Well, for the last little while my life has primarilly consisted of climbing and working. Work has been pretty good, but the climbing in the last week has been even better!

On Monday evening my climbing partners and I bouldered on Buffalo Rub Rock (a.k.a Crater Rock), where we pretty much solved a corner problem we had been working on for a while. On Tuesday we were in the boulding wall in the basement of the University, and on Wednesday we rested.

On Thursday we planned to go to Barrier Mountian, but there was a G8 related road block on highway 40, so it was a good thing we had planned to go the Heart Creek in case Barrier was inaccessable. Thursday was awsome; I lead a 5.10c without falling, which is the hardest grade I've ever done that on. I was able to come up with a solution to the crux of a 5.11c, but I was on a top rope and fell off of it a lot.

On Friday, we left work early (~ 1:30) and when to White Buddha. I fell off both a 5.10a and a 5.10c quite a bit, and after doing those two, we went to find some bouldering. White Buddha is primarily a bouldering area anyway. The one other pair there showed us a problem, which we worked on for the remainder of the evening.

Pictures and movies for the curious are at http://www.enel.ucalgary.ca/~biffard, which is my climbing partener's site. He bought a digital camera, so we've been quite enthusiastic about putting it to good use.

A daylog! Fun. Never done one of these before.

I woke up this morning at about 8:00AM in Morgan's basement, on the foldout couch, beside Erin. Morgan was asleep in the chair beside us. All three of us were fully clothed. I'm not sure how exactly we got there. We were at James' party the night before, I know we got kicked out at around midnight. At that point we were all rather drunk, and the easiest to get to by TTC was Morgan's house, so we ended up there, I guess.

Anyroll, Erin woke up shortly after I did, and Morgan maybe 5 minutes after, and after complaining about our respective hangovers, Morgan, at his father's insistance, went out to get a loaf of bread, and Erin and I, who had been intending on spending the night at James', changed into the clothes we brought with us, and, upon Morgan's return, went upstairs to have breakfast and watch the tail end of the Senegal-Turkey soccer game.

I suppose we all must have been moving very slowly, because very quickly Erin and I realized we had to leave. A phone-call was placed to Erin's mother, who agreed to meet us at Lawrence station, drop me off at my house, and go run a few errands with Erin.

I got home by around noon, was greeted heartily by my parents, shaved, took a shower, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed out for a leisurely walk culminating in a haircut. My first in 6 months.

Logically, going from hair that's as long as mine was, the only thing to do is to get my hair cut as short as possible. Which is, basically, what I did. I can't recall my hair ever being as short as it is right now, it's maybe an inch or so long.

When I came home, my parents were gone. They left a note explaining that they've gone to the cottage for the night. Be back around 11:00AM tomorrow. So, I've got the house to myself for the evening.

Nancy was supposed to call me at around 2:00, or when she got home. Apparently she spent the night at her friend Sarah's apartment. It's about 3:30 now, she hasn't called me yet. She was going to organize an impromptu birthday party for me, but I can only get the impression that that isn't happening. Bear in mind, of course, that my birthday is in November.

Anyways, I've spoken to Erin on the phone, I've spoken to Morgan on the phone, and I've spoken to the Moleman on the phone. Erin will head over here when she's done with her days affairs, Morgan is waiting for news about the situation with Nancy, and the Moleman... well, he's himself. I spent all day with him yesterday, and we had a nice little chat on the phone.

So, that takes me to now. Now I'm typing a daylog. My first daylog ever. What are the odds of that?

What about the future? Well, Erin will be here tonight. It'll be the last time I see her before I leave for camp, I leave at around 2:00PM tomorrow. I'm working as a counsellor at Camp George, a Jewish summer camp near Parry Sound. I worked there last year, and had a good time. Then again, last year I didn't have a girlfriend back home to miss.

Either way, I'm coming back on August 14th. And, either way, Erin's going to miss me and I'm going to miss Erin. If I find myself in the city on a day off after Erin returns from Italy, I'll be sure to give her a call, and we'll have to meet up somewhere, somehow.

Today is June 22nd. This is the world from where I see it.

Sometimes stuck is the main word that comes to mind. Brain all scrambled up and heart full of ice, fetal curl on the kitchen floor on the way to get some breakfast, smoking like it’s candy, like it’s food, like it’s life. Missing contact, arms around, and muscles moving under skin, some very sweet and tender moments now butted up against the agony of yet another major life change, coming so fast now.

Reluctant move to Ohio, home ownership, shitty office job, vitamin sales girl, marriage, debt, bankruptcy, unexpected pregnancy, homebirth living with the in-laws, small apartment on campus, pregnancy, water birth, death in the family, lead paint fiasco with the city, His big long battle with worker’s comp, cancer scare for me, country at war, major car accident, surgery, resentment and anger, yet another move, more anger, no stopping to breathe, the breaking point, the break up, divorce, custody issues (I lose, because I gave so much there is nothing left over, isn’t that cute?) The empty feeling, confusion, anger, anger, anger. Self lost, hibernating, wishing the damn bear would wake up because I could use the muscle.

Sometimes strong and confident, 14 feet tall with a smile like a lighthouse and a thousand or more sincere tee hee’s, Then suddenly “home” in this state I am not fond of, in a house I no longer have keys to, asleep on the floor behind a locked door, wondering if I could use the curtains to get out the second story window if I had to, Hating myself hard for being stupid enough to sign paperwork with out legal representation, Hating myself for being penniless, for giving over my entire financial life over to any man, and now left with no confidence, no job, no education, a handful of skills no one gives a shit about, some words I don’t believe in anymore, a bunch of stupid files, a box of journals, a deep sense of dread, a fuckton of pathetic, intermittent panic attacks debilitating head fucks, chewed fingers, this flabby body stretched out by motherhood and complete lack of interest in my own skin for WAY too long. Wondering where to go, how to feel, how to support myself when the last five years of my life have become invisible. All effort erased by his anger, his manipulation, this guilt because I stopped loving him. Sometimes forgetting it took both of us to arrive at this place, that I did what I needed to do, that we had been going nowhere for a long time, that I was suffocating and so was he but I had to admit it for both of us. How big of me, how fucking noble. And right now, how pointless. It would have been easier to pretend. I did it for years. I was getting good at it.

Trying to hit rewind to the last place where I was happy and why.

Here is what I remember, I was goddamn giddy walking gritty streets teeming with humanity, heads bobbing up and down like ducks on the water, each story, millions of them, a river of words. I occurred to me then that telling these stories is my main purpose here, reporter with forty eyes, ear to the ground. I rode silver bullets guided by electrified metal tracks, got my sea legs on the lurch, sometimes happy to bump into another body. See those eyes so green; one brow raised above a smirk, and out of the corner of his mouth this New York accent. Ate a hotdog while sauntering down the street, dripped bright yellow mustard on the toe of my big black boots, thick in the sole, supple leather that molds itself to the ankle, And I laughed that I was not a badass, but he said, “Yer such a badass you kicked da shit outta someone eatin’ a hotdawg.” We laughed when I swore I would never wash it off because now it was a memory. Later in the rain, I looked down and it was gone. Some things are like that. I remember the park lawn leaving crossed lines on the back of my arms, making my shirt damp, and how when I turned my head there were blades of grass between our noses and we kissed right through them.

Most importantly I felt gorgeous, witty and honest and full of light, not a thing anyone DID for me, just a place I discovered that I had almost snuffed out entirely. I aim to get back there. I kinda missed that woman; she is funny and good, strong and interesting. And she is full of love.

Inner mama says, “Girl, take your vitamins, use your words, get a job, learn to make it on your own, stop bitching around the issue, grieve but don’t fuck yourself with it. And drink some water, you are all kinds of dehydrated. You are not special enough to expect a life with no pain, but you are tough enough to take it, make something out of it, bend and refract it, shake it upside down, kick it in the ass, wash your hands and get your life on.

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