Don't stop believing...

Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice just one more time

Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

26.5 years old

Inadvertently I saw the date today. 21 August. Six months after my birthday, and therefore also six months before my birthday. Already twenty-six and a half years old... somehow that feels 'old'. Thinking back, I wonder what I have really done in the half a year since my birthday? Travel, fly around the world visiting family, visiting friends... once it was even for one last time. It seems that has been the highlight of this half a year of my life. Travelling, flying. Was it worthless and not memorable? No. But what have I learned out of it all? How have I benefited anyone? Maybe as I wrote before through my very presence, however fleeting and insignificant it may be...

The past six months have gone by with no grand schemes, no great big plans for life. No roadmap to follow, no real objectives to accomplish. And all the while in those moments I am home alone, I feel the loneliness creep up and accompany me.

Often at junctures in my life, I like to look forward and imagine... imagine maybe six days or six months from now I am at a high point, imagine that maybe I am filled with energy and inspiration, filled with love and compassion for life...

Will the next six months be much different?

Gone too soon...

When my friend told me details of his aunt's passing, I fell silent. I did not want to ask too much, and for the whole day I waited until he wanted to talk, to share. When he did, it was when we were heading home together at night. The streets were quiet, empty, except for the sound of the wheels of our bike, and his wavering voice.

The aunt was so young still, in her mid forties. Left behind a husband and four children, the youngest being seven. When I heard that, my heart wrenched in pain... what of the children? To lose their mother at such a young age... To grow up not having their mother... All so sudden. All too quick. All too soon. Cancer kills so ruthlessly and quickly. That much I know perhaps well enough...

What fills my friend with regret is that it could also happen to his parents. He did not say it, but I think he thought. Thought about the very possibility of one day receiving a phone call with the news that someone dear, someone close far away is nearing the end... I know and can understand that fear, that worry perhaps all too well...

Friday off

I lay on the grass, rested my folded arms under my head like a pillow, and watched the leaves dance. Green, silver, gray and slightly yellowing, the leaves softly rustled as they seemed to hang on precariously on a confusion of twigs and branches that swayed to the motion of the invisible winds. The sky was so blue, so clear, and clouds white, thin and sparse.

Closing my eyes temporarily, I rested, breathing and sighing softly and letting go of the week that had just gone by.

Not a productive week, but a week of muddling through work and daydreams. In the background, the swooshing sound of the canal flowing past, and the chatter and laughter of friends mingled with birdsong.

It's Friday already... my day off.

Loss

Suddenly this evening a friend rang me. He sounded frantic and lost, and he told me that his aunt passed away unexpectedly. He was shocked, he said, and didn't know how to react, especially being so far away from home. "I'm sorry," I said, the cliche phrase that you say to someone who lost someone... but sorry sometimes doesn't quite express what you want to say or comfort the way you would like the other person to be comforted.

So after we finished talking, I went to the store and picked out a card. A very simple one, with lotuses on the cover and the inside left blank. I wrote a few words, and put the card on my friend's doorhandle. He's bound to see it first thing when he gets home later tonight.

And I walked home, feeling pleased about myself. Not in a smug way, I don't think. Pleased in the sense that I hoped that my friend can find comfort in my words, for writing often 'says' more than the spoken word (ironically). I know everyone's grief and sense of loss is different, and I can only imagine how my friend is feeling from the sound of his voice on the phone.

But I hope he knows that he is not alone.

Connections

Been doing the dating thing for a while now, and it just doesn't seem to go anywhere. Sometimes there's just no spark, or the guy is just plain and dull... sometimes there might be something, and you're waiting for the other person to take the initiative for a change, and then there's no more news. It makes me wonder... is there something wrong with me?

Dad...

There are moments and times when I just long to see him, to talk to him again. I'm not sure when these moments come, or why they come. Maybe after setbacks... maybe during moments of intense longing and loneliness... maybe just suppressed feelings that are raising their heads...

But images of dad's face, his smile, his scent continue to be with me even today.

Surf's up!

I first got involved around two years ago. Having the travel bug can get costly, so anything to cut down costs while travelling helps. So a friend introduced me to CouchSurfing, the website where travellers from and going to all sorts of places can connect and find a place to sleep for a night. I mean, to be honest, when you pay for a hotel, especially when you're travelling alone, all you do is go to bed at night, take a shower (or not) and leave again in the morning. And that could easily set you back 50dollars, or more (especially if you don't consider hostels... but even some hostels can charge that much for a bunk bed...).

So Couchsurfing is really a great way to travel and safe costs. Plus, you get to meet locals in the city or country who can let your travel experience be even more enriching and knowledgeable than if you were wandering around with a guidebook...

I'm not sure why, perhaps because it's summer time, but I've been getting a lot of requests to surf my place (sometimes people just want to meet up for a drink or chat). I had a guy from the UK a few weeks back, and he left a really positive comment (something along the lines of my place being the most comfortable and me being very hospitable...). And this week someone from Serbia wants to meet up, next week a couple from Spain also want to meet, and then September a guy from Austria is interested in staying over.

I really don't mind, and wholeheartedly open up my place to them. I consider it part of "giving back" to the world and helping a stranger who could very well become a friend (like many people I've surfed with before). I mean picture yourself travelling all by yourself in a foreign land and not knowing anyone. A friendly gesture, a comfortable bed for the night goes a long way to let travellers feel welcome and "at home" away from home.

Intense...

There was this intensity in the dream that was disturbing. Intensity in the tension, fears, worries and longings strewn over random images, words, faces and places. One scene was me about to leave home, very, very early in the morning.

I remember vividly that that I had to get to the airport, and that the cities of Dubai and Abu Dhabi (where I've never even been before) were involved. I was on the train with my mum, who insisted on accompanying me all the way, even though she looked so exhausted and sickly... only later did I realise once the train came to a stop that we arrived at the wrong place. On the map were all these names which sounded so foreign...

My alarm woke me up moments later.




One of my favourite pieces of Mozart... can you not just feel the intensity of expressions in the m

Blogger

I submitted my application a month or so ago, just for the fun of it. I already blog, and now it appears more than ever before, so why not get recognition for it? So when my university was soliciting students to blog about their life, studies and thoughts, I reached for the opportunity. And got it.

Without wanting to sound smug or self-absorbed, I sort of knew I would get the position... I know I can write, and when answering my applications I didn't just fill in answers in the blank spaces. I replied in a way that showed my character and ability to write.

Today was the first meeting, where details of what's expected from us were laid out. Most importantly, there will be no censorship or editing. We can write about what we want, how we want, and post whatever pictures we like.... as long as there's no hate speech or foul language ("strong" language is ok). There are in total 15 fellow bloggers involved in this brand new project, aimed to attract potential students to Mcgill, and also to allow current students to feel a sense of belonging when they read about someone else's life (may that be successes or problems). Out of 4 people I met today, I was the only guy.

The coordinator of the blog was a really friendly graduate, who herself is into blogging and photography. And just before we left, she said she wanted to take pictures of the bloggers-to-be. I actually hesitated at first, knowing how I dislike having my picture taken, and initially said that I'd post a picture of something instead of my headshot. But I changed my mind when the girl took out her fancy professional camera. Maybe she could get a nice side of me, I thought.

I was selected to go first, so I stood and smiled. But I always become very self-conscious when I just stand and smile... I feel it's so fake, and I never know where to put my hands or how to 'pose' the muscles on my face. I always feel uncomfortable looking at the lense, and she had a very big, long one. There must have been at least twenty pictures of me taken... in different locations, with different poses. I thought she just was looking for a 'perfect' shot, perfect in terms of the lighting and pose and composition. But with almost all of them she said I was a natural, and that I looked good. The other girls who were there agreed. And I felt really embarassed, and admitted that I was actually nervous deep down.

The new blog goes live in around two weeks.

Pride

From the downright outrageous and provocative, from the political to the sensual, friends and I sat on a crowded field of grass and watched the annual Montreal gay pride parade go by. My first experience of it in Canada, and it was a joy to see so many gathered on the streets, celebrating, in a show of solidarity with the gay (including lesbian, bi- and transexual) community. There were gay couples, marching with their young children and babies in prams... men wearing leather and SM suits, drag queens, and just 'normal' looking men, women and youths smiling, waving the colour of the rainbow nation (not South Africa). Amid the din of techno, dance, pop and latin music, there were moments of silence... a show of respect and remembrance for victims of AIDS, of homophobia and intolerance.

Last time I was at a gay pride event, it was almost three years ago, in Amsterdam, all by myself.
As I sat there on the grass, fast forwarded a few years, I was surrounded by friends, by the maple leaf flag and fleur-de-lis of Quebec... how much has changed since.

Loneliness

"Learn to be lonely", she said, after telling me how I'm spending my days nowadays. I said just doing my work, cycling, pretty much more or less the same things everyday.

I don't know why or what prompted mum to ask me whether I felt lonely. But I do feel that. "Are you still in touch with your friends there?" Sometimes. Then again, there is so much friends can do with you, and at the end of the day, you come home, to an empty home (except for my cat, who wanders around the house at my feet...)

"We're all lonely..." she said, " Three people spread out in three different places" Alluding to the fact that my whole family has been separated for as long as I can remember now.

And somehow, more and more, I feel like having a family, having people around you are connected with on a wholly different level than just friends.