blink and you might miss it

Yesterday: Slept all day.

Last night: Work.
A night of firsts: the first night in a week I wasn't out, the first sincere apology I've gotten from anyone in a while (it wasn't necessary, but it was nice nonetheless), the first time running into CGE after our "thing" the other day, and the first time I contemplated that maybe I should give BB a call, just to see what's up?
The jury is still out on that last point.
The last point and second last point are completely unrelated.
CGE has beautiful shoulders.

Today, it's Tristan's birthday bash. They cancelled the day portion of it to Centennial, which I resent a little because I wanted to enjoy the sunshine. I can't wait for tonight though. Hopefully, I can find a way to get hammed.

Roman is blinking at me. Gotta run.

sleep all day, stay up all night

Yesterday: Slept. All day. Well, until 2pm.
I'd asked my sister to wake me up at the crack of 10am, but she failed to do so.

Afternoon: Hung out with Neighbour Boy on his lawn. His mother brought out some ice cream for us, and we moved to my backyard so I could hose him down 'cause he smelled.

Evening: Jack Astor's with Neighbour Boy (NB), the Italian Stallion (IS), and friends. The IS retold the story of Shawn Desman at Kelsey's, and I had to wonder a little about him. Apparently, the story goes something like this:
He got to Kelsey's, saw Shawn Desman sitting at the table next to the one they were going to be seated at, and asked, rather loudly, to be moved somewhere else, stating, "I don't want to sit near him."
Now, the fact is that I find that story unappealing to begin with. Had I been with the IS at the time, I probably would've tried to laugh it off as a joke, and sat right where we were being seated. Not because I like Shawn Desman, but because I think it's extremely rude and a little snobby to do something like that. Since I wasn't there at the time, all I can do is react to the telling of the story. The first time he told it, I remarked that I was expecting a humour-filled recount of his night with Shawn, not a display of his complete and utter immaturity. Knowing this, he decided it'd be a good idea to re-tell the story, for a new audience, with me present.
I'm not sure what the story is supposed to do. I'm not sure if it's supposed to make people laugh, or if it's supposed to let people know what a douche the IS can be sometimes, or if it's supposed to make Shawn Desman look bad? I'm truly confused about the point of the story, but in any case, it doesn't shine a positive light AT ALL on the IS, and it made me wonder: Is he just extremely stupid and/or extremely immature and thus believes that this story is actually a barrel of laughs? Or is he just one of those people that's honest about themselves? And if it is the latter, couldn't he have picked a better time, or a more suitable audience?
I regret that it's the former and that I'm giving him too much credit by even suggesting the latter.
In any event, although I didn't say much except agree with one of the girls accompanying us that that was a rude thing to do, later, at Bert and Ernie's, I was accused of "chewing him out", and he seemed rather upset with me.
Perhaps upset I hadn't grasped the comedic timing? Or the underlying theme? Once again, I'm not sure.

Bert 'N Ernie's: Where every(17 year old)body knows your name.
This was my first adventure in B'NE land. Jelena had invited me out on a girls' night on the town, and since I don't have very many girlfriends, I gladly accepted. When we arrived, the crowd looked respectable. Very Hollister. Very 19+. But as midnight approached, I began to recognize faces - and they weren't of my peers. They were of the kids who'd been in grade six when I was in nine, and now dressed old and wore too much makeup, but were nowhere near the age of the target audience. And I wondered when their curfew would come up so they could clear off, but as midnight came and went, I realized rather wistfully that these kids were those kids I didn't understand in high school. That these kids were those kids that'd show up on Monday mornings with talk of that "CRAAAZY PARTY" where they got "smashed" and threw up into the host's dresser drawer. Inevitably, those kids are now those people I run into, still hanging out in the same places (Bert 'N Ernie's was a mini-highschool reunion for me - except I was reunited with people I never actually hung out with), still partying every weekend, and still telling those "crazy" stories the following Monday. Unfortunately, they're also (more often then not) the ones that are confused about where they're going in life, or what they do during the day. Maybe it's just a coincidental correlation, but something rings true: if you start partying hardcore at age 14, you just might get slightly tired of it by the time you hit 20, and in the meantime, you miss all those calculus classes and furitive glances across the room that make high school the hell on Earth that it is. You miss out on the last leg of being a kid, and then you don't realize it when it's time to grow up. Instead, you're doomed to sail forever on this "young adult" sea, first when you're too young for it, and later when you're too old for it, and either way, you look too pathetic doing it.
It's probably just me.

Anyway, Roman called me last night. I haven't spoken to him in MONTHS, and he decided he'd grace us with his presence. He brought along his brother and friend. The minute his brother gets me alone, he decides it's time to call me a snob. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure if he was altogether serious, or how much he'd had to drink. And I've been called a lot of unflattering things in life, some seemingly more true then others: bitch, intimidating, cynical, loud, annoying. But never "snob". "Snob" is a first.
I wonder if it has anything to do with me not wanting to date Roman.
Then he pulls out the psych card (even though he's in sociology), and decides that I'm "almost single"... not quite single, because there's always one boy or another floating around, but almost, because none of them mean anything.
I'm not sure how he knew that.
I'm not sure why he said it.
I hope it has nothing to do with Roman.
But if it does, I'm sorry Roman thinks I'm a snob, 'cause I think he's a rather alright guy.

We called it an early night at about 12:30am, because we were definitely among the oldest people on the patio. As we exited, I remarked I couldn't remember where I'd parked. A kindly young gentleman in the parking lot suggested helpfully that I "lay off the crack". Him and his friend then proceded to open all four doors of a vehicle in their vincinity. I believed it to be their vehicle, until they remarked that people are rather silly for leaving their car doors unlocked. They then found another unlocked vehicle, and opened all of it's doors. And so on. Ad nauseum.
I got into my (up until then) locked car, and drove off sighing, "Oh, to be 17 again".

But then I remembered that when I was seventeen, I sat at home and watched "America's Funniest Home Videos" with my parents on Friday nights, and so I just promised myself that I'd remind myself that B'NE's just isn't for me next time around.

should i put my trust in something i don't trust in?

Yesterday: Port Credit with CGE. Just a laid back walk from Starbucks, with my (new) fave drink in hand down to the edge of the pier. Enjoying the seemingly endless expanse of Lake Ontario, I thought, "they can say whatever they want about how dirty and filthy and gross it is, it is absolutely gorgeous to me."

At utter and complete ease with myself and with the world, I accepted a few compliments graciously and didn't hold much back. I was honest in all my rambling and sincerely wanted to know the answers to the questions I posed. If there's one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that you have to be completely honest about yourself, even if its at the expense of something you think you might want.

When the pier got old and we grew weary of people-watching, we moved onto the playground. This particular playground holds some sentimental value for me. It was the place I first froze my ass off coming to terms with the fact that you're going to have a connection with someone who is utterly wrong for you every once in a while. Yesterday, it held a different kind of meaning: it was just a place to enjoy some time with a new friend.

I'm in that place now where I just want to not feel stupid about being myself. I'm beyond the place where I want to worry about what strangers think or whether acquaintances approve. And I really don't want to care any more about making people like me.

Indeed, no matter how hard I work at it, not everyone is going to like me all of the time, and no matter how hard I don't work at it, someone is going to like me some of the time, so why sacrifice anything of myself at all?

I don't want to feel like I have to explain the reasons behind my expectations, or reactions, or precautions. I feel like people should either understand it, or get out, like it, or leave it, love me, or leave me alone.
I'm tired of being misunderstood, misconstrued, misled, and mistaken.
So, if I put it all out there, this should happen less often.

When I put it all out there yesterday, in all it's ugliness and deformity, CGE said he thought it was pretty awesome. Maybe it's because he doesn't realize how honest it really was, or to what extreme it extends, or it's just one of those things that seem refreshing at first and then get tiresome and cumbersome after a while; or maybe he's simply one of those somebodies some of the time. Whatever the reason, it felt kind of nice to not have to put on a show.

Last night, after a nap, I hit the town with Eric and friends. We went salsa dancing at On the Curve, and it was really something different. Imagine people of all ages, in one place because they all just enjoy the same thing. Young ladies dancing with older gentlemen, older ladies dancing with younger gentlemen, seasoned pros, and beginners learning steps together. There wasn't judgment, there wasn't snobbery, there wasn't sexual tension or rudeness, just dancing. I loved it. Plus, the bar staff was nice, and the bouncer had a nice smile.
Eric really makes my life sometimes. There are few people in this world I find it easier or more fulfilling to talk to, and no one makes me feel less self-conscious in a new situation, or elicits quite as genuine a laugh.
But, that's a story for another day.

who got lucky?

An hour or so to go before I'm to meet CGE for our "date". He had work until 5:30 this a.m., and when he called me 15 minutes ago, had just woken up. Since he sounded so sleepy, I asked if he wanted to postpone our meeting and catch up on some z's - I really have nothing planned for the day anyway, and I can always hang out with my neighbour in the interim.
He said, "No, I need to get up. Plus, I'd be too excited to sleep now anyway."

Right answer.

Maybe I'll just keep going on first and second dates with people, because those are my favourite parts - finding out their life story, a few of their more conspicuous quirks, and sharing in the excitement of those first few glances, and brushes of the hands, and so on.

After that, they inevitably disappoint you, so why let it go there?
BB hasn't called me since our adventure at the mall, and I didn't notice 'til last night when I was out with Nelly and she brought him up, so I guess I'm over that.

Chilling with neighbour boy and the Italian Stallion at Demetre's, Nelly and I played "Who got lucky?", and there was a couple a table down from us that was so DISPROPORTIONATE that we just couldn't look away. The guy was possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever seen with my own two eyes in real life (aside from one guy at work, who shall remain nameless), and the girl was just so: not. I wouldn't even call her average, although she might begin to approach it if she did something different with her hair. It was just such a shocker-situation for a pair of seasoned "Who got lucky?" players like Nelly and myself. You just don't see such a giant off-balance every day.
The Italian Stallion decided to play the moral majority and point out that maybe, what she lacks in the looks department, she makes up for in personality... or bed. And that maybe his gorgeousness doesn't transcend to him being a nice person. But the fact is that the game is based on pure superficiality, and if we wanted to be serious, we'd get together with other friends who weren't quite so silly, so we shut him up right-quick.

After that, I remembered why the IS wasn't a complete write-off though. He did his standup routine for us and had us physically rolling in our seats at one point. We were discussing Dave's 80's themed party, and how messy it'd been, and how nothing we could do in the near (or far) future would approach that messiness level, and IS remarked "I don't have any gay friends - no offense or anything." To which I replied, "Why would I be offended by that?" and he goes, "No, I know, I'm just covering my ass."

And no one noticed anything funny about it at all. Until he said, "No pun intended."

Turns out that Arms from work is single. We spent our whole shift yesterday hiding in between the bays, pretending to do work, and talking about our relationships past. That's how I found out. And then Carla said that Jen said that he told her he was. So there you have it. The bad news is that he makes me laugh. Hysterically. Every time we work together. And I'm sure I don't want to jeapordize that by trying to monopolize more then my share of him. So he shall continue to make me laugh.

too much sexy

Work, then a Sex and the City marathon, followed by a quick trip to Port Credit.
I'm officially in love with that place. Imagine: 26 degrees, sunny, slight breeze, dark water, rippling surface, with a cool, chocolatey drink in hand. Perfect.
Chilled with Misa, short appearance by Rosey, followed by a drive to Cooper's to see some Frosh Leader buddies. I'm not sure what they've been up to all summer, even though God knows I tried to find out, but every time we get together, it's as if though nothing's changed. We're always laughing hysterically, either making memories or reminiscing about them.
I realized how extremely lucky I am to have such hilarious, good looking friends.
Love it. We get away with TOO much.

It's amazing how much you can squeeze into a day when you just try.

LEVEL UP

Yesterday:
Hanging out with *Beautiful Boy* at the mall. At one point, he was carrying me over his shoulder at Champs all nonchalant, and I was commenting on the colour of the running shoes, all nonchalant, and people were looking at us very weird. I chased him with a pool noodle and hugged him with an alligator. The greeters at Walmart don't know where anything is, and they suck at greeting too, I might add, and that guy that works in the automotive department just might not have a life outside of it. But neither do the million or so people that were driving like morons in the parking lot, and walking into people in the mall on a Saturday afternoon. What were we thinking mixing with the masses anyway?

Last night:
Giant Killer Shark with Vonnell and Bryce. Good, fun times running into old classmates. And it's always fun to see someone being productive with their time. Not a bad show, but I'm still convinced Nelly and I could write a better musical. $17? Well, maybe not worth quite that much, but ever since Nelly became my life sponsor, I'm whining a lot less about money (or complete lack thereof).
Martinis with Nelly. We closed down the restaurant and left a lousy tip for a good waiter, but I promised myself to return eventually and right that wrong.
As the vodka went straight to my head since I hadn't eaten anything all day, I found myself telling Nelly about Tomal's recent email, which stated rather bluntly that he thinks that I'm needy and clingy. To which Nelly replied, in a rather rambling fashion because the vodka was hitting her too, that he "just doesn't get it". We (and by "we", I mean "I") then went on to discuss (and by "discuss", I mean "rant") at length (about) the individualistic society we live in and the impact it has on our conceptualizations of ourselves and our relationships with others.
In the cross-cultural psychology class I took this summer, we learned that terms such as "clingy" and "needy" wouldn't be applicable in most Eastern cultures, which are based on collectivistic beliefs. There, who you are as an individual is inextricably intertwined with your relationships with others. Therefore, you don't identify yourself as "funny" overall, the way we do in the West, you identify yourself as "funny with my friends, serious with my grandparents" and so on.
And since we also learned that Eastern Europeans find themselves stuck somewhere in between the values of the East and West, it makes perfect sense that while I value my independence, I also place very high priority on my relationships with other people. My relationships do define me in many ways, and they change me, and mold me, and I see that as normal, not as negative.
When I recently learned that a couple that has been together forever, and I thought would stay together forever, called it quits because one of the individuals in the relationship felt that they were "losing themselves", I felt a little heartbroken. They've clearly bought into this philosophy that you can't be yourself if you define yourself, in part, as being with someone else. Western society sees it as "clinginess" or a "crutch", and it has a very negative connotation. To depend on someone else to "complete" you, or even "enhance" you is blasphemous.
But when my dad tells me on a daily basis that he misses my mother, (and she's only been gone for two weeks), and says he doesn't know what to do without her - I feel for him. She is part of him. And I want that for myself.
Walking to LEVEL, slightly tipsy, Nelly and I made a pact to have a wonderful night, and to pick up. We were accosted halfway to our destination by a promoter who ushered us into D.N.A with promises of free drinks. After a quick (FREE!) trip to the bar, Nelly and I decided to stick around for 10 minutes at least, to make it seem like we weren't just total users. We spotted a verily drunk gentleman getting jiggy with it by himself on the dancefloor, and decided it'd be a hoot to join him. So as I walk over and ask him if he'd like to dance, and he says he'd "love" to, his friend comes and wooshes him away. At first, Nelly and I are simply dumbfounded by this occurance, but eventually we realize that we have just been identified as trainwrecks who this inebriated friend apparently needed to be rescued from. It was a total blow to our collective ego. Until we rationalized that he must be married, and that utter rejection had nothing to do with us.
We finally arrive at LEVEL an hour and a half later then we were supposed to, and head straight for the bar once inside. We quickly find James and the rest of the party and begin dancing it up. I'm soon drunk enough to no longer notice the pain shooting up my legs as a result of the blisters on my feet. I spot a cute guy across the room, we stare at each other for a while, smile, look away.
Then again.
Then again.
I make for the washroom and the bar, Nelly comes with, but soon we're back at headquarters, and he's still looking over every once in a while, and smiling. Soon we're dancing, and I learn his name. We shall call him Cheesesteak. He's uber cute even totally up close, and he smells delicious.
And that's all I remember, officer.
That, and the piggyback ride James gave me up the street, and the ride to Nelly's on the Blue Line, and the hysterical woman sitting across from us laughing at all of our jokes, and the "Bang Bang Bar" that Nelly confused for a "Gang Bang Bar", and sleeping in the tent because it seemed like a good idea at the time.
I woke up with a killer hangover and an email in my inbox. *Cutest guy ever* from work, with whom the email exchange has been going strong ever since that first one, had asked me if I wanted to do something with him today. Suffering from a pounding headache and griminess to the nth degree, I declined and suggested something later this week instead. Plans are in the works. I'm excited. Thinking about him makes me smile.

And think.

Because if Cheesesteak decides to call, and I doubt he will, but if he does, there will be a third boy in my life to be smiling about. And I'm not sure my cheeks can handle that.

p.s.

This is the kind of email a good potential boyfriend writes:

cao lepotice, how are you? i'm testing your serbian skills to see if you're as good at serbian as you claim you are at spelling.

i think i'm gonna frame up your sticky note, label it "dunja loves me always" and put it on my wall of prized posessions. j/k. anyway, you working tonight? i hope you are so i can make fun of you and give you a spelling test. no honestly, i hope you are cuz last night was brutal once you left.

take care

*cutest guy ever*

p.s. i tried facebook acct, its too complicated with its 'regions, schools' and stuff.


I'm in LURVE!

brave new world

I extended the survey to include some male opinions. They were split straight down the middle, and I realized that this is a very personal issue.

When I think of a boyfriend, I think of someone who is:
Kind, generous, humorous, fun to be around, intelligent, thoughtful, attractive, sweet. Whatever. So does the rest of the population. Where I begin to differ with the rest of the population (or 30% of the female and 50% of the male, apparently) is in my conceptualization of what being a good boyfriend ENTAILS. It isn't enough that you have these background qualities - you also have to work actively and DO things. You have to BE the role.
Well, I guess the question then is, what IS the role?

In my mind's eye, a boyfriend is someone who is far above and beyond a friend. In that way, "boyfriend" is something of a misnomer. If I just wanted another boy who was a friend, I'd meet one. Boys that are friends are plentiful. Boyfriends are special.

A boyfriend, unlike a mere friend, should make you their number one priority. Before you all have a heart attack: That doesn't entail foresaking all others, all hobbies, all activities, or all goals for you. I'm all about "alone" time, and time with friends, and time doing what you enjoy doing on your own. What it DOES mean is that TIME GETS MADE for you. So if he chooses to spend 6/7 days playing checkers because he really likes that, then that seventh day should be all about you. Or, if he says he'll call at a certain time, or on a certain day, then he'd better make the effort to do that. Or, if he says, "Let's hang out on this day because it's good for me", then he shouldn't cancel an hour later because NAPPING came up. I understand if family stuff comes up, a friend needs to see him urgently, he needs to do something for school, or got called into work. But ditching me TO NAP? Napping shouldn't trump potential girlfriend, ok?

Unlike a mere friend, who will meet you at their leisure and when it's most convenient, a boyfriend should work a little harder to make it work. Sometimes that means putting other things off, or substituting you for something else.
If the relationship is worthwhile, this shouldn't seem like a sacrifice, but merely a natural progression of affairs. You have one extra person who is important to you in your life now, so, it follows, you're going to have less time for other stuff or other people. It's not a bad thing. It's just different.
I REITERATE: this doesn't mean ignoring everyone and everything else. This just means prioritizing such that, at any given time, this person is on the list of the top five things you need to do. And if four out of the five things you need to do are nap, read pamphlet about vitamin c, twiddle your thumbs, and eat a cake - then you'd better go see the girlfriend.

Nextly, a boyfriend, unlike a mere friend, should be there for you in places or times other friends can't or won't be. The boyfriend should be the one you can depend on to pick you up when your ride disappears at 2am, the boyfriend should make the drive out to your house at 4am when your sister goes missing, and the boyfriend should bring you the soup in bed when you're sick. It's not because you don't have other friends who'll do it for you, it's because that's simply in the boyfriend's job description more so then in their's. In my head, of course. This is all in my head.

A boyfriend should be someone you share interests with, so that you can have fun doing stuff together - but beyond that, you should be able to enjoy your time with them intrinsically - because you're with them, not because you're doing something especially exciting. So while it's important that y'all go rockclimbing together, it's equally important that you can just sit and chill and be - and have fun doing either.

To the boyfriend, the girlfriend should be the one you should think of calling FIRST when something goes right, or wrong, or when you're bored, or especially busy. And the girlfriend should be the one you want to see first when you've been boarded up in your house for 3 weeks and haven't seen anyone.

And maybe that's just me, but that's a boyfriend: To the boyfriend, the only thing seperating you from the rest of the female friend population is that they simply care about you more - the boyfriend would simply drive further, make bigger sacrifices, compromise more, and try harder to make it work with the girlfriend then with other people. (Presumably because the girl and boyfriend have more fun with each other then with the average bear - but that's why they gave each other special status in the first place, no?)

Maybe because I expect so much, I'm often uneasy about assigning the title of "boyfriend" to any guy - to me, being a girlfriend is a HUGE commitment, encompassing far more then that I'm not going to see other guys anymore. It's also a commitment to see the boyfriend whenever you feasibly can, and call them when you can't see them, and be there in emergencies or times of need. To stay up until 3am editing their paper, or make the treck to visit them on their campus on your day off. To invite them to (almost) all the parties you attend, and write them a letter when they're feeling down. To go to the store with them so they don't have to go alone, or keep them company when they're studying. To make them laugh and brighten their day, to lend them money, or spoil them rotten.
When it's with the right guy, none of it seems like a chore, all of it seems worthwhile, and I'd rather do any and all of it then nap or read a pamphlet about vitamin c or eat a cake (although I might rather twiddle my thumbs then edit his paper, I'll admit).

And because it's a huge commitment, I don't often make it.
And because it's a huge commitment, I'm careful about who I make it to.
And so, when someone shows me that perhaps their idea of the amount of time or effort that needs to be invested into a relationship in order to make it really work doesn't match up with my own, I'm cautious about allowing it to go any further.

As I keep mentioning, boys that are friends are plentiful. Boys that you can make out with are easy to find. Boyfriends are special.

And that's where some people are criticising me, saying I've blown this out of proportion and that maybe my standards are too high. And maybe they're right. Clearly not everyone agrees with this assessment of roles. Some people think boy/girlfriends should simply take over where best friends leave off, some people think boy/girlfriends are simply there for the added bonus of physical contact, some people structure their entire lives around boy/girlfriends and forget about everyone else when they're in a relationship.
I'm proposing a happy medium, and need someone who wants the same thing, otherwise, it's just not going to work.

It's not a matter of expecting too much, I argue, but of expecting something entirely different.

piss off

Well, it's happened: The precarious peace has been shattered. He's done something (I consider to be extremely) stupid.

He calls me at noon, I return his call at one. He suggests we get together before I have to go to work, at six. He needs to eat, he'll call me back.

He calls back at two:
"Hey listen, I'm really tired, and it just doesn't make sense for me to drive out there for a few hours, running around and stuff. Let's save it for tomorrow, then we can have the whole day."

I hate you when you make sense.

No wait, how is 4 HOURS a few? And how is 4 HOURS running around ? FOUR HOURS is a LOT of time. People give BIRTH in less then four hours (sometimes)! Four hours is longer then most final exams, and way longer then most movies. Four hours is the ENTIRE LIFETIME of a four-hour-old baby. In four hours, you could drive halfway to Montreal or fly all the way to Cuba AND get through customs.

I say, "Yeah, ok."

Silence for 30 seconds.

Why isn't he saying goodbye? Maybe he wants to chat. Well TOO FUCKING BAD.

"I'm going to go clean my bathroom. Bye."

Is it just me, or should he be driving out for three hours to see me for 20 minutes this early in the game? According to the unofficial poll I conducted at work, 70% of the female population agrees that if he's not eager now, I should drop him, because what does that say about him 5 months from now?
A girl who has been in four consecutive relationships with four different guys, all lasting over a year, wisely suggested that he shouldn't be using the "I'm tired" excuse until at least 4 months in, and even then, only under extreme circumstances. What exactly is he tired from, anyway? Sitting around on his ass all day? I mean, I know firsthand how exhausting that can be sometimes, but COME ON. It's like, the sixth time we're ever going out. This is it. This is the PEAK of things. He should be writing me sonnets, not giving me excuses.

Another girl wisely pointed out, "He's just not that into you. If he was, he'd be there." I'm forced to be inclined to have to agree. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would've driven out to see him.

In conclusion, this has all just been yet another forray into the land of "this isn't going anywhere, is it?"
Join us next time when we try to land a fireman. At least if he's drop dead gorgeous and ripped and a FIREMAN, I won't feel as bad when he's not as into me as I am into him. Plus, that way I'll finally be able to say, "I dated a fireman once, and I dumped him, he just wasn't cutting it" and not be lying.

the world keeps turning, bob dylan

200+ dead. R.I.P.

"Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind."


____________________________________________________________


I've been reading the paper cover to cover lately, and following the news very closely. My thoughts are constantly with the people of Lebanon and Israel and their families, and I find myself wishing there was more I could do then pay homage in thought. It seems that the world should stop to deal with this utter mess, and that nothing else should be the topic of discussion until people stop dying senslessly, but the world doesn't stop for anything, and neither has my life (despite how unfair that fact seems to me).

In my microcosm of existence, some things never change. The bitch at work is still a bitch, and frankly, I don't feel like writing about it. The personal lives of some of my friends are currently akin to soap opera scripts, but it'd be a complete invasion of privacy to get into most of it. Which leaves me talking about what I do at home (read the paper) and when I go out - and that's where *Beautiful Boy* comes in.

I spent two full days BB free, and then I caved and called him because I kind of missed him.
I was hoping he'd say something that'd tick me off or throw me off or blow me off, but he did no such thing.
We talked for hours, again. About everything; About Lebanon, and family, friends, and work, soccer, and the PM, grandparents, moms and how we do them, and the next two weeks.
His friend came online mid-conversation, and he was distracted for a few seconds as he fired off a couple messages. Then he invited me to join him and a few friends up at his friend's cottage this weekend. I guffawed at the absurd proposal - "I don't know this friend," I said, I barely know you, I thought.
"Yeah, but he knows of you... it'd be fun." Oh.
"He knows of me?"
"Sure, they all do."
Oh.
"Anyway, it's totally up to you, obviously. But I'd love to have you. And it was his idea, so he's cool with it..."
Oh. "I don't know..."
"Ok, well think about it. And let me know."
Oh. "Ok."

A few jokes, a couple anecdotes, a few interruptions sparked by my sister, and then another question, "What are you doing two weeks from now?"
Oh.
He invited me out to this thing with his sister and her boyfriend - he promised the boyfriend a dinner since he fixed his laptop, and the sister will be back by then from vacation, so he's going to take them out. Would I like to come along?
"Uh, yeah, that'd be fun. I'd love to meet your sister."
WTF am I saying? OH OH OH!
And I'm thinking, "But I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want to commit. I don't want to settle. I don't want to think about you, or run to you, or miss you. I don't want to fight with you, or get mad at you, or piss you off."

And then I ask him what he did this weekend. "Well, Sunday, bla bla bla. And Saturday, bla bla bla. And Friday... I can't remember what I did Friday..."
"You were with me, loser."
"Oh yeah, no, I know, I didn't forget that, I just thought it was on Thursday for some reason..."
"Yeah, sure."
And then I think, "Dunja, why are you even on this?"

He teaches my sister some Spanish and says goodnight. And although we've been on the phone for hours, and there's really nothing left to say for today, the minute he's gone, I'm wishing he wasn't. And I realize, maybe it's already too late.

And still the world turns.

my prime minister is a douche, and there's nothing i can do about it

How is a full blown military attack on a sovereign state that involves taking innocent civilian lives in response to a terrorist attack "measured"?
Why does nobody seem to see that the reasons the terrorists attacked Israel are completely unrelated to the reasons Israel is fighting back, which are completely unrelated to the agenda Syria and Iran are pushing by funding the terrorists, which is completely unrelated to the agenda the U.S. will now use this as an excuse to push?

Why is my Prime Minister such a fucking douche?

Not because I elected him, that's for sure.

And how can George Bush sit there, so nonchalantly, at that fucking G8 meeting, and talk about it being right to defend yourself against terrorists - spewing the same shit he did when he was about to go into Iraq - how can he sit there, so stoic? How does he sleep at night?

And why can't I sleep at night because I'm up wondering how he sleeps? How is that right? How does that help anyone?

It doesn't. Because no one cares what I think or what I would do.

And that's just the problem. Because the fate of innocent people who were just minding their own business rests in the hands of individuals who couldn't care less about them.

It's not that I have a personal, vested interest in any one of them either. But I remember what it's like to fear for your life. I remember what it's like to fear for the life of your family. And I remember how helpless and numb it makes you. I'd like to think that if I were in charge, or that if anyone cared to listen to me for just a minute, I'd talk some sense, at least. I'd show some compassion, some empathy. I wouldn't say what Israel is doing is "measured", just as I wouldn't applaud the actions of the terrorists. I'd say it was "preposterous and unacceptable and needed to stop, on both sides, right away". At least I'd *say* the fucking right thing, if I didn't know what to do about it.

As astronauts in orbit around the Earth from the shuttle Discovery observed today, it looks peaceful all over. Earth, that is. Earth is the home of humanity, they said, and perhaps, one day, we'll realize it and learn to get along.

WHY CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS? Holy fucking mother of God, how senseless is this? And how many times does it have to happen? Who's fucking idea was any of it in the first place? Now THAT'S someone that SHOULD be shot.

Until then, I stand by my statement that my Prime Minister is a douche. And if he were standing next to me right now and listening, I wouldn't hesitate to let him know I thought so.

B

In other, less sentimental news, I finally quit my job at the Dry Cleaners, and the friend I dreamt about making out with messaged me the other day after having not spoken to me in MONTHS. HOW FLIPPING WEIRD IS THAT?

Maybe he had the same dream?

I somehow managed to miss Salsa on St Clair AND the beach this weekend, and I'm still wondering how the hell that happened. Oh wait, I just remembered. Nelly ditched me for an out-of-towner who came into town, Pauly has a girlfriend, and Zeebs lives alone with her father. And living alone with my father (and sister) for the past week (since my mother left for Serbia) has taught me a few things about men in their late forties: they're needy and they eat a lot. And they may just nag more then mothers when they can get a word in edgewise.

There is a learning curve.

that'll teach you to dress naked!

We never did it together in high school, and we felt like we were missing out on an intricate part of our childhood friendship. Or maybe there was just nothing better to do. For whatever reason, yesterday, Pauly, Zeebs, and I sat on the side of a hill in the dark, drinking, laughing, smoking, and chilling. We discussed buoyancy, and Zeebs ruminated, "Well, excuuuuuse meeee Ms. Physician". And we laughed. We talked about de-virginizing (Paul is the "Cherry-Popper"), about dating, about old schoolmates, about dog breeds, about relationships, nose jobs, fashion, and manicures, pedicures, and Zidane, and I was on a roll. Or maybe it wasn't so much that anything I said was all that funny, but that Zeebs is insane and laughs at everything. Or maybe I'm so utterly comfortable with these people that I can take insane chances and say ridiculous things, and I know they'll laugh with me, not at me. In any event, the waiters at Demetre's were all gay, and thought we were obnoxious, the guy at The Magic Spot looked like Ray the Jazz Musician from Sex and the City and disliked our bossy treatment of Pauly, and the girl at the martini bar was cleaning relish off of the ceiling. And this was all before 10pm.

The night before, smelling supremely fresh thanks to Lever 2000 (for all my 2000 parts), I met up with *Beautiful Boy*, who was also smelling wonderful, to visit a baseball field and take in some Slo-Pitch. The game was lame, but the company was great. Fun, comfortable, interesting, and intelligent. When I ranted about the bitch at work, he made witty remarks and always took my side. When I launched into a spiel about a psych study I'd recently read, he joined in the discussion, asking pertinent questions and providing alternative explanations for the findings - he was also very interested in the methodology employed, which I thought was fascinating, because no one I know (who isn't a psych major) ever brings that up. He talked about his family, and about grade nine, and about his friends and their (mis)adventures together. When the cops rode by to tell us the park had closed an hour ago, we went in search of greener pastures, and ended up walking his (8 year old) puppy. It was all just easy. It all just fit. And in one sublime moment of clarity, I even thought to myself "I like it here. I really like it here."
"Here" being there, in the park. "Here" being there, with him. "Here" being neither here nor there in this thing that we're doing - whatever it is. "Here" being in this brand new place with this brand new person, on this blank slate, where everything is possible and nothing determined. Where there are no problem behavioural patterns that keep repeating themselves (yet). Where nothing is taken for granted.
I don't assume he'll call, or that he feels the same way, or that any of this is going anywhere. And so, every time nothing happens, it's okay.
There are no disappointments - because there are no expectations.
And maybe, if I could maintain this vacant state in my room of expectations, I could be happy forever. But I know that eventually, I'll ask him to do something for me and he won't, or I'll trust him implicitly in some manner and be proven a fool for doing so, or I'll expect him to react in a certain way and be shocked and amazed and hurt when he doesn't - and it'll all show how much (or little) I know about him, and us, and about myself.
But until then, I'm just going to like it here. Because "here" is fleeting, like any good vacation, and I'll miss it when it's gone.

there are still nine more days to go before you can call me fat

"How they dance in the courtyard
Sweet, summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget"

Me likey:
Ice cream, my life story pre-him; he says all the right things. I talk too much.
I tell him to have fun reffing the soccer game, but not too much fun.
"Not too much, well, I can't promise that. What if there are some girls there for me to pick up?"
"Well, chop a girl if you can..."
"Really?"
"Yeah, none of them will be as smooth as me." *Hits head as getting out of car*

I DARE YOU.

Pirates SPOILER ALERT: too many giant squid fights. And too much running around in a hamster ball/spinny wheel. Otherwise, not too bad for a sequel. Although, my favourite part was still the unscripted "WHAT A WHORE!" yelled out when Captain Jack and Lizzy start making out.

I dreamt I was making out with a friend I haven't spoken to in months. And it was good.

WTF?

i got out of bed, and then i thought about you... for a split second, and then went and got some breakfast

It went fine.
It went better then fine, it went great.

And then, this morning, I remembered I don't want a boyfriend.
I remembered that I like crushing on my neighbour and on this dude at the same time.
That I like going to the movies with five boys and flirting with all of them.
That I like checking people out when I go to bars, smiling, looking away, doing the "sticky-eye-thing" as Georgia calls it. That I like seeing one boy on Thursday, another on Saturday, and a third on Sunday.

So who cares if my mom keeps predicting my doom if I don't get a boyfriend?
She's just my mom, when was the last time she was right about anything?
Plus, she's leaving tomorrow. Which gives me a good month to do whatever I want without her observing that I'm doing whatever she doesn't want me to do.

Do you see?
Do you see?

I don't want a boyfriend.

So this girl (random, stranger girl) asks us yesterday if we're dating. I go "No", he goes "Yes". Hence the problem. (She also asked us if we were going to have sex later on, and almost fell on her face as she walked away to dance with this dude who was dancing by himself, but the awkward moment was elicited irrespective of the questionability of the source, which leads me to believe there was implicit awkwardness in the question itself).

Do you see?
DO YOU SEE?

half-assing life

So, since I have a big mouth, I had to invite *Beautiful Boy* out to a party with ALL of my friends.
BAD IDEA:
1. I don't know him well enough at all to be inviting him to meet all of my friends.
2. Worse, I don't know where this is going (if anywhere), and now EVERYONE is going to be asking about him ALL the time.
3. It'll be a shitty party, 'cause I won't be able to go nutso with my friends for fear of totally freaking him out.
4. It'll be a shitty date, since I won't be able to devote my attention entirely to him.
5. I won't be able to get crunk.
6. I won't be able to make out.

But I had to. Because I said, out of the blue, no prompting, "I'm going to this party thing on Friday."
And you either say that as an excuse not to go somewhere when someone invites you out, or as a lead-in to invite them out, and since he hadn't invited me out, it had to be the latter.

Why am I such an idiot?

I have a crush.
THAT'S WHY.

*Drawers sliding open*
"Fucking assholes..."
*Drawers slamming shut*
"I can't believe these fucking assholes"
*More drawers sliding open*
"I can't believe it..."
*More drawers slamming shut*
"Fucking ASSHOLES!"

- My dad, getting ready for work the other morning, upon finding that my sister, my mother, and I had used up all of his razors for our purposes.

So my sister and I headed out and bought dad some razors. We wrapped them up in a "Happy Birthday" bag, and left them on the counter for dad, with a note:

"Hi Dad! This is for you! Love, The Fucking Assholes A.K.A. Mom, Dunja, & Sonja"

He thought it was hilarious.

quick trip to "FUCK, THAT WAS WEIRD"

He broke out the ex.

I called him to invite him out tomorrow, talk talk talk, everything's going fine, bla bla bla, something's "gay", and BAM: "My ex reamed me out for saying things were gay once."

*Crickets chirping*

"We dated for a year, she dumped me two years ago."

*More crickets*

My head: Wait a minute, isn't this like the fourth time we've ever talked IN THE HISTORY OF TIME? Why on EARTH would you bring up your ex? How do I move away from this topic? I can't.

"Why'd you break up?"

"Oh, it was going long-distance."

"I see."

*AWWWWWK-ward*

My head: The only logical place I can take this conversation is to my exes, and there's no way we're touching that with a ten-foot pole; if I bring up something utterly random, he'll think I'm a dolt. Plus, nothing utterly random is popping into my head at all. In fact, for the first time IN MY LIFE all I can think about is the conversation at hand and how badly I don't want to be having it. This is getting more and more awkward by the second. This is horrendous. BREAK THE SILENCE!

"Well, I'll definitely see you tomorrow. Have a good one."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow!"

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

get that corn away from me

I needed to hang out with my boys, so I did. Nacho Libre was hilarious.

somedays i don't even think of you at all

He stopped by this morning after running some errands in the neighbourhood.
He was polite to my mom and brought me some ICE thingy for my bruise.
How sweet is that?

Just too, too cute.

Happy Canada Day

You know what's fantastic?
Boys you'd forgotten about calling you with legitimate reasons as to their pro-longed absence. And other boys you'd forgotten about, calling you the day they get back into the city, 'cause they want to see you. And through all of this, having one boy in particular in the back of your mind that you can't wait to hear from.

And you know what else?
Being with great friends for days straight, laughing, giggling, drinking, eating, playing house, telling secrets, star-gazing, hiking, cave-exploring, falling on your ass, back massages, cuddling, freezing, sweating, showering, swimming, going down waterfalls, cuts, bruises, gashes, and bug-bites, getting lost, getting found, running in the rain, looking for the outhouse, dealing with yippy dogs, "I don't want to see you again!", "AAAUGGG", "Stop it!", "NO!", getting annoyed, getting to know each other, getting happy, getting pampered, roasting marshmellows, corn, and hot-dogs, eating steak off of a fork, and getting annoyed again.

And another fab thing: A Timmy's iced cap when you're really REALLY craving one.

Fantastic Canada Day weekend!