Seriously?

Has it really been a year? A YEAR since I moved out to Vancouver!

Yes, it has. It seems like yesterday I was driving out here with P3 and here I am a year later and none the wiser.

No that isn't true. I have learned a lot this past year. Learned to stand on my own two feet, with no one around but my thoughts and fears and all that ick stuff.

While I still think Vancouver is bullshit, I am starting to form a bit of a life out here. It is nice and it is weird, all at the same time. This isn't my home, but it is where I live.

My life here, while fulfilling, is fairly uneventful. I cannot compare it to New York, because, well, that was a fantasy life, full of fun and excitement and new adventures and boys. But here, I am doing things I have never done, falling in love with things that I never expected and finding out how to be me in this wretched city.

It's starting to rain again. Here we go again. Let the suicide attempts start.

Do you realize?

Eleven Years is a Long Time.

There are some moments in your life you will never forgot. Your first kiss, your first job interview, winning your first award, being published for the first time, you get the drift.

There are other moments though you remember for all the wrong reasons. They catch you off-guard and throw your life into a tailspin. A moment that you will forever be able to revisit by just closing your eyes, the steps you took, the feelings you had, the reaction you gave and then everything else just blurs.

My favorite cousin died 11 years ago. All because of a motorcycle accident, this man was taken away from his friends and family far too soon. Far too soon.

He was funny and smart and kind and had this ability to make you feel so special, even if you weren’t. He was adventurous and outgoing and playful and I doubt you will find anyone out there to say a bad word about him. He was someone you could look up to and admire, without ever feeling lame for actually admiring someone.

And after going down a few steps and sitting down with my dad, he was taken away from me. Forever. Well, he had been taken away from me a couple of days earlier, I just didn’t know about it. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. And while I can vividly remember the moment leading up to my dad talking to me and the talk my dad had with me and a few moments immediately after, the rest it is all a blur, with random memories here and there; things that gave me some sort of comfort and other things that proved to be no solace at all.

I think about him all the time, obviously, more so today. The upsetting thing is, I cannot remember his voice. I remember what he looks like and moments we spent together, but I was only 16 and didn’t know that I needed to remember what his voice sounded like. You never realize that you NEED to remember these things, that moments you never thought would matter, really do when you can’t have them anymore.

You never realize that the people you love won’t always be around. That one day, you will be calling their family to say, I am thinking about them today. But in reality, you think about them all the time. At the top of a climb and the beautiful view, I think, fuck Hugh would have loved this.

So, yeah, today sucks. I has since 1997 and it will every year until the day I die. All because of one fucking moment, one little fucking second, so many years ago.

Worst day ever.

What is the matter with you?

Have you ever wondered that? I wonder it all the time.

Why are you so fucked up? Why can't you just pull it together and enjoy life again? Why not?

It has been a year. A year since my life was great. I was sorta working again, I had just been published twice and I was in love. So very much in love.

I had this man in my life that proved he was worth it. Proved that he was willing to offer more than any other before. Proved that not all men suck. That not all men are going to dick you around and leave you when things get a little tough.

Then, a year later, he went and proved me right ... all men are going to dick you around and leave you when things get a little tough.

Granted, there were definitely more cons on his list than pros. That much I am sure of. I had warped into this person that I never was before. A person I barely recognized as myself. I mean, it sounded like me, it looked like me, it did things that I would do, but it wasn't me.

And it hasn't been me for a while. A really long while.

You see, in mid-July, my life shifted. It shifted in a way I have been unable to grapple with. All of a sudden, my life was out of my control. Things were happening to me and my body that were totally out of my control.

I didn't want to be me, so why would anyone want to be with me?

It would have been too much for anyone, so I can hardly blame him for walking away. I have just become too much to deal with, even for myself.

And my poor friends. God, can only imagine how many of them would LOVE to turn and walk away from me, but, unfortunately for them, I know every possible way of contacting them, so they can't. Heh. Sucks for them.

So yeah, I wonder all the time, what is the matter with me? I know, I just don't know how to fix it. I guess that is the part that separates the crazies from the normals ... knowing how to fix what is wrong with you.

Dudes weekend

Smelly Paul came to visit for five days.

I have never been so excited for someone to visit (at least not for someone I would not be doing dirty things with) before. See, I really thought that no matter where I lived, I would not see SP. So when he was able to find a conference out here, well, I peed a little.

He landed Friday night. I picked up, met with some friends, grabbed cheap Indian takeout and came back to my place. The weather sucked and SP and I have never been the type to go out, so we cracked open Settlers of Catan and played the night away.

Saturday, we made, what felt like, a trek to mecca. Met some friends and enjoyed a beautiful Vancouver day. Walked around downtown, then met up with Aaron and his wife and returned to my apartment. We made plans to go out, but that never materialized. P3 came over and it was another night of Catan.

Sunday was spent walking the city. We found what is supposed to be one of the best seafood joints in Vancouver, a fish shack. Then took the water taxi to Yaletown, walked to English Bay, tried to go to North Van on the SeaBus, but JUST missed it.

See, the thing about a weekend like this, is that while we did a lot. We didn't really do a lot. Most of the time was doing what we love best and well, that is nothing.

He thinks his wife would really like it here, so there is hopes of a move if you ask me.

Has it been that long?

I just realized that I haven't posted in over a month. How ridiculous is that?? So here is the first of a few, just for a brief catch-up.

I have been so fucking busy. Like stupid busy.

I have been rock climbing. I really like it so far, although with my fickle nature, that will likely change in no time.

I have been so tired. Drinking coffee tired. I hate coffee. The taste, the caffeine, nothing about coffee appeals to me. But here I am, drinking a cup the second I get into work. What is that?!

I am in love with my new apartment. I think it is pretty great. Now all I need is a maid and everything would be great.

So there it is, the quick and dirty catch-up of my not-so-fabulous-life.