All My News That’s Fit to Print

Hi there, my good people.

I’m hunkering down for a storm that’s just now beginning to rage, and rage it will. Winds shall break 120 km/hr tonight. I think that’s 85 miles, for you metrically-challenged Americans.

It’s stormy nights like this that I enjoy not being single. Which I’m not. I’m single, not not single. Still. I did have a date recently, which I think we both realized wasn’t working out. Nice enough guy, but certainly no go. Lemme give you a very, very simple tip.

If your date can’t find enough time for you on the first date, and he/she keeps answering their cellphone, it may be an indicator that you’re not going to be priority one any time soon in the future, either. Don’t get involved and then wonder why they never have 100% of their attention thrown your way — it was made clear that was the case from day one.

Know those little things I’m always looking for? Just another example. Me, my cellphone gets turned off.

My date was cellphone-challenged. I’m not too keen on men who don’t focus their attention on me. Some careers require it, but most careers can come with, oh, a four-hour pause button.

Anyhow. As it happens, single I am. Amazing what running a Craigslist ad and then posting something freaky about your dad’s health and the drama you’re facing can do to make men run like they’re in the streets of Pamplona, fleeing a herd of crazed bulls looking to trample them to death.

Not like I care, really. I just haven’t the energy to bother. I’ve had better results other times, and I think I wasn’t in the headspace anyhow. I think I wanted a good shagging, really. The rest is difficult to manouever at times, and my head’s been in the wrong fucking place on a whole lot of levels for a whole lotta time.

I’ll tell you one thing, though: Dealing with disease and the threat of loved ones passing tends to remind you that life’s too fucking short to put the living on hold.

There are many variations of the same saying, and my two favourite come from 1) The Shawshank Redemption, and 2) a quote by the highly controversial Ayn Rand. They are, respectively, “Get busy livin’, or get busy dyin'” and “Man’s greatest fault is is inability to realize that avoiding death does not equal living life.” Oh, and a third, from Virginia Woolf, “Look out! If you are losing your leisure, it may be you are losing your soul.”

I’ve had big wake-ups in my life and many, many of them. My near-death scenarios alone are enough to make me realize how precious this all is, let alone the deaths of those around me. Yet, like everyone else, I forget how important moments are, and how unique every day is. I fall into the drone of the routine. I am just another mindless soul shuffling down the city streets, just like you. And sometimes I manage to wake the hell up and stop avoiding death just long enough to live a little life for a bit.

I have been working like a dog for all the wrong reasons. I’ve not been enjoying my life. I don’t have fun with my friends. I don’t get shagged or date or smile unprovoked these days. Something slipped away from me during all my crazy, crazy months that have started and persisted throughout this dreaded year of 2006. Some good moments in there, to be sure, but it’s mostly been stress and worry, and for what? Has it all been worth it? The short answer: Not on your life. Certainly not on mine.

Now my father lies in ICU, his condition not changing, which is good and bad all at the same time. And I remember: I was always the smell-the-roses type. You know, I have previously planned roadtrips so minutely as to pre-arrange my positioning for sunrises. You know, on top of X mountain for sunrise, that sort of thing. I know how to live life. Goddamned right I do. I know how to indulge and laugh and be spontaneous. Hell, I wrote the fucking book on it. Yet I, too, have fallen victim to coasting through life on cruise control instead of grabbing the fucking wheel and just going, you know?

I suspect my father will get well. There’s no hard proof. Just hope and prayers and superstitious rituals. I know I’ll still be single when the windows start to clatter and the winds really howl as they rip through the gap between these two apartment buildings late tonight. I know that, no matter what happens tomorrow, with me, my father, my life, that I’ll still have a pulse and life will still be there, waiting to be lived by a girl with as keen a passion for life as I know I once had and will have again.

Anyhow. This is a meandering post, but I just wanted to check in, say hey, I’m still around, and yeah, life’s a bitch and a grind, but it is what it is, and even in the shittiest of days there can be pluses to be had. Just takes a little creativity and a whole lot of willingness to look at the finer points in order to find the good stuff. Somehow, I’m managing to do just that.

Meanwhile. I’m overdue for a nice hot bath. Enjoy your warm-bodied bed-buddies if you have ’em. This girl’s a low-maintenance party of one this evening.