09: Tectonic Plates, the Realm of Possibility, Overstanding

I am once again writing to you from the GO train, albeit long after I normally would have been getting home from work. It is 8:14 PM and I have just come from dinner and drinks with Joe, replicating after a fashion our Monahangs of old. Except now we are both 30, he is married and I co-habitating. We are not sad single people (he after a breakup and I after a sad long existence.)

It's remarkable that our lives differ so greatly from the way they were all those years ago but have wound up looking very much the same. We each would present an observation about my life - the dilemma of balancing a worklife routine, a relationship, and a desire to create, or about the push-pull of different family requirements within a relationship - and feel an intense sense of "Me Too," that he termed "Overstanding," as in "I not only understand that, I overstand it." I would like to think he coined it in the moment but if he had it ready in his back pocket I wouldn't blame him for utilizing it.

It is important in life to have people you can talk to not just about old times, but current times, ongoing subjects and current feelings. In fact I would say that Joe and I rarely discuss old times except in relation to our current scenarios - mostly not in a "Glory days, they'll pass you by" sense. That is probably because Joe's and me times never really involved having times together - we weren't adventurer-havers but storytellers, unburdeners, relaters. We are at a point - ten gat-danged years now - when our friendship has mostly been spent over pints discussing other things going on in our lives, and as those things have thankfully evolved, so have we.

Joe is blessed, it is a well-known fact, with numerous long-term friends with whom he can relate his innermost. I have only a few. Partly that's not naturally what happened with most of my friends from high school and partly I'm a very guarded person. I do have a very loving, caring partner, but mostly the things I am expressing, she is already aware, having lived through it with me. It would be somewhat redundant for me to sit down with her and say, "Man, let me tell you about my morning routine!"

Likewise, if I were to say, "Boy, I am not writing as much as I would like to," it is not inconceivable that she would take it as some kind of critique of our relationship, which it is not - I only with there were more hours in the day, or as I explained to Tony earlier today, that there were more of me so that I could experience it all at once.

That is what I would like to talk about, then. The realm of possibility. What can I imagine for myself? Last year I could not have imagined having a job where I sit down at a desk all day. That was no reason not to pursue it, but I had to bide my time for the proper opportunity. Years before that I could not have imagined moving out of my Mom's place successfully, or getting a driver's license, or being in a successful, stable, loving long-term relationship and somehow all of those things have come to pass, all those benchmarks of a happy, successful, productive life.

So. It would seem that anything I can't imagine turns out to be exactly what does. So I believe the next thing I will be unable to imagine is writing and publishing a novel. Completely impossible, just like driving, deskwork, and love. Nope, it will definitely not ever happen for me in my lifetime and certainly not in the next year or two, so I might as well give up, just like I gave up on all those other things.

Pardon me, I had one and a half drinks and am tidily buzzy.

We shared and told tales and as usual I was left with a somewhat raw throat. We discussed the importance of having an outlet, without making any sweeping proclamations. I caught him up on the situation at my work and inquired about his - so that I could finally say with certainty that I know just what he does, besides the fact that he does it for Telus. I told him about my stolen bike, and about the variously unsuccessful set-up schemes Mel and I have embarked upon.

"You spin a good yarn," he said, and I agreed it would be a tragedy if that skill were never to come to use. As is typical of our best Monahangs, my throat was quite sore from talking all night.

The realm of the possible. I stand around Union station and I see women and men and I wonder about them, what their lives are like. I think the thing that always spurred me as a writer was to imagine a life that wasn't my own, and the sadness I feel that no matter what I make of this life, this is still the only thing I will ever be, whatever I end up deciding that will be. I do, however, believe in reincarnation, and I think it will be a shame if I come back as, more or less, the same person. I like being me, my life and how I've lived it, but I expect I'll be done with it by the end.

But given that is the far-off-future, I owe it to myself to be as happy I can with one life, and I am definitely far more happy than I was a few years ago, a few months ago, or a few days ago.

After a busy weekend of balancing various needs (family obligs like a birthday-adjacent brunch, errands, our own exhaustion,) we took Monday for ourselves. The idea we settled on was apple-picking. Men don't willingly go apple-picking on their own, and it's safe to assume most don't harbour a secret yen to do so, but when you're a couple you find yourself agreeing to these things and just enjoying being out and about. We had gone to the big-name farm last year, paid the entry fee, seen the petting zoo, and picked apples to our hearts content. (Honey Crisps were extra.) This year we found the cool indie orchard, owned and operated by the brother of a friend from university. It was a Monday afternoon so we basically had the run of the place. It was swelteringly hot, so that was a downside, but it was a fun day of freedom. We went in the corn maze, which we got out of via the warp zone (I wasn't sure if we were supposed to go back to the front entry or if taking the side exit to the tractor path was okay.) On our wagon ride back, we rode with a woman, her daughter, and a cute little 8-year-old girl who wanted to sleep over. We all played in the corn pit, which was like a sandbox with dry corn feed, which was shockingly therapeutic. Then we drove home, our apples and cider rolling all around the trunk, had shawarma for lunch, and took a nap (which left Mel a bit sleepless later that night.) It was a lovely day.

The only problem with taking a day off is then you need to work twice as hard Tuesday. Well, I confided to Tony, it's different form a stat holiday where everybody gets the day off, because at least somebody is keeping the work from piling up too high. Still, our team is facing some issues, and the part of me that is a good soldier regrets taking a day for myself, but you know what, I never ever do that (the only days off I've taken all year were for weddings, fun but not necessarily "for me.")

The morning was off to a slow start, and just as I got to a good pace in the afternoon I was told to switch gears and focus on SF returns rather than LF, because SF is where the bulk of our vexation was. I had come in early (well, on-timeish) in anticipation of a possible 9 AM meeting, but it ended up being at 10. Still, better safe than sorry. Then it was a lot of waiting for stuff to be prepped and in the end I had to cram what could have been an all-afternoon project into the last 90 minutes or so. Which made me a bit late for Joe and kept me from stopping over to see Mel before that, but oh well. Things are how they are.

I also didn't get to go watch the staff baseball game like I'd hoped, which I felt oddly sad about.

There could be more. There could always be more precious, beautiful words, (and ugly, rotten, pedestrian ones!) but I think it good if - having reached home some time ago and settled in to listen to music in Mel's bed alone, while she is out at Rielle's, I have come to a good stopping place, and then some.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

08: The doors open but nobody gets off

Aka similarities and sames
Aka distinctions not necessary


So there's your sign of where my head is at... I walk around thinking up titles for potential entries but take forever to get around to them. And that isn't necessarily down to a lack of events on my part but perhaps an excess... Or a lack of time relative to them. Hrmph. I am working on finding the best balance of detailing the particulars of this summer without labouring over the unnecesaey minute things.

It has been a long week and change. Last weekend I was feeling like it was about time to emerge from our self imposed shell of inactivity following a decently busy June and July. August was a void, which is to say, for avoiding people. But by the time of last weekend I was openly saying "we've had so many weeks without plans, I'm starting to tire of the lazy thing!" Mind you we have had a nice rhythm this past month... Unwinding Friday nights, waking up late then having breakfast on Saturday morning, organizing our errands, finding ourselves back at my place for dinner. Long late hangs, Netflix or TiVo or bad movies. Sunday mornings there. Realizing I have forgotten once again to cut up the latest watermelon, leaving many dishes, scrambling at the last minute to get back to Mel's... Okay, that part could use improvement but what can I say.

Last weekend we were joined by Cristina, who had been coffeeing with Mel Sat afternoon, and came by on the promise of Mario Party. We had a good game, then a few rounds of Cards Against Humanity. And while I was anxious and fretful when I heard she would be joining, I got over it and had a good time. (Mel by contrast wondered, did she maybe stay a bit long? After all our bedtime is like 9!)


At the end of the weekend I suffered an intense panic attack... There was a huge variety of causes at play. I had been feeling tense all weekend because I had wanted to do some writing but lost/missed/squandered several opportunities. Mel was getting her hair done for several hours and rather than camp out in the food court I elected to catch up with Monika (and as you no doubt know she can gab!) I was feeling anxious after that, then on Sunday our timing was way off and we ended up eating late, which left us feeling dazed and if I had to put a fine point on it I would say that sometimes my emotional state is tightly entwined with that of my lovely girlfriend and I take it hard when I feel I have let her down. This, a frosty ride back to her place followed by several minutes of shaking, trembling, hyperventilating and sobbing. Perhaps I ought to seek help.

It is a measure of how badly I want to write that I am scribing this post on my phone on the train, over the course of (so far) two days. Please mind any typos found...

It was a long week after that. We have had to do a lot of aftercare for optimization including bandaging up the fiction triage situation. We spent a goodly amount of the last two weeks saying goodbye to Ibrahim. Maria and Rachael were both on vacation for his last week so we had a team lunch while we were all still together. Then on his last full day, he, Tony and I went for Greek food (it seemed like a more special thing than what it was, three guys picking up lunch then going back to sit where they normally do.)

Friday was a half day so after a lengthy but informative lesson on Ibrahim's Regression equation work, we finished up for the week, tidied up our sentimentality as best we could, then went to play ping pong at Spin, where Ibrahim had wanted to go all summer.

Ibrahim and Tony were very competitive (and very skilled!) Whereas I had very unpolished form and a tendency to overshoot the table... I insisted I wax still having fun, but it grates she you find yourself down 10-2 in a game to 11. (I actually won two early games before losing my mojo somewhat. Or because they had gained theirs, who can say.)

Mel came after about 2 hours, bringing her Aussie workmate friend Kayla. Kayla didn't seem like she cared for ping pong but afterward we adjourned to the Firkin. Tony seemed to be into her but it would appear not to have been mutual.

Finally we said our last goodbye, after trying to moderate conversation between five very different people.


For the last long weekend of summer we were very booked and sadly had to bail on Joe's annual ASSES shindig yet again... After a long day of running aroundwe were just too bushed to drive out to Brampton, so we got some chicken and watched Are You The One until Mel caught a near fatal case of hiccups and we retired.


That relationship life.


Sunday morning we went to brunch(?) with mom and Ross, who were down seeing friends ostensibly for Burlington Ribfest, but they had gone to a restaurant instead. We went to Sunset Grill, although they both got Tuna Salad, Eric got a Egg and Peameal bacon sandwich and B didn't eat at all. Eric complained vociferously afterward about the vibe of the place. Think we'll go somewhere else next time.


After that, we went to Port Credit, Mel's favourite place, and wandered around all afternoon, stopping for some veggies and dip we had brought, then picked up some dinner, a simple yet elegant stir fry.

Holiday Monday continued the trend of exceptionally busy weekend days. We were due to meet Mel's friend Amanda downtown for Snakes & Lattes. We slept probably later than we should have considering all we had wanted to get done (well, there was plenty of cleaning to do, and we wanted to make mini egg pies for breakfasts.) We headed out to the city around 4 after missing a train or two. The main inspiration behind the outing was to introduce Eric and Amanda... The previous week while hanging out with Cristina I had suggested to Mel - who is constantly keen to introduce Eric to every woman she possibly could - that they might make a good match. (I should note that I am usually reluctant to encourage these matchups, not wanting to waste anyone's time if I can't envision them together - hence an endorsement of the pairing on my part.) She's smart, educated, funny, energetic... A real catch, and while she's just recently single, she was apparently at least willing to meet someone.

The night started at Jack Astor's, where drinks were had, and we were joined by Amanda's roommate's boyfriend (the roommate, who had been called into work, was to join us later.) We gabbed a bit while trying to goad Eric out of her shell, I doodled a image of Mel that she found unflattering but which I was actually kind of proud of? Oh well, I am unappreciated.


Incidentally, we saw a certain former Degrassi cast member there, as she appears to be a manager (which, hey, good for her.)


From there we walked - a long way, largely through the rain - to Snakes & Lattes. Eric and Amanda walked well ahead and appeared to have an animated conversation, although E later downplayed it. I was pretty pooped and a little grumpy by the time we got there, but I tried not to let it show.  We ate, although in typical Scotto fashion I let Mel tell me we should get fries to share instead of the salad that I wanted (she's the one into healthy eating!) And then she ended up splitting a sandwich with Amanda, with salad. Well, the fries were good, (as were the chicken tenders, which appeared to be house made.)  And we all partook.

We played Jenga, as well as Survive, which I had played and enjoyed at Cary's back in late '15 when I last saw him, and which I have had a yen to play ever since... And now I probably don't ever need to (it was a tad more complicated than I recall, but I feel we'll all be ready for it should a next time occur.) We capped off the night with Cards Against Humanity, which I won much to Amanda's chagrin ("Williams Brothers!" She cursed cutely.)

Whether or not there was a love connection, it has made me grateful -more so than usual - to be off the market. I watch the women on the street coming to and from the station, as I wait for Mel, and I feel lucky not to have to meet a new one.


We called it a night before 10 but of course that only meant we got home and I'm bed around 11:30, and then, tormented by writing that was not to be, I could not sleep a wink until 3 am.


The alarm goes off at 6.


The days that have followed have been busy. I have had to do the work of two, essentially, on our last round of Optimization aftercare. We are sue to have a conversation about my future late this week, and that feels good.


I don't know, though.

Fall has come on hard and fast here, with the briefly sweltering summer heat evaporating well in advance of labour day. Sweaters in the morning, and some times at night. I have felt very wistful and sad as a result.


I wish I were writing more, but focus is hard to come by. Spilling my guts, when the opportunity arises (currently in my third session, on the train, at day's end) is a different matter since this is all unfiltered, unstudied, unpolished, for nobody but my future self, whom I trust will read between the lines capably enough that I don't have to say what I really mean.

Ever? Wink...


I am nearing my destination, whereupon I will fix a meatloaf for Mel, quietly post this, and contemplate the nature of my existence. The I will go to bed, wake up, go back to the city, finish posting returns for wave 3 stores, move on to some other task, eat lunch, and live possibly the rest of my life.
I'm fine, why do you ask?


Keep on rockin'
Scotto