Nurse Sean (dot) com

I find it so incredibly difficult to write journal entries on days that I work. I certainly plan to, I always know what I’d like to write about. However, by the time I’ve woken up at 4:00am, worked a long, busy, exhausting shift, come home, cleaned, made dinner, watched the Olympics…I’m irresistibly ready for bed!

That’s alright though, I’ll simply catch you up on my week. All I did was work. That’s right, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and today. Not so exciting is it? Well, if I have to suffer with this boredom, than so shall you!

Dan and Alex stayed at my place a couple of nights. One night I never actually saw either of them. My schedule is simply way to far off that of normal people.

Alex is pissed off that the teacher’s strike is over and has to go back to work on Monday. The Alberta government ordered them back to work.

It was teacher’s convention at my hotel that day. Let me tell ya! Not a very happy bunch of people.

I’m sure they’ll just go on strike again next year.

I did go out to the bar last night. Again, I was the belle of the ball. I wrote a post about a month ago wondering whatever happened to me and my old personality. The one where I would go out and be the center of attention at the bar. The queen of the party. I knew everyone. Well, the last couple of weekends, I’ve definately captured that personality. Throwing it on like a mask.

I fogot how hard it is to be the life of the party though. I mean, its a blast and everybody loves you and wants to hang out with you, but it not real. When I was younger and even more so now, this “belle of the ball” personality is absolutely fake. When I was younger, I used it to hide my insecurities. Recently, its to prove simply that I can still be that person. Its still not me, but its a great time!

Since readopting this personality, I’ve had to answer a question over and over again that I completely forgot about. Is goes something like this.

“You’re so cute, and funny, and smart, and exciting…and SUCH a sweetheart!!!! Why the heck are you still single?”

I instantly remembered my old answer for this question, and just HAD to try it out again.

“Well, I’m single because everybody always tells me how good I am, and ask me why I’m single….instead of telling me how good I am, and asking me out on a date”

It always gets a blank stare and then an ackward chuckle before I break into laugh and scurry of to the next vitims of my ultra fun alter ego.

So, that’s my week. I’ve got more meaningful thoughts that need to be said about my life. However, I must go party. I’ll write more tomorrow on my first day off in a while.

Its amazing how one man can ruin your entire night. Especially amazing that he can do it unwillingly and while not even being there!

I’m talking of course of Glen whom I met on Saturday night, and quite unexpectedly fell for. I couldn’t stop thinking of him morning, noon, and night. He was there when I smoked on my balcony staring out at the city, he was there when I slept, when I ate, when I napped, and watched television. He was sitting beside me when I drove my car.

I desperately wanted to have an incredibly fun night Saturday night. We went to the Eagle. He wasn’t there, I didn’t expect him to be, but you never know. We went to Boyztown. He wasn’t there. I didn’t expect him to be, but you never know.

I drank myself silly, but unfortunately into depression. I tried to shake this stupidity from my mind, but it was there for good. I tried to get turned on by strangers, or flirt with ones I know. I tried to dance, to talk, to live life to it most fun. I just sat there wishing he was there.

I’m colouring in a sketch painting with my own imagination. I’m using wild colours and frantic, powerful strokes. The painting is beautiful, but I forgot that its supposed to represent reality. I’m making paths in a forest that I’ve never entered. I’ve met this man vaguely, and I’m assuming what his soul is all about. I’ve invented his personality and assumed its perfect. I’ve created a future with a man that I know less about than a stranger in a crowd.

Worst of all. I’m doing this with a man that I have no chance with. One that I assume has no attraction to me. I’m torturing myself, because I can’t get an abstract painting of reality out of my sensitive mind.

I can’t help it though. I pride myself on my independence, and the fact that I’ve become someone I like. I’ve developed to the point that having a lover is not a huge priority in life. I remember when it was absolutely everything. Like the time I sat on Feithy Weithy’s couch and thought my life was over because the man I loved with all my devotion wanted nothing to do with me. I remember being comforted by her just by being near her and knowing she’d care. Now, I just expect to be rejected. I can’t wait to be not rejected, but I don’t expect it. I’m honestly ok with that.

There’s that little twang of pain like heartburn that begins with the thought of being loved. It begins in your mind and painfully stretches througout your body. It hurts like every pain you’ve ever felt crunched into a five second bundle. Its every pain, because you feel as though a lover would give you a hug every now and then and absolve you of any hardship you’ve ever had to go through. Its the pain of a void that can’t be filled at this moment. Its the horror that it may never be filled.

When I feel this twinge of pain, I grasp onto the nearest possible relief. My imagination, an OH BOY do I ever have a healthy one. I create lovers out of attractive men I’ve seen. I invent lifetimes out of three second meetings. I fill the painful void with this cheap drug of irrationality. An addiction to fantasy, because reality is abolutely lonely.

I allow one single man to ruin an evening, because I create the “myth of us”, and begin to fantasize so strongly that I forget its just a fantasy. When reality hits, its enough to spiral me into depression. The more I’m depressed, the more I feel the pains of desperation. The more my soul reaches out to the universe and returns with nothing but loneliness. The void gets bigger and the fantasies more dangerous.

*warning, pathetic Calgary Olympic sentimentality coming up*

So, I just finished watching Cool Runnings. Its about the Jamaican Bobsled team that competed here in Calgary in 1988.

Now, there never has been and never will be another that leaves me bent double, sobbing with loud sobs like Cool Runnings. I know its supposed to be a silly comedy about Jamaicans that seem completely out of place in Calgary. However, the most vivid memory, and for probably every single Calgarian at the time was the Jamaican bobsled team.

I remember that to be cool in school, you simply had to have a Jamaican bobsled team t-shirt. We all had one! I remember the strange, welcoming love we had for this team of outsiders. I even got to stand at the bobsled track and see them zip by a couple of times.

They were simply the coolest, most loved people in town during the Olympics. Everybody watched with intensity as they went down for their final run. Poised, perhaps for a medal. We all saw as their sled flipped over and they crashed with such intensity that I’m sure we must have screamed.

So, as the four bobsledders walk accross the finish line with Calgary in the background, my body just gives into the tears and the sobs. Then when I see the Dad of one of the bobsledders in the audience, I wail so loud a baby would be jealous.

I’m sure that if I wasn’t so pathetically sentimental about the olympics, I would just think it was a funny, silly movie with a sweet, charming ending. I’ll never know.

Otherwise, it was fun reading my post from last night in absolute fear of what it was going to say. I was in quite a drunken induced state of giddyness. Incredibly enough, besides a few grammer/spelling mistakes from my numb, unsure fingers, I pretty much said exactly what I was trying to.

I was certainly the belle of the ball last night. People online were even telling me that if they whenever they go out, it’ll have to be with me because I’m so much fun.

The afterglow of falling for someone has faded. (and no, I’m not ashamed that it happens so fast for me, I just know what works for me, and I don’t waste my time when I find it!) In fact, today my giddyness is almost completely gone. Washed away by reality. I mean, what I was trying to say last night was that there was nothing more I could do. Friday night I met a guy I was attracted to and choked. I crumpled. However, last night, I put in the performance of a life time. Even though I’m certainly not his type and it would never happen, I’m simply happy at myself for simply being myself in such a situation.

Glen privated me in the chatroom today. I was in the other room watching Cool Runnings. I missed it, and I’m completely upset that I didn’t get a chance to flirt with him. Perhaps its my signal to just let it be. If he wants me, he’ll find me, I’m sure. If I work up any sort of courage to come clean with my feelings, I can find him. I’m sure.

*sigh*

Its time to move onto other men. Perhaps I’ll get all goofy over a man tonight, and I came make it a perfect hat trick for the weekend. Or perhaps, third times a charm.

I mean really! Like I’d ever get my hopes up. I lost that skill two years ago.

Now I just expect the worst! Is that why I’m single? Instead of jumping into life like a fool, not calculating endings, I rationalize everything towards an impossible, or undesirable end.

Oh well…C’est la vie!

I mean, thats what works for me right now. Cautious distance from any emotional ties. Like a shy cat the gets close to your hand but will always scurry away.

I just hope that I have a great time tonight! It’ll be a shame for this night to go to waste!

The God and Goddess think they have the greatest sense of humour ever! Well, thank goodness I do too! You ask for something, and they sure aren’t afraid to give it. However, you can hear them laughing all the way along with you!

I started the night with the most minor, but powerful rituals. I felt compelled to grab my magickal wand and raise for energy. I asked for a good time, a lot of laughs, love, and for heavens sake…to get laid. I swear! I need it!

Will it was successful. I felt the energy raised and the power within me to make my magick successful. Its very strange. Almost like a coffee high. That moment where you just need to break out, make noise, and move. A need to danse. You feel as though every power in the world is yours. There’s a heightened sense of reality.

Well, the moment I finished the phone rang. It was a guy we call “fuckin’ Paul” because every second word out of his mouth is “fuck!”. He’s a trucker, its expected. He mentioned how horny he is and offered to bring some booze over and give me a good lay.

Well! I had to laugh at the immediacy of my request to get laid fulfilled. Except I have no desire and never will of getting laid by “fuckin’ Paul.” I laughed. I could hear the world around me laughing along with me and pointing fingers.

So, I left for the Eagle. I was meeting Ross and Erick and their friend Glen, whom I know only from the internet. I never did find him attractive from his online picture. As I walked towards him I felt a little bump in my heart as I realized just how attractive this Glen was!

Of course, I fell for him. I felt like an Olympic athlete. Last nights perfomance was a failure because of the pressure of the Olympics. I couldn’t handle the enormity of the event. This night though, I felt like a Canadian who put in the performance of a life time and still ended up with a silver medal. I schmoozed, I bought him drinks, he bought me drinks. I was charming, and funny, and smart. I played it cool, but not too cool. I acted like I wanted to be with him, but I didn’t cling. It was gold medal worthy. Unfortunately, the judges were against me and decided that I just wasn’t my type.

I had fun. That was one request fulfilled. I had a chance to get laid. Another fulfilled. I certainly had lots of laughs, and fell in love! All request handed to me on a platter.

As Glen left, and my heart yearned for everything that he is (included his very well paying job!) I laughed out loud and said “fuck you!” and gave the finger to those looking out for me. They certainly laughed back, yelling “that’ll teach you to ask for stuff you aren’t ready for!”

I still have a smile on my face. I truly had an absolutely wonderful time. I wish every night could be as fun as tonight. I love my gods/goddesses. They really do know how to throw a party in my favour.

In fact, I compare my night to this vision. I felt as though I was covered in golden sparkles with the body of the finest statue. I stood in the middle of the bar with everybody clapping at my beauty and worth. They loved me, they really, really loved me. What could I do but enjoy myself.

I know that’s not what was happening, but my pleasure was that great. I don’t know what it was, but I’m here at home wishing the night wasn’t over. I’m ready to go back to the bar and party.

I needed to go home and bask in the glory of the perfomance of a lifetime. Thinking that if I won gold, it wouldn’t be the first time a judges decision was overturned.

The story of Glen is certainly not over. Not with my ability for persistance.

I just hope I don’t go to far and look like a stalker…..

that just doesn’t turn people on:)

I’m feeling much better right now. I’ve shoved my face full with a sub and have a starbucks coffee fixing the headache that was caused by my coffee addiction. I’ve sat on my ass all day doing nothing but watch olympics.

I’ve got Cabaret on my stereo and a cigarette going. This is definately a good day. Its the first day of my long weekend. The first in probably a good year or so. Maybe since I went to Vancouver a year ago. I’m sure by the third day I’ll start getting stir crazy and start wishing I had something to do.

Last night was an interesting night for me. I met Ross at the Eagle. My favorite new leather bar here in Calgary. He was there with our friend Jeff (whom I’m severely jealous of because he has a devoted, loving boyfriend who buys him expensive cars and condos). We sat around and chatted and watched the leather world go by.

Hot coffee shop guy was there. At least I know now that his name is Don. I fine him quite attractive and he’s just one of those guys that gets more interesting the more you know him. He’s a strange one though. He claims to be bisexual, and perhaps he is, but usually it seems that in most cases, those who claim to be bisexual are just afraid to admit they are gay. I feel that he falls into this usual category. I don’t think he’s really bisexual. Like I say though, perhaps he is. He was drunk last night, and I really don’t like it when he’s drunk. He turns from a sweet, interesting guy that I could see myself dating, into a slobbering fool. I can’t see me dating a slobbering fool.

Of course, since its unfashionable to stay at one bar for more than a couple hours, we headed to boyztown. It was fairly slow there, and there weren’t many people that I knew, but I had Ross and Jeff to keep me company.

They did something that I beg people never to do. I saw a cute guy, and made the mistake of pointing him out. Of course, they felt the need to bring him over and meet me.

GOD! I’m an idiot! The first thing I did was say “hello”, blush, then run away claiming that I had to buy a drink. I came back of course and couldn’t even speak. He and Jeff and my friend Mike were chatting while I just stared at the floor, wondering why I was being such an idiot! What happened to mister confident? Of course, like expected, I really, really, really liked this guy and the more he talked the more I liked him, and the more I wanted to run away.

This is why I ask people not to introduce me. I mean, you’re embarassed to beging with, so its hard to recompose yourself and start acting like yourself. I’m sure that if I had just met this guy in passing, we would maybe, just maybe, hit it off.

He said he was going to leave and find some other friends. Nope, I didn’t stop him and kiss him passionately and force him to fall in love with me. I simply said “ok” while staring at the floor, still red in the face. I let him go.

He found another guy he liked, I assume, and spent the entire night talking to him. Now, to know me, is to know how unlucky I am in love. There were two guys in the bar last night. The guy (Wes is his name) that I acted like an idiot in front of was one. The guy that he spent the night trying to pick up was another.

What? Am I supposed to cry now?

So, by the end of the night, I worked up the courage to walk over to Wes and say I was leaving. Maybe, perhaps, he would ask for my phone number. Of course, I’m too shy to just walk over and give him mine. I decide to try and save my stupid shyness earlier by acting all confident and sure of myself.

“Yah, so I’m leaving now. Have a great night Wes! Are you coming out tomorrow night? It’d be great to see you again!” There, I said something remotely intelligent. YIPPEE for me!!!

“I’m going to a the firewater tomorrow night (the straight, non-smoking bar that I just might have the wrong name for), but it was great meeting you too. Why are you going home so soon?”

Of course my first thought is GREAT! He hates smokers, but I’m not exactly attatched to the disgusting habit! If he said quit, I’d quit.

“I’m….ahhh….drunk….as usual….and tired….and need to sleep….I need rest so I can come out and get drunk again tomorrow.”

Brilliant! Now he thinks I’m a drunken, slobbering fool! Only on the weekends! I SWEAR! He doesn’t seem like the type that would date a smoken, drunken, slobbering fool. Who could blame him?

So, I went home a little depressed. I nearly cried at my ability to be such a looser when I always thought I was a winner. I was certainly mad at myself.

When I woke up and had time to think about it though, I realized that I wasn’t mad because of how I acted. I was mad because I was so afraid to be myself. I was scared to put forth the person who I was. I’m usually the type of person that will just ignore someone who thinks anything less of me for smoking, or getting drunk here and there. Last night I began to hate myself. And now I’m mad that I hated myself! Because I’m pretty darn sure that I don’t.

Of course, with a new hair cut, perhaps a new outfit, I’d love myself more:)

Anyways, I plan to try it out all over again tonight. Perhaps Wes won’t be there, but you never know what will happen in a night. I mean, last night I dreamt of falling in love with a tall, dark, handsome, and very very very rich man. He even flew me and all his friends to Europe to have dinner at his mansion there.

Dreams can come true……really!

Part One

The olympics started last Friday and I have once again dedicated my entire life to sitting in front of my television and staring at the specticle.

Strange how watching the opening ceremonies brings a tear to my eye. How could it not though? I mean, I walk onto my balcony during the opening ceremonies for a smoke and stare the whole time at buildings that contained the olympic spirit here in Calgary. Straight ahead a couple of kilometres is the stadium where our opening ceremonies were held. To the left is the speed skating oval. Way off in the distance I can see the ski jump. Even further are the mountains that held the skiing competition.

Such an event took on such an incredible new colour for me when I actually lived through it. I remember standing at the luge track as blurry humans would zip by me. I watched Canada play USSR in hockey. I saw ski jumpers flying above me. I saw the medal ceremonies and the fire works that followed. I have the official jacket and other souveniers that are worth WAY too much money now. I was young, but in a playground of pure thrilling adventure.

Now that I’m older and actually understand the enormity of the olympics, I can’t help but wish I was older when the olympics were here in Calgary. I mean, I could have partied at the bars with the athletes, gone to more events probably. I just would have understood the beauty of what was going on around me more intensly.

I think it was that fact that I was so young that made me forever a child when it comes to the excitement of the olympics. Its probably something that can’t be understood unless you’ve lived in an olypic city.

Part Two

I went to the “All about sex show” last Friday. It was actually quite boring, but I went because Dan had given me a free ticket. Of course I really did want to find Dan there. I’m pathetic…n’est pas?

I remember a man I had met when I worked a trade show for Dan two years ago or so. He was working in the booth next to me selling books.

He was fairly tall, slim, maybe in his forties. He had greying hair and fairly nerdy eyeglasses. We spent a heck of a lot of time chatting during the three days of the show. He had the wit of perhaps Ben Stein. Low key, monatone voice, but with a sarcastic wit that could easily cut glass.

As I payed for a bathroom kit full of soaps, bubble bath etc. I realized that the man I was handing the money too was this same man. The same wit, the same look. Still selling the same children’s books.

Of course he didn’t recognize me. I clearly recognized him though and immediately saw an image in my mind of him packing up his books at the end of the trade show we worked together at.

He had had a depressed look on his face and a quiet demenor as his performed this routine task that he had obviously done hundreds of times before.

I remeber asking him what he was up to next. He stated that he was off to some little town to set up his books again and do this all over again. I asked if he had time to see his family inbetween. He hadn’t seen them in weeks.

He oozed with the urge to be with his little tiny kids and his wife. I could see the sadness bubbling up inside him. I could see how much it utterly hated his job.

I understood something at that very moment as I watched him pack up. I understood my father. I saw in this man the father of my very childhood and I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before.

My father had been a book salesmen. He travelled around north america to various trade shows and sold his books. Children’s books as a matter of fact. I Remember we wouldn’t see my father for weeks on end because he would always travelling. I can still remember going to trade shows in my father’s hand and meeting all his trade show friends.

At that moment two years ago, I nearly begged this stranger to quit. I nearly told him that my relationship with my father was forever tarnished because I really didn’t “meet” him until I was about seven years old. I almost cried for this man who desperately wanted to be with his children. But I didn’t. I don’t think I even remembered to say goodbye.

When I saw him last Friday I almost cried again. I had wished he had quit his job. He hadn’t though. He still had that sad lonely look beneath his face that I don’t think he’ll ever shake. I wanted to hug him. But I didn’t.

I hope his children love him more than I loved my Dad.

Part Three

A new gay bar is better than a Christmas present. Especially a new leather bar that caters to the masculine clientelle. Specifically leather.

I was fairly nervous going into the Eagle for the first time, but all my friends were with me, so this didn’t last for long. It was an extremely laid back environment with sociable, intelligent, friendly, smart people.

I kept on meeting brand new people and having the most amazing conversations. The whole time feeling completely comfortable with my surroundings.

I certainly plan to go to the Eagle VERY often. It is definately my new favorite bar. I just hope that the excitement of newness doesn’t wear off too soon. If it does, hopefully there will be a new gay bar opening!

Still, I refuse to wear leather:)

Part four

The rest of this week has actually been quite boring. As I stated way above, I’ve done almost nothing except for watch the olympics. Of course, I’ve spent a lot of time working too. In fact, today we broke our sales record, and will for at least a little while go on record as our busiest day ever!

Nope, no love for me for valentine’s day, but unlike some people that I’ve heard complain that they aren’t used to being alone on valentines day, I’m completely used to it. I’ve never had someone to celebrate love with on Valentine’s day. I’m okay with that.

Part five

Why is it that my religious dedication ebbs and flows like the ocean?

An entire year!

It is the one year anniversary of my journal. This is the most commited I’ve ever been to writing my daily thoughts and occurances, even though I’ve made many attempts. This journal has become a massive body of work now.

This past year has gone faster for me than any other before it. I wonder though if I’ve moved forward at all mentaly, spiritualy, physicaly.

An entire year has past, but I feel the same as I did a year ago. I wrote, on February 7th 2001, that I felt like I was inbetween. By this I meant that I was inbetween emotions of love and hate. Intbetween feelings of happyness and depression. Inbetween being a good person and a bad person. Inbetween apathy and care. I was nothing. I felt, and still feel, that I’m swimming in a void reaching for any wall that may become available. I’m trapped in an amniotic sack, seperated from reality, waiting for my water to break. Waiting for that flash of inspiration that will carry me forward a few more years.

I woke the other day and sat having a cigarette on my balcony. An itchy thought entered my mind. I have utterly no purpose whatsoever in my life. I wake up, I go to work, I come home, I go to sleep. I have no dream job. I have no hobbies that I obsessively dedicate all my time and loving energy towards. I just live life every day like the last and the next.

Again, I’m waiting for some powerful revelation perhaps to come my way. I envision a moment as I walk down the street, I see something that catches my eyes, and triggers every neuron in my brain to focus on the same thought. That thought becomes a flame that grows and heats up, waiting for me to satisfy it with a lifetime of actions. Like someone walking down the street and deciding that they want - no MUST - be a restaurant owner! They simply KNOW that its what they were supposed to do with their life.

I’m rambling, and I’m not sure that even I know what I’m talking about. All I’m saying is that my devine inspiration has not yet dared to approach me.

So, what’s changed in the last year? I live on my own again, with the perfect roomate.

That is it!

Emotionally, mentally, physically, I am in the exact place I was a year ago.

Perhaps life is a series of plateaus each one at a different level of existence, or pleasure. Reaching a new plateau is only acheived by a thrust of destructive energies, or creative forces, or luck.

I’ve gained none, or experienced none in the last year.

I will still go on. Stuck in this wretched plain with no peaks or valleys for even farther then the horizon.

I will wait for the one and only love of my life, but continue to care less and less if I never find him.

I will sleep well, eat well, work hard.

Do my best at living.

I will not make myself any promises.

I will live life like a poem that bears no meaning in my present situation….

AS THE MIST LEAVES NO SCARS

-Leonard Cohen

Goodbye, and thanks to those who have tolerated my often incoherant ramblings……..

Leo’s Rain

I know this will sound a little vain, narcissistic, perhaps a little silly, but at 23 years I feel as though I’ve been a mentor to too many people.

It started when I worked at Boston Pizza serving highschool students and partygoers. I felt I was a guardian. Their parents were somewhere sleeping and for a short time they were in my care. I watched the same people week by week cry and laugh. cheer at their new relationships. I was their therapist. Telling them what to do how to do it. Making them feel better about themselves. I watched them grow up over the span of a few years, forgetting that I too was still growing up. I was always invited to their graduation ceremonies. They would ask me like a child hoping their parents would be proud. I was so young myself though.

I carried my mentor habits with me into the gay community. I talked many people down from their depression, or gave them advise on love and relationships. I cried with young men who were so confused. I myself was depressed, and had never known a relationship. I was young, and new to the gay experience. I always made them feel better though. Where did my wisdom come from.

I guess it climaxed when I worked for the pychic line. Scared, lonely, depressed, angry people would call me and not just want, but need my voice and my advice. I was truly an angel to these people. It felt like such a burden to be the one with so much power over people, but it felt so good that it was me that was there for them. Many asked me how old I was, I always lied and said 43. I didn’t want them to know that the advice that made them laugh, cry and feel better came from someone young enough to be their child.

I quit the advise buisness. I stopped giving advice to young adults, and old adults and those imbetween. I just simply lost my abilities. I ran into a roadblock. There was no wisdom left in me. I became bored with the same old issues. There were no new issues to tackle with people.

More than anything, I lacked my own mentor. I had nobody to go to for advice. Jason was always there during the bad times to lift my spirits with a hug or a kind word. Who was there to teach me about life, and how I was feeling? I was so used to people coming to me for advice that I lost all ability to go to people for advice for myself.

My wisdom went silent, even to this day. Someone will ask me advice at work, because people still come to me. I used to prop myself up onto a soapbox and spout for hours. Now, I just say, “I don’t know”.

My point is that to this day I still need mentors. I need people to sit with me and tell me things I don’t already know about life, about love, about anything. Is there anything I don’t already know?

Jason’t always worrying about friends when they don’t call on time, or he hasn’t seen them for a week or so. He nearly enters a panick. But, he’s always the first to tell me, “I don’t worry about you, because you are the one friend I have that can take care of himself”.

true

Sometimes, I just want to know that someone out there worries about me and my emotions. Someone who laughs at my continuous facade, and my easy ability to mask any pain. A mentor who will say “Shut up, you are not” when I say cheerfully “I’m fine!”

Someone to wrap me in their comfortable arms and know that you don’t always have to speak to make me feel better. Someone to tell me that they feel better simply because I’m there.

I think I’m just lonely lately for my mentor. I envision my lover as a mentor, but to each other. I find myself in that space between periods of perfect happyness of singlehood. I’m wedged in the crack of lonelyness. Struggling to get out.

I’m hungry for my skin to touch sking. Masculine, rugged, musky skin. Skin that craves my presence as much as I crave it. Breath that gently fall on my face before a kiss. Eyes that see me with hypnotic power and wonder.

Long, silly nights curled up in bed with my mentor talking of life, and philosophy - each other. Shedding tears in turn as we discover each other’s secret failures. Ripping off our faux expressions with our voices. Becoming one being as our bodies become even more entangled.

I feer that I will always be the one that takes care of people. The one with the worried voice that feeds on people’s misfortunes. Seeking the rush of power when making a sad friend happy.

I’ve lost that voice. I know I will find it.

But I don’t want it.

I want to be on the receiving end of the worried voice. And the rush of my mentor is that of love and care.

Ahhhhhh…..

I’m listening to Gary Numan. Its been so long. My friend who introduced me to his music would be horrified that its been at least a year. Its dark, its disturbing, its electronic, its the early eighties…what more do I need?

A life, that’s what I need. In fact, listening to Gary Numan has brought back memories of the days in which I would spend eight ours or so a day chatting on gay.com. I would sit there with Gary Numan, or Sarah Mclachlan, or Tori Amos on repeat and just chat away until my eyes could no longer stay open.

They were happy days though. I remember how many friends I had. I would go to the coffee shop, or the bar, and know everybody there. Hundreds of friends, millions of conversations.

I’ve for the most part abandoned gay.com except for the odd appearance here and there. Every now and then I’ll know one or two people out of the fifty or so in the room. I used to know them all. Nobody knows me either.

I used to have a millions aquaintences and no good friends. Now I have a small handful of good friends and no aquaintences. I feel like a shell of my formal self. I miss being the bar star that would walk into the bar and spend half the night saying hello to everyone I knew, and half the night saying goodbye to those same people.

I see these people now. The ones I spent all my time chatting too. They all seem like shadows, ghosts of their former selves. Some have relationships, other have had tradgedy. Other’s simply vanished off the planet. Nobody ever seems to be around for long. Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore?

I watch Jason walk through the bar as I used to. Knowing everyone. Being the star, surrounded by people. Really, truly a queen in the court of gaydom. I’ve been bounced off my throne.

I used to go to the bar on the slowest night and have numerous people to hang out with. Now, on the busiest night, I’m all alone. I stare at the wall and think about my novel, or what I’ll write in my next journal entry.

I feel old. I feel as though I lived the best years of my life too early and that now I’m settled, not needing anything but myself. Not like that’s a bad thing. I’m independent of anybody. I don’t need a million friends to prove I’m worth something in this community.

And that’s what poplularity is and always will be. Dependancy on other’s for the gain of self esteem. Just knowing that you know so many people means that so many people know you. Its too easy to fool yourself into thinking that all these people actually like you and even more importantly respect you.

I feel as though I should get back on gay.com and know everyone and get a life. Spend my hours chatting to “friends” on the internet. Being the queen of Calgary when I go out to party.

I know that all this is an illusion.

You’re never as important or as loved as you think.

Until you learn to love yourself and become the most important person in your life. Then you begin to see the enemies fade from fake friendship, and the true friends brighten like stars in the blackest sky.

I think I’m learning to never be afraid of my enemies, to not let the thought of them bother me. Learning to truly know how to love my friends.

I think I’ve met my current path.

Must light a candle.