This loneliness dressed up as indifference is not appealing.  Not to me, the perpetrator, and I'm certain not to people on the receiving end of my small cruelties.  But in cases like this my feelings don't know how to manifest themselves otherwise.  There's no alternative course to take here. Endless cheerfulness was exhausting, and wasn't doing anything to change the situation, and now I'm left drained of optimism and need to focus my attention elsewhere anyway.

So, the loneliness pervades even as the fog that signals the end of spring in this maritime climate rolls in.  A chilly summer ahead, no doubt.  And all I can do is scour myself red in the shower each morning, and bite my tongue at night.

Great Lake Swimmer

 I’m an ocean swimmer.  Or, at least, I’ve always classified myself as such.  Lakes seemed stagnant and inert to me, having grown up completely surrounded by a vast and unending ocean.  I’ve recently found myself living at the very top of Lake Ontario, and I’ve been drawn into the water many times in the past week.  I begrudgingly admit that the lake beaches are beautiful, even though my heart lies in the crescent sandbar that I’ll always call home. 

Lake water is warm and inviting (at least compared to the North Atlantic), and lacks the threat of stinging jellyfish.  While at the lake the other day, I swam out further than I’ve ever done before.  I dove for the bottom and couldn’t touch it.  I hit a wall of cold water and kept on going.  My friends on the beach were small and distant.  I swam further.  When swimming in the ocean, it never hurts to exercise caution, and I’ve never really been able to totally put my guard down.  Usually I stay fairly close to the shore, opting to swim along the coastline or just falling into the waves, but not this time- I was going for distance.  I wanted to get as far away as possible.  I’m not sure if it was just the body of water, but something was different.  And I liked it.  I went back the next day, and as the weather had turned slightly colder, I was the only person in the water.  I had the whole lake to myself.  It was both liberating and overwhelming. 

I’m on the island now for a brief visit.  The ocean is calling me.  The salt water that saturates the air here offers a sobering comfort that the lake just doesn’t have. The thought of leaving soon makes my heart ache, but the ocean will be here when I return.  I now know that the lake has things to offer, and can quell this restlessness.  

just like that

And just like that, the whole thing comes to an end.  Another winter over, my time in Kingston drawing to a close, and a master’s degree almost finished.  Deadlines for lab projects, papers, a research project, and exams approach, while a dull, throbbing headache and vague nausea loom. 

I’ve reached the point now where I’m running almost entirely on caffeine and residual alcohol sugars.  Stress has mercifully lessened my normally ravenous appetite, and reduced my need for sleep.  I wish I could operate like this all the time, but it’s not in my nature.  Food and sleep are far too enjoyable.  If the past is any indicator as to how the next few weeks are going to play out, it will be a gradual winding down, until I literally lay down across the finish line. 

Then I head back to the ocean.  That’s always the ultimate goal.

Darkening

Winter’s coming.  The season of staying in, thick blankets, warm socks, blazing fires or electric heaters.  Staying warm becomes an art form.   Even today, though the sun is shining, you can smell the chill in the air and feel it in your lungs.

I think of my state of mind one long winter several years ago, and am acutely aware of just how unhealthy, and unhappy, I was.  It was me as much as my surroundings.  I disconnected myself as much as I was pushed away, fairly struggled against the repelling forces in my life but used them as an excuse to be alone.  I had a particular longing for isolation, and it was given to me in spades.  It was a seductive loneliness, and a very self-indulgent one.  I’ve always been a determined optimist, even in the dead of winter, and despite my sharp memories of unhappiness, I recall the moon and stars blazing in the night sky.  Important things happened that winter.  Friendships were forged, family was lost, and everything outside of that carried an uncertain gravity. 

I still find my myself tempted by seclusion, longing to be disconnected, surrounded by water, to have tiny parts of myself swept away from all angles.  It’s in these moments that I create metaphorical islands out of everything in my life.

Indifference is what we dread.

My ability to cram things in at the last moment has not lessened.  Equally, my ability to get things done ahead of schedule has not improved.  This is something that I thought I might mature into, that would come with age- a lesson I’d hoped I would learn and actually convert into future good decisions.  But here I am- same as I ever was, pursuing pleasure like it’s my job.  Enjoying the last drop of wine in the glass; getting my hair wet at the beach and floating in the salty water; watching sunlight creep across the floor of my room, signalling a final few minutes of warm skin in a shared bed.   

It’s both detrimental to my productivity, and an innate component of myself that I’m coming to terms with.  It will probably always be part of me- part hedonist, part masochist.  Seeking pleasure, craving the outcome, knowing the consequences .  I’ll never outgrow that.

Meta

I self-reference often.  I reference other people often.  I repeat jokes, and if my audience doesn’t notice, I let them think I’m just that clever.

I received a text today saying that procrastination is what separates humans from animals.  Now, because I am feeling contrary and wish to waste time, I’m reading articles about how monkeys procrastinate.  It’s the truth, science fact, published and printed.  There is no separation between us and the animals.  If I may go “Deep Blue Sea” for a moment, I’m cooking myself in this oven.  The accelerated aging machine I’m writing about in this research proposal has just become a metaphor for my whole life.

That’s meta.

Things I could be doing....

In lieu of writing an actual post, I thought I would publish the list of subjects I compiled that I thought I might write about someday.  This is me procrastinating on schoolwork and being too lazy to actually sit down and create anything new- these are culled straight from a journal full of messy left-handed writing.

Without further ado, here are topics that may or may not appear on this blog in longer form in the future:

My neighbours fighting.

Seeing people sad in cars around you while driving.

The disappointment of friends and family- both their own disappointments, and disappointment in you.

Procrastinating. 

Back handed compliments.

Sex vs. Saturday morning.

Riding my bike

The future and uncertainty thereof.

How insomnia cured my life.  Or, how a masters program gave me insomnia that cured my hate.

Old boyfriends.  Old jobs.  Old cars.  Old friends.  New friends and another old car.

Words I like- continuum, nebula, actually and epiphany.  Words that hurt my ears- like moist.  Yick.

Dear faceless void of the internet,

Wine.  Stomping grapes, fermenting them, drinking wine and throwing it back up- all in the name of a good time.

How old wounds come back to haunt you- in yoga and in life.

Headphones make me angry.  Why won’t they stay in my ears?!?!

I'm open to suggestions on other topics, but generally when I sit down to write I have no idea what's going to come out.  So there you have it. I'm going to start working on a new list right now.....