Bye Bye Birdie

I haven’t traveled to Azerbaijan for a couple of weeks now, her plains feel barren and in a perpetual state of stale fall. There were no fights or heightened passion, she just kinda passed on during the twilight of… whatever we were. She fells dead to me, not in a “good! I hope you die and go to hell bitch” kinda away, more in an understated sweeping sorrow, void of any and all closure. I thought we were going to make up, after 3 examless days of no contact… it doesn’t seem to be the case. Maybe I could call/txt her… I can’t bring myself to do it. I miss her, it doesn’t feel closed (to me), I think about it some, but I don’t think I will contact her. Maybe lions die like lambs... maybe that’s not a bad thing. I am grieving in a way, and although a weight has been lifted off my chest, I feel east of
A friend and I have starting to hang out a lot. She is starting to really grow on me, I think she feels similar. If she were going to be in the area for the next term it would be a no brianer... but shes moving back home for the summer term... meaning the relationship would be LD at its conception. She has 10 more days here... and with Azeri and i still together we haven't done anything. We are kinda at a stage where we would pull as many all nighters as we could just to see if we could get to know eachother that way. Then she would be gone...Which having an LD relationship wouldn't be horrible... I could work, school and workout all during the week and see her/go to bars on the weekend... I don't know. I am goign to think about it over the weekend and a little bit.. If Azeri doesn't contact me in the slightlest over the next while... I'll know we are over and then maybe i will go for Greek... even that seems off.
After Azeri, if we are over, I am not sure i want to jump into another relationship. Maybe i should just hook up as much as i possible can (with kyle that i extermly easy). The more i get to know greek, however, the less apealing that options seems

Spiting Roses for their Thorns

Azerbaijan and I recently broke up and got back together, in the “a part” time I went on a date with (thinking of a nick name…) Greek(!). I met Greek at a bar, exchanged phone numbers and (later) set up a date. When she arrived to the date I was taken back, She was a lot more attractive than I remembered. We drank, ate, and talked (her more than me, by a large margin). The minute hand made an attempt at 2 full revolutions but only made it to 1 and a half. I walked her home and ended the night with a hug (didn’t feel right doing anything else, Azerbaijan was still on my mind)
Greek is exactly my type, or at least she was… B.A (Before Azerbaijan). Truth be told she reminded me of Paris (only more; attractive, fun, and corky). While I am still attracted to that kind of woman, loving Azer has really changed me. From day 1 Azer has stood out to me. Her thoughts, how she articulated them… when and how she articulates them… Somewhere in the middle of the date Greek mentioned a story about her friend asking for a sigh of faith. She saw a bird in a place birds normally aren’t. Then the friend asked for a bigger sign, and a flock of birds came… (I know). The Story was a turn off. It made me think about Azer. Out of all my female friends Azer would be the only one to not be impressed by it. It made Azer stand out from Greek and in the comparison… Greek didn’t come out on top. I didn’t want to go back to Azerbaijan, but truth be told I wanted someone that was more like her and less like Paris.
After the date I met up with Azerbaijan (Azer made me with every threat besides physical). We talked… or at least she talked. Truth be told I was dead set against us making up. About a half an hour in though, she started to make sense. One of the reasons I wanted to break up with her was because I thought she didn’t have strong feelings for me. The more she fought however, the less convincing that argument became. I told Azerbaijan about Greek, She seemed upset… rightfully so. She told me she wanted me to text her saying I had a girlfriend. I put up an argument, but in the end I willing gave in (risking Azeri for a cute girl I don’t know… not worth it… not even close). Truth be told, at this point my attraction to Azerbaijan had come back with such a vengeance… I’d probably Van Goho myself to be united with her (I am still a little foggy how my complete 180 switch happened).
We both promised to make major changes, not sure how much of that will actually happen (on both sides). I am, however, coming to understand that she is not as heartless as she seems. She constantly brings up how she thinks couples who make out with others (as long as they still love each other) is cool… She still says she doesn’t want to date me for too long (because she wants to see what other serious relationships are like). Still, against my better judgment… I love her. No one else understands it (myself included), but I do. Out of the 6 billion people on earth, when I; see, smell, touch, and taste her… it is different. She is not like other person the way my family is not like other people (to a lesser extent).

And the Punch Line to the Joke is Screaming Someone Save Us

If God doesn’t exist, what does? Is existence watered-down to a styling and profiling of selfish spending and exchanging the exorbitant exchanges of intimacies and sweet nothing dramatics? The lingering notion of placing my riches in heaven still hunts me, every other prospective portfolio seems more than a little haphazard. Metal rusts, moths can get to cloth, additionally stone becomes weathered. Where, I ask, do you place your riches if heaven no longer exists? What forever is there in a world of permanent decay? Maybe the young prince had it right, but then what right choice is there when the end result is the exact same.
I am amused by women, pursuing, maintaining, attending to; what’s the point? She will rust and tares just like any other thing. We, our riches, the beautiful things we cover ourselves in, are all festering nothings. Some of us can think, act, and breath, but its only a matter of time before we don’t. We are desk, We are chair, We are rabbit, We are stone, We are the mud and dirt that originally formed us (by accident or design).

P.s: there are hazards of leaving half empty glasses around your working space… one being that you may swallow a mouth full of something you forgot about a month ago that may or may not be make you sick.

Wake Up Sunshine Death is at Your Door

When I wake up sometimes I think; I could be single right now. It’s a choice to talk to Azerbaijan. I don’t have to respond to text msgs, emails, or IM’s. “today could be the day where I just walk away.” There doesn’t need to be a fight, a scene, or even a build up of escalating prices of poker. I could simply walk away. I thought about that this morning. No more fighting, no more insults, no more sharing my girlfriend with her internet boyfriend. That stress, doubt, worry, could all be gone. I keep seeing Vendetta at the gym. Truth be told I think about her a little bit more than what is appropriate. I don’t consider her to be more attractive than Azerbaijan (to me, no one is), but I continually think about how nice Vendetta is. She must treat her boyfriend well; affectionate, caring, listens to him, doesn’t insult him or yell at him constantly. It must be nice. Sure, she has a list of her own faults but as long as they were not yelling and insulting him wouldn’t that be a step up from where I am now. Maybe I need to raise my expectations a little bit (at least change them). I’m not Brad Pitt or Bill gates but I should still be able to ask for a girl who is; cute, short, skinny, affectionate, can hold a conversation, and doesn’t insult or fight with me.” That’s not a lot is it? I mean I am already dating a woman who is all those things except insulting and fighting.
I don’t want to say that I can do better than Azerbaijan. Truly I don’t think there is a better. Maybe, however, I would be happier and better off with someone isn’t as verbally abusive though. Someone who is more mature (relationship wise), less insulting, more nurturing. I’ve never had a girlfriend that I loved as much as I do Azerbaijan. I’ve never been as attracted to a woman as much as I am to her. I guess I am scared of losing that. I am always hopeful that she will eventually wake up and become the woman she is so close to becoming, but fight after fight I inch closer to the resolve that that will never happen, not with me anyway. She will get there, just not right now, and not with me.

Abortion

Abortion

Today at the gym I accidently called a friend “babe.” The friend in question (Vendetta), caught up with me at the bench press. We exchanged niceties followed by her saying “I’d hug you if I weren’t so sweaty.” As if on auto pilot I immediately responded, “like I’ve ever cared, get over her babe(!).” She either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to confront the awkwardness. I know what your thinking, Freidan slip. No! Vendetta is an attractive woman in her own right, but; 1) I am very satisfied with my girlfriend, 2) She has a boyfriend (seems like a nice guy), 3) I just don’t see her that way (we’ve always had a strong purely platonic chemistry that is so natural it has never had to be further examined or explained). I felt like the student who accidently called his elementary teacher “mom.”
I chalk the accidental “babe” to a misplaced association with Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan and I are somewhere between something new and something you can comfortably place your trust in. I am really starting to enjoy the person beyond the remarkable aesthetics. Last weekend we really flowed together, it was a pleasant surprise. We had an incredible workout, we had a multitude of conversations, she was like my it my best friend with romantic allowances. Which leads me to my explanation: 1) I was in the gym with a woman I am naturally comfortable with, 2) sharing a good flow with not to much unlike I did with Azerbaijan, and 3) I’ve said similar things to Azerbaijan on multiple occasions… “babe” just came out too easily.
When I think about what I said “like I’ve ever cared, get over her babe” it doesn’t even make sense with Vendetta. “Like I’ve ever cared” I never cared or not cared with her, but I have said the exact thing to Azerbaijan at the gym (in fact I find her oddly attractive after her exhaustive workouts). The words “get over here babe” those are words that are completely reserved for my girl, I don’t even know if I’ve ever said them to any other girlfriend. I don’t feel guilty about it, that being said I know Azerbaijan would surly be rubbed the wrong way by the tale (cant blame her for that). Truly, the only reason I said it was because of a incredible associations I have with her. still i wish i never said it.

Anyway, that was a funny/odd/awkward thing that happened to me today.

Lightning Bolt S's and the Goosestep Celibration of Sleuth Filled Weekends

Today (March 1, 2010), is a huge day for my family. Firstly, my grandmother turns 90! Secondly, my parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary! My Grandmother is officially 90 today! Think about that; WW1, WW2, The Depression, man going into space, the splitting of the atom, the birth of me! I know that everyone has a special place in their hearts for their grandmother… I am no exception. She was the first person to show me the wonders of public transpiration (and at 7, it really was amazing). We would take the bus to a movie theater, eat at restaurant, and then come home. If I were good she would entertain me with a rendition of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (she had voices for every character, and changed Charlie’s name to Rob). Sleeping over at my Grandmother’s house was always a treat because she had a modest yet eclectic VHS library (Home Alone being my favorite). Be it the 22nd round of “go fish” or 33rd round of “war,” she remains my favorite cards opponent. No one makes Grill cheese or piggy in the blankets like my grandma. What else can I say about a woman who body checked my older brother into a cabinet (which broke!) and played Dance Dance Revolution at 88. She is tough, strong, loving, spry (yes I try to use that word as often as possible), family orientated, dedicated, and maybe a little stubborn. I love her, I am inspired by her, she is my secular saint. My grandmother makes me want to live to 90… or die trying. Officially my parents were married on a leap year, so they won’t actually have another adversity until 2012… but, they now have been married for 30 years. Today (while watching real word DC), my mother earnestly remarked that she has now spent the majority of her life with my Dad. Beautiful, what else can be said about that. You don’t pick your parents, siblings, and relatives; your spouse is really the only part of your family you choose. To share your life with someone for 30 years day in and day out, ideal. I am under no illusion that novelty and zestful attraction can be maintain for that long, but my mom does claim to be more in love with him than she was 30 years ago, I believe her. I can’t (but one day hope to) know what its like growing in love with someone for that long. I really take for granted my parents union, they are just so solid I’ve never thought about what it actually takes to do what they have done. Surely, my mom and dad have had their; disagreements, misunderstandings, and misgivings, but as their son of 23 years… I’ve never witnessed anything but the most superficial and controlled of outburst. I cannot fathom the; maturity, self control, and discipline required to come together as cohesively as they have. They have made it look easy, while I’m sure it has been anything but… That speaks volumes about both of their characters. Married for 30 years.

Make Me Good God, Just Not Yet...

I wear “I love you’s” on my sleeve. A sweet nothing from me is exactly that, nothing. I have a habit of serving affection as it were water, it’s hardly worth writing home about (Azerbaijan sure hasn’t, lol). She was never one to match my superficial affection. Lately, however, she has surprised me with the articulations of her feelings. I don’t think she is even being superficial or disingenuous about it. I never expected her to feel this way about me, let alone express it. I like it but, it has caught me off guard.
At first I thought she was becoming more affectionate to cover up her infidelity, I don’t think that is that case anymore. Then I started to think she was becoming more affectionate because she knew it was what I wanted to hear. That would be a lot of work for something she would have either way. I am starting to believe that she is actually developing deep seeded feelings for me. I never expected it. Last night was one such occasion, she looked up at me and said “do you remember how I used to say “time will tell,” well its been enough time and… I love you.” I was flabbergasted.
Paris once asked about how serious Azerbaijan and I were, I said it was very temperamental and might not last another 2-3weeks. I was certain that there was a 3-4 month expiratory date on our relationship. I didn’t trust her, I didn’t think I was good enough, I thought she was going to play me. Well, like Azerbaijan said, its been enough time and (besides one ice-cream incident) she been good. This leaves me with one question, is my relationship with Azerbaijan actually turning into something substantial? I’ve spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop that I never really thought of her like that (I mean I hoped, but I didn’t dare get my hopes up). It’s weird to think Azerbaijan likes me the way she tells me she does. It’s weird thinking of her as my next serious relationship. It must be weird for a lottery winner to wake up 5 months later and realize he is still rich, that is ticket was good, that no one is going to take away his money. That’s how I feel about Azerbaijan.
it is becoming increasingly hard to think of myself with other women. I can't see myself loving other women the way i love her. I don’t have to be anyone but myself with her; I am most genuinely me when I am with her. We are starting to fit together. Sometimes she is my only breath of fresh air in moggy week.

New York and cupid's Arrows

Over the past several days Azerbaijan and I have gotten along famously. I don’t know why, how, or exactly when it happened. It is as if someone turned flipped a switch and everything got better. Like when you walk in from a sunny snowy day and everything is red until an unpredictable blink unexpectedly restores your white balance. She even looks at me different now. She looks at me like she is actually in love with me, the feeling is amazing. I don’t think either of us knows what is the cause of sudden change.
Personally, I recognized that several months ago I was ‘seeing’ 5 women and decided that I was happier with one (her). I remembered that for the most part Azberjain is what I am looking for. I also have come to understand some of the triggers and buttons I push that make her upset, and try to avoid them. I can’t take all the credit; I can see that she has made changes to. She is slower to anger, more affectionate, and attempts to avoid arguments. She is started to gain everything I thought was missing. I’m excited to see her again. Of course, its only been a week and time will tell how long this new attitude will stick. I am not overly concerning myself with that however. Planning too far ahead is bad for your relational health. I am going to enjoy the good while its good, when/if it turns sour… I’ll act accordingly.
Anyway, I’ve decided to expand the mission statement of this blog. Previously I intended this blog to be about my relationships. A way I could look back and see/show the tribulations I encountered. Somewhere along the way I realized I had prioritized relationships too high. I’ve decided to make this blog more of a journal and less of a relationship blog.
On that note, tonight I am going to tell my dad about my plans to go back to school. I am nervous. Ideally I would want him to be so into the idea that he is willing to pay for tuition, room, and board. At 23, and already having a degree under my belt, I know this is a tall order. We will see, and I will keep you updated. Love yaJohn Darling.

She loves me, She love me not, She loves me?

Azerbaijan has become overly jealous and controlling, it gives me conflicting emotions. Firstly, and in complete disclosure, I like it. Last night, for example, she half jokingly mentioned that Fridays and Saturdays were automatically reserved for her. My first thought was, that’s awesome! I mean, I have this amazing woman who wants to spend every weekend with me! That’s flattering. There is no one else I would rather spend that time with anyway. If I wasn’t with her I would go out B-rain. I’d find myself in some club scammin on some girl I wish was my girlfriend. No random touches Azerbaijan in any way. Sure, I find other girls alluring, even attractive, but I would rather be with Azerbaijan 10 out of 10 times. From the deepest to the most shallow of reasons I find her more attractive than any other woman I’ve come across.
The second thought about Azerbaijan’s increasing levels of control and jealousy makes me doubt her fidelity. I’ve been around the block enough times to understand what these levels of jealousy and control mean. She’s cheating or gearing up to cheat. I’ve done it, its been done to me, I can read the signs like the alphabet. I hope she is not cheating, obviously, but I am not letting it get me down. Cheaters are going to cheat no matter what you do. If I got upset at her it wouldn’t change her mind about being faithful to me. If she isn’t cheating on me and I got upset, it would just push her closer to doing it any way. Basically, I plan on working loving her as if I didn’t suspect her of anything. The truth will come out one way or the other.
Oh! last night we had a long conversation without a fight! It was nice. When we don't fight, we get along so well... its like a breath of fresh air into my day. We just talk, joke, Oh! And she is teaching me her language. It’s fun! I’ve had many people try to teach me many languages, she is really good. She doesn’t get mad at pronouncing words repeating. She is encouraging, and keeps positive. She impresses me. It makes me feel closer to her. It is one of my weakest points and she handles it very well. I wouldn’t say it’s a turn on… but it does make me like her more. Last night she asked “should we return to our lesson?” lol, it was really cute.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umsdHZ5nnnY

At School Again Breaking the Rules Again, Let me go, let me free

Last Saturday Azerbaijan and I went to Maxwell’s Music House. It’s a small bar (behind phils!) that plays live music. I was overjoyed to watch a live band play for the cost of 5 bucks and a tolerance of $4.25 drinks (gross). I noticed that the bartender, a young guy with blond spiky hair, was rather green at serving drinks.
A day later Azerbaijan informed me, after checking out the bar’s website, that the guy behind the counter was actually the owner of the place. I went to the website to check it out myself. Apparently a 25 year old Laurier business grade had won some grants through a business proposal, and used his contacts and personal relationship with his business professors to secure $150 000.
Last night, instead of thinking of my relationships or corresponding blog posts, I thought about this guy. For the majority of my life I’ve always thought of myself as being too young to do the things I want, certainly too young to start making real money. I am 23 now, that’s not too young to do anything (well excluding marriage and fatherhood… knock on wood). I thought about what I want to do with my life, how I can get there, the natural skills I have, the goals that have been trailing me through out the years. I’ve been thinking about law school… but that really delays my adulthood another 4-6 years. Last night I thought about the prospects of Studying business. I want to acquire the skills to do business and be marketable to the people with talents and aspirations but not the knowledge of numbers or business navigation. How many people have the skill and a dream but lack the business sense to start their own business? I can make myself that resource and form partnerships with people.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized the overstock I’ve placed in my romantic relationships. Romantic relationships have a very poor resell value. You spend so much time, energy, and money into being with someone and at the end you walk away with little to nothing. Admittedly, I’ve been taking my relationships too seriously. Every girlfriend has been taken as the one. Love hasn’t been earned with time and experience, its been given out too fast and too frequently. Romance has been too consuming, I should reallocate my energy toward fashioning a career and having fun while doing it, not chasing silly pouting girls. Maybe that will include committed relationships… maybe it won’t. Maybe it will mean a completely refashioning of what I consider to be involved with someone… I will let everything grow organically as I take sight of my future goals and let my life form around my travels toward making a living.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PcD-5kaHaU
http://www.maxwellsmusichouse.ca/

Cost of doing business and bankruptcy

I was lying in the middle of Azerbaijan’s double bed, she sat perpendicular to my body, we were talking about a DVD I brought over. At the drop of a hat and from 0 to 60, Azerbaijan started to yell about how I am in the middle of the bed, or more accurately, how I am “always” in the middle of the bed. I knew where this was going, it only goes to one place. I tried appeasement but the chain reaction to WW3 had already been set in motion. To her, any slight infraction marks a microcosmic gesture that indicates a greater flaw in one’s unchangeable nature. Accordingly, she rattled off her fight catch phrases (you can set your watch by them) “You will never change”, “You’re as pathetic as my step father,” “we just don’t get along,” and finally (and this time she means it) “it’s over”. The change from pillow talk to full blown bitch happened (and happens) so fast that it could make your head spin in a exorcist like fashion.
I walked out, thinking to myself that this was the last straw. I love Azerbaijan, I adore her, she is 80% of my dream girl. Just, that 20% is pure cancer and everything I gave up in high school romances. I walked out, the elements stung my exposed cheeks, my resentment grew. I told myself “This is ridiculous; I didn’t do anything to deserve this (this time…), let the next guy deal with this shit. Somehow I knew the next guy would put up with the good and leave at the first (second, or third) sign of trouble… maybe I should have. At some point the sweet juice just isn’t worth the strenuous squeeze.
Admittedly, I had put my cell phone in my glove so that I could feel it vibrate if she called. I wanted her to. My commitment to saying goodbye was growing, but I still wanted her to call and take everything back. I still wanted to be her boyfriend. A call shook my hand and found its way to my ear. She was sorry. She would never say “lets stay together” but its what we both walked away with.
The night passed with introspective thoughts of; traveling to the UK, starting businesses, and redefining my attitudes towards open relationships. She called, 1:40AM. She disarmed me with sweetness and affection (twice in a weekend… it must me a record). She said that she sometimes forgets how important I am to her. That she misses me, and how she wishes I was there with her now. My heart melted. This is the girl that keeps me in a continual mode of infatuation.
The juxtaposition between bitter and sweet made the sweet seem that much sweeter. Sweet Azerbaijan is so easy to love that it comes naturally and without effort or thought. I can’t continue to put up with the bitter to get to the sweet, however. I have to understand that there must be a limit to how much I put up with. I can’t spend my life catering to the wimps of an irrational romance. If someone stubbornly keeps getting upset, being negative, and finding faults in me… I have to let that go. I don’t want to, I hope I won’t have to, but I am not going to put up with this for much longer. Sometimes quitting is more sensible than holding out.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1LgvC8G0eY

Affectionately Yours

Hours after sunset fell my MSN rang with tones from Azerbaijan. We agreed on our respective problems and patched together opiate solutions. The ordeal ended in a treaty of listed rules and a date of reconciliation. A short stint of catching our breath in the air and a forgettable bus ride found us at a table in the refurbished Conestoga mall. I looked into her eyes and found the infatuation lost on self-induced mess. Complements and other niceties bridged our low expectations and high hopes. I (maybe we) prematurely fell into an ease and accordingly fell into lingering bad habits.
Her nitpicking and superficial criticisms moshed with my passive aggressive nature. I held my cruses under my breath and my resentment swelled. I internally ran through the list of my options and ended at weathering her storm(s) through a guise of playing dead. We skimmed through the next two hours by watching a kid’s movies (could have been better, could have been worse). I did, however, enjoy spending the time with her. I love catching glimpses of her smile, and hearing the ripples of her laughter.
We found our way back to her room via a cab. Splitting our time between youtube and pod casts, we; laughed, teased, and played beside each other in an informal embrace. We didn’t; fight, dramatize, or have ensnaring conversations about a proverbial “us.” Hours passed, I got bored. We were coexisting as friends but I dreaded the prospect of spending the next several hours in a similar fashion. Azerbaijan absolutely captivates me… spending several hours with little interpersonal interaction is less than an appealing notion. I would rather annoy an engagement out of her than be stuck in a holding pattern of platonic bliss. –never realized that- (Something I should defiantly work on…)
I lent a hand to the divide separating our affections; the ambassador was shot on sight. My heavy lids trailed thoughts of frustration and vows of never engaging with her again. An hour passed before she put her baby (I Mac) to bed and joined my attempts at sleep.
She remarked on how disturbing the movie was, she wanted to be held. Affection fallowed in degrees that caught me off guard (all PG sicko’s). I paralleled her shape and held the formation until aches in my shoulder blade taunted my aspirations of continuing to hold her. I dreaded it, but I eventually flipped over. To my surprise she fallowed suit, our enveloping darkness concealed a smile so unabashed it tickled the corners of my cheeks. This was beyond the woman I loved, it surprised me in the nicest of ways.
Her affection erased my pervious vows of estrangement. This is who I wanted, what I wanted, what had been missing, what I needed. Beyond having someone to hang out and sleep with on weekends, I want someone who is simply affectionately mine. I didn’t get that before. I have close friends. I have people who love me, like me, dislike, and hate me. There is only one person, however who I am overtly affectionate towards.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUXL31oqXXY
Affectionately Yours,
John Darling.

This endless days are going up in a blaze

Yesterday I was broken up with. At the time, its visceral sting was numbed by a month of; fighting, obscene highs/lows, and embarrassment. We both poisoned the well with the worse parts of our nature. Both of us will be happier and more satisfied with the embrace of neutralizing lovers. I know this, this is my internal mantra. While I replay these notions to myself, this morning’s shower was followed by an unintentional thawing of my repressed separation anxiety. I remembered the cute smile she shined, the eye makeup she wore for a pirate party, the subtly of her accent. I quickly removed myself from these notions. I am an attractive, educated, and good hearted guy. I will have many chances to be with beautiful and intelligent women. I recited these lines to myself; they were as smooth as high school rendition of Shakespeare. I can and will be with beautiful women, but no matter how beautiful they are, they won’t be her. I tried to sabotage the memory of our relationship, replaying her transgressions and infidelities. I forced myself to remember that her longest relationship was four months long, and that’s how long I lasted. I think of myself as being one of 8. Not the first, certainly not the last, just one of a cast that traveled through the revolving doors of her fleeting passions (below the belt? Kinda the point (and pun very much intended)). Somehow, remembering my unimportance to her life soothes me. I try picturing every nice thing she said to me being said to everyone else she has ever been with. I even try to imagine the list of flaws she will highlight for the next guy. Thinking of myself as nothing to her helps put things in perspective. She was a girl that I dated for 4 months… nothing more. Again a mantra I unsuccessfully tried to internalize. “just a girl, many of them out there, just a girl, just a girl, a girl, a girl. 4 months, 4 months. Hare, Rama, Hare..”

In a Biblical Sense

I knew (and I mean that in a biblical sense, lol) an Azerbaijan woman who dabbled in a post secularized Buddhism. Through the experiential knowledge of an estranged foreigner in Canada, she stumbled on a philosophy that can only be encapsulated by the notion of “Gam zeh ya'avor.” She, like all people, has certain needs that can only be fulfilled through modes of social interaction. Our human nature simply demands a level of socialization after all, even the nakedness of apes needs to find his counter part in others. How and why we form our socially inspired canons differs drastically. Here is where her and my experience differ.
My parents/country made my life a stable one. I have only moved once (when I was two). I’ve grown up with the same group of people. Besides my four month African sabbatical, I’ve spent my life in Canada with Canadians. I have 3 close friends. One I met in grade 6, one I met in grade 10, and 1 I met 4 years ago. Life is full of variables and change, my upbringing has muted this reality. For better or worse and without fully realizing it, I have come to gospelize; long relationships, face to face contact with those relationship, and living in one place.
The woman mentioned above, from what I’ve seen, is not like that. She has made drastic moves throughout her life. Her upbringing spans the globe and transcends languages and cultural barriers. Beyond that, every move has further physically separated her from the stagnation, social security, and comforts of the stability Gospel.
I want to be a lasting part of her life; it’s a need I’ve been bred to have (like middle class eugenics). We do what we’ve been taught, and this is all I know. She knows something different though, of which the intricacies will elude all but the luckiest man (fucking bastard). We are different. At my core, I strive to find (and keep) a woman to build a life with and value her as my secular savor. The only way I know how to do that is to fallow the foot steps of my father. I won’t assume to know what she wants (after all assuming makes an ass out of you and me), but at the end of the day she knows a world and a life different than mine. While there may be a universality of a loving and caring family life, there isn’t a universal method of achieving that goal.


(“Let Me Rest in Peace-Spike”, “Walk Through The Fire-OMWF” and “I’ll Never Tell-OMWF”)