The Ability To See Things For What They Are

Okay. So just to update you on the "man situation" - I caved. BUT before you bow your head in agonizing realization, please listen to the following! Something changed. Maybe it was the fact that I realized that he would never walk down this path, more to do with religion than anything. I sat there awake in the bed, admiring the perfectly textured ceilings in his room thinking to myself "holy crap, I am so over this, I am so bored with this situation". Its like some part of my chemistry changed as I realized how much of the bed he took up and how unbelievably frustrating his snoring was.

The snoring was basically what started this, not so much snoring as peeling the paint off the walls. The sounds he makes when he is completely detached from the world are nothing short of hilarious. Sounded a lot like a cross between an untuned muscle car motor, starving for gas and that sound that was made when my dad used to blow bubbles on my tummy in the summer at the lake with my torso partially submerged. I waited for him to actually stop breathing, thankfully that never happened. I felt like I should record some of his snoring and play it back for myself as a constant reminder of what life would be like with him. I even reached for my phone to do it, but realized that I was trapped. Coupled with the strained noises exhausted by his obviously pained respiratory system was the all-encompassing cuddles. I literally disappear in his arms! This quality was pretty much the selling feature with him. I loved being "lost" in his arms, I felt protected and secure. But not tonight. Tonight I sympathized with my parents channel changer. That death grip my dad would have on the remote as he "rested his eyes" in his recliner watching golf. I swear not even the most carefully trained bomb squad could carefully pry the remote from dad's hands without him realizing it was missing, nor could they pry me from his suffocating death grip.

He had asked me to set the alarm on my phone and wake him up. This would usually make me feel like I was contributing something and that he appreciated it. But that night it just felt like a hassle. Experiment has shown that I know that he won't wake up for an alarm, hell there could be a civil war reenactment on his front lawn outside of his open bedroom window and he still wouldn't wake up! AND I knew that even though I woke up and had to wake him up I knew he wouldn't get up and I'd have to hit snooze and do it all over again ten minutes later. great.

Because I went in bitter and deterred, I realized the small things that I didn't before. I realized that although we do have a lot in common, he is a very condescending person. Every time I was re-telling a story, he would challenge my facts and question my reasoning. While I am all for a healthy debate, its really hard to argue with someone when they have "religion" on their side. That, my friends, is almost always an uphill battle. Contrary to popular belief the word Christian is not synonymous with "open mind".

Then we get to the intimate portion of the evening and I realized just how bad that part is too. I would equate his style of "pleasing his mate" with that of a puppy who isn't housebroken. Fumbling around in the dark with a sense of urgency looking for a place to pee. I began realizing the predictability of his actions and how bored I am with them.

The next morning he confessed how bad he felt, how hungover he was. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. You're getting straight up played. You are there to serve a purpose and that's all. I recounted the nights activities to myself and started to poke holes (big ones) in my fantasy partner. I realized that what he is looking for in a mate is a weak female. A female who stays in the kitchen, a female who is soft spoken, the idealistic christian housewife. I suddenly realized that I would never be what he wanted, to him I won't ever be "good enough" and for me I will never be "boring or dumb enough".

He wants a woman who will bring a homemade chili to his friends BBQ's, who will sit in the back and converse quietly with the other "wives" while he goes out with the boys into the back shed, does a couple of shots and talks about boobs and diesel engines. While she is quietly exchanging chili recipes (which would be bland at best) he is doing "man stuff" off in the distance. She might get a kiss out of the deal, but a soft quick Peck on his way back to the man cave from the fridge to receive another pint. If its a wild one she will bring some kind of girlie drink with the words "mud, Malibu or milkshake" in the title, a pack of four and she'll have maybe two. At the end of the night she will be disgusted by his drunk antics, load him into the truck and take him home. She will crawl carefully into bed beside him, get lost in his arms and her anger will subside. For she is a good wife.

I'd bring the homemade chili to the BBQ, it would be some kind of Tex-Mex variation though, I pride myself on my ability to cook well - In I'd walk crock pot in one hand and a either a 2/6 or a box of beer under my arm. While he goes out to the man cave I'd take the opportunity to have an animated conversation with the girls and by the time he came back in for beer I'd have them all laughing hysterically. As he walked back out to the man cave I might follow him out the front doors quickly and give him a kiss, a good one, pat him on his ass and send him on his way. By the night's end I'd imagine that we'd both be well into our 2/6 and be making arrangements to take a cab home. We'd both spill into the cab and then spill into the house, hilariously searching for the house keys...I think you can see where this is going.

In conclusion, you can kind of see where I am at. The end. The end of us. I realize that I was in love with who you could've been and not who you are. Timing is everything and hindsight is always 20/20. I learned an important lesson in this whole thing - see people for who they are in these moments, not who you think they should be and realize that its okay not to like them. I am sure we will remain friends, but I know we won't ever be as "close" as we once were...no worries babe, it's not you, it's me.

Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies

Is it possible to feel so unbelievably lost in this world? I feel like my 23 years on this earth have been wasted on petty and frivolous things, like I am a mirror image of nothing. I feel as though I haven't given enough of myself to ever become a great success, as I look at other people who are my age and see all that they have accomplished and I wonder if I will ever measure up.

Sometimes its more of a question of "am I good enough"? Unfortunately I have taken a close look at the people I have chosen to surround myself with and I realize that each of them possess an obvious selfish characteristic that I often ignore. In an attempt at trying to be enlightening, my roommate confessed to me that she was sick of "our" life, that it wasn't good enough for her. She used the catch phrase "no offense" like that is supposed to act as a buffer to prevent me from taking offense to obviously offending comments. She admitted she wasn't a very good friend, which I would have to agree with. It seems that she is so self absorbed sometimes, its nauseating...oh yeah...no offense. She keeps close acquaintances as friends who are more there to reassure her than anything. She will actually ask you for compliments, and tell you what to say if the ones you come up with don't meet or exceed her expectations. "Tell me how skinny I am in these pants" "tell me that he misses me too" "tell me that I am prettier than her". Lie to you? You do look skinny in those pants, he doesn't miss you at all and she is just as pretty as you are...sorry. Then she gets mad because I never tell her what she wants to hear, I will never lie to her. I promise that I will stop talking about my roommate right now.

This is an attempt at self pity, merely just venting to the world about how this girl feels. So unsure about absolutely everything around her. Oh. Except for my mother. I love my mother dearly. This woman has struggled and suffered, if only for our betterment. I admire her. Its so funny, I used to DESPISE her. The majority of her parenting tactics are insufferable, absolutely frustratingly torturous! But I am a better person for ever hoop she made me jump through. Its funny how perspectives changed. Suddenly I find myself almost begging to return to the days where my mother was the sole bane of my existence, the only thorn in my side, the three headed dragon of my problems. Those were much simpler times. Now I find myself running to her for almost everything, her three heads have been replaced with halo's, the bane of my existence is now the center of knowledge, advice and wisdom.

It seems there is always a boy to blame. haha. I mean I am conscious of my own choices, but COME ON! I find myself frustrated with him to the point of confusion. I will never be one of those girls who calls you all the time, who needs to be in constant communication. I look at the other females in my life and I've learned from watching them deal with break ups and relationships that there are certain things that you just DON'T do. I pride myself on my ability to not complicate the situation, to see it for what it is (no matter how fast the wheels in my brain are turning completely out of control, and smoking). Here I thought I picked a decent representation of the opposite sex, that he would at least be HONEST, KIND and REAL. Suddenly I realize that this ritualistic weekend dance that we do is merely an overrepresented gong show! I don't really know how I went from being the object of his affection, to that girl he calls at 230am when he's loaded. I really don't understand when that switch was made. I kinda feel like the rug has been pulled out from underneath me three months ago and I, just now, have come to realize that its missing. It seems that while my wheels were turning and my mouth remained shut and my cell phone remained closed - I managed to create and illusion. I have been lying to myself because for 10 hours a week I feel like I am appreciated or cared for. Wrong again. Miserably wrong again. I wished I had his ignorance, I wish I could be narcissistic as he is. I wish I could put on such an illusive show, be such a great con, such an impeccable liar as he is. I wish that I didn't care about how anyone else felt, oh to be so selfish...but I am not any of those things.

I am one of those people who likes to fix things. I like to help people, take care of them. He obviously figured this out and realizes that he can use it to his advantage. He knows that I will lick his wounds for him and take care of him and I think part of him really enjoys this aspect. We also share a lot of interests, which apparently has little bearing on the actual situation. We are too much alike, but so far from being the same. So, I think its time to say good-bye, in silence.

So I will sit here in my little corner of the inter web and vent to nothing but computers about how I feel about a certain person. I was willing to be what you needed, but I won't do that at this cost. It has almost been a year since this tryst began and I refuse to see it last any longer. You went away and came back and seem to be detaching yourself again, and I highly doubt this has anything to do with me. I haven't done anything to warrant this kind of treatment. No, this isn't a "poor me" blog - I am being realistic. I know I did nothing wrong. I won't compromise my being anymore for you. You have taken more than you deserve and offer nothing in return. If this was a business relationship, I would've noticed that the rug was missing the moment that you took it. I wish you the best, because the universe works in mysterious ways and I don't need ill will on my conscience for no reason. It stings a little, I am not going to lie. My heart is hurt but it is not broken. I learned a lot about myself really. Basically that my mind will allow me to be a door mat, if I can trick myself into seeing good in someone even for a second. I realize I need to be more cautious of my feelings and more aware of my behaviours. I need to be stricter with my self worth and harness my power as a beautiful, talented and amazing female who has a lot to offer (not that I currently believe any of that to be true, but I figured if I write it down, I might one day). You were never there when I needed you, never there when it wasn't convenient for you, never there when it mattered, never there ever really. Until that fateful day when you do call (and you will I am sure) I must channel what little energy I have left and fight you off. DO NOT answer the phone, DO NOT humour you with a response to your texts messages. For now my CD player will remain on repeat of "Never Break The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac - 'if you don't love me now, you wont ever love me again - I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain.'

Canadian Military to do Yoga?

I said I wouldn't get political, I lied. This post is in response to this clip from Fox's News Red Eye with Greg Gutfeld.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcJn5XlbSFk

Okay, first of all...who the hell is Greg Gutfeld?? There IS a reason why he hosts a late night talk show folks (and by late night, I mean the wee hours of the morning where the only people who are likely to be paying attention are insomniacs and recreational drug users, kidding.) Mr. Gutfeld graduated from UC Berkley in 1987 and got his big break as editor in chief for Men's Health Magazine. He then moved on to such fine editorial works as Stuff Magazine (where he was fired) and Maxim UK. In February of 2007 the Republican pony boy "Fox News" decided to give this 'qualified' journalist his own segment..at 3am. The Red Eye News Segment is supposed to be a satirical look at news headlines, gossip and sports and for some reason the Canadian Military and its involvement in the US LED Iraq "war" is comical enough for Greg to take a jab. And the ignorance ensues...

He begins the segment by chastising our Lt. General Andrew Leslie for having "an unusual name for a man". The name Leslie is of Scottish/Gaelic origin and was the name of a rather prominent Scottish Clan in the 18Th century. The name Leslie was originally used as a BOY's name and it was only after it was adopted by the Americans that the name first started appearing on female birth certificates. Lt. General Leslie's official title is "chief of the land staff and commander of the land forces command of the Canadian force". This is a decelerated man in Canadian history who has demonstrated far more patriotism and dedication to his country than gutfeld ever did working for a second rate titty magazine.

He continues to say that Canada's military wants to "take a breather to do some yoga, paint landscapes, run on the beach in gorgeous white Capri pants"...and asks one of his 'expert' comedian panelists to comment on the issue, asking him "isn't this a good time to invade Canada? They have no army" to which the comedian replies "I thought that's where you go if you don't want to fight?" What would you call 60,000 active soldiers and 20,000 reserves? Clearly gutfeld hit the nail on the head, we obviously have no army. So why haven't they ever invaded? Ohhh wait...that's right, they tried. Once. The forgotten war of 1812 where the United States failed miserably at capturing Canada.

It blows my mind to think that here we are sacrificing innocent Canadian soldiers lives for a war created and sustained by the United States and Gutfeld has the audacity to paint a satirical picture of our nations peacekeeping efforts.

Let's take a look at the war shall we;
President George W. Bush Jr stated the reasons for the invasion of Iraq as being a)Iraq used chemical and biological weapons b)Iraq tried to build nuclear weapons and Iraq, apparently, had a long history of lying to the nations even after W. senior attempted to bring it into the 'family of nations' circle.
A couple years and hundreds of lives later, the George Bush Administration decided that this was no longer a war to disarm a nation, but more to 'free' a nation of terrorism and tyranny.

Gutfeld continues, by calling the United States the "greatest country in the universe". Oh wow. He just went there. Okay, so where do I start? If a country's worth is measured in patriotic ignorance than I would say that the United States is indeed a great nation. The united nations released their 'best places to live' list for 2008 and it goes as follows;

1. Iceland
2. Norway
3. Australia
4. Canada
5. Ireland

Where does the United States fall? 12th. So apparently the UN disagrees with the Gutfeld and that is good enough for me.

So next the camera pans over to the douchebag with the loosend tie(I didn't bother researching his name)who asks Gutfeld if he is at all suprised by this. He then goes on to make comparisons between their police forces and the RCMP.
"We have police officers and they have mounties. Our cops ride (in) heavily armoured cars, they ride horses. We have bullet proof vests, they have wonderful red jackets that can be seen from a mile away, this is not a smart culture Greg."

Clearly this guy is a genius, no really brilliant! His words are clearly a reflection of a smart culture. We refer to our Mounties as 'police officers', they wear bullet proof vest and ride around in police issued cars. The traditional uniform for the mountie is a red serge, these are no longer worn in active duty. Back to the horse reference, the NYPD - do they not ride horses? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Then blonde opens her mouth, as almost to 'excuse' Canada's actions. We are up here where it is fridgid and cold, which apparently has something to do with why Lt.Gen Leslie made his statement. Cold. Right. Those polar ice caps at the border are a bitch, eh? Give me a break!

The longer the Americans continue thinking that we need them, the better. I mean I would be ignorant to say that we didn't, everyone needs allies. But this group of geniuses even went as far as to say that we are merely following in Europe's footsteps and relying on the United States. As long as we allow them to think that they are the greatest nation in the world then we have no problems. My entire beef with this segment, be it satirical or not, is simple. We are dealing with lives here, men and women of every nationality from almost every nation risking their lives so that you and I can live and breath. I just think that its really unfourutnate that Gutfeld chose to even walk down this path as he sits at his New York home blogging frantically. Next time, I would like to encourage Gutfeld to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. I wouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions and point the finger when you don't have that right - Grab a gun Greg, kiss your family good bye and come talk to me after your second tour. Not so funny anymore, is it?

Rush Hour...

So sitting on the bypass on the way home from work the guy in front of me slams on his brakes. Thankfully I am far enough behind him that I didn't have to slam on my brakes, but I was concerned that the guy behind me might not be able to JUST slam on his brakes to slow down. Thankfully he comes to a screeching stop, not .002 seconds later I see the truck behind him SLAM into his rear end. A Big puff of smoke and fluid shot into the warm spring air. Rear-ender. Bad one.

Due to the construction genius of the highway/by-pass road planners, there is no where for me to pull over, let alone slow down. Rush hour traffic-ers are a rare breed, we wouldn't stop if there was a half naked man dancing on your roof....well, maybe you'd stop for that...okay, so I would too....moving on. The POINT is, I didn't stop for a car accident that I clearly witnessed! Okay, so before you come at with me with torches and pitchforks, I did exercise my right to phone 911.

Something about calling 911 is super bad ass, cause the operators ask you all sorts of important ques ions. Right away my blackberry beeped cause it recognized that I was calling an emergency number, then a woman in solid and calm voice asked me "police. fire or ambulance?" to which I replied with the same solid calm tone "police" and the name of the city. I was transferred right away to the local federal police service "911 what is your emergency?" I explained the story as accurately as I could. "okay thank you, we will phone you back if we need any more information." boo-ya, mission accomplished.

So then I was feeling sorry for all of the people who are travelling one of the main arteries of our fair city in rush hour traffic. Then I thought about all the times I had sat in rush hour traffic ..."haha, suckers." Not even thirty seconds later, I come around a corner and BOOM rush-hour traffic!

When you know that you're going to be stuck in traffic your blood starts to boil. It gets to a point where every bone in your body wants to start flipping off people with veteran plates just because there is one in front of you. You calm yourself down as best as possible, because like a rational person you realize that this has nothing to do with the veteran, its the damn semi-truck in front of him! Bloody semi's they always let people in front of them in traffic, cause they're so darn slow its like nails on a chalkboard. "Why in the HELL is he in the fastlane?!"

So you turn on the radio, a local radio that brags about how they broadcast nothing but traffic updates 24/7. Just not now apparently cause you're bring forced to listen to a commerical about some seniors home opening up for sale in kelowna, then you remember how much you HATED "veteran plates"!! Then you remember about the semi as you finally hear that there's been an accident on the road up ahead that stalling rush hour traffic. You cringe at the word "accident" but punch your steering wheel and swear when you hear five little words "fast lane. 3 car. fatality. DAMMIT! You calm yourself down, but the frustrating resentment you have for rush hour suddenly gets turned into guilt when you start blaming the members of the fatality for anything. As patiently as you can you ride out the traffic to the sight of the accident, as calmly as you can..clinging to the bumper in front of you. You may have to sit in traffic, but NO ONE is getting in front of you.

95% of the reason why traffic slows down substantially when there is a car wreck is because people are m-o-r-b-i-d! It doesn't take long for the emergency officials to clear the highway of any obstruction, even if its only one lane open. The traffic has some kind of flow, yet you're not moving. Do you know why? Of course you do! You do it all the time, you stare at the accident as you drive by, and choose to do 5 km/hr when you do so!

Once you move past the accident, its like a breathe of fresh air. The traffic is moving, people are paying attention to driving finally - kinda like being let off a leash into a open meadow. You smile at 'veteran plates' as you drive by but glare at the semi driver who hasn't moved out of the fast lane yet.

Traffic would be so much easier for everyone if people just did things like...oh...I don't know...shoulder checked...merge with the flow of traffic?....used their signals?......didn't change lanes in an intersection? didn't slam on their brakes in the snow or rain, turned their lights ON, kept up with the flow of traffic in the fast lanes, didn't tailgate and if everyone who HAVE driver's licenses were the only ones on the road...who am I kidding. Rush hour will forever be that thorn in my side, one removed only by changing jobs. hmm.

The Magestic Grizzly

So the other day I was flipping through the channels, you know..bored out of my skull and living vicariously through the bright colours and broken premises created by a television. Amidst my frantic flipping, I came across a program dedicated to dispelling the wild myths surrounding the Grizzly bear. The subject of their experiment was the Alaskan Grizzly, notoriously the most dangerous mainly because they have not been confronted with the harsh realities of the industrialized world and they roam free across the vast Alaskan mountains never really running the risk of bumping into humans.

The researchers were trying to determine if the six grizzly-related deaths in a certain state park were the result of humans startling the bears and the bears...being...well, bears... turning and attacking to defend their territory OR if the bears were actually hunting the humans as a possible source of food. The evidence they presented for either argument was the mere fact that of the six dead, four of the bodies had been partially consumed, leading to the conclusion that the bears considered them food all along. And of course the two of the six that were merely "slightly maimed" were the result of the bears exercising their rights to protect their territories from "threatening predators".

The thing I found the most hilariously entertaining was how they went about conducting the experiments. Picture this. A grown man (our researcher) locked in a 6ft by 4ft plexiglass "predator" box. Latched at the top with about 6-10 holes in the sides and top for ventilation purposes. Before our brave researcher, and narrator, locks himself in this predator shield, he lays out a variety of food on chopped wood in front of him to see which foods would be more attractive to the Grizzlies. There are 6 things to choose from - Log # 1 contains large oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies, Log #2 contains 3 Costco size honey-nut muffins, Log #3 contains 2 Red Delicious Apples, Log #4 contains one whole salmon, Log #5 contains 3 hot dog wieners and Log #6 A generous helping of trail mix.

It takes about an hour for a Grizzly to appear. He is a large male, he saunters slowly towards the logs and our researcher. He looks as though he had just woken up for some kind of nap, seemingly unfazed by the 200lbs of human being $0.50 metal latches and 1/4" of plexiglass. When he reaches the food selection he bee-lines for the salmon, as he bends his head forward to bite into the salmon, he notices the hot dog wieners, looks back and the salmon and sits down. He then notices that there is an entire buffet set out for him. He is completely ignorning the human and the camera at this point, with a look on his face like "well hollly shiiit...food...". He sits back and carefully collects his thoughts, eventually deciding to go for the hot dog wieners. Watching a grizzly trying to manipulate a hot dog wiener in his GIANT paws is much like watching an elephant trying to peel a banana. Eventually he manages to get the hot dog wieners in his mouth and sticks his nose in the air and makes two "uhn, uhn" noises and two females come barreling down the hill towards the feast.

The first of the females sees the fish and runs for it. In one sweeping motion she snatches the fish off the log and runs just as quickly into the dense Alaskan brush. The male bear, still sitting on his rear, swings his head casually to the side and looks in her direction almost as if to mutter under his breath.."bitch."

The second female is patient. While the first female was quick, the second female has taken the time to realize that she has options and is calculating carefully which log she will feast on. She makes a slow movement towards the muffins. The male pushes her back. Seemingly unfazed, she tries again to head for the muffins, the male actually pushes her so hard she is forced the the ground behind him. Still sitting, the male wiggles his bum around so his back is to her, but so that he is blocking her access to the logs containing, the cookies, the muffins and the apples. Left with only the trail mix, she growls as if to say "what the hell is your problem!?". The male leans forward and frantically gobbles up the cookies. She protests even further, "umm...what about me?" The male leans down and samples some of the muffin and some of the apple. It is obvious that he decides that his best option is the muffin and as he leans in to enjoy his honey-nut treat, he casually flicks back one of the apples in her direction..."you can have this one AND the trail mix." The female sits down in defeat, smells the trail mix and munches on the apple...ultimately giving in to his whims. No fighting. Not one word...except maybe a silent sigh and a rolling of her eyes...as she mutters under her breath.."Jerk."

Unhealthy Relationships

Okay. So this is my first attempt at blogging. I keep a journal, but what better way than to keep an online journal? A personal account of the hilarity's I experience on a daily basis, personally documented, just between me and the Internet.

If the land of 'unhealthy' relationships needed representation, I am pretty sure I'd be their Queen. I wouldn't even need schooling or training. I knew it was bad when I was expressing unrest about a certain man in my life we will call...mmm..."Jem" to my mother the other day, without even mentioning his name. She met my unrest with laughter and that know it all attitude that mothers have come to earn over the course of their lives. "Upset about Jem are we?" to which I replied in almost shock, "yeah, how did you know?" She chuckled to herself again and said "because you always like the ones that are bad for you" hunh. RED FLAG!

So why do I like this boy? Obviously my mother's intuition is based in some fact and as I am begging to move forward I feel like I am stuck in an emotional rut. Like I was out off roading and some big mud puddle caught my attention, I gear down and drive violently for the puddle. I am excited, anxious and curious. I hit the puddle, mud flies everywhere but the truck is stuck. fuck. I try as hard as I can to get "un-stuck" reverse, drive, reverse. Until finally I realize my 33" tires are no match for the ruts that obviously require 46" super swampers...awesome. I've gone an driven head first into a murky absolute without doing any prior research...story of my life.

The physical attraction is unparalleled. The characteristics he displays reminds me of this journal entry I made after I got my heart stomped on the first time. I admire his ability to fix things, build things and the fact that he is, above all else, a belching, farting, beer drinking, football watching, prideful man. For some odd reason, these characteristics appeal greatly to me. He approaches everything in life with this ignorance that is so arrogant its attractive. Nothing in his life is unachievable, nothing is insurmountable, his standards for his life and the goals he has set are totally do-able in his minds eye. I admire the simplicity of his character, it leaves little room for error or mis-understanding. Jem is, by all accounts, the perfect example of a stereotypical man and I love everything about it.

Unfortunately for Jem, he approaches love with the same ignorance. Maybe its his child-like innocence when discussing relationships that makes the 'mother bone' in me twitch in endless pleasure. Something about his innocence makes me want to protect him, guide him and take care of him. Any second I get the sense that he is going to hand me a note at recess with the question "will you go out with me? Check one; Yes. No. Maybe." At 23 years old, my heart will flutter like a catholic school girl who's just be shown a naked man for the first time.

Okay, so there was a reason for the Catholic school girl analogy. Jem, is religious. I have no problem with organized religion. I was never raised to follow the 'word of God/Jehovah/Jesus' I have never even attended church for mass. I was never baptised. Jem is completely aware of this. And thus is the stake that keeps us apart.

I am going to walk a very fine line here and I am going to choose my words very carefully. Fact of the matter is, I will never be pure as the driven snow. Nope, I lost my purity some hazy February afternoon to a man I thought I would love forever. If I could go back and slap my 16 year old self, I most certainly would. Armed with the information I know now. This man doesn't love you, this "man" haha...this "BOY"! I can't change the past.

So for Jem I feel like I am this silhouette of sin, something standing at the back of a smokey bar. Every now and then the fluorescent strobe lights catches a glimpse of my tail or the glimmer of my horns (I left my tri-fork in the car) and he's entranced. Something so easily attainable, yet so unbelievably forbidden its enchanting. Slowly I make my way ac cross the room, step by step. He begins to perspire and he begins to salivate as he throws caution to the wind and puts "religion" out of his mind for an hour. He knows he will suffer later, sort of comparable to doing cocaine recreationally. You know you probably shouldn't touch it, but what's one line or nine in the scheme of things. You know you will pay for it later, as you lay in bed at noon having not slept at all since the night before, questioning everything in your life with anxiety and paranoia - why did you do this? Guilt will inevitably follow, your mother's voice inside your head "now you've done it, now you've gone too far".

There is no doubt in my mind that I am merely a pleasant distraction for Jem. Something to take his mind off of his life for a little while. He knows he has to go back to his life soon, but he doesn't need to think about that as he is lost in this forbidden amusement park, overloading his senses with this simple rush. He will struggle with this later, he will fight these thoughts soon and he knows it. He will forever be caught between what he's been taught is "right" and what he "wants". Family guy put it best (to the tune of 'if you're happy and you know it) If you're happy and you know it, that's a sin - If you're happy and you know it that's a sin.

I remain caught in his little web of confusion. Back to my muddy rut. Throw her into to drive and feel the tires spin under me, I am moving, but unfortunately its merely the tires digging deeper and deeper into the mud on the puddle's floor. Until then, my phone will ring at 2am and it will be Jem drunk or nearly drunk...drunk...already committing one sin...why not phone her and make it birdie? Throw it in reverse, sink, sink, sink...soon I will realize that my attempts at freeing my truck are pointless, eventually I will bring myself to change my current situation. So until the day comes when I am so depressed by my efforts that I actually decide to get out of my truck and call to be pulled out of my muddy existence...I remain stuck, with all my wheels spinning yet going no where fast.