Delude (le deluge)

Recently I discovered the multi-vitamins I touted on here and was so fond of and have been investing in for 6 months, are virtually useless. I also found the dreamboat of sorts I was somewhat investing in for 6 weeks, was also useless. We delude ourselves. We can’t help it. Even though these things we invest in, grow hopeful of for their ease, for our fondness, for the excitement, always let us down. Nothing can be trusted. But we fall into hope and trust, especially with regards to love, time and time again.

It’s not the 90s. Music sucks and projected sexuality isn’t ‘new’, genuine, avante garde, or empowering, it’s grown tiresome, nasty, phony. We are not in 0ur early 20s. We take it a day at a time, but it’s not the best strategy really, though it’s all we can do for our sanity. No progress is made.

We used to think it was the situation – the city we chose to go to university in. The one that so conveniently allowed excuses for why we had simple jobs. Jobs that required no commitment. That made us no money. But even when we pulled, painfully tore ourselves apart from that existence finally, as the thing we HAD to do, though not regrettable, things didn’t change much. The loss of friends. Loss of love. The challenge of commuting 4 hours daily for a job that is more frustrating than we ever could have imagined. That pays more than any previously, but still somehow, leaves us broker than ever.

Christmas comes and we wish it wouldn’t. Wish we could freeze time Save By The Bell style. Wishing our hair was so full, the way it once was. They way we’d wished it wasn’t. The way we regret having taken for granted.

The holidays cause us to cringe. Want to burrow and hide away like the fattening groundhogs we are at this time of year. Families shrunken by deaths as members age and feuds that ensued in the wake of the loss. Terrified at how quickly a year flew by. A year where many terrible things happened, yet ultimately, hardly anything of consequence. A series of distractions. A series of failed, careless attractions. The latest of which may have left consequences for the rest of one’s life. The kind of thing that would have been excusable in one’s early 20’s, not on the cusp of 30.

Things have miraculously always had a way of working out. But luck is something that must essentially run out. Life tries to teach us lessons only so many times. I don’t believe in much, let alone kooky stuff. But I do somehow believe in the ghosts of loved ones. Of things happening for a reason. But if anyone related to me that has passed away could see the whole picture, the big vile thing, and was looking at the way I live my life presently, I imagine they’d feel the need to do something rash, something that would wake me up and force me to get it together.

But I’m not sure what ‘it’ is or how on earth to put it together. I was never good at building. At fixing. Problem solving. Progress. Coping. Save for by destructive mechanisms. Flawed things. When someone perceived to be promising draws near, my less than endearing crazy scares them away. I am a great lover, but there is a price to pay. And pursuing love, costs me much along the way. I am eternally the crab moving sideways. Moving backwards. Snapping claws. Retreating into shell. And when I can’t because my schedule won’t allow for such things, that shell weakens, grows cracks. Erroneous flawed thing that spirals so close to the very bottom. Of a cold sea while snow fails to fall on the Toronto Beaches. Because snow doesn’t fall here. Doesn’t stall here. Refuses to freeze things the way we’d sometimes like them to be. The way Montreal did for nearly a decade. And it’s not that we crave to freeze time because the situation is ideal, by any means. But just to pause for a moment, and stop all the uncontrollable chaos. To let us pretend, for once, there is no impending, disastrous, end. Like the Nada Surf lyric from one of my all-time favourite songs of their’s, called “Amateur” off their fantastic, timeless album The Proximity Effect, that used to strike such a chord with me 10 years ago when my life seemed to be a constant stream of endings –  “Every day is new year’s eve. Every time is the last time.”