06: Reminders and remembrances

There's a hornet's nest under the umbrella of my backyard patio set. That feels like a strong visual metaphor for the issues surrounding the place right now. We want carefree and casual but there are sharp, menacing bugs underneath the surface.

We can't really go backwards. And I am neither here nor there.

I'll keep that vague on the premise that, someday, sensitive eyes might see these words. You know, there's a reason why I always kept an online journal instead of a private one. It never caught on with me because somehow it never felt like the words were properly escaping into the world, they just sat in a book on my shelf. A message is partly the sender and partly the receiver. But there's the rub because I'm not being true to this blog if I'm not candid, but my being candid inherently involves not just me now but someone whose life is deeply intertwined with mine -- a situation I never faced (hoped for sure but never realistically anticipated) during the initial 8 or 9 or 10 years of this blog.

This blog was the invention of a perennially single 16-going-on-17-year-old and was able to continue in the fashion it did because I remained perennially single for many, many years. Now that I am not, is it regression to try to start it up again, or do I trust myself to refit my language for it? After all, there was always the possibility I could speak too loosely and offend a friend who would read it, but I feel like I walked the line pretty well.

I do trust my judgment. And if I feel like something is worth putting out there it probably is.

I leave myself hints and breadcrumbs, and work to piece it all together later because I know no full story will ever be told.

I was reading old posts again (there's regression for you) and came across this intriguing quote from August 2008: "This blog, with its fantastic treasure trove of descriptions of scenes wherein nothing happens, and feelings about nothing in particular, provide me some basis to say "This is what it was like." I might not otherwise remember that, week after week, we keep going back to Wendy's after grocery shopping, and my body doesn't seem to like it very much; nor that I keep going for these night-walks just to leave the house and be free for a while. It's boring now, but someday, maybe I'll look back and think "Those were the days."

And if that's the case, I'd hate to see what my life has become by that point. Mwerf."

Dang, Past-Scotto! I am roasted. No, but seriously, I do well not to think of those as the "good old days." I had potential (I even described it as "The Summer of Wasted Potential") but I was trapped in my psyche and things were not good. On my worst day today I am better by far.

That ties nicely in to what we have done this weekend. At the end of a rather tough week at work - which got off to a slow start and felt heavier as it went on, with lots of actioning needed for SF Wave 1 and 2 stores' returns, I left work on Thursday knowing I had to delegate my work out to the rest of the team, which I didn't want to have to do, but Murray encouraged me to do. I had Friday off for a wedding - specifically the wedding of Joe and Viki. Appropriately enough I had recently read my post from the first time I met Viki, which refers to her as "the love on Joe's life [sic]." There was nothing tepid about their romance; one could see even then. It seemed clearly very passionate and all-consuming from the start, and I am glad they have tied the knot at last.

You know, they split up for a while there, which falls in the lost years of this blog. We will probably never speak of it again, but for a while there, a year or two, Joe and I were hitting Monaghan's (for "Monahangs") every month or so to commiserate over the lack of female attention in our lives. Then he and Viki patched things up, and I met Mel, and that was that.

Mel and I even make a cameo in their engagement story, because Joe was able to choose the night he did to propose because we had sadly had to bail on a planned night out with them because Mel was feeling ill. That detail did not, however, make it into the version of the story that was told at the wedding.

It was a nice ceremony, a beautiful outdoor scene at the Woodbine golf course. I was worried about the air traffic since it was by the airport, but there were no serious issues or awkward moments. The bride looked beautiful. The groom looked handsome. Or maybe even beautiful, sure, it's 2017, a man can be beautiful. They wrote some lovely vows - Joe later noted to me that they were not "template" people, which is good. We met up with our friends who were not in the wedding party and sat with them. After, there were some impressive hors d'oeuvres, although they were a bit hard to get ahold of.

Mel looked beautiful, of course. She had gotten her hair done earlier that day and I picked up my newly-altered suit, the first properly-fitting jacket I have owned, the first suit I have owned. I got lots of positive notices on it, including from Joe, which was very kind since everyone all over was dressed nicely and I didn't think I stood out on that front.

We were seated with people I didn't really know, but tried to engage them a bit. Two couples I didn't realize immediately but I must have met at some point before, Dan's wife Crystal, Alicia, and Cristina's boyfriend Stephan - so, a few strays, which was healthy I think and the group was mostly quite charming. Stephan kept to himself but struck up a conversation about Spider-Man Homecoming. I haven't seen it yet but we were able to mold that into a more substantial convo about Marvel movies and even comics a little.

The night wore on. The ladies all changed into their flipflops. Many courses were served, several drinks were poured, even one shot was consumed. We hit the photo booth (a few times) for the photo guest book. Joe and Viki performed "Lucky" because I think they weren't allowed not to. The dancefloor was hopping but the hour was getting late so by the time they finally got to 90s jams (ie after he Italian and Middle Eastern Music and the Latin club bangers) we were just about ready to get back to the Hotel and flop down.

Anyway, it was all marvelous. Honestly, my heart is so full for them.

The next morning (ie, today), we woke up and partook in some breakfast buffet. It wasn't terrific but it was there and I was hungry.

I'm looking forward to the next chance I have to have a one-on-one convo with Joe. It's true that at any wedding your face time with the bride and groom is going to be limited... unless you're part of the head table I suppose. Even these days we mostly see each other in the context of double dates and group hangs, which is all good too, but nothing replaces a good heart to heart.

I stopped in at Coles the other day to check in with Monika and Will... Monika reminded me of all the stuff I need to catch up on. (Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, Twin Peaks, Leftovers, American Gods... I should also watch Stranger Things sometime, and maybe Black Mirror, and definitely make time for the new Game of Thrones.) There will be time, I am sure, for everything.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

05: If you trust me

I suppose my current objective is to bop out one of these per week. I think that's a good valance between clearing my plate and keeping the readers of this blog (various future scottos) up to date on my situation, and not devoting too much time or obsessing too much. I will say that I'm now in the long lost mindset of constantly looking at my life through the lens of "will this make a good post later?" I have indeed missed this.

I have still been reading lots of my old posts. I started near the beginning of my first year of university and have finished up to where I was fired from my house painting job the following summer. I wonder about myself - not about 2008 scotto of course, poor kid is a lost cause - but about my current day self, retreating into old blog entries, fixating on side projects like comic rereads, waxing nostalgic about wrestling... I wonder if IMT pining for youth as a way of escaping my present, which seems absurd because on the outside of feels like my present is ideal. I have a loving girlfriend and a solid job. But I'm not writing much anymore and both my girlfriend and job sometimes come with rough patches that leave me reeling and conteplating how much bad we should tolerate in our good. Also how much is simply me being unable to enjoy and keep my mind in the here and now.

The weekend began with drinks after work. Well, somebody was having drinks, but as established at lunch that day, it wasn't going to be Ibrahim, who started out not drinking due to religious prohibition but adopted it as a personal policy anyway, or Tony, who is allergic to all forms of alcohol and anyway is the kind of person who enjoys a good moral high ground. (Things Tony has boasted since I have been at head office: he has never taken the elevator and does not drink coffee, among probably other things.) We have a bit of a group going, I suppose, although I am trying to circulate more. Hence, drinks...

It was farewell drinks for Bryant, a higher up who is moving on. I haven't been there long and I don't know Bryant well but I could tell it was very meaningful. For my part, I wanted to be seen there because my commute has this far made me pretty skittish about participating in extra curriculars. But the shindig was starting at 4, so I went (a tad later than that) and even stayed later than some who had to jet by 5.

I have made friends, and ywt I'm still in this "new guy" rut where people don't automatically chat me up or find out about me. I want to change that a bit.

I pbrought flowers, which were a gesture for Mel, from the previous day's farmer's market. They made a nice conversation piece... Although if I can be honest, while Mel was happy to receive them, she wasn't as gaga over them as I'd hoped. I mean, no-reason flowers, that's the dream isn't it? (For certain women, Mel vocally among them.)

She was happy, don't get me wrong, but she hasn't looked at them since we got home and they'll wilt soon.

Saturday we had some errands to run but got a bit off track. I got a haircut, she got her nails done, we went grocery shopping, and then we headed to my place for a snack but I got caught up dealing with the air conditioning guy who just haaaaad to stop by when we were on the way put and I couldn't get away. So we were a bit late for our planned dinner with Meagan, and his gave her new fuel for our ongoing issue regarding my brothers and... I dunno man, I'm really sick of that one.

It was a really solid visit with Meghan and her boyfriend Danny. They were attempting to put together some patio furniture, which Meagan said every couple should have to do at some point. Mel and I reflected on some of our furniture misadventures. The bench whose frame we got backwards, so it became a 2 day job. I also did the kitchen island card myself. Then today, I got to worm on the nightstand she bought a month ago and we just haven't had time to get to.

It isn't done yet... It's proven stressful. I'm working with her dads tools and while one screwdriver fit most of the screws needed, one part had an oddly sized slot and I couldn't find the correct tool for it. Then I realized I got the top and bottom surfaces backwards, meaning I had to take it apart, and well, that lead to some wood breakage, so I am currently waiting for some glue to dry.

Men making (or assembling) furniture for women. It's almost too cliché. I feel all this pressure to be perfect and chivilrous and sometimes I feel like the stakes are too high when my faults are revealed. I never wanted to be that guy whose girlfriend/partner/wife? was always rolling her eyes over in barely concealed resentment. "That man of mine, he's so dumb and incompetent. Why do I bother?"

I am not here to live in an episode of what I assume According To Jim was like.

I'm doing my best.

I think she understands.

The rest of the evening was very nice. I get on quite well with Danny, far better then I did with Meagan's ex, Alex. Not that he wasn't OK, we just had nothing in common. (I noted this - intended as a value-neutral statement - which led to a very concerted effort on Alex's part to try to prove we could hold a conversation.) For a length period, Meagan and Mel were in the kitchen catching up and Danny and I were left to bond in the living room. I struck up some small talk and we actually managed to craft some really solid medium talk by the end. It wasnt eve that we had much common ground, but he had enough going on that I was curious about and vice versa. What's more - most impressive - he had as many inquiries for me as I did him, if not more. I noted to Mel that I really hate when you get caught in a one sided conversation and the other party won't politely flip it back to you. I also hate realizing that I have monopolized a conversation. (This is less common but not unheard of.) She seemed startled by my conviction, at the end of the night as we headed to the car, and perhaps I have only recently been able to pinpoint this pet peeve. I won't specify examples I have encountered over the years.

I had more to say, about furniture building and gender roles, but lets leave that behind. The end of the nightstand saga - so far - is that her dad bailed me out. I was not bitter about it and wanted to be a good sport. "He's good at dad things," she beamed. I nodded. Perhaps there was a time when he was not. I reckon that by the time your kids are old enough to notice you are good at that stuff, you've had years of practice. I remember my dad putting my lego together for me as a kid...

I feel very out of touch with my parents lately; Over got some real cats in the cradle stuff going on.

There's more - man, there's really alway as more - but I'm pooped. If you see typos in this post, it's because I did it on my phone. I was feeling too lazy to get my tablet out, and yet my sore fingers are saying I really should have.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

04: A Distant Rain

I am writing this because I have been staring at some sales figures all afternoon an my eyes could use a rest. I don't quite have enough time now, at the end of my day, to do anything "productive" (hah, as if I ever could) for myself or really, for my work. Right now I'm just pushing some numbers around trying to wring data out of a very expansive spreadsheet. It's actually kind of fun but I don't feel that I have made it live up to its potential for informative...ness.


I have been reading a lot of old entries lately, which is perhaps why I have been in the mindset to write here again. Some of these entries capture extremely memorable moments in my life - in fact, I've been targeting my first year of university which naturally was very eventful. And there's a lot of quotidian "Then I ate a chicken sandwich and went to class, then I came home and watched TV until I went over to Chris' to play Risk." Which I actually also find fascinating. I will probably never have another time in my life where even the minutiae provides such entertainment value.


I've said it before, I think, but I do wish I had written more between 2012 and 2016. I have no proof, now, that every day back then was not exactly the same. But I don't recall ever wanting to talk about it when I was just working in a store, you know? Unless something spectacular happened. Some of that is on Tumblr but not much. I was growing out of my overshare days, and my life was, accordingly, becoming less worth sharing. I remember days spent behind a cash register. I remember putting out stock and helping customers find things, and occasionally help them choose things. I remember filling sections and restocking reports and conversations with Meg where she would describe Downton Abbey to me. But the specifics are lost to time and I'm not sure I mind, except for posterity. I am particularly prone to the all-too-human fear of losing access to things. Losing memories, losing touch. I am a packrat for junk I accumulate because I just don't want to not have it.


Is it possible that nothing from those days is truly worth having? It's too late. It's gone.


What is it about these days that makes them worth remarking? Differentiation, I suppose. The work ebbs and flows, the people I mix with change slightly. Or I'm just here, with a mind to write it down, like I used to.


Canada Day weekend... I have been meaning to jot down my mixed feelings about nationalism lately but here is not the place and I don't want to get off track. But it was as good an excuse as any for barbecues, too much sun, and a road trip. Saturday we spent at Mel's family's place. Sunday we were at the Trailer. Oh, didn't I say? A few years ago Mom and Ross got a new trailer at Spring Valley. At the time we were very for it because we were all still living together and those weekends where they were away felt like a good release. Then they just flat-out moved to Mount Forest for some reason.


Aunt Lori (and Gail and Karen, I suppose) got a trailer the next year, which they still have and use for summertime gatherings. There were flaws - E and B didn't come, which definitely disappointed Mom. Liz and her group stayed a bit long into the evening, and Adam's parents were in tow. After everyone had cleared out, Mel and I were staying the night so we made s'mores and watched fireworks and slept on the futon in the sunroom. The next day, after a lovely long morning chat with the Aunts, we went for a swim, although it was cool and breezy, and thus not "Damn I need to swim!" weather. We laid out afterward to dry off and both got burned because our sunscreen had washed off. Then we went for a paddleboat ride, which has in the past tested the limits of our relationship. Okay, that's exaggerating. Yes, sometimes the matter of steering cuases friction but we got our rhythm back.


If I seemed a bit distracted over the weekend, it was that the trailer park has a way of making me nostalgic. I hate it, but I end up getting drunk on it. Those were not necessarily great years to live through but your mind puts rose-tinted glasses on it, sepia photos of a simpler time, walking around in endless circles with the same four people, too nervous to really talk about what's on your mind because you haven't quite figured it out yet yourself. Bottomless teen angst, straining against the cages of your underdeveloped mind and body, wanting more life but not knowing what that means. Then you get older, and you have it all, and you yearn for the time when - not that you want things to be different - but before it was settled. Before you knew which direction time was going. Possibilities. Not that reality was ever going to be anything but this. Certainly not anything better than this. And yet, you get that pang of, "What if I was young again and still had the world in front of me?" Oh well. Grass, green, etc.


We drove home and picked up pizza for dinner and hung around watching Netflix at my place.


If I had time, I would parse out for you how my place, my brothers, and the concept of doing things for them has become something of a flashpoint for the relationship, something I feel I personally need to work on. I feel like I live in two worlds, and I feel like I have this nagging need to advocate for the person who is not around, which is often frustrating for the person who is. And also has a side effect of making both sides kind of mad at me, which is opposite what I want.


The past two years I have dedicated a lot of time to growth. I have these moments where I think, "I am like this, but it would maybe be better to change that." That's hard to put into action but it's good to be able to know it. Sometimes I wish the stakes weren't so high.


I am not perfect, and sometimes I feel very bad about that. Worse than I probably should.


Sometimes my mind goes astray. Sometimes I blunder. Sometimes I don't know how to proceed. Sometimes my best intentions are somehow not enough. And I hate being a cause of frustration to someone else.


I have said more than I meant to and yet nothing concrete at all. I really am back to this blog.


Keep on rockin'
-Scotto


-PS one really appealing aspect of reading old entries, and a strangely creatively satisfying aspect of coming back to it, are the post titles. I live for those.