over a dozen guys in the first 48 hours which wasn't bad all things considered. Out of that dozen plus, I think I might actually go on dates with 4 or 5. The problem now is that I've jumped the gun a bit. I'm still stuck slaving away at the thesis and can't really afford to take the time to date. Even if I limit it to short coffee dates I'm not sure exactly how I can manage the dating and school thing at the same time. I'm thinking of just pulling my profiles again until August when my thesis will be done to avoid problems.

Alternate Plans

The motorcycle date wasn't home when I called him back, so I made last minute, alternate plans with another guy to meet up for a drink and to hang out. After I got back home I see that MCD had called back only minutes after I had left the house, which is a shame because I would have much rather gone out with him than Luck o'the Irish for drinks. LOTI admitted to having issues with committment and yet he's clearly smitten because he want's to take me out to lunch on Tuesday and get together next Friday or Saturday before he leaves on his week long vacation out of town. We'll see. That's a bit too much contact in one week, especially since I want to date other people and not get serious with someone right now. I'm just not sure how to let him know that without hurting his feelings. I've never dated more than one person at a time and I'm not always the best at clearly communicating my wishes to men.

Do I, or don't I?

Over the past week I've been conversing with some interesting men from the two dating websites I signed up for. One just happens to have a streetbike and is interested in going for a drive with me tonight. We have not exchanged pictures, but have talked on the phone and based soley on this there is little chance for a future relationship unless by some miracle he is different in person. The question is, do I trust him enough to go riding with him? The World Traveller would probably tell me not to do it, since surprisingly he is Mr. Safety and would have little confidence in another riders abilities without having first seen him in action on the road. Not to mention the fact that it's not the rider that would necessarily be the problem but other drivers on the road- a fact I have witnessed myself when out with TWT.

The big question- do I, or don't I call him back?

The World Traveller

One summer night my youngest brother and The World Traveller decided to hit up the backroads and take some pictures of TWT on his bike. This picture sums up my brother for me and is how I will always remember him. Part daredevil, consumate underachiever, but wholly unique. Shortly after this picture was taken he quit his job in a large city, moved all his stuff into storage and took off to Europe to travel for the next 9 months. He chose unusual countries as well, mainly eastern European ones off the beaten path of typical backpackers and North American tourists. His stories and pictures of his various trips are amazing.

One of My Biggest Fears

I'm not really sure when this fear cropped up, but it's been prevalent for quite a few years now and probably pre-dates Mr. Intellectual. I'm afraid that after I get married I will end up being the breadwinner of the family. That I will be the one responsible for providing everything. It wouldn't bother me if I made more money than my spouse, as long as he's contributing something and doesn't expect me to finance everything. I would rather be single forever than end up with a deadbeat who can't pull his weight.

Embracing My Single Status

Yesterday afternoon I decided to go see The Devil Wears Prada at the last minute, on a whim. I left the house 10 minutes before the show started and managed to slide into my seat and miss the majority of the commercials and none of the previews. The movie was a perfect blend of light comedy and fluffy nonsense to take my mind off more serious things. I've never really gone to the movies on my own before, but I'm going to have to start doing it more often. It was so nice to just pick the movie and go at the last second without worrying about another person. In general I need to get out on my own more often and do things I want to do.

Boys & Their Toys

Two of my brother's own motorcycles- the one's seen here actually. There is something about a street bike that I can't describe but love. Everytime I hear one on the road, especially at night a small piece of me goes with it. Maybe it's the freedom, maybe it's the risk and maybe it's because I know it's something I will never do on my own, no matter how much I want to.

Give Your Head a Shake

I can't believe I'm even considering it, but I'm thinking about re-posting my dating profile online. I have never had anything good come of it and I'm still not sure about my motivations or if I'm even motivated enough to go through with the process. Someone, please talk some sense in to me.

Blocked

There's nothing better than finding out you're blocked on a particular persons msn contact list for no apparent reason. I know I shouldn't really give a crap, but yeah, I'm human and it bothers me. Moving on. Ass.

Addictions

In the acknowledgements section of my thesis I'm going to have to give a shout out to the wonderful people, and coffee, at Tim Horton's. For whom without this would never have been possible. You can see a few of the books I've been using for my thesis in the background. Believe it or not this isn't all of them by any stretch of the imagination.

Rituals

The best mornings for me start off with a quiet cup of tea. I like to sit in solitude and ponder my life and the important things in it over a hot cup of tea. Call me crazy, but I have certain mugs that are for certain tea's only. Put the same tea in a different mug and it just doesn't taste the same. This is one of my favourite mugs and was left in my current house by the last tenant. It's completely ugly on the other side, but it's perfect for cupping in two hands and holds in the heat longer than some of my other mugs, meaning I can linger over it that much longer.

Last summer my early morning's sitting on the back patio of my parents house with a cup of tea were some of the most peaceful and beautiful moments of my year. I realized in those moments just how fortunate I was to be able to sit in a park like setting, surrounded by my mother's gardens, my father's orchard, and the quiet sounds of nature every day.

Thesis Calls

I'm going to have to take a small hiatus from the blog while I finish up my thesis in earnest. Unless of course I need an outlet for the ever growing depression I'm under and the myriad of other emotions I can't seem to handle. So, until the thesis is done, I'll be posting pictures only with a minimal amount of writing. I have to save all my writing energy for the remaining chapters of this millstone around my neck. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can have the first (and mostly final) draft completed by July 15th.

Happy Birthday

Happy 138th Birthday Canada!


Love,
Jane

Anesthetize

I just want to get laid. To anesthetize the feelings that are overwhelming me. Mindless fucking until I stop seeing your face in my mind and feeling the ghost of your touch on my body. Until the last whispered breath in my ear is silenced. Until the memory of your eyes drinking me in are no more. Until I stop waking up in the middle of the night expecting you to be beside me. Until I can just be.

But I know when it’s over you’ll still be there, in the shadows of my mind and I will not have found any more peace than before I fell into the arms and bed of someone else. No matter how hard I try or how many days have passed you are still there. Permanently etched into my memory, for better or for worse.

A Series of Unfortunate Choices:

1. Decide to give up coffee a week before you have to start pulling 18 to 20 hour days in order to finish your thesis on time.

2. Make the executive decision not to buy gas on Monday night while you were out and the price was 94 cents a litre, figuring it might go down more. Tuesday morning discover that prices have soared overnight to 103.5 cents a litre only to remember your car has less than a quarter tank of gas and you must drive to work.

3. Forego buying groceries for an entire month in an effort to squeek by on the remaining money in your bank account. Consume just about everything left in your freezer, pantry and fridge until your left with condiments, some frozen bagels your mother gave you and some canned beans your room mates left, which you despise and would never eat.

4. Decide to drive to the local Starbucks on the misguided notion that they have free wireless after you can't handle not checking your email and favourite websites for 24 hours straight because your ISP decide to randomly quit on you. Discover said wireless is indeed not free and are thus forced to drive to campus to access the internet- something you were hoping to avoid to save gas, time and money.

5. Realize once you reach campus that you've forgotten an important document you needed to photocopy, a graph you were planning on scanning to include in an appendix and that list of articles to collect next time you hit up the campus library.



Taken this morning from my brother's garden, because it can't always be about the angst and the depression.

Patience

Patience is a virtue. It’s something that I can have in spades at one moment and absolutely none in other situations. At the moment I’m feeling incredibly impatient with Constable Neil and the pace of things. It just so happens that we’re both at a time in our life and career’s that is incredibly intense, time consuming and leaves little time for a social life. While I’m finishing up my thesis, he’s completing his police training before joining a force in a town over from the University town. Incidentally his graduation from OPC and the completion of my thesis will coincide in the same month and the pace of life will slow down a bit, but not completely abate.

Right now the only time we see each other is on the weekends, and only if we both happen to be in my hometown on the same weekend. Lately it hasn’t really worked out that well for us. We’ve been emailing back and forth, but he only replies once or twice a week if I’m lucky so it’s a bit frustrating to say the least. There are so many reasons for me to just walk away and forget about it. It would be so much easier to remain as casual friends, and yet there’s a part of me that doesn’t quite want to give up just yet. I’m just not used to having a man who’s interested in me act so disinterested to the point where I feel like I’m an out of sight, out of mind girl to him.

Besides, we have some unfinished business between us from this night. I have yet to cash in on my winnings from one of the games of poker we played. I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to collect this coming weekend, and if I’m still not really feeling it between us after that I’ll make the decision.

Commuting to Work

Prior to this summer I have never had a job where the drive in was more than 5 or 10 minutes depending on traffic. Transferring locations this summer meant a commute for the first time in my life. However, it quickly became a non-issue since it’s only 20 to 30 minutes and I was pleasantly surprised to find it a good way to relax and decompress instead of the chore I thought it would turn out to be.

I take the back roads to work and it takes me through some of the most picturesque countryside. The drive takes me past rolling fields of corn, soy, sorghum, and the occasional pasture of horses or cattle. Being so close to the country was one of the attractions to my University town. I liked being in a city, but close to the wide-open spaces and farms I find familiar and comforting.

After a two-week hiatus from work to complete the research on my thesis and get some solid writing under my belt the thought of returning to work was anything but comforting. I find it difficult to switch gears and get my head out of my thesis and into the necessary mode for the job. The two are so completely unrelated that the transition can be a bit jarring, especially after having been away for close to 3 weeks when all is said and done. So I wasn’t exactly in the best of moods driving in earlier this week. It was hot, humid and the air conditioning in my car had decided to crap out on me earlier this spring, so driving with the windows down was a necessity not an option. Even the relatively peaceful drive in wasn’t enough to change my mood. That is until I drove past one particular farm.

Nestled between a bush and in innocuous looking field of weeds and some indistinguishable green vegetation sat a small white shack and several cars. It wasn’t until I drove past the field that I realized what it was. The heavy scent of ripe strawberries in the warm sun wafted through my open windows. Memories of home and the farm flooded my mind. The memory of picking strawberries with my Mother and brothers in the early summer as a kid, bent over the plants in the beating sun and starring down endless rows of fruit willing my carrier of quart boxes to be filled so we could go home. The hours spent cleaning the hulls from the fruit and watching as my mother turned that fruit into jam, the heat of the stove and the scent of the pureed fruit boiling from her biggest pot filling our kitchen and house. The neat rows of jars filled with freshly made scarlet red strawberry jam lining the kitchen counter to cool.

Driving past that strawberry patch in the late afternoon sun I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes for a brief moment to savor the memories that only that scent can bring. It was a completely unexpected experience and caught me off guard. I had driven past this field for weeks without realizing what it was until it blindsided me. The scent only lingered for a moment before I had driven past the strawberry patch and the normal scent of the country returned. It made me homesick for the farm and my family, but it also brought a smile to my face.

While my school friends spent their summer days watching tv, playing video games, swimming or going to camp I was working side by side with my family on the farm. At the time my feelings towards it wavered on abject hate or patient tolerance of the work. As an adult I appreciate the lessons I learned, the work ethic I gained and the memories I created with my brother’s that no one else can fully understand except for them. I thought of all these things and where we all are now with a smile on my face for the rest of my commute.

Later on that night I came home and made myself a peanut butter and stawberry jam sandwich. There is nothing like the taste of my mother's jam and knowing the effort that goes into making it, makes it taste that much sweeter.

The Good & The Bad

The Good:
Thus far today has had several high points. I got a free coffee out of campus Hostility Services (hospitality services). While getting said free coffee I discovered that the ice is back in at the arena after being closed for several weeks worth of repairs and renovations. That means that there’s open public skating over the noon hours again, a definite bonus for me. Skating is one of the few things I do for exercise and it’s a good way for me to clear my head before hitting the books again. Now, if I can get a hold of Constable Neil tonight after I get home from my late shift that will have rounded out the good to three. All things considered, I’d say that’s quite a respectable number.

The Bad:
Work on the thesis is grinding along at a snails pace and it’s starting to cause me grave concern, but I’ll persevere and really start to worry if I haven’t completed my chapter by Monday. In other avenues the PTSD is back. Actually, it never went away but in my awesome skills of repression I had managed to push it back down for a bit and completely ignored everything to do with it. The police report I had requested is in at the station and I haven’t gone to pick it up, even though they called over 2 weeks ago to say it was ready.

Last night I was in bed thinking through some things before I fell asleep and the familiar feelings of panic slid over me. I tried to quickly stop thinking about the Stalker and the train of thought I had been on, but the damage was done. I had reopened that door and it’s not so easy to close it again. That feeling of free falling out of control is now hovering in the background and I’m quite concerned that once the thesis work is out of the way I’ll have a big crash. The stress of finishing off the master’s is the only thing keeping the PTSD at bay right now. It’s like watching an accident about to happen and being completely powerless to do anything.

Drunk Dialed

I awoke with a start from a shallow slumber, the ring of a phone echoing in my subconscious. I flicked on my bedside lamp and groped around for the offending cell phone with the fleeting thought that it wasn’t that long since my head had hit the pillow. As I groggily answered the phone I glanced at my clock- 2:24 am.

It took me a few seconds to register the voice on the other end of the line and I had to start laughing. Fortunately for the offending party I hadn’t been asleep for very long and I was still feeling surprisingly awake. It was the interim goalie Constable Neil, home from the bar and intoxicated enough that he found the courage to call me, “to say hi.” We hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and despite some flirting at hockey and online we had only hung out alone once, with nothing happening.

I spent the next 30 minutes laughing, flirting and having my arm twisted to show up at his place to hang out. Despite having been asleep in bed the clincher came when he said that he had to leave town early tomorrow morning and I wouldn’t see him until next weekend if I didn’t come out. I knew it would be longer than that since I wouldn’t be back in the hometown for the next 2 weeks due to work commitments. It was in that moment that I decided to do something stupid and spontaneous, since I had no idea if the window of opportunity for us would still be open 2 or 3 weeks from now when we had time to meet up again.

Twenty minutes after getting dressed and sneaking out of the house I pulled the car up to the curb outside his house and cut the engine. As I took a deep breath and got out I saw that he had been waiting for me in the dark, sitting outside on his front steps in the humid night air. As he stood up and walked towards me I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

The Highs and The Lows

The 2005-2006 NHL season is officially over. It's pretty hard not to feel just a tad dejected at the loss by the Edmonton Oilers. Those boy's played their hearts out and to watch them after the game just broke my heart. While I don't begrudge the Hurricanes the win as a team, it is the city that I can't be happy for. When women's softball beats out the Stanley Cup playoffs in the ratings down in their market, you know that it's just a niche sport for them and not a way of life like up here.

My only consolation was watching 22-year-old Cam Ward win the Conn Smythe Trophy (pictured above). Awarded annually to the most valuable player of the playoffs, Ward certainly earned this one. I was continually amazed at his skill between the posts, especially when you consider that this is his first full fledged season in the NHL and he was essentially their backup goalie.

What I love the most about the Conn Smythe Trophy is the fact that with only two exceptions, the winners have all been Canadian. The two non-Canadian winners were Brian Leetch of the United States in 1994 and Sweden's Nicklas Lidström in 2002. So while the Cup hasn't been back in Canada in the last 13 years, I'm still incredibly proud of our record for consistently producing some of the best talent to set foot on the ice.

Only 2 months until the 2006-2007 season begins.

Crash & Burn

I was just looking over some things online in the History department of my Ph.D University. I stumbled across a female Ph.D studentv who is not only working on a dissertation that is eerily similar to mine, but also has a two year jump on me and a published article on the topic! Shiiiiiit. If I'm forced to change my thesis because of this woman I have no idea what I'll do. There isn't another topic I want to work on or even another area. This topic is the only reason I decided to go to grad school almost 3 years ago now.

I can only assume that her area of focus is European and not North American or British history. I guess I'll just have to wait to find out in September what'll happen to me. I can only hope I'm not DOA with my dissertation. The Horror.

What a Goal!

Fernando Pisani scored the winning goal tonight. In over time. Short handed. If that isn't exciting hockey I don't know what is. Game 6 in Edmonton Saturday night. It's going to be good.

Mount Everest

On May 15, 2006 British climber David Sharp died 450 meters from the summit of Mount Everest. This was his third attempt at summiting the legendary mountain, and unlike his previous two attempts he successful reached the top. Also unlike his first two attempts he never made it down the mountain. On May 23, 2006 the controversial story of Sharp’s death entered the media.

I heard only the barest of details in passing that night since I was making dinner with the news on and only caught bits and pieces of various stories that evening. What I heard appalled me. I couldn’t understand how 40 climbers could pass the dying man on their way up to the summit without attempting to help him in anyway. Were people really that callous towards human life, or was something else going on here?

Over the next few days as more details emerged I became increasingly bothered by the story and all the unanswered questions I had surrounding it. I knew so little about Everest beyond the pop culture awareness of its history, so like a good historian I began to do some research. After watching a brief segment on Canada AM I was turned onto the book, “Into Thin Air” by Jon Krakauer. Both host’s of the show heartily endorsed the book as one of the best non-fiction books about Everest and what it is really like to climb the mountain. I ordered it from my University library and promptly forgot about it as my own life’s demands crowded out other lines of idle thought.

When the book arrived I devoured it. Krakauer was a journalist for Outside Magazine in 1996 when he made his summit bid in order to write an article for the magazine. What started out as a piece on the commercialization of Everest and the conditions on the mountain ended up becoming a book on the most disastrous day in its history, one that left 8 people dead. Written only months after his trip, Krakauer weaves historical expeditions of the mountain with his own trip and leads the reader through a detailed account of the events and factors that led to the expeditions horrible outcome. At times I had to remind myself that the book wasn’t fiction and this actually happened to real live people.

I am still deeply disturbed by David Sharp and Jon Krakauer’s stories, but I found “Into Thin Air” offered me some sort of explanation that the mass media was unable to provide. Question’s had been answered in regards to Sharp’s death, but even more questions emerged. I had no idea how deadly a trek up Everest was, (even during the best season, 1993 with 129 successful ascents, for every 16 people who reached the top one person died) and that people paid upwards of $65,000 for the privilege. To date some 200 people have died making the journey, and conditions on the mountain are so difficult that most of the corpses have been left where they fell- some of them are easily visible from the standard climbing routes.

Exact numbers of the death toll are difficult to get a hold of due to a cloud of silence surrounding almost any death up on the mountain and those who die off the mountain from complications due to high altitude climbing. My sense of justice and decency was inflamed with this revelation. It is incredibly difficult to find any details of those who’ve died attempting to summit. What I did find was one or two websites trying to change this disturbing trend to shroud Everest deaths in silence, almost in denial that they even exist.

Only one website offered me any sort of explanation for the silence: "For years, ExplorersWeb have been fighting the silence surrounding some deaths in the mountains. Each time, we have been told that the secrecy is only a concern for the victims' families and we have no respect. Time after time, it has turned out that the hush has served much less noble agendas: To cover up foul play in mountains without law."

What I have found in my quest for answers has made me look into the greed, sense of entitlement and hubris inherent in human beings. Where amateur climbers believe their hefty fees and expenses have bought them a guaranteed trip to the summit and not just access to the mountain and the expertise of their guides and sherpas. The commercialization of Everest creates an interesting ethical dilemma wherein climbers can bypass a dying human being mere feet away from them and then justify their behaviour because they have paid so much money that ascent becomes more important than saving a life. Their rationale, while seemingly plausible on Everest since it is so difficult, would never be even remotely acceptable if the same thing happened on a city street.

Prior to hearing this story and reading Krakauer’s book I held no such notion of ever climbing Everest and now I have no desire whatsoever to get anywhere near the place- including base camp. “Into Thin Air” is such a powerful, raw and uncensored account of one fateful expedition to Mount Everest, that you’ll wonder why anyone even attempts it in the first place. There is no sugar coating or downplaying of the conditions on the mountain and it drove home just foolish we are to think it has been conquered with modern technology. I finished reading the book over 2 weeks ago, and I am still haunted by it.

The Playoffs, Game 4

The Oilers are breaking my heart. While it is some of the best hockey to watch, it is also some of the worst outcomes as well. After Dwayne Roloson injured himself with 6 minutes left in the third period in game 2 everyone knew playoffs had shifted for the Oilers. You can’t fault Markkanen for the job he’s doing in his place- he is only one player on the team, but a loss doesn’t hurt any less.

I would love nothing better than to bring the Cup home again to a Canadian team this year. While I will admit that the Hurricanes are a deserving team, their city certainly isn’t. If they end up taking it in game 5 I will be upset for a number of reasons, one of them being that it ruins my chances of casually getting together on Saturday with a certain someone I’ve got my eye on. However, I will be a gracious loser if only because of the way Cam Ward has impressed me with his heart and tenacity between the posts. Just don’t let me see Brind’Amour hoisting the cup.

Come on boy’s, Canada’s behind you- Go Oilers!

An Anniversary

Today, eight years ago, Mr. Intellectual and I started dating. I had turned 17 a month previous and he would still be 16 for another four months. It seems like a lifetime ago, and yet it feels like yesterday. I’m still troubled by the way we parted ways a while ago, but I’m finding it hard to care when I have so many other things going on in my life that require my attention- like finishing my master’s, dealing with the PTSD and my newly developed financial concerns.

Mr. Intellectual used to write me poetry once in a blue moon when the muse struck. It was something I always treasured partially because of how rare an occurrence it was and partially because it was often a glimpse into his thoughts and feelings for me that he never shared. There is nothing quite as flattering as having a poem written about you.

I have always hesitated when I wanted to post one of his poems. Out of respect for his creative privacy I always held off. I know when he gave them to me he did so with the understanding that they were for my eyes only- much like love letters. A part of me also wanted to continue keeping them as a private reminder of what we once had, however the time has come to let go.

Beauty
By Mr. Intellectual, c. 2000

To sit where I can see your face
And hear your laughter come and go
Is greater bliss than God himself
Could ever know.

The bright dream carries me away:
Watching your lips, your hair, your cheek,
I have so many things to say
Yet I cannot speak.

I look, I listen and my soul
Flames with a fire unfelt before
Until sense swims and I feel and see
And hear no more…

Ah, my love, her form divine!
And in my breast, passion, so cruel
Burns brightly and to the fire she
Adds such fuel!

Banff, Alberta

A hockey buddy of mine went out to Banff back in May on Victoria Day weekend and sent me this picture after he got home. It's currently my desktop picture on the iBook and I absolutely love it. As the days grow longer and hotter in Ontario, it reminds me of the winter to come and cooler days.

The Cynic

I think I’ve become cynical towards love. I am an inherently logical person, and love has little to do with logic and critical thinking. I don’t believe in soul mates, or even love at first sight. I’ve never experienced love at first sight although I once thought I was with my soul mate. However, over time I’ve come to realize that I could be extremely happy and well suited to a number of individuals in this world, not just one “perfect” man.

I believe that love and a good relationship take a lot of work, and this work needs to be actively engaged in on a daily basis. Compromise, forgiveness and the ability to love unconditionally all go into the mix. When I look at my oldest brother’s marriage I realize he and his wife have achieved everything in their relationship because of the constant work they put into it. The Family Man’s relationship is rock solid and built on trust, understanding and a lot of compromise. They are the couple everyone envies because of how perfect their relationship appears. Even after 8 years of marriage they still act like newlyweds in public- holding hands, whispering secrets and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. It is only through candid discussions with my sister-in-law that I have come to understand everything that went into their marriage to get it to the point where it is now. Behind closed doors things were not all roses and sunshine. The good things in life don’t come easy and they’re proof of that.

I’m wondering if my cynicism is preventing me from even attempting to put the work into a relationship that I know is necessary to create that strong foundation for a long-lasting future. Or, perhaps it’s because I have yet to meet the man who makes me want to put in the effort and reform my ways. I know I’m not a hopeless romantic. Each serious relationship I have engaged in was approached with a critical look at the future and how I generally thought things would play out. I wasn’t all that wrong with Mr. Intellectual and I. All the problems and issues I envisioned before I agreed to date him happened, and in the end we weren’t strong enough people to overcome those issues like I believed we could.

The same could be said for my relationship with A. I foresaw a future of miscommunication, cultural differences, unsupportive behaviour and feeling alone within the relationship. In the middle of our first date at a horrifically expensive restaurant there was a moment when I knew that it wouldn’t work between us since it became all too obvious by reading between the lines of our conversation that we were two incredibly different individuals. Despite knowing that and feeling dismayed by it, I pushed down that revelation and allowed myself to be swept up by the attention he lavished on me, and the money he spent on our dates and being sweet to me in between. Being the logical person that I am I was conflicted for the last few weeks of the relationship on whether or not to cut it off or allow myself to love him. In the end my initial gut reaction was right and he took off on me before I really had to make that choice.

I have a bad habit of ignoring my gut feelings when it comes to men and this incident really brought that home to me. I could have saved myself a lot of unnecessary upheaval if I had just trusted my instincts- when I have they’ve never been wrong. At the same time I worry that those same instincts at some point will interfere with my ability to form a new relationship if I listen to all the apprehension and fears, warranted or not. So my philosophy has been to push them down and give the guy a shot with one date. A. was the only man in 2 years of dating post-Mr. Intellectual that made it past date number 2 before I decided to listen to my instincts and move on.

Knowing what I know about myself, and the baggage I now carry around I think it’s going to take an incredible man to take me on. At times I think it’s an unfair burden to hand almost unaware to any man, no matter how much he thinks he loves me. This has led me to avoid dating for long periods of time and to occasionally think about the idea of remaining single for the rest of my life. Spinsterhood served an important function historically, one that is largely forgotten in our modern era and it holds a certain appeal to me. My own Mother sometimes talks of her maiden aunt who was absolutely critical to her family’s ability to get by when she was a young girl. In reality I know this isn’t a practical solution to my issues, regardless of its appeal.

Acknowledging your faults and actively trying to change them are two very different things. While I readily admit my growing cynicism towards love and even dating in general, it’s another thing to halt its progression. I remember fondly the innocence and openness I displayed when Mr. Intellectual and I first started seeing each other. Neither of us had learned those life lessons that close up a persons heart and cause us to create walls to protect it. I should be striving to be more like the innocent and honest person I used to be with love instead of dwelling on the negatives I’ve encountered with various men. It’s all too easy to be swept up in my personal hurts and needlessly judge men based on the failings of others. I need to refocus my thoughts and attention on the positives of those past relationships or it won’t be long before I really am a hardened cynic beyond reform.

Reprocessing

It’s been almost a month since my doctor’s visit and request for antidepressants. I already know that it’s working for me since I’m more even keeled and less irritable but I’m not exactly “happy”. I have to remind myself at times that the medication isn’t designed to bring me happiness but rather, to give me the clarity of mind to seek my own happiness. It is not always easy despite the medication.

Within days of beginning the medication Mr. Intellectual and I had a falling out that I still don’t understand and probably never will. In the middle of an msn chat I said something about the stalker that he apparently didn’t want to know about and signed off in the middle of a discussion. I found out a couple of days later through the help of msngeeks.com that he had not only blocked my contact name but deleted me. I won’t lie- his behaviour hurt. It cut me to the core because his actions were an almost direct repeat of A.’s only weeks earlier. He didn’t bother to reply to an email I sent that same night asking what happened. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then and it bothers me at times.

While I keenly mourned the loss in the following days afterwards, I picked myself up and moved on. I could see the writing on the wall for several months now and knew it was inevitable. He never disclosed to his current girlfriend that he was not only still friends with me, but we were in contact almost daily- watching movies, going out for dinner, or just hanging out and talking. When I asked him why he didn’t just tell her since neither of us had any desire to get together again he replied that she was already “worried” about me (read: threatened) and he “didn’t want her to worry needlessly when there was no reason to.” Granted she has been over in Europe since September for school and the long distance thing is difficult, I know, but by not telling her would only compound the situation should she ever discover it. By keeping our platonic relationship a secret only casts it in a suspicious light if and when she finds out about it. If there was nothing to worry about, why keep it secret?

However I had always hoped, perhaps naively, that if and when the time came we could part amicably and wish each other well. From things he had said I knew deep down that we couldn’t remain friends as long as he was dating her since he chose not to be honest and upfront about our friendship. His choice to keep me a secret always bothered me since it spoke of how he valued me and even more so now after the way he chose to leave the friendship. With distance and a little more perspective I think my behavour at the time triggered issues or memories from our relationship that he either hadn’t dealt with or had forgotten about and for that I’m sorry. I also get the distinct impression that his emotional involvement with me, and my life scared him.

All I know for certain is that ever since he left in April for his month long tour of Europe with the girl he was different with me, in that there was a flip-flop of behaviour towards me that indicates some inner struggle. He’d also changed after I told him of my acceptance and scholarship into the Ph.D program at one of the leading Universities in Ontario. In a weird twist of fate it seems like our lives had suddenly been switched- I was the one now driven to achieve my doctorate and he was steering towards a comfortable life comprised of a career and marriage. Without the medication I would never have been able to look objectively at the end of my relationship with Mr. Intellectual and find some peace with it.

Within days of its end I stopped looking back and have started looking forward. Instead of being mired down with grief, self-doubt and unanswered questions, I’ve started to thread together a delicate happiness and planted my feet along a new path in my life. I can look at myself in the mirror on most mornings and not see a broken and hideously unworthy individual, but rather I can see a young woman with promise and hope. I also understand why Mr. Intellectual chose to walk away and I bear no grudge towards him, but wish him well and hope only for the best for him. There will always be a small ache from the void he has left in my life with his leaving, but I have loved and learned from our 8 years together and I will never forget.

In the future...

In the future I want to love again.
I want a love that is unconditional, honest, and deep.
I want to get married and have children.
I want a husband I can respect, admire and cherish.
I want someone I can rely on and who believes in me.

I want something I can’t seem to find.
And yet the possibilities are so tantalizingly real.

Burn Out

I’ve hit the wall with my thesis. For the last 6 months I have been chasing down leads to gain access to an archive that I recently learned had become defunct after the public corporation became a private corporation and split into two new companies. The archives, which house this corporations documents from its inception in the early 1900’s until the recent millennium, were shut down and transported to a third party storage facility. After numerous phone calls and emails to the two separate companies each has squarely pointed to the other company as the one which transported and is now holding the documents in a third party location. Fantastic.

While corporation 1 has been extremely unhelpful a PR person from corporation 2 was a lot more prompt and solicitous towards my efforts and thesis. However, C2 was the bearer of bad news. Apparently I have to apply to gain access to the documents within C1’s possession through the Freedom of Information Act. I shudder to think how long that will take since it involves both the government and lawyers and I’m sure a lot of bureaucratic nonsense. Again- fantastic!

Even more troublesome than my serious lack of available sources to write my thesis is the fact that I don’t really have a viable plan B. I really didn’t want to think of how to approach my thesis without these materials and never attempted to map out an alternative outline. While I should be freaking out, I’ve reached the point of burn out where I’m so exhausted from worrying about it that it is hard to muster the energy necessary to care. Instead I’ve started having day-long panic attacks, linked partially to the PTSD and partially to the thesis crisis.

Tomorrow I plan to put into effect a plan B for researching a slightly alternative thesis idea. This degree and thesis is really a stepping-stone for the degree and thesis I really want to be working on. It has become the thorn in my side and the barrier to the research I really want to be doing. The only solution right now is to just grind it out and hope for the best. September brings a new University in a new town, a new degree and hopefully a renewed passion for my academic pursuits. When it comes to my career path there really is no plan B, just the Ph.D and a lifetime of academia.

Worth A Rewind, Part III

Tom Cruise should never be filmed while running. It is an awkward and painful spectacle to behold. That being said, the scene in Collateral where he takes a running leap through glass, tanks it on a office chair and gets up only to take off running after Jamie Foxx's character is absolutely hilarious. The Chair Scene is by far the best falling over an office chair scene in any movie. Ever. No matter how many times I rewatch this clip I laugh out loud at Cruise's absurdity and how serious he takes this role. You won't regret watching this if you haven't already seen it.

All Clear

I was at the Doctor's yesterday for my annual physical. All my test's came back negative. It's good to know for sure that I'm clean and disease free. I hate the uncertainty of not knowing, especially when it's as important as my health.

Unexpected Kindness

This evening as I drove home from an unusually irritating shift, I expected to come home to an empty house and instead found The Contractor working on the side door. The Contractor has become a family friend after helping not only my brother in his house, but also my father with the rental property in my University town with some projects and upgrades. He was working on the place on the day I moved in right after the stalking so he knows a little bit of my troubles and what brings me to the neighbourhood. He helped my Dad install a new front door with a deadbolt and double lock for me. It was November and too cold to work on the side door since a cement cutter would be needed. The job was postponed until spring and warmer weather prevailed.

When I pulled up to the house his van was unexpectedly in the driveway and a new side door was installed. We chatted for a bit about business and life and what he had left to do on the house tomorrow. Just as I was opening the front door to go inside he stopped me. The Contractor told me that he had left a box of pizza from lunch in my fridge and there were two slices left, just help myself if I wanted it. It was an unexpected gesture from TC but just what I needed at the moment. I had been feeling so beat down and disillusioned with human nature. His small and seemingly inconsequential act reminded me not to lose faith in people or with men.

Jumping Ship

Today I found out for certain that Mr. Intellectual pulled the same crappy moves as A., in that he's disappeared on me with no explanation. In the middle of an msn conversation a couple of evenings ago he went offline, never to be seen again. Today I discovered that he's not only blocked my msn address, but deleted it from his contact list. Thank-you msngeek.com. I sent him an email shortly after his mid-sentence disappearance and there has been no reply. It's horrible, horrible deja vu all over again. Email was one of the final ways we arranged to meet up and hang out, or catch up on life. After almost 9 years of friendship, and 6 years as a couple this is how he chose to part ways. I'm so numb and shut down right now because I can't even begin to process this turn of events with everything else that is going on in my life.

On top of all that another work friend is attempting to sever all ties with me before he moves across the country to start his full time job in our West Coast offices. Although, he has the courtesy to tell me about it and not just disappear into the night without another word. This is really helping my distrust of men and my pre-existing issues with abandonment.

It's like they can all see something that I can't.

Irreparably Broken?

"Broken Humpty Dumpty", 1990, Tom Otterness


Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the kings men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

I’m really not sure what to think anymore. After doing some research online I’ve come to the conclusion that I most likely have comorbid depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. I had never seriously considered PTSD prior to looking up the symptoms but it makes sense since my condition has become worse after A. triggered feelings of re-victimization. I’ve also started back at work which is filled with triggers from the stalking, and my levels of anxiety and panic are the highest I have ever experienced in my life.

I’m only 25 years old and yet I feel so broken I don’t even know where to start to put myself back together. I cycle through periods of intense anger at the individual who affected my life so much and depression for not being able to find retribution or put it behind me. I think about it all the time and I’m constantly on edge. Sleep doesn’t even provide a respite from the agitation as nightmares and an inability to reach a deep sleep ruin even that.

What bothers me the most is my loss of trust not only in other people, but especially with men. I’ve become so jaded and cynical that the idea of a relationship has become less than palatable at the moment. Plus, I wouldn’t wish myself on any man right now- it would be less than fair to him. I feel like poor Humpty these days and wonder if I’ll have greater success than he did at putting the pieces back together.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) An anxiety disorder based on how an individual responds to a traumatic event. According to DSM-IV, the following criteria must be met:

• The person has experienced a traumatic event that involved actual or threatened death or serious injury, or a threat to the physical integrity of self or others, and the person's response involved intense fear, helplessness, or horror

• The traumatic event is re-experienced in specific ways such as recurrent and intrusive distressing recollections or dreams of the event

• Persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma or numbing of general responsiveness

• Persistent symptoms of increased arousal, such as hypervigilance or irritability

• Duration of the disturbance (symptoms in Criteria B, C, and D) is more than one month

• The disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in functioning.

PTSD may be acute, chronic, or with delayed onset. Many individuals with DID (MPD) also have PTSD. The literature sometimes describes DID(MPD) as complex and/or chronic PTSD. Adapted from DSM-IV, p. 427-429.

Borrowed from the Sidran Institute's Trauma Disorders Glossary

Taking Care of Me

For my birthday instead of joyously celebrating my quarter century mark, I spent the day doing unpleasant yet necessary things. I had scheduled a doctor’s appointment for a full STD and HIV testing. Ever since A. disappeared on me and I found out I really didn’t know the man I’ve been uneasy. So as I lay on the table being swabbed and poked I cursed the man who put me there and made me doubt everything I knew about myself.

What I wasn’t expecting when I scheduled the tests was the “counseling” from my Doctor prior to the exam. He said that these tests were usually precipitated by some event. While I understand the reasoning behind a series of questions that just embarrassed me and made me so upset I ended up in tears, it didn’t make me feel any less uneasy. He needed to determine if enough time had elapsed so that the tests performed would end up with accurate results. The answer I gave as to what precipitated my visit was that I recently stopped seeing someone and I can’t believe anything he told me now. He automatically assumed I caught A. cheating on me, which for all I know he could have been, but I had never consciously thought of that as a possibility. After offering some feeble, “men can be such assholes”, sentiment and after I started crying over it he launched into his detailed list of personal questions- including what I would do should the HIV test come back positive.

After I was dressed he came back in to talk to me a bit more about when to expect results and how I could get them. I was still obviously upset over the whole experience and he asked if there was anything he could do for me. It wasn’t necessarily what he said, but how he said it, accompanied by that look of mixed pity and concern for an obviously distressed young woman, that delivered a punch to my stomach. It’s a look I had seen before three years prior when filling out one of my very early prescriptions for antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications. The doses were high enough that when mixed together could cause hallucinations, which the pharmacist had cautioned me about. And then he gave me that look and asked with genuine concern how I was doing. I had never had a stranger express that kind of compassion towards me and it left me feeling confused and grateful. I’m sure if I hadn’t been so young, pretty, and so obviously in anguish that the interaction would never have happened.

The end result was that I asked to be put back on antidepressants, except this time instead of the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor and norephinephrine/dopamine reuptake inhibitor combo I wanted just the N/DRI. While I’m hopeful that this will be enough to ease me back to normalcy I’m also resigned to the fact that I am unable to cope on my own. My only consolation is that the N/DRI has fewer negative side effects and if it works and I can find some small slice of happiness again then it will have all been worthwhile.

I just hurt and it won’t stop.

Remembering the Way We Were

This evening I was inadvertently reminded of an incident between Mr. Intellectual and I. The first month after I moved out of the hometown and off to the University town was difficult on both of us. Mr. Intellectual and I burned up the phone lines with daily calls and in depth conversations. We basically continued our relationship like it had been while we lived in the same area- with nightly calls to discuss our days and everything under the sun from politics to academia for hours on end.

At the end of the month when the phone bill arrived at his parent’s house his father was less than pleased with us. The telephone company had screwed up and the long-distance plan we thought had been put in place and mistakenly not been activated. The bill was close to $800! I wasn’t there to witness the fireworks, but at one point Mr. Intellectual’s father tried to institute the rule of only speaking together once a week. MI shot back in complete contempt and anger, “Why don’t you try talking to your wife only once a week!”

I think it was in that moment that his father realized just how much I meant to his son and how serious our relationship really was. He backed down pretty quickly on the one call a week policy. Remembering this incident made me smile today. We were so crazy about each other and we didn’t care about anyone else. I can remember the passion we shared for each other back then. I’ve never loved someone as much as I loved him. Now the memories of the good times, while they make me smile, are bittersweet. I miss the innocence I had, the complete trust and openness with another human being. I wasn’t jaded with men and overly suspicious or cautious. I wish I could be that person again, but something tells me it’s going to take quite some time and an extraordinary man to coax that out of me again.

Catharsis, Confusion and a Conclusion

Having supportive friends, and more importantly girlfriends, during a time of emotional turmoil and heartbreak are key. After multiple retellings of the sordid story between A. and myself to various girlfriends I was able to find some peace in the situation. Although there will never be any formal closure between the two of us, I was feeling better after having my feelings acknowledge as rational and some affirmation that his behaviour was not only all-round disappointing but also harsh and disrespectful.

I found that being able to discuss it over with girlfriends, and even Mr. Intellectual, proved to be a rather cathartic exercise. When Mr. Intellectual and I parted ways romantically I was all alone to wander through the experience. I’m typically a painfully private individual and what I felt cut too deep to put into words, let alone talk about with my girlfriends. At the time we weren’t especially close and my state of depression had further isolated me from them. It has only been in the last two years of being single that I have really reconnected with them and made a concerted effort to enrich the relationships I have with the women in my life.

Just when I thought I had found some peace and recovered from the anxiety and turmoil A.’s behaviour had caused in my life I was served up with another shock. He stopped showing up for our Friday night pick-up hockey games and I finally got up the courage to casually ask the organizer if he’d heard from him and why he didn’t show. It turns out the he had emailed sometime in the past week or so and said that he wouldn’t be coming to any more games without any explanation. It was then that I was talking to our interim goalie, a student employee at A’s office and a casual friend of his whom I had met several times before at various pick up games in the past 6 months. Three weeks prior he had mentioned to this person that his permanent managerial position was finally coming through after months of speculation of when it would happen, and it just so happens that the permanent position was in a different region. This would mean a 45 minute commute or so, versus his current 5 minute commute to the office, from the house he just purchased and closed on.

Hearing that news from the interim goalie was like a punch in the gut and I was breathless and confused again. At the time A. was telling his buddy this news we were supposedly still on great terms and things were still good between us. I had even asked him occasionally if he’d heard anything about the permanent position and he said there was no news. He directly lied to my face without batting an eyelash, and the week it becomes public fact he disappears on me. It left me reeling and wondering just what I knew about this man I was supposedly dating. I felt like I knew absolutely nothing about him and I couldn’t believe a word he had said to me. All that peace I had found from the confusion was thrown into question and I am back to square one.

I draw some small comfort from the fact that really, this isn’t my issue- it is his. I can’t control peoples actions or reactions towards me, I can only choose how I respond. After a week of anxiety and contemplation over these baffling events, and a near daily revelation of more information (like the fact that he’ll be going to the East Coast for 3 weeks training in the very near future), I’ve come to the conclusion that although it hurts, he’s done me a favour in the long run. I don’t want to be with a man who is a passive-aggressive coward.

I've come to the conclusion that even when you think you know someone, you really don’t.

On This Day in History...

Events:
330 - Byzantium is renamed Nova Roma during a dedication ceremony, but is more popularly referred to as Constantinople.
1927 - The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is founded.
1960 - The first contraceptive pill is made available on the market.
1987 - The first heart-lung transplant takes place (Baltimore, Maryland)
1997 - IBM's Deep Blue chess-playing supercomputer defeats Garry Kasparov in the last game of the rematch, becoming the first computer to beat a world-champion chess player.

Births:
1571 - Niwa Nagashige, Japanese warlord (d. 1637)
1722 - Petrus Camper, Dutch anatomist (d. 1789)
1888 - Irving Berlin, American composer (d. 1989)
1904 - Salvador Dalí, Catalan painter (d. 1989)
1957 - Peter North, Canadian porn star

Deaths:
1708 - Jules Hardouin Mansart, French architect (b. 1646)
1778 - William Pitt, the Elder, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (b. 1708)
1960 - John D. Rockefeller, Jr., American philanthropist (b. 1874)
1981 - Bob Marley, Jamaican singer and musician (b. 1945)
2001 - Douglas Adams, English author (b. 1952)

On this day in 1981 I was born. I was baby no. 5 for my family and the first girl. I was born just before 11 pm at night, just in time to make the 11:00 o’clock news as my father is fond of saying. My mother say’s that I was the best Mothers Day present she could have asked for. Every couple of years I have to share my birthday with Mother’s Day and now that I’m older I don’t mind at all.

Is it wrong that I’m more impressed with the list of people who died on my birthday, than the list of people who were born on my birthday?

The Nighmare Scenario

A.'s reply came in yesterday around noon:

"Believe me, not as disappointed as I was when I found out about your affair last summer with the stalker."

This man chose to believe the vicious and probably the most salacious rumours to come out of the workplace rumour mill, instead of talking to me to find out the truth. He didn't know the whole truth about the stalker admittedly because I didn't know how much I could trust him, plus it really wasn't his issue to deal with and I just wanted to put it behind me. Yesterday I was so upset I couldn't stop shaking and felt physically ill over this whole thing. I had no idea how far-reaching the repercussions would be after having had a stalker and now I know. This incident has cost me financially, emotionally, caused me to go into hiding for several months, lose 6 months of time on my thesis, and now my supposed "boyfriend", not to mention my reputation, and having to transfer work locations.

Two left over Lorazepam's from my almost institutionalization three years ago, and a good night's sleep later I feel differently. I don't want to be with a man who'll chose to believe office gossip, or gossips, even if they happen to be friends of his over my word. Or not even bother to find out what my side of the story is before making harsh snap judgments. This is the nightmare scenario I’ve always feared. In a “He said, she said” situation even if I win, I lose. The woman will always lose out in these scenarios. My “boyfriend” chose to believe work rumours over my word and now my reputation in his eyes is irreparably harmed and I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again.

My hurt, confusion and anger over this still controlling my life continues to increase. I had a stalker. I chose to deal with it as best as I knew how, and for me not pressing charges was the right choice- the last thing I needed was for him to be fired from his job to spend more free time harassing me. I just wanted it to be over so I could go on with my life. However, he lives his life free and clear while I continue to work picking up the pieces. I just wonder how much longer I’ll have to do penance for being his victim.

Dating Websites & Mixed Emotions

Something I never really told anyone about A. was that I found his online dating profile several weeks before we started seeing each other. At the time I didn’t mind and it gave me some insight in to a few of his interests that he had never talked about. However, once we started seeing each other he continued to log in daily and do whatever it was he was doing on the site. The only difference is that he changed his picture to the “backstage pass” option- hiding it from public viewing. It became a small obsession with me to log in to see if he had been online. It really started to bother me when he continued logging in almost daily, sometimes right after I had left his house to go home, after we had just slept together.

In hindsight I should have confronted him on it right away, or just walked away from him when he continued to log into the site. Instead I just silently sat by, monitoring his usage and letting it bother me more and more as the days went by. I knew the relationship wasn’t working too well, even without the daily log-in to the dating website, and stopped myself from becoming too emotionally involved. However, that doesn’t lessen my feelings of hurt from being so callously brushed aside. I checked the website again today and my stomach dropped when I saw that he had reposted his picture with the profile. Looking at it made me feel sick.

My only recourse was to fire off a well planned and coolly worded email that had been in the works since I had unequivocal proof he was avoiding me this past Saturday. I expressed my disappointment in his behaviour and lack of adult communications to end the relationship with some dignity and class. In closing, I added this line: “I hope you find what you're looking for daily on Lavalife that I wasn't able to give you.” The rest of the email was polite and unemotional, however I had to let fly with a little hint of bitchiness. Also to let him know that I knew exactly what was going on and he wasn’t fooling anyone. I’m not expecting a response, and I also fully expect that he’ll continue to avoid social situations where he’ll run into me, like Friday night hockey, and the big end of season banquet this Thursday. Coward.

I think I've been dumped

The last time I talked to A. was on Thursday night. It was a short conversation that could have occurred between just about any two people and not a supposed couple. He abruptly ended the conversation saying he had to throw some clothes in the dryer since he had nothing to wear tomorrow. That was the last thing he said to me. I tried calling him 20 minutes later to ask him what was going on between the two of us and to see if he even wanted to continue on since I was getting fed up with his behaviour. He never answered the phone. It is now day four of his disappearing act and I’m pretty confident in saying that he won’t be calling or emailing anytime soon to explain just what happened.

I wasn’t concerned until Friday night when he didn’t show up for our hockey game. The man eat, sleeps and breathes hockey and has even gone so far as to take vacation time at work so as not to miss a game for our winter hockey league. I knew something wasn’t right when he failed to show up to our spring pick-up game and didn’t even call the organizer to explain what happened. I left him a message at home after the game asking if everything was all right and to call me- it’s gone unreturned. We had dinner plans on Saturday night, so I called in the early evening to see if we were still on. He never answered his cell or home phone.

In a moment of pure anxiety and angst as I was talking to Mr. Intellectual about the situation I asked if he wanted to accompany me on a stake out of A’s house to see if he was home. I needed to know if he was avoiding me or if there was something serious going on since I know A’s grandmother is 98 years old, lives alone and has been having some difficulties recently. His car was in the driveway and when I called the house from my cell phone, he didn’t pick up, thereby confirming all my angsty suppositions. My best bet is that he was in the basement, watching the playoffs and screening all my calls. I just couldn’t believe that a supposed man of integrity could pull such a juvenile disappearing act instead of talking to me like an adult to let me know that either he has a problem with me, or he simply doesn’t want to continue seeing me. I’ve never been treated like this before.

Of course I broke down in the car with Mr. Intellectual. He drove me around for a bit in the car, desperately trying to cheer me up by suggesting the old tried and true methods of bribing me with chocolates, ice cream and junk food. It had always worked for him in the past, but I’m really trying to break myself of the habit of medicating my pain with food. Instead he just held my hand while he drove, just like we used to do years ago when we were so in love. I’m not really sure if that made me feel better or worse in the long run. I just didn’t want to cry in front of him and show my vulnerability and to add to my emotional confusion, it felt surreal to be holding hands in the car like old times. I’m sure his girlfriend would be none too pleased to learn of what happened between us that day since she doesn’t even know how close we still are. It’s different now though, we’re no longer a couple, but two friends who grew up together and care what happens to the other.

If I haven’t heard anything from A. by Tuesday (day five of the avoidance), I’ll be sending him an email expressing my disappointment in his behaviour, saying I expected more from him and to formally end it- since it’s apparent he’s got no interest in me anymore. I’ve never been dumped before and this is the most bizarre thing to me. I never thought a man of 35 could act so immature, but then again human nature shouldn’t surprise me anymore. I just wish I didn’t care.