INSOMNIA SUCKS!

This is what I have been doing for the last 3 hrs. And I need to wake up in 3.5 hrs. Bloody hell.

my trip to the movies.

Sunday night was set aside for my sister and I to spend some quality time together, something we haven't done in a while. The plan - attend a free showing of "The Brave One", a "Death Wish"-style thriller starring the always great Jodie Foster as a woman bent on revenge, which had a short-lived stay in theatres but with Terrence Howard co-starring and Neil Jordan directing, promised an interesting night at the movies. My sister's late arrival meant dinner plans went out the window, and as we walked the 5 minutes towards the theatre I contemplated a nutritional meal of popcorn and sugar water.

The cinema experience is something I treasure - the familiar hush of the theatre as the lights dim, the silent anticipation as the screen expands. Knowing that for at least 90 minutes you can drop everything and be entertained, transported to another place. This experience was to be a little different.

For one thing, each trip to the silver screen is made unique by the people you sit in silence with, and the free movie idea while grand brought to our particular theatre more than one inebriated individual. I require my movie theatres to be as silent as a morgue - when friends try to speak with me I will answer with a curt nod while trying to maintain my focus. So I knew immediately that the two, haggard in appearance and mind, would taint my viewing. They contrived to yell often at the screen and frequently disrupt an otherwise tense movie-going experience. To cut an already long story short, the two were robbed of their chance to ruin the entire movie when four security personnel forcibly escorted them from the theatre, stopping the movie in the process.

Needless to say, my sister and I exchanged incredulous looks more than once.

Before it resumed, and to loud grateful applause from the audience, the manager announced that everyone would get a free movie pass upon exiting the theatre. One opportunistic man yelled for free popcorn as well, and the entire audience was duly rewarded. The experience made me reflect on a few situations with homeless people/vagabonds that have come up in the past few months since moving downtown. One was swinging on the subway bars this afternoon like a drunken monkey, and nearly sprayed me with some milky concoction he was drinking - possibly milk and vodka. He quickly grabbed his foul smelling bags and yelled something barely recognizable before dashing off the train. Certainly not something you saw too often in the Burbs.

Ultimately it was a night to remember - the movie itself was intense and entertaining (regardless of what the critics thought) and Jodie Foster is awesome. And a great way to bond with my sis.

pooped

So it's the long weekend, and I enter it as many do, worn out and sleep-deprived after another exhausting week at the office. But in actuality it's what I do outside of work that is really keeping me occupied. I play soccer twice a week and right now have rigorous personal training twice a week - which essentially equates to a commitment of four nights a week, every week. Now soccer I love, and the personal training is something I am really starting to enjoy, but it's starting to become annoying.

I don't feel as if I am fully taking advantage of downtown living. Or at least it is not the way it's represented in films, TV etc... I don't see my friends every night. We don't sit around late at night indulging in interesting philosophical conversation. We don't gather at a specific coffee shop or diner. In fact, I am lucky if I see my friends once a week. We don't go bar-hopping, or even go for a beer after work. People are busy and we get caught up in our everyday lives. For me it's a morning rush after hitting the snooze button until I finally panic, get up, shower, inhale a bowl of cereal and run out the door. Then it's a race to the subway. Work flies by, and it's a rush to get home, shop for groceries, exercise, cook, then finally pass out exhausted. Suddenly that day turns into a week, which turns into a month, and I've barely caught my breath. I don't think the pattern is going to change, so perhaps it's time to start enjoying each day for what it is, and stop waiting for the life-altering event that I (and maybe you) expect to happen, when you become part of a life less ordinary.

To get lyrical, it's too easy to get caught up in the swirling current of life. Sometimes you need to rise above it, take a look around, and ride the next wave to shore.

Aloha and Happy Long Weekend!

Lazy Saturday.

It's been a fantastic Saturday so far. Slept in, which is a distinct pleasure these days, then made my way over to my brother's place to watch Liverpool continue their winning streak, which has been a source of joy over the last few weeks. Two of his close friends joined up with us, and we caught up over brunch at a Mexican burrito place around the corner (they seem to be popping up all over the place these days). We then strolled over to Starbucks and continued the conversation over a lazy cup of overpriced coffee. Sauntered through the bookstore, which is always a perfect relaxer for me, I should do it more often.

And that brings me to the present, where I am casually lounging on the couch, playing small stakes online poker while watching some more soccer. Soon I am off to the gym where I will continue my quest to get in shape for the upcoming Cancun trip, then head to the liquor store to buy enough alcohol to stun a small horse. I will then consume it tonight in the company of some friends, and head to a bar to try my long gestating pickup skills.

And that my friends, is a decent Saturday.

Have a great weekend.

#251

Unconsciously, Blog #250 turned out to be about my bodyfat %. Maybe that will tell you how far down on the blog-idea totem pole I am. Once again, 'tis the witching hour and my thoughts turn slowly to my neglected blog, and the inevitable sleep-deprived morning that awaits me like Death at the scene of a car crash, gleefully anticipating the escort of his next client.

My thoughts have turned recently to writing a screenplay. I am not sure why. I believe if I had to, I'd write a coming-of-age story for 30 year olds, like the Graduate 10 years later. They say that 30 is the new 20 (or at least that's what I say). I feel like old-age is stalking me. Waiting in the shadows to assail me with bouts of incontinence and memory loss and the ability to turn wistful at any mention of my glorious youth. 29 is not old to me, and nor do I feel old. In fact I have mostly the same outlook on life that I did when I was 21. Perhaps the youthful exuberance has been dimmed slightly, to a pasty shine, by previous failures and empty successes, but it is there. And while my stomach begins to emulate a flat tire, and my hair line continues to make a hasty retreat, I say fuck you to old age. You'll never get me, you bastard.

OK it really is late, and that's all I got. G'day.