Ex girlfriends....
Punches in the mouth...
Stabbing in the heart...
Mindless nonchalance...
Why did I let her in?
How did she wrap me around her finger?
What made me think she was mine?

You broke my heart, my spirit and my soul...
You tore from me what little hope I had at everlasting love.
You left with the boy that you chose over me...
Now... Just as my heart has healed from your betrayal, you've returned to stir the pot, or pour salt on the wound.  You are evil. Evil incarnate.  I was free from you, yet now I suffer from the idea of you here. My town. My space.

I question my every move. I hope to all hell you aren't there. Every pub. Every cafe...the grocery store, video store, the bus...fuck even walking down the street, I hope...nay I pray not to see you.
You broke my heart. Stomped on my hopes and dreams.  You moved away and it all went away, yet here and now you have come back to stay. Of the cities in all the world, you had to come fuckin come back to mine. You are selfish and ignorant. You are a liar and a cheat. Sympathy you will not receive in this life or the next. I loathe how you treated me, whether or not I failed you, your reaction was an act of sheer cowardice, and shall never be forgiven.

Bottom line...
Go fuck yourself you stupid small minded self involved douche. Leave me be and get the fuck out of my town.
 Namaste.
R

It's been awhile... I've been working my ass off as of late with nothing to show for it. Let me explain. A career in baking and the dreadful 4am start time was not suited for this night owl.  I opted to continue my life as a service industry whore. For that is what I am, nothing more, nothing less. I walk, say yessir, right away sir, pardon me ma'am, may I... It is absurd that one so gifted would choose such a line of work, yet here I am, quite good at what I do... The gift of gab, of multitasking, speed, efficiency, listening, calculating, organizing and training...all at the same time. Why? You might ask... A noble response might seem appropriate here, however I have none.  The truth is, I like the rush. The panic. The pressure. There is something tantalizingly satisfying about drowning in the crush of a rush, surviving it, and the surge of adrenaline that gets you through. That surge continues into the wee hours and you ride that wave like a champion surfer tackling the greatest swell ever. To get paid to hold your own against an ocean is beyond explanation. Unless you've been there yourself, you'll never comprehend.  To do this job, and not actually be paid is insanity.  That is where my head sits spinning in disbelief, that if I could be so fooled into thinking it would all end in sunshine and rainbows... The tax man froze the accounts and we found we found a way to survive while they paid those fuckers back, unfortunately not for lack of trying, we were unsuccessful in salvaging the restaurant.  For lease signs being posted, the locks changed and paycheques promised cancelled. Never has my will to succeed and desire to impress been so repressed.  The owners stole from me.  They took more than I can ever describe.  My spirit dwindles and my confidences wanes.  It frustrates me to look at my last few months and realize what damage has been done to my reputation, my confidence and my sanity. This experience not only cost me time, blood, sweat and tears, but has also damaged my pride and has caused hesitation towards my abilities in this industry.  I know I'm better than this. I've created many smiles. I've improved many peoples days. I've satisfied many souls. I know that this was a challenge. A growing experience, just another university course without the piece of paper, but this was a challenge to my character as well as my intellect. I just hope in the near future the fruits of this endeavour pay off. They will see the wheel come around. Karma is a bitch and sure as hell would love to see their fall. Even more than that however, I would like to see those wronged, given a turn for the better...a reprisal for all the frustration they've endured.  This is not an easy life. Lessons are learned the hard way, however the rewards can be fruitful, if one is willing to ensure the hardships along the way.  I just hope this lesson is worth it's weight in gold.

What. Is. Will

Nostalgia makes us laugh. It makes us cry. What we were and where we were going. Major triumphs and epic fails. Loved and lost. Smirks, groans, gasps, sighs, all bringing tears to our eyes, various emotion evoking similar responses with polar opposite origins. Minutes, days, months and years have passed, yet in that moment...so vivid, so real...so right here. Nostalgia reminds me of my best and worst. The best have made me happy while the worst have made me better. Fear not nostalgia, I feed you every tomorrow, as you feed me every yesterday.

My thoughts of late have been about how, what and why.  How did I get here? What does it mean? Why have I gone through this? To name a few...
I slightly remember the how... And with some educated guesses I can make decent assumptions on those meanings, but the why, that fuckin why.  How sucks...how can be about how I got here, or it can be how do I fix it... How only matters when we decide we want to. Whether it comes first or last, it matters.

Why drives us at times. It deters most others.  How? Frivolity, excess, lack of commitment, or fear of it. A desire to forget. To forget what???

'What' is a labyrinth. Until it isn't.  This is confusion, I know, but bear with me.  'What' is a maze of disinformation, wrong turns, dead-ends and despair.  'What' is also that which changes minds and hearts, it inspires and leads to paths untrodden. 

Why? We'll never truly know this answer...that's not the point.  The point is we keep asking.

Think about the 5 W's.
Who- you
When- now
Where- here
What- the situation
Why- the goal
How- the strategy

With this reference, the first three 'w's are simple. Who, when and where are on you.  What is dependent.  Why questions the purpose. How determines the process.

What is the problem? Acknowledgement
Why are you here? Admittance
How do you fix it? Achievement

Acknowledge
Admit
Achieve

In my case...
I drink too much
Because I'm scared
I focus on cutting down drinking

Relax

Back in town

Ten days in at home.  Met my my daughter, shared laughs with family and friends, watched my first NHL game, froze my ass in the tundra that is home.  I'm back to reality now, a much more beautiful surround, but harsh in its economic climate.  It is a place where most struggle to maintain a full wallet, but the beauty and the mild climate offer a more conducive environment to happiness.  In the arctic plain money is more abundant, but the weather sends you cowering towards the pub, or simply hiding indoors liked a caged beast.  That is the question I pose everyday.  Money and misery or poverty and serenity? 

Where can that middle ground be found?  This "sunshine tax" is a sonovabitch, but I can afford to be broke if I'm happy, whereas it is extremely expensive to be miserable.  Money doesn't buy you happiness.  This I know.  It does, however, offer distractions to remove thoughts of unhappiness from your mind.  When I was living in the tundra I had plenty of money, but I was so mad at my life that I imbibed in any and all things to forget that I was a sour soul poisoning the well.  Here I am broke and the urge to purge is greater than that to imbibe.  My desire for the mind altering drugs has diminished.  My escape through sexual escapades has drastically declined. 

Happy and broke for the short term feels right...Then what?  There's that nagging voice in my sub-conscience screaming for a long term plan, goals, security, roots, equity, retirement savings and on and on it goes...
That voice by the way, is my mother.  Constant in consistency and consistently prattling about growing up...
Thank you mother...Right away mother.

I'm not sure how to put into words the avalanche of emotions that crushed me yesterday.  I met my daughter for the very first time, my baby mama for only the second time.  After walking for hours my baby brother, who is no longer a baby, came and picked me up. Deep talk there with pints in hand.  When he dropped me off mom and I had a chat.  We laughed we cried and we drank.  Fuck, did we drink.  My head spins and my stomach churns... Not so much from the drink, but the stories told, secrets whispered... Finally meeting my mom even though I've known her all my life.
Meeting my daughter was scary and crazy cool. She loves blueberries and puppies and dancing.  She has a conniving smile, a smirk that says she's up to something, which she most likely gets from me... She doesn't know who I am, but baby mama and I both agree, she knows something's different about me, I'm not just some guy.  It was weird.  She knew without knowing, you know?
Baby mama was calm. We chatted about the awkwardness of the situation. How to make the most of it and not succumb to external pressures.  This is not a typical relationship, but who gives a shit about typical? My daughter came In to this world a bright vibrant light, she is amazing.  She's going to kick some ass.

I'm going home to visit friends and family today.  I haven't been home in more than two years.
Before I left there was a drunken one night stand that resulted in a one night stand. That one night stand produced an offspring... I have a daughter and I'm just about to meet her for the very first time! It is an experience unlike anything I have yet to encounter.

The thoughts and doubts and worries and everything that creeps into your head when you don't know what you are getting yourself into have made camp in every facet of my being.  I was a mess when I planted my seed. Have my mistakes in life been inherited by this young innocent life I have sown?  This was not in my plan, but then what life altering events are ever truly our own design? How often do you choose your path and how often is that path beaten before your eyes. Beyond ones control the trees are slashed back for ones footsteps to follow.

A woman I barely know has carried in her womb a soul which is half mine! A woman I had a great night with and have never seen again!  This some kind of something. A new one for me, that's for sure. New has never been a bad thing. Intimidating, imposing, illuminating, irrational. My mind spins and my stomach churns. I'm not ready, but show me ready and I'll show you a lie. The idea of preparedness is one of delusion.  The concept of preconception and preparation are similar to the inspiration of fairy tales.  Whilst we think we've armed ourselves for what we think shall come to pass, nothing could have trained us for this.  Nothing in those fables armed me for what is about to transpire.  I have a daughter, a baby mama... People who need me to be better than who I am. Up until this moment, that last sentence pondered, has it truly slapped me in the face with the truth.  I am a father. A father provides. A father cares. A father protects. I have done none of these do date.  Hell, I can barely save myself.  My own father is trying, as I write, to return from the land of the dead to slap my face off and teach me lessons he never had time to teach me in life.  Lessons he himself was not savvy enough to to teach me before he passed.  I am a son without a father. A father without guidance. Struggles ensue, lessons to be learned.
I guess this means selfish desires are to be cast aside, I have a human being that is half me that needs guidance in this world.  That is something to live for.

Cooking has become my new outlet, it has risen to a level of importance beyond expectation.  It is calming. it relaxes me and sets the stressful issues aside during moments of duress.  I am temporarily removed from the ebb and flow of the dull routine aspiring to acquiesce to the mundane existence that has been offered us.  How can I? What can I? Do? I'm next to broke all the time, my family is of no means to support this war I wish to wage, my enemy is limitless and morality is of no concern...resources abound! What can one accomplish? I am not David to their Goliath, I am just...some guy in a basement apartment drinking and thinking. A worrisome downward spiral from which is near impossible to overcome.  I've been trying...  Some ideas prevail, yet others flounder.  Hiding in my room filling my life with YouTube, Netflix and sleep has not solved anything.  I have found going outside to be troublesome as well. I tend to walk out my door with every intent on accomplishing something productive, but as always happens, I slowly corrupt my purpose and make my way to where I said I wouldn't go.  I'm not safe at home, at work, or just out...it follows me everywhere.  What started as a vacation turned into a vocation, though this one costs much more dearly. The challenge lies before me.  An effort must be made on my part to fill my time and my liver with much more than liquor.  i am trying to adjust my ways, i have tried numerous things to distract my thirst, but like a vampire to fresh blood, as am I to the drink.  Biking, walking, reading, gardening, cooking all make me happy. The whole of this list make me feel as if I'm bettering myself,  yet the problem lies with the fact that whilst preparing and cooking I imbibe...
Julienne the onions...sip. Sautée the vegetables...sip. Simmer the sauce...sip. Bring to a boil...sip. Pasta al dente...sip. Strain...sip. Combine...sip.  Plate...sip.........
                                                                                                     ........
                                                                                                             .....
                                                                                                                  ...
                                                                                                                     .
I venture out for a walk, or a ride and eventually I find myself standing in front of a liquor store cashier holding a bottle I didn't even ask for.  Not because it is being forced upon me, but due to the fact it is what I always ask for. I got a fucking bottle of whisky for Christmas last year. That is some kind of special.

It's hard work, this whole climbing out of a rut...  Everyday I ask myself a thousand times if I wanna go to the pub...  Do ya maybe wanna pop by the liquor store? Is there any booze left? If there's none of that, does anyone I know know where to find you know what? Faaaack.

Nonstop. This is waaay harder than I thought.  Ask yourself 100 times.  Answer emphatically NO 99 times.  Answer YES meekly once and you fail.  This shit is tough.  I'm on my own, support is lacking because I'm too proud to reach out. I'm stubborn and selfish and stupid.
I did, however, extend an olive branch to a man I just recently betrayed, in an attempt to repair our falling out.  I was still reeling from an earthquake in my own life and used him to a point that was beyond disrespect. It hurts me everyday.  I wrote an apology letter and left it in his mailbox.  Is this cowardice?  Would you prefer I approached personally to deliver a bastardized version of what I needed to say? This way I've formulated my thoughts and delivered them without disruption.  Face to face is a meeting meant for the future.  I have no hope here.  I have said my piece on paper to the wronged party.  If said party wishes it so, I would love to open up a dialogue in an attempt to salvage the friendship.  Respect and admiration bordering on idolatry have made this betrayal feel far worse than any in the past.  Never have I been so mad at myself for stabbing my boss in the back.  The things I would endure  to take it all back....