the past is a stain

It's not going well. Since my time with Leah last November, I couldn't bring myself to dating someone new. Not until that wound had healed all the way through.

Well, last night I took a leap and went out with Karen whom I met on eHarmony.

I'll repeat, it didn't go well.

The initial meeting was okay. She had a nice smile, I felt comfortable but nervous. It was serviceable for about an hour until..

Four people crashed the party.

I'm still kind of.. amused by it. Basically, there weren't any other tables available and these four people asked to sit next to us -- occupying the entire table, on our first date. They apologized for it initially and when it was jokingly said, "I hope it's not your first date.." I had to laugh and confirm it was. The table went into an uproar.

After that initial revelation, these four people talked among themselves as they knew one another and had that chemistry established, but all I could do was nervously sip at my beer with Karen next to me and hoped she would finish soon enough for us to leave.

Well, it didn't go that way. She ordered another drink and struck up a conversation with the girl across from her.

They went on for a good hour at least and I was left holding the bag, Interjecting a few words here and there but ultimately not really doing much of anything. I gave her a hopefull glance out across the street and I don't think Karen picked up on the hint. Eventually, she really struck a chord with that one particular girl and I was excluded altogether from the conversation.

So, there I was, trying to keep my nerve while listening to these girls gossip and unable to say a thing. Once Karen suggested we go for a cigarette, a spasm of relief washed over me as I explained how much I sucked at being in groups -- particularly when I don't know a single person there. She said she didn't have any problems connecting and I nodded my head knowing that it wasn't anyone's fault really.

Except mine.

I guess with the time I spent away from dating, it really caught up to me how ill-prepapred I was to handle conversation. Group conversation more specifically. It doesn't help that I had hearing issues to begin with, but I didn't know how to integrate myself regardless of whether I was hearing every word spoken or not.

The chatter was mindless. I couldn't get interested about any of it.

And as I apologized to Karen and gave her a kiss, thanking her for meeting up -- I walked away wondering if this is how it is everywhere. That conversation for conversation's sake is commonplace.

It was disheartening for me to accept that it probably is. And that I might not ever be good enough at participating in these kind of get-togethers.

As I got home, I just kind of.. felt drained. Drained of life. Like.. Almost as if I accepted the void within me and wrapped myself up snugly with it.

It didn't feel reassuring at all. It almost felt like an infliction of shame upon my person.

But what other option is there? Quiet acceptance is better than self indignation isn't it? The more I allow myself to get angry, the .. Well.. Maybe anger is the proper motivator here, but how? How do I get myself more in line with what I would like to be? How do I bring myself to feeling good about the way I am and how my life is going?

I.. can't.

I always used to hear that things could be worse. That there are people in x country who are suffering more than I am and I should be grateful for what I already have. And that is true, in a way of saying "Boy, am I glad I'm not in a North Korean Death Camp" but.. it doesn't change the fact that I have a real problem that needs solving.

It doesn't change the fact that I am unhappy. First world problem or not.

Could I adjust my expectations to accept my life and my being the way they are? To make do with what I have and to not want/need things like a good relationship? A rewarding career? Loyal friends? A loving family? Money?

I could adjust. But should I? Should I settle for this? Is it even an option, or could I be more? Could I achieve more?

More importantly, do I think I deserve more in life?

Yes. My mind would speak. Yes, I do.

What fucking hurts most, is already knowing this but not being convinced that I can create a better life beyond what I already have.

If anything had damaged me most from my upbringing, it would be that twisted sense of entitlement my mother had fostered within me. The second most hurtful thing, was not being given direction. Not being believed in enough to think that my goals were realistic and worth striving towards.

No. It was, "you need to get a job." after graduation. There was no interest in post-secondary education within my family. The relationship  I had with my father throughout my mid to early-twenties, was non-existant. My mother was as clueless as I was, with what to do with securing my place in the world. The only person who spoke out, was my stepdad who got me into insulating. And even then, it was more like "post-secondary? pfft! you shouldn't bother. Get into the trades."

But, I can't keep blaming the past. No matter how it affected my life. No matter how much it still is affecting my life.

No matter how much I am haunted by it.

No matter how much I still think of this woman:

Even before Leah...

Before Lauren...

And before Michelle...

I had to have fallen in love with Tina.

And that's a whole other blog post.

I'm tired.. I'm done. 

At least for now.

First world problems.

the madness continues

So this happens to be the book I am reading now:

Yep, I have terrible taste in novels, that's not the interesting part. What's interesting is in the first few pages that I've read today, the name John Carter popped out at me. Interesting, I thought, because the protagonist in the novel I am writing happens to be Jack Carpenter or J.C. for both. So they have the same initials, no big deal. Novel is set on Mars too, right?

When I came home from work today, I loaded up NeoGaf's off-topic discussion forum and whats the first post on the page?

This

John Carter (of Mars) is a movie that was released in March of this year.

Synchronicity, got to love it. But really, what does this mean? Having dreamed about Alan Rickman and then coming across John Carter (of Mars) while reading a book written in 1979 that mentions a John Carter on Mars.. Well, that's coincidental.

It's things like this that makes me wonder what is responsible for such coincidences to occur. It's tempting to suggest that I am creating my own reality moment-by-moment and that time is not linear, or that something is guiding me towards a particular outcome or understanding -- but who the hell knows? I like to believe that I influence things on a non-physical/non-local level, where I attract related ideas and events to achieve some kind of outcome, and perhaps that is what is happening here.

Or maybe, I'm just reading too much into it. There is no question our minds can influence objects / ideas / persons / events on a subliminal level. But the real question is, to what extent and purpose does such influence hold? If one were to believe that things happen for a reason and that nothing is random, then perhaps a deeper understanding of the forces at work is needed before rhyme and reason can be given to such occurrences.

And because it's difficult, if not impossible to prove anything factual in divine intervention or the law of attraction; it may come down to personal judgement. That if YOU feel it to be true, then it is. Science can confirm the observer effect, that simply looking at a particle can influence whether or not it appears as a particle or a wave and when not observing such data, it could end up being something else altogether.

In short -- everything is a mystery, but one thing that seems blatantly apparent to me, is our capacity to create and attract things by sheer mind-power alone. And I'm really leaning towards the idea of non-linear time also. It just seems to make the most sense, despite little evidence to support such theories.

If only something more dramatic than Alan Rickman and John Carter would present itself, we'll see what happens in the next few days as I pay extra special attention to my surroundings.

Maybe things are more coincidental then we might think.

Alan.. Rickman?

It's been a while since I last posted, but I am feeling flabbergasted at the moment and ran over to post this. Two days ago, I had a strange dream. In it, I was searching for God and somehow thought that calling random phone numbers and asking for God would inevitably lead somewhere. It did, to a strange pre-recorded voice going by the name of Alan Rickman. It didn't specifically state it was "God" and it sounded very haltingly. Like a robot struggling to vocalize language that it wasn't fluent speaking in. In my mind at the time, I thought this was God. Upon waking, the name Alan Rickman went through my head and I didn't have a clue as to who it is. But it sounded very familiar and since it didn't seem worth pursuing via a Google search, I put it out of my thoughts.

Until today, when I randomly decided to watch an episode of Family Guy on Netflix. Episode 16 of season 7. What happens? In the first few minutes, a skit came up with an answering machine under the name of Alan Rickman. The creepy part? That same robotic voice was the one I heard in my dream. I'm not sure what to make of it, but this is meaningful in of itself. And it makes me wonder. I've been in a spiritual funk lately and feel myself becoming more and more distrustful of the idea that God exists. It's a terrible way to be given that I've believed in a higher power for so long, but I had to face the fact that I've never found compelling enough evidence to warrant believing in such a thing. But here it is, a genuine sign.

Alan Rickman.. is this guy?

Professor Servus Snape from Harry Potter? WTF?

I don't think I've ever watch a HP film in it's entirity, much less know who Professor Servus Snape would be and who plays him. So I dug a little deeper and scanned his filmography to see if maybe a certain film had left a deep enough impression for my subconcious to somehow dredge up.

Perfume: Story of a Murderer. I didn't like this film and I'm not sure if I even remember who Rickman played.

Rasputin (tv series) - This one is interesting, as I've long been fascinated by the mythos behind Grigori Rasputin (and his apparently 13" dong) -- yet, I don't remember having seen this.

And lastly, Die hard. In which I do remember him playing the villian, but I haven't seen Die Hard in forever.

So, to put things into perspective here, I've had a dream about finding God, only to end up hearing a robotic voice claiming to be Alan Rickman whom I believed was God and then two days later, randomly coming across a family guy episode that I have NEVER SEEN where the robotic voice + Alan Rickman mirrors my dream to a T.

Is that messed up or what? Either God works in mysterious ways, or my brain is seriously haywire and is pulling in bogus psychic information from someplace. Another inference would be that time might not be linear and I instead had a dream about watching this particular Family Guy scene two days before it happened. Who the hell knows.

Life goes on.

unreality

I'm stuck, spiritually and it's a horrible feeling to have.

Because, I can't accept anything based on faith these days, not after several personal experiences of mine point towards either a lack of a higher power, or an inability of mine to truly understand how to utilize/address it.

I used to say a prayer at night before going to bed. It didn't really feel like anything more than a habit I've picked up as a child and it was a way for me to hedge my bets on the side of divinity by directing my thoughts towards acknowledging it.

In time, I grew more.. demanding. I wanted real spiritual insight. Real revelations. Proof of this higher power that supposedly most of the population of Earth believes to exist. But the answers never seemed to come. Or maybe they have, but I wasn't able to discern whether or not it was true, or wishful thinking on my part.

That's the tragedy right there in any kind of belief system. Even among atheists. Because, as I've eventually figured out, the answers to life's questions are really a matter of personal judgement. There will never be any kind of concrete evidence that point towards one conclusion or another. Does God exist? Am I God? Or are we all but the product of random mutations in an otherwise chaotic and random universe?

Is there a purpose to all this? And where do we go when we die? Should a supreme being exist, what are it's demands? What is it's function? Are we alone in the universe? Or are there other civilizations that have reached a greater understanding behind the nature of creation?

Questions like these permeate my life in many subtle ways. From my career, to my dreams, to explaining what I have experienced in the past and to predict what I may experience in the future. All of my concerns have to do with determining the extent of my power and purpose.

Whenever I think about the shitty things that I have gone through, the heartaches in my relationships, the difficulty in letting go of guilt, of pain and fear, I have taken notice of several peripheral improvements that I have made in the lives of others as a result of my actions and thoughts.

For example. A few years ago, two good friends of mine initiated a threesome with me out of the blue and I reacted with a combination of disbelief, intense flattery, profound feelings of affection towards the girl involved and measures of anger, sadness and points in between.

In short, I gained very little in having to go through that situation -- or perhaps, I have gained a lot. I am not quite sure.

But one thing that I know, is that my actions likely changed the relationship between my friends Tina and Jeff. Not the relationship that I had with them, but the one they have with each other. Today, they are closer for having gone through what we did. What I did. Even if I didn't mean for it to turn out that particular way.

I look at my immediate family and friends and see examples of how my actions influenced and improved their lives. It's strange to admit, but I almost feel like I've given my life up for the sake of others. So that they do not make the same mistakes as I have. So that they "think" a different way as a response to having seen the way I reacted to certain situations. In short, I was the guy who willingly threw his heart out into everyone's lap if only to prove that unrestrained emotion is not something one should strive towards achieving. That sometimes emotion do not need to be acted upon, or spoken of, but rather kept close -- that making oneself extremely vulnerable is asking for heaps of trouble.

I dislike what I have become. But others are better for it. And thus, the spiritual crisis emerges.

Because, I try and figure out why it seems that I do not deserve the things I have wanted most in life. My belief system has usually been one of feeling connected to the world. To others, God and myself. That my thoughts would attract the things or experiences that I needed in order to achieve what I desired. I felt as if everything was a web, and that karma would eventually come to reward me for being honest about my feelings. To reward for me being true to my heart by not holding anything back.

Unfortunately, this does not seem to be the case. Perhaps I am short-sighted and cannot see into the future far enough to know whether or not my struggle will be given a peaceful and amicable resolution. So, at the moment, all I can do is to try and not let the sadness I carry within, consume my heart down to nothingness.

I must persevere. I must try.

Giving up is a sign that I relinquish control of my life to the whims of society and other people. To circumstance. And it's a terrible way to be. To not be able to care. To feel empowered enough to make changes and achieve success.

When I first started this rant, I had the thought in mind that I would slowly write in "facts" as I discover them. Facts that pertain to life so that I may have something concrete to believe in. Something like, knowing that my reaction to situations is of my own choosing. That optimism will take me farther ahead than pessimism ever will. Facts like knowing that I likely will never be able to prove the existence of a higher power and that I should find contentment with living in the now. To not put so much pressure on myself. But at the same time, I understand that pressure fuels motivation which can lead towards results.

So, I don't know what to think anymore these days.

Do I go with the flow and place my trust in something that I cannot confirm the existence of?

Should I strive to take responsibility for every single thing that's happened in my life and to transcend my shortcomings as best as I can without allowing for possible supersitutious nonsense that may or may not be true?

Just how important is belief in a higher power, anyways?

I don't know.

But I hope I find out someday.

too fast too furious

It's Wednesday, 12:30pm and as of now, I am 48 hrs into the fast.

I do confess however, that I broke convention and decided to have a cup of coffee this morning. No milk, cream or sugar. Just straight up as black as it gets.

But what happened after I took a few sips? My body started freaking out due to it getting a jolt of caffeine on an empty stomach. I felt my pulse rate go up within seconds and began twitching my leg to shake off the nervous energy that was being generated.

It sucked. That right there was coffee in it's purest form, I'm surprised to not have noticed the immediacy of it's effects before.

Energy-wise, I'm feeling okay so far. You would think I'd end up being a lethargic mess with a stomach rumbling like a dump truck along a gravel road, but no. It's surprising how much hunger really is more of a psychological sensation rather than a physical one. Granted, one a person nears the starvation phase and starts snacking on their innards, the body will certainly signal it's distress.

But as of now, I have zero appetite and I feel fine.

That doesn't keep me from dreaming about eating again. Of Ritz crackers, fried all-you-can-eat fish, pizza, hamburgers, coffee, popcorn, salty sunflower seeds, prime rib... (clutches stomach) ughhhh! Can't wait...

I think this experiment is providing me with a much needed perspective on food. To not take it for granted. And it's also emboldening me somewhat, knowing that my willpower to refuse food is somewhat a commendable attribute to have. Then again, it's partly because of my mother telling her co-workers that I'm fasting that is motivating me a bit more than usual. Last thing I'd like to do is quit on the 2nd or 3rd day and be made into a wishy-washy pansy.

Heck no, three days minimum and I'm shooting for Friday. That's five days in total making it just two more to go. Then I'll be popping off the lids on a few cans of soup and slowly working my way back to normal again.

It's still tough though, but it's possible. Fasting can be done. Although I haven't experienced any of the detox effects that I was originally hoping for, maybe it's just impatience and I need to hang on for a few more days. The benefits I'm experiencing at the moment is a definite increase in my lung capacity and a diminished need for sleep with more vivid dreams. That's about it, and I can't say I'm particularly thrilled about it.

Yet I am soldering on, two more days and a bowl of clam chowder will be waiting for me at the finish line. I'm super excited for it.

I never thought I'd ever say that about a bowl of soup.

But there it is.

the fast and the spurious

Excuse the grotestque image above..

So after a few days of deliberation, with the initial inspiration of this article as the impetus to foster my desire -- I have decided to attempt fasting.

Why? Why would a fairly trim fellow like myself resort to intentionally avoiding food for several days? It's because of the health benefits. It's because I am sick of feeling tired, burnt out and listless. I'm sick of the way my stomach rumbles noisily as it often does without any indication of why. I'm sick of feeling gassy, as if my digestive system is converting everything inside into giant globs of methane that I have to shoot out of my bum.

It's time for a reboot, and I think fasting might just do the trick.

So this would be day number one, and I suppose it would be a good idea to chronicle the emotions and physical sensations I've been experiencing so that I can track my progress and reflect upon it at a later date. God knows it's not for the benefit of any readers out there (there aren't any) and it will double as a diary to help explain how they've found my body face down on the floor clutching an open box of Ritz crackers (that I will have stubbornly refused to open).

I'm 34 years old and my system has been ingesting crap for the past.. 15 years if not more. Cursed with a sweet tooth and a love of greasy foods; this is my attempt to purge all of the garbage out and to get myself back to square one.

Today is the first day, woke up at around 5am and thought I was going to start the fast. But at around 9am, I was like.. "ughh.. maybe I'll just have these before it gets bad.." and I'd polish off the bag of sugar snap peas I had at the bottom of my fridge. Okay, now what?

Well.. At around 11ish that same morning, I'm thinking.. "hmm.. eggs wouldn't be such a bad idea would it? It should be considered 'safe' for my body." Being that I've taken to avoiding processed/sugary foods, I figured my reasoning allowed for the consumption of.. heh.. four eggs, three slices of bacon and a 1/4 of a chopped onion. Some fast this is turning out to be.

Then of course, a coffee afterwards.. God.. I loved drinking it despite the "rules" of fasting to be the avoidance of caffeine, tobacco and alcohol.

(sighs) It's not an easy thing to do. It's 3:30pm at the moment and the final tally so far has been:

1 cup of coffee
about 1 cup of sugar snap peas
a box of chocolate covered raisins.. (I know.. I know..)
4 eggs / 1/4 onion + 3 slices of bacon

So far, the fast is going great! I can feel changes in my body already. /sarcasm

I guess I kind of want to ease into it.. Now that my mind is set on fasting, I have developed a greater awareness of my appetite and consumption. It's not going to be an easy stretch to go for maybe.. 5 days without food and only juice -- but I'll try my best.

Giving up cigarettes... coffee... sweet stuff... brutal. I don't know if I have the constitution to survive all this and push myself down the road to better health, but I know that I damn well should try. It's the attempt that matters more than the result. The desire defines my intention, and the result is nothing more than a welcome surprise. Whatever it will end up being.

Perhaps I'll discover my third eye will open up and can realize my dormant ability to levitate three inches off the ground while squatting naked in a lotus position.

One can only hope.

perseverance

What a life. What a year. It's finally come about, 2012, the dawn of a forthcoming new age to occur on or about December 22nd of this year. My, how time flies.

The Mayans never did predict that it would be the end of the world, but rather the end of the age. The coming of a new consciousness. Their prophecy had nothing to do with doom and gloom, and interpretations abound among scholars and armchair cynics alike. But one thing they have in common, is that something is supposed to happen on or near December 22nd, 2012.

I sure as hell hope so. Because, I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of the way the world is. My heart is heavy and my feet drag as I get up out of bed each morning to face a new day. A same day, is what I'd rather call it.

The nice thing about having this blog for myself is that I can be honest. I can air out my dirty laundry and not feel the sting of inquisition or the feeling of being judged by others.

These are my thoughts, and mine alone.

So, with that said, I need to do my annual confession and round up of what occurred this year.

Thinking about the events have made me hang my head in shame. For myself, for humanity, for the world.

I mean, there's nothing out there that inspires hope anymore. I can't think of a reason for me to feel any better about my personal situation, or the general situation with society and the world as it is today.

It feels as if I have finally lost my faith. In myself, in society, in politics, people, God..

Growing up, I've always been resilient. No, I wasn't the type to withhold emotions and to keep my feelings in check, but I have weathered some violent emotional storms and have always managed to regroup and put myself back on the front lines. Faith was my weapon. I have always prided myself on being able to believe in the goodness of myself and those around me long enough to feel inspired towards reclaiming an optimistic perspective.

Well, after the year I've had, I'm not sure how I can manage to feel good about things anymore.

Leah is the first thing that came to mind as a reason for this attitude. Amy was another. Relationships with women seem to be the diving board into a pool of metaphorical shit to me. Whenever I think I've found a great person to be with and things are looking well with us -- the rug gets pulled out from under my feet and I'm right back to where I started. Alone. Single. And wanting.

Wanting. Needing? These are two different words, but deconstructing their meaning is illuminating. Want stems from desire, while need comes from necessity. Now.. Who is one to say what is needed and what is desired? Certainly you could argue that food is a necessity and love is a desire. But.. without the totality of universal knowledge and confirmation of our spirituality; we can only surmise what a human being requires and what it desires.

The sad reality, is that love is not a necessity. There are apparently people out there that have no interest in being in love. People that live in caves. People that are interested only in fulfilling their carnal desires. People that care more about money..

So.. love is not a need.

I feel a little choked admitting this truth to myself. Writing these thoughts down is like acknowledging the knife stuck in my heart. It's.. a personal torture for me to confess that it feels like I've given up on finding love.

I know it's not what I should do. I know I shouldn't be thinking this way. But I do. I am.

How much of what happened this year with Amy and Leah is my fault? This is the question that kills me most. What did I do wrong? And... my heart is telling me that I really didn't do anything wrong. But.. I still feel responsible. I KNOW I am responsible for things being the way they are. And how they've played out.

No matter the situation, every person has the choice to react the way THEY want to. That is the most basic right of every human being on this planet. We CHOOSE how we FEEL. Reading Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" only solidifies this thought. That no matter the situation, the torture either physically, mentally or spiritually.. We ALWAYS have this choice to decide how to feel about it.

Reading between the lines, I realize that this choice turns reality on it's head. In order to believe in the idea of hope, an illusion must be crafted. Which in turn can mean that a lie is needed in order to facilitate the desired attitude.

A lie.

Deception.

This is what bothers me most. To accept that we live in a world built on illusions. A world that runs off of lies. A world that is really very much subjective to the perception of each individual. That "life is what we make it". That the construct of the ego imposes a fictitious outlook on an given situation when filtered through our value systems.

Without such illusions, society would collapse. Mankind would fall. There would be little purpose in living other than to survive if one cannot construct a compelling enough illusion to motivate themselves effectively.

Reality is what we make it. This is a truth.

So, why can't I accept and construct the necessary illusions for me to find meaning and purpose in living?

I don't know. A lost of faith, I guess.

This knowledge in particular, maybe.

Living this much time alone and apart from others tends to heighten one's powers of observation. From this, I've grown uncomfortable with the idea of pretending. Of lying to myself.

An example would be to believe that I will find "the one" someday.

After all I've gone through in 2011, I don't know how it's going to be possible for me to hope again.

Let's start with the re-cap:

January to March I was with Kim. A relationship purely based on sex, to which was her idea to begin with. From this, I learned that great sex does not necessarily mean great emotion or love for the other person involved. I had also learned, that loving myself is the greatest aphrodisiac of all. Not in a narcissistic way, but in a "I'm comfortable, content and hopeful" way.

Later in April, I met Ashley. She was the shyest most quietest person I've dated. I remember reading her OkCupid profile and seeing things like: "waitress at a coffee shop" (Tim Hortons) and "writer" (less than a page of badly constructed nothingness). When we met at the movie theatre to watch Insidious, I felt my ego take charge. I did all the talking, the joking around, the teasing and it was nice hearing her laugh. But.. she hardly contributed anything to the relationship. I was hoping the sex might be good, but I ended up apologizing because of how reluctant she appeared going along with it, despite her assurances that she wanted to. I then later broke up, saying that I have a hard time with our conversations and that I couldn't see us going long-term. She got angry when I said that she's a really nice person.. I guess that's something other guys have also told her when they broke up. I felt like such an asshole after all this.. I shouldn't have slept with her. I shouldn't have gone past the second date knowing that she wasn't going to open up easily and that she was too young and inexperienced to have an identity of her own. 

I went out on a date with an older woman named Deanna that month. Nothing came of it and I wasn't interested in pursuing her and neither was she.

In April, I dated Slavie. She was a huge fan of science-fiction and loved Stargate SG-1. We met up at West Edmonton Mall and ugh.. nothing there. In fact, it was so uncomfortable hearing her wax ecstatic about some actor that she had met from the show. And then hearing her discuss her idea of starting up a Stargate convention in Edmonton. Stories of her past conventions and.. ugh.. I don't mind it when someone is passionate about something, but when she says I, Robot is the best Science-fiction film she's seen, and called Gattaca "okay" then there's problems. Apparently even the Matrix isn't as good as I, Robot. This to me is a deal-breaker. I don't mean to be pretentious about it but her tastes are much too superficial for me to feel comfortable accepting.

Dated Robin, she seemed very standoffish and .. different. After our first date, she agreed to a second and then changed her mind prompting me to badger her about not being emotionally forthcoming. I'm such an idiot.

Beverly was next, after I was all like "I'm tired of dating". She and I met at the zoo, and I was pretty sure she might be a transvestite given how deep her voice was. But I didn't notice an adam's apple. The best thing about our awkward date was the kiss we exchanged at the end. I don't know why I jokingly pursed my lips to meet hers, but it was nice to give her one. After that, we never saw each other again.

Vanessa was a girl who worked out of town for weeks on end. That one didn't go past the first date.

Nadine was a big one. At first she was resistent to talking with me on eHarmony, then she opened up and we had some great conversations. Then she scheduled a meet up with me that I accidentally slept through, and apparently her disappointment was such that she refused to meet me after that.

Courtney was another from eHarmony that I got along well through text. I was pushing for something physical with us and she seemed interested enough to come meet me at my house. She did, and I guess there was no chemistry there.

July had me going for a short while with Michelle. The playwright with big hair who wanted an open relationship. That only lasted for a bit until I realized it was a shitty way of being. Receiving a text from her saying, "I'm getting fucked in the ass tonight. Can't wait!" after asking her how her Calgary trip went, well.. that was all it took for me to stop texting her.

Shannan, the single mom I had dated in September was pushy about my not "talking enough" in our first meet up in Fort Sask. That didn't work out and it wasn't entirely my fault either. Her going through personal issues with her soon-to-be-ex husband didn't help matters.

Chantelle.. a mistake. Good text chemistry, not much else.

Amy.. whatever.. that story has been written on here already.

Amanda.. one date. One kiss.

Leah.. I can't even discuss her. My gut churns thinking about that relationship.

I can't even.. write this blog. What's the point?

I wish I could care enough to go into more detail. But I don't. Not now anyways.

I think the best thing that happened to me this year was NaNoWriMo. I managed to write a ton and it was a fun experience, but I don't care enough to try and finish the book I'm working on.

I got a new kitten, and I can't feel excited enough to talk about him.

I've lost my faith.

I need to find a reason for being.

I need to take time to think.

Maybe I should just let go. To just be.. but, I'm so tired of trying. Of trying not to try. It's just a circle looping onto itself.

The harder I try, the worst the fall.

Leah.. I miss you. And I don't.

Amy.. I miss you. And I don't.

You two killed what little faith I've had in relationships.

It just reminds me that maybe the purpose of my life is to make hypocrites of people.

I don't know.

I don't care.

Happy 2012.