glasses won't help you see in the dark

I spend a lot of time alone. It is probably partly related to the fact that I live alone, or because I am usually at work, school, or doing homework. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking, philosophising, or having fleeting epiphanies and even more fleeting moments of understanding the meaning of life. My cell phone will ring or my cat will meow at me and my train of thought along the path to enlightenment will derail, but only momentarily.

What have I been thinking about lately? I guess lately I have been more aware of my physical and emotional state of being. Since ending a rollercoaster of a relationship in February and going on a thousand uneventful dates since then, I have decided to reorganize the filing cabinet of my emotions. I have started this process by being a little more selfish, not letting people walk all over me, speaking my mind, dropping leeches from my life. Ironically, I have actually gotten nicer as a whole. I am more aware of the way I speak to people, trying to be less cynical and more caring. I think maybe that is part of getting older. I also see the way my close friends treat each other, and I become saddened and afraid that possibly they are speaking poorly of me behind my back. I don't know why they would or what they would say, because I never cause drama among them, but I see how catty and unforgiving they are with each other, that it makes my heart sink a bit. I don't want to be like them. I want people to be around who I can trust all get along. I want people who I know when I share something with them that they won't tell 9 of my friends, who in turn tell 9 of their friends, and so on. So for now, I am working on being the role model to them, leading by example and all that shit. Hopefully it works.

With that said, I have met some really amazing people lately. People who are incredibly kind, generous, talented, funny, and genuine. Let's hope that train stays on its tracks and hopefully I keep meeting great new friends.

Unfortunately, the men I have been meeting are.. well... less than sub-par. Below par. Miles and miles south of par. This has got to end. I do, however, have lots of male friends in my life, who are all amazing, and treat me so well. But that is life. I have them in my life, but I sleep alone. And you know what? That is okay. I am fine with sleeping alone. Sleeping alone is thousands of times better than sharing a bed with someone who makes you cry or makes your heart hurt. This time that I am spending being single is a bit of a learning experience. I like to observe the behaviors of my friends who are in relationships, my friends who are single, and the one or two guys out there who I may or may not have a crush on. I like to observe the behaviors of single men who pursue me, staying just at arm's length from everyone. It's fun to watch. It's fun to sign in to facebook and see seven "pokes" from random guy friends of mine. It's fun to sign in to my Plenty of Fish account (LOL) once every couple weeks and read the drivel of poorly executed pickup lines and abortion of the English language. I can't bring myself to delete my Plenty of Fish account just for the sole comedic value that I recieve when reading messages. God, I have only met one person on there, and that was Jeff. Boy, do I miss him. I digress.

So I guess I have been spending time observing behavior. Performing a social experiment of sorts, with me being the only person tracking and analyzing the results. Sure there is someone out there who I have a crush on, but a crush is such an interesting thing. You have to have a crush long enough to decide if you would still like them after you got them. It's fun to want something so badly and never have it. Then you get it and you play with it for a few weeks and then you shove it back in the junk drawer. I don't want to do that anymore. I am so fucking stubborn and so set in my ways and so obsessed with having my free time, that whoever I date will have to be able to complement my life in a manner that is unobstructive. However, I am probably the best catch of a woman any man could ever have.

So my life and my emotions and my physical state of being are continuously being observed and analyzed by me. My brain working so hard to separate fact from fiction. I enjoy being single. For now.

But then again, I would totally marry Win Butler.

the birth and death of the day

"... like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."

Anyway, that saying is actually quite true. I have been obsessed (in the best form of the word possible) with death for quite some time. When I was much younger, I was really into gore, and I used to try to find as many videos online of people actually dying. I was kind of a sick fuck in high school, I admit. But that fascination got old, quickly. There were only so many car crash videos or pictures with people's heads smashed in that I could handle anymore. That fascination slowly morphed into wanting to know more about the philosophies of death, dying, religion, finality, loss, heartache, tragedy, and other equally jarring emotional responses.

As a preface, I should probably state that all of the losses around me that I have ever encountered have been tragic. Nobody in my family or my circle of friends who have died have ever been terminal. We all think to ourselves, "man, when I die I want to die quick and painless!" Which this may be a great idea, given the fact that we are human and we try to avoid pain at any cost, but it is actually a more terrifying mode of death to the loved ones who surround us. But then we all wonder who would be at our funeral? Who would be there to show their respects when I am gone? Have there ever been people in your life who become depressed, and one of the things they say is that they are scared nobody will be at their funeral? We wish so badly to be loved and accepted in life, and the final page in our book is the event of our death. If we feel like we spent a life with no love, what kind of a life is that at all? As I have studied this phenomenon of death, the idea of terminal illness is slowly revealing itself as the better option. There are so many things you can take care of with loved ones, your business, and the community, that would have no chance if you dropped from a stroke.

In the case of a girl my age named Eva Markvoort, she had battled cystic fibrosis her entire life, and finally succombed to the disease in March of 2010. She was in a documentary released in Canada about her search for a lung transplant. She recieved the transplant and became healthy again for a little while, until her body started to reject the lungs, and once again she was put on the waiting list. Her blog had thousands of followers, where she spoke about love and family and friends, and she never lost hope, or became depressed by her disease. She was able to see the love around her as she was spiraling towards death. I became very fascinated with reading her blog, partially because she was my age, and partially because I am so fascinated with terminal illness, and I cannot even fathom what it would be like to be aware of your fate. It is just as tragic to lose someone to terminal illness, but at least you can make sure that nothing was ever left unsaid while they are still alive.

Here is her last video, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viNEhFQe5o8&feature=related

It's never really occurred to me until recently, but I try to hang on to everyone who comes into my life, fearing losing them. This also probably explains why I become so afraid to get close to people, because I am aware that it's only me that I have to rely on at the end of the day. It's not that I am not aware or that I don't embrace impermanence, I do, and I also know that there is a richness in experiencing loss and tragedy that people need. You cannot feel the highest highs without feeling the lowest lows.

The people I have in my life who I love dearly are very few. My acquaintances are very many. I have a very good way about me to become friends with everyone who I meet, but getting close is almost a rarity. I would rather not get close than get close and lose them. I realize this is a silly idea to have, and that I am wasting time by not enjoying these people or opening up to them and sharing my joys and my sorrows, but sometimes I feel like maybe they just wouldn't even care. And maybe I would spend all this time trying to become close to people to only find out they didn't actually care. Then is that considered time wasted? I feel I am stopping before I get to that point. To become close to me is a fucking feat of strength and I wish you the best in your attempts. If I don't latch on, I can't feel anything, right? Wrong. The fact that it is so hard to get close to people is more depressing to me than the idea of being close and losing them. It's an uphill battle that I fight every day, and sometimes I do become depressed. Usually on a Sunday night, when it's just me laying in my bed, and nobody has called or texted for the entire day. Is that a selfish thought?

As this blog post comes to an end, it's time to think about our lives and how we are living them. Are we showing our loved ones that we love them? If you lost them tomorrow, would everything be said? Your life will never be the same after losing someone, but you learn to live differently. You live a new life. And would you ever take it back?

Rest in Peace: Uncle Mikey, Andy Ekstrom, Aunt Ina, Gary Fontes, Chris Becker, Arloa Singhsnaeh, Pat Handy, and all of my grandparents. I miss you all.