after the gold rush

My tan lines are already fading and it's not even August. I have yet to leave this city this summer (a weekend in the 905 doesn't quite cut it). Every corner seems smellier and dirtier than the last. I haven't sat on the deck as much as I want to because I've been sitting inside typing away away away on paper after paper after paper and trying to believe that this will all be worth something someday. That it'll mean something. That I'll be proud. Of what, I do not know.

But the other day there was a walk in the dark and the streets were still and there was no garbage to smell and see and there was a boy in plaid and then there was another boy in plaid and then there were strawberries and my first cherries of the season and there was this song playing on repeat and I closed my eyes and all my worries and reservations suddenly floated away away away.

it's too late

Nothing lasts anymore and magic happens less and less and friends find your ex on the street with a girl who isn't you and even though you don't want to be that girl you still can't stop crying upon receiving the message.

sleep all summer

I saw 500 Days of Summer the other night, and despite being a little too precious at times, it still managed to be so true. With a jumpy timeline that perfectly captured the way we (mis)remember and nostalgize the past, it managed to encapsulate the entire course of a relationship. From the initial meeting and those sparks and that yearning to know him, to the beginning where everything is new and hopeful and possible, to the first moments of panic when looks begin to fade and touches don't last as long, to the messy end, and the even messier untangling that follows, 500 Days of Summer got it right.

There's a scene in which Josheph Gordon Levitt's character says to Zooey Deschanel's character "I just want to know when you wake up that you'll feel the same way you did about me the day before," and she simply replies "But nobody can give you that." Sitting in the theatre, I couldn't believe how true and sad those words were. If love's never secure, then what's the point of all that risk and all that potential hurt and all that healing that never fully leaves you the way you were before?

But then there are nights like last Thursday where you aren't even looking but your eyes still manage to catch sight of the boy across the bar. He is beautiful in his white shirt and curly hair, and you haven't been this attracted to someone since him. And so you clumsily try to make conversation and awkwardly try to charm, both of which fail. And even though you know love cannot guarantee or promise anything, you still wish you had company for that long walk home.

young hearts spark fire

Tonight three years past hit me in the face. Hard. And with a mean glare to top it all off. I didn't see his face, but he looked just as I remembered from behind.

Tonight I saw a deja-vu but with a different band and in a different city. He was slightly shorter, and had a smaller nose and not such deep bags under his eyes, but it was like being transported back three years without any of the charm and sweetness I once possessed.

I walked home alone and regretful. I'm sure nothing would have happened, but the what if is the worst. What if I had just braved up and said "Hi. I think you're cute. What are you doing later? Nothing? Oh, well how would you like to come home and spoon and play with my cat and listen to records and kiss and take our clothes off and spoon some more and fall asleep to the most perfect night?"

Silly, I know. But what if he had said yes?

yes it is

This is not the summer I had planned and imagined and dreamed of during every long winter night. Both cooler and busier than I expected, I like it more and less than I thought I would. Despite the garbage strike that just doesn't seem like it will ever end, the city is still beautiful and bursting with plans. I still would like to watch the city on water, and I'd like to watch an old favourite on a blanket near the water, and I'd like stickier nights and stickier mornings, but there's still a month and a half left for all these wishes (and others) to come true.

This summer is not like the last few because there are no drives down deserted nighttime country roads where you're flying along with Maggie May and your boy by your side. And there are no boat rides into the sunset with rainbows bouncing off the water and your hair tangling in your smile. But there are visits from faraway friends and your most favourite boy to look forward to, and there is more happiness than sadness and there is sunshine and there is time passing and hope growing in the meantime.

trains

I snapped this on my phone on the way to school one morning. The sight struck me as odd for many reasons, the most obvious being the unexpected greenery smack dab in the middle of the city. A field of subway dreams, what were these two cars doing so far from rush hour?

Staring out other windows on other commutes, I can almost see myself, one year younger and side parted, walking down the same street. I watch as I head into the LCBO, pause in front of a menu posted to a window, decide against it and head to an old favourite, emerging with a bag of take out and Friday night plans. I know what's playing on my I-pod, and I know why my feet are dragging, and I know I'll soon straighten my shoulders before telling myself to stop being silly as I head down a back alley.

And since I'm on the subject of trains, I must say that I'm loving this song. I can't say enough about the two of us my arms are breaking I can't hold you enough oh, I can't hold you enough oh, I can't hold you enough I want to love you again I want to love you again I want to love you again I want to love you again I want to love you again I want to love you again I want to love you again!

i've got a freeway mind

fireworks part 2

Unlike last year, I saw fireworks this Canada Day. In fact, this Canada Day was so much better than the last that I saw fireworks not once, but twice. I stood on a bench as the sky bursted red and purple and all things sparkly as they sang words of inspiration in the form of an old favourite.

It was a perfect moment as perfect moments go. July 1st suddenly felt like January 1st and everything seemed new and possible for once.

The possibility of that night and this summer led me to push through a crowd of people at the sight of a familiar windbreaker. Without a pause to analyze or doubt, I tapped his shoulder and opened my arms wide in greeting. And there was nothing left to analyze or doubt. It was dark, and there were two beers swimming around inside, and the noises of the crowd made it seem like everyone else felt new and possible for once, too. The words spilled fast and the smiles came the easiest. So this is what it's like, I thought to myself. Friends.

In the midst of our reunion, mini fireworks shot off beside us, causing the dark to suddenly glow green. And this was another perfect moment as perfect moments go. Not because of the way part of me still hoped for a grand declaration of love and remorse and how I could actually imagine it happening, but because everything felt natural and not scary and there were fireworks and I finally realized how far I'd come from a year ago.


Seeking strength in mystery. Let us feel the air inside the clothes we wear. Try to find ghosts behind the buildings in our lives. Draw us lines. Bad weather. Anxiety and fear. Don't give in. Call on her. And live in fascination. Fascination forever.

fireworks

A year ago I knew it was over but it took me four more months to let go. We were no longer we and he was no longer he and I was no longer me. A door slammed and hopes fell and a realization came all too fast and there were never any fireworks.

There may not be any fireworks today, but for reasons completely beyond my control this time. And to that I say bring on the sparklers instead!