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?