It's Not My Jam

I've been reading my friend's recently published book over the last few weeks - and yes, it's taken me weeks since it's been a struggle for me. It's a story about heartbreak, specifically her own after the break-up of a six-year long-distance relationship. One of the reasons it's been a bit of a slog for me is that I knew her partner (although I only met him a couple of times, and both times at parties) and, more importantly, I had to experience the split through her eyes - and through drink-soaked evenings at her local pub at the end of her street that revolved around her lamentations on a lost loved. I know much of the story already, and it was tough and tiresome for me to experience the first time around. Having to relive it, well, maybe I just don't have the requisite stomach for it. In the end, the book is not meant for me. I'm not the intended target audience. Truthfully, she's trying to reach but one person: her ex-beloved, who she thinks will read this memoir and come to his senses and come back to her.

But it does have me pondering some of my own heartbreaks. After all, in my friend's book, the one reference she makes of me is scoffing that her heartbreak is more devastating than any of mine. We've all had them, if we've lived a proper live. (Even my good friend DC, who has carried the curse of being attracted to "unattainables," has had to deal with the heartbreak of unrequited affections, which might be the worst of all.) Like many, my first experience with heartbreak was early, in grade 8. I was so smitten with her, Allison (I had to google to see if her name had one l or two), and a mutual friend introduced us formally at a school dance. She looked at me with some disdain, and walked away. And crazily, even though we went to the same high school for five years after that, we never once spoke. I still admired her from afar, but it remained that way through my teenaged years. I'm pretty sure I saw her at one of my local coffee shops when I was in my early 20s and living in my tiny bachelor apartment in the Annex - we share a mutual friend and she's confirmed that Allison has lived her whole life in Toronto, and in fact now lives somewhere in the same neighbourhood - but that's been it. Would I today have the courage to say hi if I saw her on the street? Hmm, good question. She was the first of a number of unrequited (and, let's face it, harmless) heartbreaks early on: Lauren, Lee, Arianne ... hmm, there are probably more, but maybe it's best if they've been relegated to the deepest recesses of my brain.

I experienced heartbreak for the first as an adult when my relationship with AE ended. We had been together for only a year and it began under straining circumstances: an affair she had with me when she started back at work after her maternity leave. In fact, I was her six-month replacement while on leave and sat at her desk! (She ended up landing a different editorial position so I was kept on.) We had such an easy chemistry, had a similar sense of humour and sensibility, and we were both feeling alone: I was single and lonely, and she felt a bit lost in her marriage. Timing is everything, but breaking up a family is probably not the ideal way to begin a relationship. Still, it worked for a good long time (a year does seem like a long time when one is in their mid-20s) but I was also thrust into a "grown up" role (since she had a young daughter - worse still, she had to be in a cast for a couple of months to realign her hips) that I was not prepared for. It finally ended somewhat dramatically when we got thrown out (for reasons that are too difficult to explain concisely) of the SkyDome during a Blue Jays game. I remember her being angry and just walking away from me. This was not the first time she walked away like that, but it was the first I didn't follow after her, but instead just let her go. It took me a long time to recover from her - it didn't help that we still worked together (although thankfully she found another job a couple of months later) - and I was still lamenting her a full year later when I was in France for a couple of weeks in the summer to attend a wedding. But in time, the hurt started to subside, my fragile emotional state was on the mend, and I recovered. I still feel a pang when I see her (not very often) but I feel I'm better for the experience: not just the deep love I felt for her (the deepest I had at that time; I still retain a muscle memory of holding her body one evening in my apartment in the Annex, marvelling at how we just "fit"), but also for demonstrating the flip side, of missing a person so desperately. And for showing me that an emotional scar is not necessarily a bad thing to carry around.

Loves listed

It's Valentine's Day today, a day that has traditionally been hit or miss with me. And not all the misses are what you might think: when I was single and lamenting that I had no one to share the day with. In fact, some of the worst misses have been when I've been in a relationship on Feb. 14. (The worst: the first and only one with AE, who compared my commitment to the importance of the day unfavourably to her soon-to-be ex-husband, who she said used to go all out on V-Day. "Great," I said, "then maybe I'll adjust my attitude and treat you like a queen on the 14th, and shit for the rest of the year." I did end up buying her some roses later that day.) Truthfully, I've always struggled with these "gift giving" days: Valentine's, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, etc. It causes me stress and anxiety, figuring out what to buy, how much is appropriate to spend, whether the gift I'm buying will be both wanted and enjoyed. I've been told to ease up on myself and not put undue pressure on myself, but I can't help it. It seems to be in my DNA.

I was pondering the other day about crushes. After all, we all love a good crush - and for most of us, we have a long history with them, going back to the earliest days of our childhoods when we started to become attracted to others in our social circle. We probably couldn't articulate it that time - hell, most of us still struggle to figure out how attraction works! - but it just felt ... different. I remember the names of my earliest crushes, going back to when I was just a kid: Dani-Ann (although I have no idea if that's how she spelled her name - she was the girl that lived on the French side of the street), Heidi (first girl I ever kissed!), Kim (the first girl I ever went to see a movie with, at Fairview Mall in Pointe Claire, to see the classic disco-meets-basketball film The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh). I wonder if these early ones stand out because they also had crushes on me? Or at least they must have since they allowed me to hang out with them. Surely there were others that went unreciprocated, which is perhaps why they have largely faded from memory. (Incidentally, both Heidi and Kim are today super-close friends, and I've reconnected with them via Facebook.) 

I've been fortunate to have had a number of fantastic long(ish)-term romantic relationships, going back to what was really my first: SG (initials only from here on in), where we spent a glorious summer between high school and the start of undergrad, staying up until dawn almost every day/evening, chatting, French kissing and touching each other. I lost my virginity with her as well, although, admittedly, our sex life was never stellar. (Sometimes I wonder if that experience set up a negative journey for me in terms of pleasures of the flesh. Although man SG had wonderful skin!) The others, in order (who I'd like to write about at some length in future posts): TS, AE, MG, AT, SB. (I'm worried I'm forgetting somebody here!) But then there are the crushes, at least the ones from the last dozen years or so and that did lead to some short(ish)-term romances. And by that, I mean there was nudity involved. In no particular order: ME, KH, MC, KL, AB, JF, MR. And there at least two (AD and JL) that I didn't act upon, so I never knew if they were interested or not. (I would be remiss if I didn't mention the one that made me a mite heartbroken since it wasn't reciprocated: RC.)

I know this isn't as much of an ode to all these amazing women as it should be. They will at some point receive their own posts - watch this space. 

The one additional point I wanted to make about crushes: I wish there was some type of means where I could have all the names of those who had a crush on me over the years. More important, whether there was a mutual crush interest that neither one of us acted upon. What were my missed opportunities? Maybe there's a lesson to be learned: that we shouldn't be coy or shy or hide these affections, although of course we might not always be in a situation where revealing ones feelings is ideal. I know that's happened to me on a few occasions. Anyway, really just food for thought.

In the meantime, Happy Valentine's Day to all out there!

The struggles

 I won't lie: this research leave has not been going as well as I had planned or hoped. I'm trying to cut myself some serious slack, given the emotional turbulence of the final couple of months of last year. And the continued melancholy that I've been fighting. (This is largely self created, of course, because of my own personality flaws with respect to relationships and commitment.) I need to find my rhythm and keep it consistent. More writing in the morning, for example - and even if I don't feel like I'm in the mood, to push through regardless. And then reading in the afternoon, when my energy levels tend to be a bit lower. Having a dog in my life has naturally complicated my routine, but I just need to include her in a more-disciplined daily schedule. It can't be that hard. (Having a cat while on leave was a lot less complicated.)

So let's start afresh next week. To the weekend.

Rejection(s)

 Eleven days between posts - that's not to brag about...

And just a short post today to reflect on rejection. It sucks.

Goal addition

 I have another goal to add my 2023 list: to see more live music. It seems especially important given the last couple of years when the majority of live shows were wiped out. Things have been coming back for a while, but because of various commitments and responsibilities, I haven't been attending as many concerts since live music has returned. I was out at the Pilot this past Saturday to see (and hear!) the Teri Parker Quartet, which was good fun. I took my usual spot, at the bar. (They finally charge a cover for the jazz at the Pilot; it's been a long time coming, and I think a welcome addition. It certainly hasn't deterred attendance as the place was busy, albeit with pretty much the same audience from the pre-pandemic years. It's sad when my attendance brings down the age demographic.) I'm going to aim to see at least one show every week over the coming year. What with the Pilot and the Rex, along with other venues like the Tranzac and the Jazz Bistro, not to mention being on leave until the summer, this seems manageable and achievable. It will also require me to keep abreast of shows happening in the city, but again that doesn't seem like too much of an onerous chore.

Are they resolutions? Or goals? Or wishful thinking?

I can't believe that even though I reinitiated this blog at the beginning of a calendar year, I've yet to do the most obvious of posts: establishing some New Year's Resolutions. I've never taken to the word resolution, however, and have often used goals in its stead. Truthfully, I'm not sure I've undertaken this exercise in a while - certainly not since Covid, surely rationalizing that the pandemic might not be the ideal time to be setting goals and milestones. "Just getting through this" would have been all I would have been able to muster. But in the spirit of the new year and new hopes and possibilities, let me see if I can whip up a good old fashioned list for 2023. (And despite the temptation, I'll resist stating the obvious goal, courtesy of H. from many years ago: "Less fretting, more fucking.")

1. Read more novels. Or, really, read more in general. It's shameful how my leisure reading has dropped off so markedly over the last few years. I was reminiscing the other day on my relationship with A., especially back in its infancy, around 2008, when I had such a great reading rhythm. It's when I discovered Roberto Bolano, for example, and gorged on his work. (I even read Savage Detectives twice!) And looking back on pasts blogs, and seeing the books I was going through, I was simply more engaged with reading. Of course I still read, and a lot: the news, stuff for work, magazines (many of them New York based, such as NY Review of Books, the New Yorker, the NYT Magazine - maybe I should have lived there!), and still consider myself a "reader." But not to the extent that I once was, so let's see myself do something about that. This should also include buying more books, particularly Canadian works and from small presses. Stay tuned!

2. Being more true to myself. I know, this seems soft, but in fact this is probably the most difficult one for me to achieve. I won't give a long discourse on this one as it's a goal that requires more explanatory posts!

3. Spend more time with my mother, and generally be in touch with her more often. This is fairly obvious, given the recent death of my father - again, a topic that needs a full blog entry. 

4. Spend more time with friends. I've been out of the socializing habit since Covid - although, frankly, I think I was out of practice prior to 2020. I've got some quality friends, and they are generally fun to be with. 

5. Explore more areas outside of the city. Now that I have greater access to a vehicle, I need to use it to venture out on weekend (and weekday!) excursions more often. Maybe stay overnight in a few places in Ontario? Now there's a thought.

Five seems like a good number to start with for now.

The Morning Muse

I've long maintained that my ideal time to write - or to think or to read or to ruminate - is the morning. During my first research leave, I tried to discipline myself where I would write e-mails and work on things that required my deepest attention right after my breakfast and while having my coffee, and then spend most of the afternoon reading. (I had to do a lot of reading for that project.) I will probably try something similar for this leave, even though I'm still very much easing my way in so far. There will be some challenges to that routine: the dog and her required morning jaunts is one (the dog walker took her before 10am today), and not (at least yet) being settled in one location. There's also the ease of distraction and procrastination too, of course! Along with my penchant for multi-tasking. Even as I write this, I also have an e-mail to a friend in Montreal I'm writing, and compiling a list in my head of others I need to reach out to. 

I'm also thinking of topics I want to cover with this blog. My research work of course will play a big role, but since I'm largely anonymous in this space, it will provide me some latitude to riff on some personal topics. I also want to bring back a feature from a previous blog: to chronicle some of the books or articles I'm reading and the music I'm listening to. It's a good way to look back on what my eyes and ears were enjoying. 

Reading: An article in the New Yorker on the English writer Rosemary Tonks, who was an acclaimed poet in the 1960s who not only "dropped out" of the literary scene in the 1970s when she became a fundamentalist Christian but who also actively sought to destroy her work. New Directions has recently published her novel The Bloater. I also have Jennifer Egan's new novel The Candy House on the go, although I only just cracked the spine.

Listening: I tried listening to Bjork's recent recording Fossora this morning, but my headspace wasn't there. I've switched my Spotify to a playlist of new and forthcoming ECM releases - that's usually a good means to find artists I've never heard of. 

Watching: Finished watching the John McEnroe documentary last night. It was mostly meh.