Nurse Sean (dot) com

Sweet, beautiful weekend!

I’m at my parents house taking care of cats and mail. It seems as though every second week I’m somewhere house sitting while dreaming that I’m on vacation too.

It seems as though everywhere I look there’s a sign for me to head off to Vernon to visit my Grandmother. At work, two of my coworkers headed off for Vernon this weekend. My parents are in Vernon as I write. I sat down at the computer and a picture of Vernon is the wallpaper. I sit outside in the sun to find an empty bottle of milk. Something I’ve only ever seen in Vernon. Everything is telling my that its time to get onto my Grandmother’s balcony with a beer and a book and meditate on nothing but the view.

Instead, I’m still here in Calgary. However, there was a beautiful thundershower in town yesterday afternoon. I felt the collective gasp of an entire city as the heatwave dissolved into refreshing winds. The thunder resonating in everyone’s subconscious as though it were an Ice cold glass of water. Days on end of mental “rain dancing” finally proved successful.

Now, today, its sunny, but cool. Normal temperatures for us. Absolutely bearable. So, I’ve spent a good portion of the day sitting on my parents quiet porch sipping ice tea and enjoying the sounds of the suburbs.

I remember a few months ago, February I think, this house felt cold and haunted with memories. Loves lost, families gained, love gained, families lost. The cold night air made me long for warmth of men I couldn’t have. The warmth of blankets and fire places caressed me with fake comfort. The house felt sterile as a death filled hospital room.

Now, its seems alive with life. It feels like home as though it were a gigantic mother wrapping itself around me in hope. Life has sprung forth in the gardens and the memories seem to have hidden themselves for the summer. I feel joy here and the comforts of home. No more pain will touch me while I’m here.

I’m heading off to CCOP (Calgary Circle of Pagans, and let me tell you, I’m peeing myself with excitement and nerves. I’m excited to get back into the fold of things and meet new people of the pagan persuasion. Of course, I’m shy at first, so I’m nervous. The excitement is far outweighing nerves though.

I remember a couple years ago, I was invited to come to a CCOP meeting and I just couldn’t do it. I honestly felt as though I were cheating on SAPS (Southern Alberta Pagan Society). Now, however, I feel as though I’ve wasted time. I could have forged deep friendships by now. Oh well, the paths we choose always end up being the right ones. I had a lot of growing up to do, and I did it in my absence of the pagan world.

A funny thought entered my mind. A few years ago I lived with my cousin, which was a blast because we both shared religious beliefs. We did rituals and spells together and talked freely about our philosophies. I was very much in the closet though and was constantly hiding my sexuality. I felt I couldn’t reveal it. Now, I live with a gay man. I thought it would be an amazing experience, because I could be free to be comfortable in my sexuality. I was out of the closet, and I had no reason to hide it. However, my roommate is a pentecostal. He’s prejudice about literally EVERYthing. Don’t get me started. I know for a fact his feelings about pagan religions. He freely talks about them negatively.

I remember when he broke up with his last boyfriend. He said it was because “he was a pagan and started talking about high priestesses and stuff”. I didn’t say anything except “Have you ever actually read up on this religion, or taken a step back and looked at your own religion and how people laugh at your fundamentalist crap? Don’t judge until you do!”

I didn’t stand up and proclaim my religion, I still believe in the power of silence. Some ancient philosophy I picked up somewhere. I remember when Dana the mormon told me she had looked at paganism. I pulled her aside and with powerful words told her “So have I, in fact I proclaim that as my religion, but you can’t go telling people this, there’s power in the silence.” I don’t even know why I did this, I’ve never really stuck myself to rules in the past, but this one seemed to explode inside me as the truth.

There’s a sleeping giant inside of me. My religious side. Its been dormant for years, but I can feel it yawning and beginning to stretch. Look out world, because the “real” Leo’s Rain is back. Perhaps its time to be reborn unto a new name!

Its been a busy week, but now everything is just fine. I’m sitting back with only mood lighting, cedar incense, and beautiful Tracy Chapman music. I’m drinking high class beer and sketching a flower I plan to pain. I’ve got a mango, guava face mask drying on my face, peeling off the harshness of the week, and my cute, new bamboo plant with its beautiful pot hanging out with me, keeping me company.

I love to pamper myself like this before I go to the bar and party. It feels like a fresh start, a change of character. I primp and preen and build my confidence with desperate attempts at beauty. Confidence is all that matters when you walk into the war zone of a gay bar. Sink or swim is the order of the night, and without said confidence, sink is all you’ll get.

I’ve never painted a wall in my life, but out of the blue I suggested that what this appartment needs is a little paint. So, on Wednesday, exhausted from a days work and lack of sleep, I hopped into the car with Jason and his mother for a shopping spree. My only part was helping pay for the paint. What I got was a whirlwind tour of the city’s middle class income super stores. Costco, Home depot, Revy, Walmart. My goodness those two can shop for hours. I had absolutely no fun, because I can’t afford middle class luxuries these days. But I still shopped. I still dropped.

What we ended up with was two beautiful paints for our living room named “forgotten” and “fairy dust”. Pretty darn appropriate for this appartment I think. So, on Thursday, with even less sleep, and more exhaustion from work, we set about painting our appartment. Three hours later, our walls were smooth, calming, beautiful shades of blue. I’ve been commisioned to make a painting to match the colours for the remaining white wall.

Friday was excrutiating thanks to complete physical and mental exhaustion. I had very little sleep all week, painting and rearanged furniture at nights, and was teaching new employees each day. I slept nearly twelve hours Friday night until five in the morning when it was time to go to work again. A much better day. Very few customers and much more energy. I spent some time with Ken, teaching him more detailed tasks, and then with Joey with some management training. It seems all I do these days is prepare the store for the day I have to hand it over to Joey. But, I digress, the day actually ended up being completely fun. No Ross around to make our day a living hell, and high spirits among those that were there.

With twelve hours of sleep last night, I was still able to sleep for five hours when I returned home this afternoon. When I woke up I made myself the requisite weekend food - Kraft macarroni and cheese, and began to clean up after the disaster that was created from our redecorating.

I have the next two days off, and I literally can’t figure out anything that I need to do. This could be a relaxing two days, or perhaps two days of fidgeting and wishing I had something to do. I’m sure television and literature will entertain me.

I’m not sure when it started, my belief in magick. I simply remember buying my first book about it, “Wiccan Ways”, by Raven Grimassi. Perhaps it was because a few years earlier I had begun practicing Tarot cards, and it led in this direction. Perhaps it was because I was intensly studying religions as my major at university and it was just another religion I felt I needed to know.

It led me to other books and then internet sights and then learning the pagan religions with my cousin. We would sit in Boston Pizza where I worked for hours on end reading books and writing in our requisite book of shadows. We would drive around the city in the early hours of morning listening to Ivan’s “Open your eyes” which seemed to contain some sort of magickal essence within it. Our game was called “Find interesting places to smoke.” My favorite place was in Makenzie town, a little faux old fashion community, so far south it seemed like a different world. We’d sit in the gazebo in the town.

We’d talk for hours about energies, and elements, and stones, and gems, with the zealousness of a white trash house wife who just became a born again Christian. The nights simply seemed to come alive with our powers.

My cousin and I eventually moved in with each other. For awhile it was amazing. We initiated each other after long philisophical discussions over whether this was possible, and how it could be done. We would circle together and make magick. We would burn incense and create amulets. We were fundamentalists, travelling back and forth to the book store frequently to replenish our learning material.

How I found it is a mystery. As mysterious as the name, SAPS. It was a mailing list and actually stood for Southern Alberta Pagan Society. I chatted with these people for a couple weeks. It was a fledgling group, and everything seemed so perfect about them, as though magick was flying at me through my computer screen.

I don’t remember why, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell my cousin about SAPS. These were my friends, my discovery, my adventure into the outside world of the pagan religion. I couldn’t do it though, I couldn’t bring myself to meet these people because of my shyness. So, I had to do it, I literally said to my cousing “I want to go meet this group and I’m afraid to go alone. I need you to hold my hand”.

So, a few days later we were showering and primping and preening. My cousin did her make up while I did my hair. Then we jumped on the bus my heart pounding, my stomach lying somewhere on the floor of the bus rolling around.

Greetings didn’t matter, because I realized I already knew these people, they were instantly my best friend. I still remember every person that was there. Jill, and YellowFeather, Tamatha, Dot, Mark, Feith, my cousin and myself. I felt more magick in that room than at any other time in my life. It was as though our energies clicked. Something special circulated that room. I still remember Feith’s first words to me, “Great, we’re all here…let’s get naked and circle”. Good thing she saw the panick in my eyes and immediately let me know she was just kidding.

Life went on like that for months. I was in absolute new age fundamentalist bliss. My energies and magickal powers blossomed over the months until I felt fairly conifdent in them. My intuition and tarot reading skills ever reached for their first youthful climax.

Something began happening though. People began to leave. First Jill disapeared into thin air. Then Tamatha moved to Texas to be with a man. I moved home, away from my cousin to deal with my ever increasing need to come out of the closet, and even more quickly increasing debt.

Then I fell in love. Full blown, painful, unrequited, first love pain. And on the climax of this pain I become closer to Feith than I’d been to even my own mother or cousin. She became my closest friend. All this happened basically on the eve of her moving to Halifax.

After my cousin moved to Edmonton, things were never the same. Most of the people in SAPS I loved were gone. I had bigger things I was working on. I was discovering my place and resocializing into the Calgary gay community. With my magickal, and psychic powers at a high, it was like a play ground. It seemed I was getting any man I wanted. I was bringing massive men to tears, and pain, simply with an evil look of my eyes into his back.

Like any child in a playground, I forgot about the outside world. I rarely attended SAPS get togethers and barely spoke on the mailing list. I watched as the remaining SAPS grew closer and closer while I became increasingly alienated. I was traumatized that Feith left. I don’t think she ever knew this. Completely devistated, I couldn’t watch her leave for the last time. I sat around the corner in tears wishing she’d just leave and get it over with.

My magickal practice and skills slowly diminished overtime, sometimes waxing again when my interests became peaked. However, without the support and love of fellow pagans, its impossible almost to maintain that much power and energy within yourself. SAPS slowly diminished too without the core family. The “new” family was so tightly wound that it alienated new comers and old timers. Internal fighting was the order of the day, and I couldn’t bare it. I wanted to go back to that time when Thursdays were like a warm, incense filled, Tori amos sounding hug.

SAPS disapeared without warning. I hadn’t received mail in ages, so I checked. I was no longer on their list. I looked up the list and I couldn’t find it anywhere. I believe it was disbanded, but honestly I didn’t look too closely. It felt as though a loved one had died from an invluntary, disasterous cancer. A part of who I was was gone, and what replaced it was promiscuity and lustful school girl crushes. I felt pretty empty about it.

I know however that my family is still out there. I will most likely not see any of them ever again. I know Feith is in Texas, and Dot is probably still in Calgary. As for the rest, I simply just listen for their voices in the wind and imagine us in black robes converging after our lifetimes are like stone, joining hands and calling the quarters.

Its done, and over with! I’ve washed my hands of the burden and lightened a load off my back. I’ve fought my irrational fears and overcame an obsticle. Yes, on Thursday I told Adrian that I was going back to school. He had asked, “Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

So, as we sat in his tiny shared office in the middle of the busy restaurant kitchen, I spewed off to him everything I was feeling. I started with the “I had a dream” speech in which I told him the passion I’ve had all these years to go into nursing and that I’ve finaly decided to go forth. I quickly moved onto the “It will be good for us” speach in which I explained that I’ve lost my passion for this job and that its time to relenquish to someone else.

He didn’t hesitate at all, he just said how proud he was for me and that he thinks I’m making the right choice. We talked for about an hour about the future of Starbucks, and who should take over for me. We reached several decisions. Then he proceeded to erase all the work we’d done that night, so I had to stay another hour do redo all our data entry.

As I walked out of the hotel door I felt free, as though the burden of this job was being lifted. Two years of sinking in water over my head and choking on more than I could chew. The flying feeling of finaly swimming to the surface and learning to swim. I’ve done everything I could do there as manager and its time for me to give someone else the reigns.

And then the humidity and heat him me like a brick wall from the front, and a load of bricks hit me from above. I can’t turn back! I have to do this, I need to do this, I can’t fail. And then panick. Heavy breathing and fear. I’ve chosen a new path, and I fear getting lost.

That didn’t last long though. A month or so ago, I turned a key in my life and heard a giant “click” as everything seemed to fall into place. The feeling that I was finally on the right track and everything would be all right. Thursday as I was walking home, I felt that same “click” and the load of bricks fell of my back, and everything seemed back on the right track.

Friday, Ross was an asshole again. He was incredibly rude to a customer and half way through saying “I know you’re frustrated, but you can’t allow it to show like you just did”, he blew up saying that I was basically lying and that I didn’t know what I was doing and that he was definately putting in his notice today. So, instead of writing him up, which I’d be happy to do, I just hoped that he was serious this time. I told him “You need to quit Ross, we know you hate your job”, he denied this immediately, so I restated “Well, you hate everyone you work with, thats the same thing”. He just stayed silent. If he doesn’t quit, he’ll have hell to pay next time he treats me like shit again. I’m his boss, and I’ve given him more room than any boss on the planet would allow…so…game on!

Thursday was strange. Minutes away from being done my shift, while I mentally prepared to walk in the 35C heat, Glenn, whom I haven’t seen in a couple months walked back into my life. He has a boyfriend now and doesn’t seem interested in hanging around me. I was so happy to see him though. After all, he really did become a big brother to me. I crave his company now in a completely platonic way. I want to make him proud of me, to make him love me in a brotherly as I love him.

I’ve never shaken the feeling that I’m supposed to have a big brother. A real, biological one. I’ve written about him before. He’s my double, the man that was supposed to be me. I see him as the perfect man that any parent dreams of. Tall, muscular, straight, beautiful, smart, professional, a man’s man. Married by now, with children. He’s perfect. He’s the real second child, born a couple years before me, then my father was snipped to prevent more children. But, my mother decided to carry a box of tiles up the stairs, and had a miscarriage. I was born instead a year or so later. I feel my brother around me sometimes, perhaps only in imagination, and I feel my jealous hatred for his perfection. I know, it seems strange, but its true, he’s swirling around my universe.

Glenn has this same energy about him. Similar in no way except that he feels like an older brother swirling around my head. Yes, he’s the smart one, the good looking one, the popular one, the perfect one. I crave the opportunity to prove myself to him. This is getting pretty deep inside my mind, so forgive me if it sounds nonsensical and irrational. Its like a dream where my ghost brother transforms into Glenn half way through a conversation.

Lord God if I didn’t get an erecition though. I can’t help it. His beautiful eyes and the smile that sucks you in and makes you believe he cares. His voice when he says “would you like to talk awhile”. They way I forgot all my feeling for him and then had them smack me in the forhead like an elastic band. Its it strange to be attracted to your big brother? Or am I attracted to him, because he has a big brother relationship to me?

He walked with me to my car and then I drove him to Safeway. I get so immersed in our conversations that sometimes feel more like a chess game then friendly gab. The world around us speeds by as though we were the focus of a cartoon while the same background scrolls by on repeat. Miles seem like inches.

He said he’d call and we’d go to a BBQ tomorrow. No, its not a date, but I was looking forward to getting back in touch with Glenn, and even seeing Erick before he goes to Australia. I waited, not breathlessly, but I waited for his phone call. It never arrived today.

So, as quickly as Glenn walked back into my life, he was gone.

Its hot here in Calgary, and I mean HOT! Of course, a heck of a lot of people will laugh at me when I tell them that the torturous high temperatures we’ve been dealing with are hovering around the 35C range (somewhere in the 90s F I believe). To get some perspective, the highest temperature ever recorded in Calgary’s history is 36.1. Average highs for this time of hear is 23C (about 72F). The worst part is that we’re used to desert style dryness, but are having massive humidity. Also, we’re used to temperatures going down to an average low of about 10C (50F). Our city and our body’s are not set up for this temperature. Houses don’t have air conditioning, and body’s sweat uncontrolably. We don’t know how to cool our houses, and we can’t sleep at night.

This heat reminds me of our vacations to Vernon, British Colombia. These are Vernon temperatures, and several times over the last few days I’ve had sentimental moments as though I were right back in Vernon. Especially today, when I sat on the porch at my parents house in the sun and read my book and sunbathed.

My Grandmother’s house was brown, inside and out. Old person brown as though she forgot that lighter, brighter colours were in style. However, it was a beautiful house filled with comfy chairs and imaculately made beds (She was an old school nurse). Everything was always so clean and organized and splendidly peaceful.

Grandma was always waiting at the door for us, because her beautiful boarder collie dog seemed to be able to sense us coming for blocks in advance. Her yard was always full of exotic flowers and fruit trees; so mysterious for me coming from a place where spring starts in June as opposed to Febuary or March in Vernon. The flowers always seemed to have so much more time to grow here. They were always bigger and more colourful.

First thing was first. We would all marvel at how hot it was. Usually in the thirties. Grandma always had all the lights off and the blinds closed to keep the sun out. I was always so used to having them wide open, trying to collect as much brightness and warmth as possible.

After sorting out our rooms and quick “how are you’s”, it was off to the balcony. She had such a beautiful balcony. All brown of course, with steps leading to the back yard filled with more exotic flora, and the biggest garden I thought existed in the world. If hungry, we could just walk to the garden and grab what we wish.

Stretching beyond the backyard, without any interruption, was the largest and most beautiful park filled with luxuriously green grass and screaming East Indian children. Even farther beyond that layed the entire city of Vernon, and the hills beyond filled with fuit farms. Tucked between the hills were three lakes, Okanogan, Swan, and Kalamalka (sp?).

We would sit on that balcany for hours, my parents and Grandmother talking about what seemed to me as the most boring topics ever. I would simply sit in my chair with a drink in hand, staring at the city, and the haze as dusk crept up offering the only relief possible.

Once the house finally cooled down, we’d head to bed and sweat for hours in the still thirty something degree temperature. But even the temperature seemed to hug me in this environment, instead of strangling me. I felt so free and meditative there.

Vernon to me felt as though it were a paradise, filled with Garden’s and lakes and complete peace. You should have seen the disbelief that flickered in my eyes when my Grandmother told me that it truly actualy snowed in Vernon during the winter. Or the strangeness when I’d see kids going to school or people that lived their all year round as though they weren’t supposed to be there. And when I went home to the refreshing climate of Calgary, it felt as though I had visited heaven for a day and then was reincarnated, fresh, for real life.

Sitting on my parents porch, all brown, and with scorching heat, windows covered, lights off, staring at the view that is bigger than Vernon, but is only a small portion of Calgary, reading a book in hand, I fooled myself into thinking I was back in my little paradise.

I feel horrible that I haven’t been to Vernon in five years, but it seems too hard to get time. Plus I’m very shy and the idea of visiting Grandma by myself seems difficult for me (more irrationalities). I need to visit my Eden.

However, its never been the same since my Grandmother’s dog passed away. She was such a best friend to me, that Vernon seems nearly depressing to me when I go. I would sit and talk to her for hours in the basement while she just begged me to take her for frisbee practice. She was amazing, so intelligent…so missed.

I’ve discovered an irrational fear that I have. Perhaps even a neurosis, but either way it surprised me how strong it is. I can’t put a name to it though, meaning, I’m just not just exactly what I’m afraid of. There’s got to be some psyche majors out there!

I need to tell my boss that I’m going back to school full time. I’ve told myself that I’m going to do this before the end of the week no matter what happens. Well, I still haven’t done it, and there’s only two days left. I almost told Cliff at one point today. He called down to tell me he interviewed some people because two of our staff are going back to school and one is transferring departments. All I had to do was add my name to the list and be done with it. Instead I hung up the phone and had an anxiety attack. I promised myself that I would tell Adrian instead of Cliff, because I felt I had just ruined every chance I had with Cliff, now it would seem like I was being devious and had purposely not told him.

So, Adrian comes in and starts talking to me about all the plans he has and what he wants done in the next few months and that we’re going to start the process soon. “Just tell him, just tell him, just blurt it out and tell him”, I told myself as his useless droning…well…droned on and away from my focus. “What’s this wierd feeling I’m having? I’m dizzy, and light headed, and feeling weeker and weeeker…”, I snapped back to attention, realizing that I was half a second away from completely passing out.

Again, talking to Cliff, in his office about how many people we needed to hire for fall. The words kept rolling to the tip of my tongue, but then would fall to the floor, and splatter. I have to do this. Tomorrow I’ll be seeing Adrian. I’ll juts tell him that I have something to tell him and then I’ll just sit there until I can’t spit it out. I’ll bring smelling salts with me.

Today, for the first time in my life I had to give people written warnings. Understand that I’m completely against them, however, I didn’t have much of a choice, because of I was trying to save one girl’s job. The other one just made me mad.

Less than two months to school. I could pee my pants with anticipation! It will feel so incredibly good to be back…no more work stress…school stress is WAY more fun…

Its strange to me the last few days. I feel as though “The man for me” is near me and about to find me. I’m not sure how I can describe this feeling but to say that I feel as though I’m continually being spiritually hugged by fate. And fate just happens to be the exact man I’m looking for and vice versa. Every time I turn a corner I feel him grabbing my hand. Whenever the phone rings I think its him before I give my head a shake. If I’m lying awake in bed, I can feel him beside me.

I think I’m sounding crazier than I mean to, but its just this intuitive feeling that I can’t shake. That perhaps at any moment, the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with, or at least a few good years, is about to find me. And I love this feeling, because it feels like a giant mass of masculinity swirling around me.

I know…I know…I’m barely making sense. In the simplest terms, I’m having intuitive feelings. I’ve had very similar feelings to these, but not so consistant and strong. These feelings developed into nothing, so I’m wary of believing them, or paying attention. I simply bask in this ghost of loving energy that’s surrounding me. However…

Let me tell you about my strange dream, before I really take you on a trip off the deep end. Although, its only deep for those who have never swum in such waters. A simple dream really. I was a contestant on Survivor. Now, its becoming vague, but I was doing extremely well, although, I was telling everybody that the coming challenges were going to violently rock my will, and patients, and strength. As I walk to the next challenge, I realize that I’ve made it to the final seven, which is exactly as far as I had set my goals. I broke down into tears of joy, because I had made it. However, as I continued on the path, people from my past were looking on and wispering to themselves, and something changed. Where I had gotten wasn’t good enought for me. I felt a passionate need to push forward to my new goal of winning the whole thing.

At the challenge, the scenery kept changing from one place that I lived, to a section of my high school, to places I’ve worked, but we never seemed to notice. The challenge was strange, but it involed revealing secret messages…each message I revealed was a different day in my life, “Easter, 1996″, “graduation”, “born 1978″, etc. I kept revealing these date, and I did it faster than anyone…I remember that I had revealed all 45. The judges and spectators were jubilant that I had won, replacing their somber looks. I walked away from the challenge knowing that I was going to achieve my goal.

Now, Masculing energy, and aspects of masculing magick, include dealing with action and challenges. It is the hunter searching out its prey, but at the same time protecting its loved ones. Here’s my deep end theory. I’m scared, always to the point of panic attacks these days about going to school and reaching my goal of becoming a nurse once and for all. The challenge of it all is grinding away on my bones and psyche so that I have almost decided several times that I’m simply happy where I am. I’m afraid to move on, afraid of failure, ready to just settle with the little I’ve acheived stay put.

So, The universe is sending my masculine energies, swerling eddies and pools of astral testosterone. Not only do the vibe say “Screw this, get to it and just do it!” but they hold me in a protective hug that feels safe from anything that could ever be thrown at me, mentally, emotionally, or physically. I’m being given the final push to get over my fears, and I’m being put in touch with the guiding source to get me through tough times that require “action” rather than quitting.

Its time to suck up my fears, dig my heals in and just do the task I know I’m capable of. I’m going to be a nurse. It may take a lot of time, and a lot of money. But I won’t rest until its done. I’m cementing this goal into my psyche so that on my dying day, if I don’t do this, I will haunt the world as a hungry ghost…starving for someone to write my name on a degree and offer it to the wind.

Back to the shallow end….maybe I’m just horny…

Its a fuzzy, black and white, rainy day here in Calgary. Trust me though, I need it. Its been sunny and hot and in at least the high 20s for the last two or three weeks. I don’t take well to heat, so I’ve been doing a little bit of suffering. Its quite beautiful though, the refreshing rain thats dripping throughout everything thats been sunburnt for weeks. I almost forgot how much I love the smell of rain, and the feel of refreshing, humid winds.

I completely forgot the point of last nights journal entry. This happens often when I’m sitting in the bar tipsy. I’ll come up with brilliant insights and devistatingly intense topics to write about in my journal. Then *poof* when I come home; it turns into chaotic mush.

It was confirmed for me last night that Dan was dating someone. I’ve actually seen this person, and he’s a typical Dan style of boy. He’s not eighteen yet, extremely skinny, perhaps anorexic. Blond, lots of piercings. I kind of chuckled this fact off and went about my night at the bar. It hit me awhile later while I was sitting alone that Dan was ACTUALLY dating someone that wasn’t me. My heart kind of sank a couple inches, and my mind started spiralling to that darker place.

Fortunately, I’ve grown over the years and this didn’t last long. In fact it shocked me more how much this realization hit me, rather than the realization itself. I didn’t think I would ever care if Dan was dating someone. I guess it will always hurt a little bit, deep down in one corner of my heart.

Again though, Dan’s words from that vivid dream still haunt me, “Why bother, you’re just going to end up with me anyways”. Why did these words affect me so harshly, and why do they still reverberate to this day.

I still haven’t started cleaning my bedroom, or living room. I’m still not sure if I’ll get there. I’m starving and there’s no food in the house to be seen and I’m too hungry to go and get food. Perhaps I’ll just spend the day sleeping off my hunger till I get my free meal at work tomorrow.

Yes, you heard correctly, I’m back at work tomorrow already. This three day weekend has zipped by faster than ever before. I feel as though I’ve wasted it. I suppose if I do get around to cleaning today, it won’t feel wasted. However, then I won’t feel as though I’ve relaxed enough. I need to find a balance in there somewhere.

I found the most amazing journal todaySusu. I encourage you to browse her life story, because its amazing. It was strange though when I commented on her journal and she replied. Sorry Susu if you’re reading this and you think its creepy. Reading her journal is like reading an intense work of fiction. You can taste her memories and see them vividly. Life is not as exciting as her life story…usually. So, when she messaged me back, it was as if Harry Potter himself were sending me a letter. It really hit home that this was an actual person we’re talking about. Real emotions and events. I can’t really explain it, but it just seemed as though a complex character from a novel were suddenly talking to me. However, get your ass over to her journal and give it a read.

I went to the bar tonight. It was your typical Sunday night at boyztown, dragshow and everything. Jason and Dan were there though. I think I made Dan mad. He pointed to a guy and said “that guy is checking me out”.

I wanted to say “princess you’re not that good that everyguy is checking you out”. Now, at the risk of sounding hypocritical, it was fairly obvious he was checking me out, so I told Dan so in a fairly matter of fact way. I also added “besides, I’m fatter than him, what are you trying to say?”.

Dan replied that “as long as you’re happy with you’re body, then it doesn’t matter what you look like.” Funny, since Dan is obsessed with the way he looks and I’m pretty sure he’ll never be happy with his body. He’s the type that love to spend countless hours in the gym and even more in front of the mirror. Fortunately he’s a sweet loveable guy unlike most attitude ridden gym bunnies.

I replied “I love my body just the way it is, and the wonderful thing is that I never have to work out and I can eat whatever the fuck I want!” Well, Dan, being the big gym goer and a huge muscle man diet freak, excused himself and left. I don’t know if he was actually mad at me, but I hope I got my point accross that you don’t have to look a certain way to be happy with your body.

So, the drag show started and I grabbed my usual spot away from Dan and Jason, who have their usual spot. I don’t like being crowded in by people, so I have a place that is easy to escape if I find myself becoming a wee bit socially closterphobic. The “guy that was checking Dan out, but was really checking me out” sat right beside me. Every few momemts he would press hes leg against mine in an obvious atempt to show he was cruising me. Unfortunately I found him unatractive, so I found it creepy (yes, this is how the psyche works…if I found him attractive, I would have loved it). So, I sent out a hell of a lot of “get the fuck away from me vibes” that just weren’t connecting with is inner intuition. So, I got up and left.

It seems as though every drag show I end up sitting by myself staring in a mirrow smoking. Sundays must be my reflective days, because here I sat staring at myself in a mirror, smoking, once again. I watch myself and try and judge whether I like what I see. I must admit that I thought I was looking quite attractive tonight. I kept wondering though if I liked what I saw on the inside. However, I simply couldn’t see that part of me in the mirror. So, where do I find my insides, and how do I judge whether I like them or not? I wonder what perspective other people use to judge my insides…

Why is it that every Sunday night at the drag show I find one man who I find drop dead gorgeous. Every time he ventures close to me, I get that adrenaline tingle of horomones going off the scale. Tonight’s, as every Sunday nights was a little drunk beyond my limit of finding someone worthy for a romp, and just like every Sunday night he had a drag queen fetish and spent the night flirting with every fake women in sight.

John is a man I wrote off as a creepy guy. He persued me for awhile in creepy sort of ways and treated his boyfriend as…well…only a creep would. As I watched him tonight though, I realized that he is fairly attractive, but even more so, I could see a little boy inside of him that was ready to cry on someone’s shoulder. I think I wrote him off too soon and judged him too soon. Perhaps I need to examine the perspective I was using when I judged his insides. I wonder if he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror?

I’m a little sweaty, just finished cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen. Unfortunately I’ve just scratched the surface. This place is one heck of a pigstye. The living room is scattered with random pieces of our lives, keepsakes intermingled with junk that needs to be thrown out. However, I’m one step closer to making this place a non biohazard.

Thats really all I’ve done today except for running out to get myself some KFC. I can’t believe the amount of food I can eat when I go there. Popcorn chicken is just WAY too tempting to my palate.

I’ve also watched television for a good portion of the day. I’m addicted to those real life medical dramas. I can’t get enough of the life of hospital staff. Of course, I plan to be one someday, so I’m sure I’ll get enough of it then. The problem is that I can’t watch one of these shows without breaking into sobs and tears. I think I’m going to need a thicker skin for my future plans.

The bar last night was about as uneventful as it ever gets. Barely a soul in the place that I knew. I found Ross though and we headed over to the backlot for a couple beers. So, for the rest of the night we shared war stories from Friday’s Stampede parade rush, and gushed about how much we hate our jobs and can’t wait to get out of there.

I can’t believe my long weekend has only one day left in it. I only get about two or three of these a year if I’m lucky. Vacations are completely out of the question. I still can’t believe that I’ve managed to spend three days without having any fun whatsoever. Its pretty sad. I need Dean around, I’m sure we would have headed off to banff or spent the day shopping or slurping milkshakes while hanging out at the zoo parking lot watching men cruise for sex.

Tomorrow, all I have planned is cleaning my bedroom and the living room. As well as tackling the shower again. Its getting pretty darn disgusting. I’m sick of cleaning, but I love the feeling of a clean appartment. Nesting is something that was made for me, but so were maids and butlers…I need to be rich.

I’ve decided that this is the week I’m telling either Adrian or Cliff that I’m going back to school. I’d prefer to tell Adrian I think, but if it has to be Cliff then so be it. I hate doing this, but I’m giving them two months notice. Thats much more than fair when I could wait till September and give them two weeks notice. I’m just such a fair person I could puke!

I’m not sure if I’ll go to the bar tonight. I want to, but Sundays are completely boring and I really shouldn’t spend the money. Oh heck, I know I’ll end up going. Perhaps THIS will be the night I find my true love….