tales of a traveling librarian

I’m not really sure what to write. First of all, I’m home. In Toronto. A mite early, you might say. Unfortunately, things did not go exactly as we planned for us in Panama City due to some extenuating circumstances and we decided that the best thing for me to do would be to return home and for us to take a break to regroup. Although Court and I have parted ways for now, we haven’t closed any doors (how’s that for cryptic?) and we still love each other very much. This is one of the most difficult things emotionally that I’ve ever had to do and while I might write more about it as time passes, for now, well, I’m having trouble just typing it out.

But I kinda had to. Because I plan on blogging from the cruise my Dad and I are taking as of tomorrow. And I thought maybe you’d read this and be like, um, dude, a cruise? Aren’t you in Central America? And so I didn’t want any confusion. So, yes, a cruise. We’re going to Key West, Jamaica, and the Cayman Islands. Is it last minute? Yes. Is it exactly what I need? Yes. I plan on bringing several mystery novels, my running shoes, and my elastic waist pants to allow for all of the buffet-y. I’m trying to put a positive spin on this. And if coming home means that I get to spend a week with my Dad, well, that’s worth something greater than many many other things. And I’m willing to trust, for now, that everything happens for a reason, and that, well, (God! The cliches!) if we are meant to be together, then we will work things out.

Just in case my calmness doesn’t last though, I’m asking Dad to bring some extra hydromorphcontin. I’ll either take it or turn it into some cold hard cash.

It’s been a hard month for marathon training. Since Around the Bay, I’ve been struggling with pain in my knee. Don’t worry, I’ve been all official about it and went to go see a Sports Medicine Doctor and have been doing physio therapy. Religiously. I’ve also added swimming and yoga/pilates to my work outs routine and brought my running down to 3-4 times a week. But, unfortunately, when I run, and when I hit about 11km in, I get a sharp, shooting pain in my knee. It’s almost instantaneous…fine, fine, fine…BAM. Today, on my first run with my running group in a month, I made it out 15km and then had to TTC it back home. I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t think it was worth powering through a training run when my marathon is around the corner. The marathon that I’m still hoping to run. The marathon that I’ve worked hard for for the last four months. The marathon that I dreamed might get me to Boston.

On the run though, one of the guys, after I explained why I had been out for a few weeks, mentioned his own marathon-ing horror story. He was running his first race last fall, the Scotiabank Waterfront Marathon. He was well well into the race, 41.5 kms or so and was feeling extremely tired. And then, the next thing he knew, he was being helped up by a paramedic, who was asking him if he could walk to the finish. He couldn’t remember his name or the day of the week or where he was and did not make it to the finish. Very understandably. But he said that for the few weeks following, he was so down on himself, depressed, about what happened, about not finishing, about not pushing through. He knew he needed to finish, so he registered for the Toronto Marathon, which took place three weeks after that. Despite advice not to do this from his coach, he powered through and finished that one, but with the side effect of knee pain. He did rest through the winter and is now back training this year with no injuries up to this point. I asked him if he would do it again, and he said no way. The story makes me realize that I’m certainly not the first rookie marathoner to do this. I’ve mentally been ready to run this thing for a while and have forgotten that my body needs to catch up. I was running too much, without the proper cross training and core building. This injury has revolutionized my personal training, not just for this marathon but for me as I continue on as a runner. He got over it: over the severe disappointment and defeat and he bounced back. I’m hoping that I can, too.

But, I’m not going to lie: there have been tears shed the past few weeks. I feel so incredibly disappointed with myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve set my mind to something and had something tell me, flat out, ain’t going to happen. I was doing the best that I knew how. I was following a program and I was committed to it. It was something TO DO during a very stressful and unsure time in my life and it was the one thing that helped me feel sane and competent and productive. There is not much that I can do for my Dad right now (other than get him treats from Hasty Market) but, this race made me feel like I was fighting back, too. It made me feel strong and capable. And then my body knocked me on my ass. I suppose this is probably how my Dad and Denise felt, too. You’re chugging along, doing what you know, and then, BOOM, you’re on your butt. Obviously, not the same and not to the same degree, but the feeling of helplessness, of failing, of shame, I suspect some of those emotions are in there for them, as well. I don’t really know what to do with my brain right now and running was a source of sanity and comfort. It was both selfish and giving and it provided a great deal of necessary equilibrium. And now, now I can’t do it. Well, at least, not as well as I could before.

The fact of the matter is that had I gotten in the month of training that I was supposed to this April, I would have tried to qualify for Boston in Ottawa. Now, the new fact is that I will be trying to just simply finish my marathon in Ottawa. I’ve been told that this is fine. Just finishing. And rationally, I know, it is. That no one but me will be disappointed if I finish in 4:00 or 4:30 or 5:00 hours. But, I’m a competitive person. And I’ve been chasing this for a while. And I just feel incredibly frustrated to not be able to do this. I wanted to do this for myself, as a person who formerly would never have dreamed of doing this, and for my Dad, who, I think, is surprised to find out that he has two athletic children. I want this. I want a this marathon so hard…well, so hard that I actually feel a bit depressed about the status of my physicality right now.

But, I’m not one to wallow. Okay, I am, but I like to think I get over it and then I get something done. So, I’ve subbed in swimming twice a week for cross-training and to keep my cardio up. I started out doing sixty laps, then pressed to 80 and now I do 100. On a whim, I checked Ironman distances (what? a girl can dream!) and the swim in 2.4 miles. I’ll just work my way up slowly. I’m doing pilates and yoga once a week each to work on my core strength and flexibility. And I’m still runnning…just, not my long runs. I seem okay, no matter the speed, up to 10K or so. I can still do my tempos and my speed work outs.

This weekend, I’m going to try running multiple times in one day. I don’t think my knee with hurt as much with a break in between and I read somewhere that physiologically the benefits are simliar as long as the runs are done within 24 hours of each other. I will tell myself that and hope for the best. If I can keep my cardio up, and my fitness, I’ve done enough long runs already to carry me through finishing the marathon. I’m just still working on detaching my pride and self-worth from the finish line. That part is still a work in progress. I’m working on being proud of my effort and not just the results. I’m working on being okay with not, this time, exceeding my goals.

I’m having a hard time coming to terms with just how off I feel about this whole thing. I’m trying to re-group. I’m trying to figure out why exactly I’m so down. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m not running this race just for me. I’m running it for my Dad, because he can’t. I’m running it to raise money to prevent Cancer from happening to other people and to their family and friends. I’m running it because I truly believe that we each can give back in our own way and that these ways take a variety of forms. I am just so disappointed that it’s not working out the way I planned. And I know I need to work on that attitude as well.

Of course, I’m running it a little bit for me. For the girl who used to be twice the size I am now and who dreamed of being more physically active and healthy. This is just one step in a long journey, after all. Perhaps the culmination, but, still only one step. After all, there are other marathons (perhaps in South America?) and other ways to raise money and other ways to give back (Just think of how much can be raised if I do an Ironman…since the donation, of course, matches physical output!).

You know, we’re doing pretty damned well this year. I just hope I haven’t disappointed you, since you have donated (and who have truly outdone my wildest expectations) based on the idea that I was running this, with the fact that I might not be able to…but, I know, of course, that you were donating for Dad and for the effort and because of the incredible generosity of your own hearts. If I think about this too much, I just might be touched.

**You can keep track of how we are doing by visiting our status page.**

Dear Family and Friends,

Yes, once again  — it’s time to Prevent Cancer Now!

On May 24th, Alli will be running her first full marathon.  She has been training very hard to prepare.  It is a labour of love; she is running to honour Dave and his battle with metastatic kidney cancer.   Much as we have first-hand appreciation of the vital importance of research and treatment developments, we still believe the best way to address the cancer epidemic we are all facing is to prevent it from happening in the first place.

We’ve been participating in the 2009 Cancer Prevention Challenge for about five years now.  It is the only fundraiser in Canada that focuses exclusively on primary prevention of cancer.  We believe passionately that this is the way to go … now, more than ever.

Your contribution will support the work of Prevent Cancer Now (http://www.preventcancernow.ca/); an incorporated, broadly-based national movement for cancer prevention and environmental health promotion.   Some accomplishments include:

• launching the Cancer Prevention Declaration in mid-May 2006
• publishing and distributing An Ounce newsletter since January 2007
• the co-ordination of a letter-writing drive encouraging the Canadian Cancer Society to support a ban on asbestos
• organizing a major national conference on cancer prevention (It’s About Prevention. It’s About Time!) in Ottawa, May 2007. The focus was on building a national cancer prevention movement, and establishing a firm agenda for cancer prevention in Canada.
• promoting and supporting the development of the book Cancer: 101 Solutions to a preventable epidemic.
• launching an anti-incineration campaign in 2008 and the development of an Incineration Tool-Kit for concerned citizens in January 2009

Please consider supporting our fundraising efforts (and yes - Alli is making MUCH more of an effort than me!).  We hugely appreciate ANY contribution.  You can donate online by clicking on “sponsor us” at our personal fundraising page.

If you are more comfortable sending a cheque, please make it payable to “WHEN” or “Women’s Healthy Environments Network”, print my name in the memo line and send it to:

Susan Larsh
707C - 211 St. Patrick St.
Toronto, ON
M5T 2Y9

Donations over $20 will receive an official tax receipt.
Please know that we recognize there are many worthy causes out there and totally understand if you choose not to make a contribution.  Perhaps you would consider forwarding this email to your friends …

Thank you for your support.

Sue and Alli

One of the most bizarre things about my Dad’s battle with cancer is that he’s not battling it alone. You’d think that it would be highly unlikely for another fifty-something to know another fifty-something that has the same disease. And yet, in a bizarre twist of reality, it happened. Denise, whom all us kids usually call Aunt since she is part of the family, has been a part of my parent’s lives longer than I have. She and her husband, Randy, have known my parents since high school. Growing up, there were six of them, plus my Aunt Lynn and Uncle Doug, who spent every single New Year’s Eve together. It started out being pretty easy, when everyone was living in Windsor, but, life happens, and soon each of the three couples lived in separate cities. But, without fail, the celebration rotated from Windsor to Sarnia to Bowmanville and back again. Even with kids, even with work, even with life, they all worked to keep the tradition going. Because there are some friendships, and some people, that are just so worth the effort. And now two of the six, my Dad and Aunt Denise, have Kidney Cancer. I know that it has made both of them feel less alone to have someone to talk to, someone to be honest with, someone with whom they do not have to not sugar coat the shitty things that are going on. Because, guess what? Cancer sucks.

Aunt Denise has a very different story than my Dad (who’s dealt with his cancer on and off for the past decade).Her diagnosis came as a shock, to her and to everyone, I think. She was young and fit and healthy (sorry Dad!). Unfortunately, we all know that physcial fitness and quality of character do not make you immune to cancer (Unfortunately. Sign me up for a world where only the crappy people get it!). The woman is simply incredible. One of those people about whom you’d say, “she’s a true inspiration to everyone who knows her.” Seriously. You guys know I don’t just bandy about words like that lightly. The woman trained for a marathon and qualified for Boston. And then SHE RAN BOSTON, even though she had a tumour in her lung. You’d think that would be enough. But she also was active in many charities, notably as a member of the Windsor Rattlers, who raise money for Multiple Sclerosis research. And she bakes cookies! To raise money for charity! And I gain five pounds every year eating them! I’d hate her if I didn’t love her. Because here’s the thing: Denise didn’t do all of these things for show. Denise did these things because she is a wonderfully genuine person. Who happens to be one hell of a competitor. I admire her perseverance and strength, and the dignity that she has shown throughout the past few months. One of the things that I admire most about her is her ability to draw you out of yourself. She has a gift for seeing the special in the mundane, of finding value in the average. I remember her telling me about a recent visit to a casino in Niagara Falls. She’s not a gambler, but had me laughing out loud recounting how she managed to win at the slots while the regulars around glowered. I could picture it.

To me, Denise is amazing. I mean, here I was, an overweight teenager (okay, so this was back in the day), and here was my Aunt, who could kick my ass running any day of the week. And then she started running marathons. And then, someone told me that she ran faster than the men. That while she was running, she motivated other people to  keep going, to keep trying, to keep pushing. Back then, I thought this was incredible, the sheer physicality of it. Now, as I train for my own race, I know that, indeed, the training was impressive. But that the motivation of others, the ability to give of herself even under extreme conditions, this is what sets her apart from other runner’s. This is what sets her apart as a woman, as a mother, and as a wife.

It’s been a long fight for Denise. Unlike with some other chemotherapy treatments, those for Kidney Cancer aren’t curative: you take them until they don’t work anymore. Unlike with say, Breast Cancer, where you go through Hell, you come out (hopefully) the other side healthy again. This just isn’t like that. You’re on a regimen for two weeks, there’s side effects, you’re off for two weeks, there’s side effects, all the while you hope that something positive is happening inside of you, that the chemo is working. For many people, the side effects destroy the person’s quality of life. And, being such a small person, these really took a toll on her. Until Dad and Denise, I’ve never really thought about life like this: that sometimes the treatment is worse than the disease, that sometimes there’s just no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not sure what that takes out of a person. But I do know that everyone reacts in different ways. And I do know that it grants you the gift of being able to say what you need to say and to choose to live that last of your life on your own terms. We live our lives by our own rules, why not end it that way too? Denise, and Dad, aren’t cancer patients. They’re people who have led rich lives, who’ve traveled and camped, who’ve had babies and had fights, who’ve succeeded and failed. But more than that, they are both people who are just so very very deeply loved. People expect that illness and disease brings out the wisdom (I blame you Hollywood!) in each of us. It doesn’t. It just magnifies who we already are, some things for the better, some things for the worst. Some days are hard, some days aren’t, some days you’re positive, some days you aren’t. We’re people. But it’s not illness that defines who a person is, it’s all the decisions you’ve made before then. There is no person who could have given more, or been more, to more people.

I’m going to go pick her son, Scott, up from the airport tonight. He’s flying in from South Korea, where he’s teaching English. Randy and Denise have asked him to come home, because they aren’t sure what the next few days will bring. He and my parents are driving to Sarnia tomorrow where they’ll join Denise and Randy, and their daughter Kelly. I’m scared, in a way that I’ve never been before, even in the wake of all that’s happened before. I think my Dad is scared, and my mom, and Jeff, and Randy and Kelly and Scott and all the people who love them. I know what the doctors have said, but I think it’s totally impossible to try to say what will happen for sure. How cancer attacks the body, how the body reacts, how it rallies, none of this is medical science as of yet. It’s speculation, at best, pure guess work at worst. But I also know that no matter what happens, surrounded by the people that she loves and who love her, Denise will face, in her way, whatever comes. As must we all.

My final assignment for my second web design course is due on Tuesday. It’s not a difficult assignment, persay, but, it is time consuming. And it can get a little bit complicated. See, we went over three different programs in the course of this course (ha!). Fireworks, Dreamweaver, and Flash. And each one could be its own course! I feel like I can’t remember what we learned at the beginning (because let’s face it, I was only half paying attention). This is when it gets frustrating. Because I can remember learning it but now, when I go to do it myself, I can’t remember. Yes, this is what I am doing on my Saturday night. Except for the frustrating part, and that my client is more difficult than I expected (so many changes! hahaha!), it actually feels pretty productive. I even went to the gym!

I do deserve a relaxing weekend though, if I say so myself. With the improvement in weather, I’ve been trying to make myself get out there a bit more. Not that I’m not busy, goodness, I am, but, you know, doing more things that are fun. Yes. Fun. A little less by myself, a little more being with other people. So, on Wednesday I went to a Blue Jays game and on Thursday to an art gallery. I had an incredibly good time during both, due both to the venues and the company.

For instance, at the Blue Jay’s game…wait, are they still called the Blue Jays? Or are they just the Jays? Anyway…I finally met Jess’ brother. He’s six foot four. His father is a 5′8 white guy and his mom is a small Chinese woman. Now, I don’t know much about genetics, but. I do know that he and Jess probably aren’t biologically related. But, instead of warning me about this, she grabs me and is like, “Alli, I just want to warn you: he has a very deep voice!”* She had to explain a lot of the strategy of the game to me, but, the whole sporting experience: extremely enjoyable. If I paid for my ticket (seriously, could that family be any nicer? They are all way too lovely!), I would say–Best Nine Bucks Ever Spent.

Thursday was a horse of a different colour. See, sometimes when life feels a little bland, all you need is a little pick you up from your friends. And Julia and Siobhan are two girls that can do that and more. In fact, we’ve joked about taking our act on the road. It’s that funny. And not just to us. I mean, we tested it out. At an art show. And if we can be funny at art shows (because we all know that people are weird at art shows, in the best way of course) then we can be funny anywhere.

Is there any point to this post? I don’t really think so. I think I’ve just been staring at a computer screen for too long. I think, for the good of all of us, I should just go to bed.

*For the record, his voice isn’t that deep.

Yesterday, I went to an art show with an old friend of mine. Two of his friend’s were artists in the show, Greg Shegler (that’s “Greg’s” work up top!) and Kelly Grace. It’s on this weekend at the Liberty Grand at Exhibition Place. Now, I’ve seen their work before. Art-in-the-Park shows are basically my favourite thing to do in the summer in Toronto, even if I’m intimidated by the artists. I love wandering around, usually on a nice day, in a park filled with a variety of people. Put me somewhere where I can be a bitchy girl and I’m one happy camper. Because let me tell you, there are plenty of snarky comments to be made about people when art is around. Not that I’m saying that art attracts snooty insane people. Oh wait, maybe I am.

But, as usual, I had the overwhelming feeling of being out of my depth. Is it possible to feel like more of a no one in the face of someone who’s actually chasing their passion? I’m not sure. I feel this way with pretty much anyone who has the balls out courage to do basically, well, just want they want to be doing, regardless of the challenges and hardships. Not in the “I’m a musician but I can’t pay my bills so I’m sleeping on my friends couch until I make it big” kind of way, but in the well-executed, “This is my life and I have a plan to make it happen” kind of way.

It doesn’t have to be art. I feel the same way about my brother: I mean, he went for something. Did he get it? Perhaps not. Extenuating circumstances and all. But he gets to rest easy knowing he sure as hell tried and knowing that the path that he is on now is a pretty good second best. Is that what it is about? Just knowing that you tried your best?

Sometimes I wonder if I feel as disconnected as I do simply because I haven’t found that thing yet. Twenty six years old and I still don’t have something in my life that I’d give up sleeping for, give up a social life for, food for, etc. I thought I had resigned myself to being pretty regular. One of the normal people. You know, I thought that all I wanted was a pay cheque and a job that I found satisfying and enough disposable income to shop at Banana Republic (actually, that still sounds really good to me). Turns out, I might need that something more. It’s not art for me, or music, or sports. I don’t know what it is. But I do know that that way I feel when I see someone chasing their thing, well, maybe I do need to feel that.

I know, I know, you’re surprised I’m making a list. Probably less surprised that it is happening a few days later. But, here goes.

1. I resolve to be sincere more often. I do this thing where I hide what I’m really feeling with sarcasm or a joke or a change of subject. Or when I’m feeling attached, I choose to attack back, rather than just saying what I’m feeling. So, I’m going to try to not be such a raging bitch all the time.
2. I’m going to be nicer to my Mom. I’ve been working on this one for a few weeks now (I’m sure she’s noticed! hahaha) because perhaps, finally, I’ve realized that my biggest cheerleader, my biggest fan, and the person who loves me a whole heck of a lot are all rolled into one person who lives down the hall from me. And its about time that I started treating her as that person for me, rather than the way I treat her a lot of the time.
3. I’m going to stop overbooking. I do this thing where I try to keep everyone happy by making plans and never canceling and never being late. And then, all of a sudden, I feel like crying because I realize that I haven’t been home in three days and I still haven’t done any of the stuff that I wanted to do. So, I’m going to stop saying yes when I can’t do it, even if its just because I was planning on cleaning my room (yeah right).
4. I’m going to try to tell people what I am planning. See, this relates to overbooking. I have this picture of how my day is going to go in my mind. It’s pretty much carved in stone. And if something goes awry, I’m not happy about it. Now, I can’t pretend to think that I’m going to “get better at adjusting when plans change” because, let’s face it, I’m not superwoman. But, I can be a little bit more open about what I’m thinking, so people will at least understand why I’m freaking out because we were supposed to be out the door half an hour ago.

I think that’s all. And I mean, these are less resolutions and more say, things that could make me a better person. Oh wait. Isn’t that what a resolution is? Probably. I don’t expect to change these things over night, but, I do hope that by being conscious of them, and perhaps even by writing them down, it will be a little bit more possible to work on changing them. A friend of mine said to me that people don’t change because a) they are happy the way they are, b) they are too lazy to change, or c) they believe others should change to suit their needs. Unfortunately, I feel like this statement hits a little bit close to home. So I’m going to try to pro-actively pre-empt it from happening.

To look at me, I know, I know, you’d think that I’d be a stress eater. I mean, when I’m not stressed, I’m an eater. Friends in town? Let’s go out to eat! New job? Time to try that new restaurant! Birthday? Buy (Did you think for a second I’d say bake? Because then you’d be dreaming!) a cake! But, when something is up, be it from a break up to stress at work to will I get into grad school, it’s the opposite. I have no appetite. I remember arriving in Belgium, having no place to stay, a not working bank card, language barriers AND not knowing anyone, and basically not eating for three days. Not because I didn’t want to eat, but because I just couldn’t think about it when there were so many more important things to think about. Basically, I can only eat when I’m content. Fortunately, I’m almost always content.

The other side effect to being stressed out is that I work out. You know, you have all that nervous energy and you need to do something to take your mind off things. And going for a run, well, there’s only one thing you can think about while you’re on the treadmill–Not Dying. For a few blessed minutes, I cannot think about why I’m not happy. All I can think about is survival. It’s the most important thought and it trumps all the other ones. The even more amazing thing? The feeling lasts once I get off of the treadmill, too. I feel better about myself, my body, my head space. It’s a pretty simple (and cheap!) way to put everything in perspective. And once things are back in perspective, I’m pretty functional. I can be nice to people (my poor parents take the brunt of my bad moods…I’m pretty sure I’m out of the will). I can think positively. I can be funny. Well, in my opinion, anyway.

Now, there’s nothing particularly off right now. Or at least, nothing I can put my finger on. I mean, work is great, but its busy and there’s lots to do and I find myself thinking about things to do late into the night. But, I’m settling in, and I really really like it. In a “please keep me around” kind of way. Maybe I’m just coming down from the excitement of last weekend, which was insanely busy and fun, even with the killer hang over on Sunday. Maybe I’m just feeling a little off and a little out of sorts. I think everyone is allowed to feel like that, once in a while. And, talking about it always helps me to sort things out, at least momentarily. I mean, I am female. Of course I’ll just talk and talk and talk. That’s what we do! I do feel like I’m looking for something to change, for something to happen. And I suppose, letting anything other than myself be the impetus is just plain silly. Why is it just so much easier to wallow than it is to act?

Do you ever have those days where the people around you just seem off? I don’t know. It’s clearly the same people, and you’re even interacting the same way, but one of you just seems intent on taking something the wrong way. I’ve been feeling like that today. With everyone. And its not the other people, its me. It’s like I’m stuck in this mood and I just want to take things the wrong way. And to maybe pick a fight about it. And to maybe, just maybe, make something that has nothing to do with me, ALL ABOUT ME. I think that is what it comes down to. Some days more than others, I just want attention. In a petty, childish, look at me kind of way.

It’s J.’s birthday today and I have to admit that it puts me in a bit of a weird mood. It makes me a little sad that we’re not celebrating together, as usual, or that I’m not doing the birthday stuff for him that I usually take such pleasure in doing. He’s been doing so well lately, I’m really proud of him, and it just seems to emphasize how far apart we can be sometimes. Or maybe, more accurately, how close we used to be. I wouldn’t call myself a particularly sentimental person, but, for some reason, some things just get to me. Well, I let some things get to me. I love the wallow. Just like I love picking the above mentioned fights when I’m feeling in the above mentioned mood. It’s a fault. One of many.

Fortunately, instead of picking fights, I’m writing a blog. Which is shocking, mostly because I think I’m finally getting it through my head that its not ALL ABOUT ME. Seriously. This is a shocking realization for me. When I was a kid, when my dad thought I was being selfish, he’d always say, “Alli, do you think the world revolves around you?” And I have to admit, a large part of me did think exactly that. And I don’t mean as a five year old. I mean as a…well, I’m 26 now. And it still takes a good day to admit that I don’t think that is true. Well, I’m only human. Hey, I admitted I was faulty!

I’m not sure what it is that sometimes makes me search so externally to make myself feel better about myself. I mean, I’d consider myself a fairly chemically-balanced person. Even, and this is definitely a compliment in my opinion, an optimistic cynic. Oh yes, those exist. But there are sometimes, sometimes, that I just want someone else to say, “Alli, you’re okay by me.” And its funny, because, I don’t even think it matters who it is. Today, Tasha and I were chatting (only three hundred lines today) and she so magically, wonderfully put things in perspective, as only a best friend who knows you incredibly well can do, and I immediately felt the mood vanish. So, thanks to her, and the fact that I went for a run, which always does wonders for my mood, I’m mostly back to normal. (Note: I also got 14/15 on my quiz and that’s pretty freaking awesome.)

Ooooh, speaking of the gym, while I was just finishing up, a girl got on the treadmill and dropped her keys. I heard her drop them, so, I paused (uh, good Samaritan of the year, right here!) to try to help her find them. Seriously, they disappeared. We did some peering and some lifting and some bending, and the keys were just gone. So, I recommended the taking off of the plastic thing that covers the “workings” of the tread. It was like, four screws. I mean, the keys are just lodged on some ledge in there. She brought back with her one of the maintenance guys, who refused to unscrew, and told her that if she ran it with the keys in there, she’d have to pay for the whole machine. Uh. I don’t think so. So, of course, I butt in. I just mentioned that it didn’t say anywhere not to take the lid off (you know, like how on a computer it warns you when you void your warranty?) and that it wouldn’t be a big deal. I got a pretty decent death stare from him. But dude, seriously, her keys are in there. But yeah, call the manufacturer. For four screws. I’m sure that’ll be free. Okay, if it was me, I’d have gone upstairs and gotten a Philip’s head. No?

For most things, the more I do them, the better I get at them. If I run often, I get faster and I build endurance. If I bind books more often, I can sew without thinking and my corners become much closer to perfect. If I read more, I read faster and I remember more with less effort. If I type more, I miss less keys and make less mistakes.

But with relationships, the more I’m in them, and out of them, the less I feel like I know. And even as I see my friends in relationships, some happy, some not so happy, some serious, some not so serious, and even as I try to glean knowledge and experience from them, I’m left with feeling like I have no fucking clue what is going on. I’m don’t know when to draw the line. I don’t know when being there for them is more hurtful to me than it is helpful to them. I don’t know when to be friends and when to let it go. I don’t know when to ask for more if they aren’t giving enough. Or when they are asking for more, I don’t know how to say: “I just can’t give that.” I try to, and sometimes I think I betray myself a little bit to make other people happy.

Seriously…what exactly does it take to find someone who wants the same things as you? More, at the same time? In the last few months, having broken up with someone and having been broken up with, having dated casually, and having been totally and completey single, I’m left at a loss. I know what I want: I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me and I don’t want to be with someone who I don’t want to be with. But, each time, it just seems to all end with crying and rejection and hurt. It seems to leave both people diminshed, and just a little bit more jaded and cynical. Why does it cause so much change? How come, when the relationship ends, you can’t even keep the friendship, even when that was the best part in the first place? It makes me tired and sad to think of the people who are no longer in my life because we could not date romantically. It just seems so unfair to not only lose a partner, but to lose a friend.

Too often it seems that the person I want to be with doesn’t want to be with me, and the person who wants to be with me, I don’t want to be with. Not for the silly reasons, but for the big reasons. Reasons that are bigger than our relationship. Reasons like they aren’t in love anymore. Like they don’t want that life. Like there are other things that come in between. It all seems very dramatic. And it all seems like real happiness is hanging by this tiny tenuous thread that anyone at anytime can just cut. Its both terrifying and exciting. I suppose it is this fact, the fact that it might be possible to meet someone who can be that someone in my life, that it might be possible to meet someone who is on the same page, heck, who is living the same book as me, that keeps me coming back for more. Even if, when it ends, its a pain that is worse than anything I’ve ever known. Even when, after seven months, it can reduce me to tears.

Sometimes, I think its all going to be okay. I really do. Sometimes, I think sure, it’ll just take time, or it’ll just take the right person, or, and this is not something I’m proud of, I think that if I can just be that much better–funnier, prettier, thinner, smarter–then, yes, I too will have that constant love and affection in my life. And then sometimes, I wonder what it is exactly that makes me want, want, this relationship thing. Not so much the ring and the wedding and the checking accounts, not stay at home and raise the babies, not the mini van, but the companionship. The Best Friend part. I mean, I have best friends. People I love. And I like to pretend I’m pretty tough, that I’m pretty cool. That I have other things to worry about, other people to hang out with, other activities to keep me busy. But, I know I’m not tough or cool. That whole humour thing? Yeah, its a cover to hide the fact that I have no idea what the heck I am doing. I think I’m trying to act with integrity, but, mostly, I just feel like punching someone, something, most of the time. In stupid impotent frustration. Because what I want, deep down, is to be happy, and somehow, somehow, I’ve attached this being truly happy to be in a happy relationship. Now, I know that’s not the case. Rationally, I know. But, and maybe I’m wrong here, isn’t there just something about it? Some appeal we all feel?

Really, I’m blaming this on nature and biology. All those damned natural urges driving me to mate for life and reproduce. Fortunately, I’m about ninety percent sure that alcohol actually negates one bazillion years of evolution. And that is why we all like it so much.