play it again

The Great Gatsby

"No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."

foul play

Lost Cat

"What is...the most important thing in your life right now?"

"Whatever is missing, I guess."

turn around

So I gave my last post another read yesterday and felt pretty shitty about it.  Actually, I felt pretty shitty about it as I was writing it...but in the harsh light of the day after it was clear that I'm a pretty shallow, horrible person to have articulated my feelings in such a way.  The truth is this girl I wrote about on Saturday is someone who's been a very good friend to me during a time in my life when I don't have a lot of friends.  Most of that is by choice...I'm not a people person...I don't go out and socialize very often...I pretty much keep to myself unless I'm dragged out of my apartment by an old friend or some work related outing.  I don't like bars or places where you're expected or encouraged to mingle.  I don't enjoy the art of conversation.  I get bored and tend to want to extricate myself from any chat that lasts longer than a few minutes.  However, when I spend time with my friend, hours pass by without me noticing.  Conversations will naturally ebb and flow, changing direction and picking up on new tangents as naturally as waves coming in with the tide.  I'm never bored.  We have a lot in common so that helps, but I also find myself truly, genuinely interested in hearing about the banal stuff like how her day was, or what's been bugging her at work lately.  I don't talk about myself much, though when I do need to get stuff off my chest, it doesn't feel forced or 'pulled' out of me by a friend who's more interested in 'seeming' concerned because it makes them feel like a good friend, but a natural 'maybe I can help' type thing.  It's why I feel the way I do about her.  It's why I cherish any time I get to spend with her, even if it's just the 15 minutes it takes me to drive her to work from time to time.  I like to help, it's who I am...but I also like talking to her and just seeing her.  It makes my day.  

She knows this.  But it doesn't matter to her like it does me.  I get that.  It hurts, but I get it.  So I have to try and bury those 'other' feelings and remember that her friendship and the time I do get to spend with her is time to cherish.  It won't last much longer, I can feel it.  Time will eventually separate us, and another good friend will be lost to memory and the past.  It's inevitable.  Even more so because of my history.  The life cycles of my friendships is about 5 years...tops...and then, invariably, something happens to pull the other person out of my life.  I had 4 best friends move away early in my life in quick succession.  Then my gang of 5 disbanded when girls, religion and the prospect of University came into play.  Then there was the 4 year run at University that resulted in the inevitable 'going our separate ways' upon its conclusion.  Then there was a couple of years of reconnecting with one of my previous best friends before that, once again, ran its course and life (and a marriage) ended that.  Since then, I've been extremely hesitant to get close to anyone out of fear of losing them like I've lost everyone else who's ever meant anything to me as a friend.  Women are a whole other issue...another novel for another day...but it's been about 5 years now since I first met this girl and once again, the cycle of life is starting to come full circle.  Part of this reaction I'm sure is an ingrained flight mechanism that is desperately trying to get me to pull myself out first...but I'd be lying if I said she'd miss me more than I'd miss her even if I was able, somehow, to pull that trick off.  Fact is she's got her whole life ahead of her, a ton of friends, a winning personality and a bright future with the right break or two...whereas I'm still stuck in a limbo I've been floating in since 2005...if not before.  I'd finally found someone I wanted in my life again, someone I could actually see myself spending lots and lots of time with over the next 5-10-20 years (if I were to be so lucky)...and once again the Gods have stepped in to remind me that things just don't work out that way for me.  Getting my hopes up was the cruelest joke I could play on myself.  I was silly to think things would be different this time.  

I'm a hopeless romantic.  I'm also a jaded, scarred optimist...but an optimist nonetheless, and despite history, I continue to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that there is a method to the madness.  That one of these days I'll be rewarded for all this suffering and pain...gleefully stunned when the light finally shines on me and things break right for a change.  It's been my secret hope these past few years that that light would shine and her.  On us.  No such luck.

But I do have the power to be a big boy about this and attempt to hold onto something special, even if it does bring with it a considerable amount of heartache.  It's not easy watching 'your girl' choose someone else.  It's not easy hearing about it after the fact.  It's not easy having it shoved in your face as you drive by on a sunny Saturday afternoon, shattering your heart and soul into a million lifeless little pieces.  But I've got no choice.  She means the world to me.  Ten percent of her is still better than zero.  It's something.  For now, it'll have to be enough.

It won't be easy.  But for the sake of my manhood, my sanity, and the best friend I've got...I have no choice but to try. 

180

There really is no way to describe the feeling of seeing the girl you care about with another man.  We live in an age where males and females form strong friendships outside the bonds of love and intimacy, so it is not uncommon for a girl to have many male friends with which she shares her time and interests with.  I've known one such girl for well over half a decade now, and we too have become quite close.  I've shared my feelings for her in the past, only to be met with the 'I like you as a friend but...' and gotten over it.  We've stayed close and our friendship has evolved to one of mutual respect and genuine caring for the other person.  She's probably my best friend.

I've known about the other guys.  I've met a couple of them.  I know she spends more time with them then she does me.  But recently our time together has taken on a different tone.  Jeans and messy hair has been replaced with skirts and perfume.  Random texts at all hours of the night.  Genuine concern about my well being when there was merely cautious inquiry before.  Maybe she was finally seeing me for what I am...who I could be?  Maybe she was opening the door to us 'trying' to take our friendship to the next level?  

Then I saw her today, walking down the sidewalk, longboard in hand, skater hat fixed to her head, with one of her young boy friends.  I'm sure she saw me, but she pretended not to...just as I did.  It brought back all those curious feelings of what she was up to with those 'other' friends that she didn't share with me.  If I'm being totally honest, I barely recognized her.  It was if she was another person.  A different version of herself.  Now I don't know what to think?

Who is this girl?  Why the different faces?  Is she wearing them like someone wears clothing based on mood?  Trying on different hats to see which one suits her that day?  Is she still trying to figure out who she really is and we're just tools to help her figure that out? 

I'm not surprised.  I've unconsciously been preparing for this.  I knew this recent arc in our story was some sort of prelude to another fall.  How this all plays out from here on will be very interesting from a human behaviour standpoint...but from a personal standpoint, I'm pretty much dead to it inside.  Frozen solid.  All the help and bending over backwards to help her, all the time and emotion put into being a good friend?  Now it just feels like I've done my part and I can and can back away without any sort of guilt or remorse.  I gave it my best shot.  I gave her all of me...and it still wasn't enough.  OK.  Fine.  She's got friends...she doesn't need me.  I can sleep at night knowing she'll be just fine without me.  I know in my heart and in my gut that this is the wrong way to feel.  Our friendship should count for more than this.  That I shouldn't be so bitter or upset as to throw it all away over seeing something I instinctively knew was the case.  I wish I wasn't so immature to let the unrequited feelings I have for this girl sour me on knowing her and keeping our unique, emotionally uplifting friendship intact.  But I am.  I can't lie and say I feel anything other than pain and hurt right now.  It's dumb, but I guess I'm dumb.  

Maybe this will all pass like it always does?  The next call or text from her I'll jump into action and I'll magically forget how I feel right now.  Maybe.  Probably.  But as it stands, it feels more like the final slice of a death by a thousand cuts...a surefire way to kill myself inside...than a way to 'grow' as a man, a friend and a human being.  It's the reason why I think maybe this sudden revelation is the beginning of the end.  The first nail in the coffin.

She deserves better.  She deserves the best...no matter how I feel she's wronged me.  I just know now that it won't be me who gives it to her, and trying to be her best friend probably isn't doing either of us any good.

Love hurts.

Pacific Rim

****

standing eight count

I recently submitted a business plan for a small business idea that I've been kicking around for a while to a seemingly legitimate not-for-profit grant organization.  I had already created a solid business plan months prior when attempting to go to the bank for a loan, but was denied.  After searching Government links for alternatives, and not finding any, I was thrilled to find a organization that seemed legitimately interested in helping potential entrepreneurs get their idea off the ground.  

The process seemed fair enough.  I submitted an application and was then linked up with someone who would offer me advice in developing my plan.  It turned out the 'advice' over the phone was free, but that they also offered consulting services to 'fine tune' my plan...for a fee.  A pretty hefty fee.  I declined, as I was very confident in the plan I had already developed, and would only really need to add a few more details to it.  

After weeks of hard work, and nearly doubling the length of my plan, I submitted it by the due date, and awaited word from them.

I immediately got a letter, dated the same day as my submission, that in order to qualify for the grant, I would need to submit a number or due diligence items to prove 'matching funds' and my 'preparedness'.  This seemed fine, if a bit discouraging, as once again, I was being confronted with more red tape and obstacles where none had previously been visible.  However the real red flag was the request for a credit bureau report.  What would my personal finances have to do with my business idea?  If I could prove I had the money set aside to show 'matching funds' and was willing to promise said funds would be used for the business, why would they need a credit check?

Suddenly, my excitement and optimism was replaced with a sinking feeling of suspicion and apprehension.  I'm not comfortable sharing personal information in general, at least when it comes to numbers and other 'real' information.  A blog is one thing.  Sending my financial records over the internet to a organization that I've never interacted with outside of a few e-mails and a phone call is another.  

So with the deadline fast approaching, I decided to continue on with the due diligence items.  I secured a considerable 'loan' from a family member to act as 'matching funds'.  I drafted a signed undertaking committing said funds to the business, and even contacted my financial adviser at the bank to secure a letter stating I was indeed in possession of adequate funds.

But I wasn't ready to commit to the credit check.

Instead I did a little digging.

I did not like what I found.

Turns out, there are many, many complaints from former applicants who feel as if they were duped by, essentially, a scam.   We're talking well over 50.  Some of my own suspicions were mirrored in some of the comments.  It seems, the deck is truly stacked in the houses favour in this instance (as it usually is).  Suffice it to say, with only a few days before the deadline to submit my due diligence info, I have come to the conclusion that there is probably a 0% chance I will be awarded the grant.  A part of me is curious, having already submitted my plan, to see what their response will be should I submit most of the due diligence items...but there is no way I am sharing my personal information with them.  

So, it seems, my dream (one of many) will have to remain just that.  I am extremely proud of the plan I put together, and in all honesty, this organizations guidelines did help me improve on the plan I already had.  So there's that.  But ultimately, to come this far, only to learn it's a dead end so close to the finish is extremely disappointing...and further cements my feeling that the little guy really is up against it when it comes to business.  I'm not going to let this kill the dream...but consider this one mighty body blow from the big, bad enemy to this plucky underdog.

starting somewhere

'Every contrivance of man, every tool, every instrument, every utensil, every article designed for use, of each and every kind, evolved from a very simple beginnings.' ~ Robert Collier

out of control

from http://www.westernjournalism.com/was-michael-hastings-murdered/ 

"Hastings may or may not have been murdered. But one thing is clear: The narrative of how the accident occurred is a total fabrication.

Here’s how the story goes: On June 18 at 4:30 in the morning, Hastings was traveling at 100 miles an hour in an upper class suburban neighborhood in the 600 block of North Highland Avenue in Los Angeles. Moving at such a high rate of speed, he lost control of the vehicle—a 2013 Mercedes C250 Coupe—and slammed into a palm tree. Upon impact, the car exploded, ejecting the engine and part of the drivetrain several hundred feet, simultaneously bursting into flames.

The claim that Hastings was traveling at 100 miles an hour when he hit the tree is false. This claim was substantiated by a roving local reporter who had a dash cam running. The video shows Hastings’ car blowing through a red light at high speed in a business district several minutes before the crash. The dash cam video is highly suspect. As shown in the above video, the video taken frame-by-frame seems to show an unexplained anomaly, in which the background appears to be in front of the car on one frame.

Whether this video is doctored or not, however, is irrelevant. The vehicle was absolutely nottraveling at 100 mph when it hit the tree. There is little damage to the tree or the front of the vehicle, as would be expected from a vehicle traveling at a high rate of speed, which is probably why they covered up the front of the car with a large sheet once the media began to arrive.  Further, when the engine and drivetrain were ejected, as required by the laws of physics, the engine would be thrown in the general direction the vehicle was traveling. In fact, it was thrown at a ninety degree angle from which the vehicle hit the tree.

If in fact Hastings was murdered—and we are not saying with absolutely certainty that he was—it is likely an explosive device was detonated while Hastings was driving at a normal rate of speed.Or he was placed in the vehicle knocked out or already dead, at which time the bomb was detonated while the vehicle was at rest against the tree.

If Hastings was in the vehicle dead or knocked out while the car was moving, the problem then becomes: how was the vehicle steered toward the tree to make it look like this was the cause of the explosion? As the Huffington Post reported, in interviewing Richard Clarke, a counter terrorism expert under Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and Clinton, stated:

There is reason to believe that intelligence agencies for major powers—including the United States—know how to remotely seize control of a car.

This, however, is not news.  Car and Drive magazine reported back in their August 2011 issue that hackers could easily commandeer a vehicle:

Currently, there’s nothing to stop anyone with malicious intent and some computer-programming skills from taking command of your vehicle.

If in fact Hastings was murdered, who did it and why?

Just hours before Hastings’ death, he had contacted WikiLeaks requesting legal counsel, stating that he was being investigated by the FBI, which was substantiated by the email to Joseph Biggs. What hasn’t been generally reported is that Biggs stated in an interview with Fox News that the big story Hastings was working on had to do with the CIA, in contradiction to the lie perpetrated by the Los Angeles Times that he was investigating the David Petraeus-Paula Broadwell-Jill Kelley love triangle story."

exhale

Hope and hopelessness.  Two feelings I find myself lingering in quite often, occasionally mere moments apart.  The world, and my life in it, provide the ammunition.  My head and heart the double barreled shotgun.  Swimming in emotions cold and hard, and dizzying and wild that I'm never quite sure where I am half the time.  I really don't know what to make of myself.  I've tried to lead a good life.  I've tried to connect on a level comparable to those around me.  I know what it's like to be human.  To feel.  To fail.  To love.  To hurt.  To smile at life and turn the other cheek.  But there's a depth to my well that sometimes sweeps me away to a whole other dimension.  It's lonely there, and I spend a lot of time in its cool depths.  Occasionally I'm able to bring myself out.  More often, it's someone else who does it for me, without them realizing it.  But I do.  

To one day be able to connect with such intimacy that I can feel true contact with another person, mind, body and soul is a blessing I fear I'll probably never achieve.  I've lowered standards, played pretend, tried to be like the other kids but it's never been truly enough.  I'm on an island and they're only visiting.  I can see it in the faces of family and friends.  A sort of knowing sadness that I'm as close to a lost cause as they've ever known.  Missing some important piece of the puzzle that will probably never be found...or if found, I won't know what to do with it.  

Like a drug that loses it potency over time, limiting the duration and intensity of the high, I find myself gradually recoiling in apathy.  Part bitterness, part sheer frustration...and part acceptance.  Kind words do not help.  Promises of better days ahead fall on deaf ears.  This old dog doesn't want to learn any more new tricks.  

I'm tired.