A Friend in Need

I have made a friend in a woman from My Sister's Place, who first approached me perhaps two weeks ago about my piano playing there, to suggest that I might like to perform at a recital that took place today. A little later, she asked me if I might help her to figure out a song she had been working on before... or, failing that, to attempt to put music to one she had written.
This latter project is one I took up and that we worked on together with much time and energy. Sadly, she was not able to perform it with me at the recital today for which we had been preparing.
She is seperating from her husband and the chaos of this month's needs and demands, of bills and preparation and packing to move away, required her to do much more than she expected she would have to today, and thus not to have time to sing at the recital. She is, understandably, angry, and it is a sad opportunity to lose, but I think she will have another chance to sing her song to the lady to whom it was written. She is not entirely leaving, but leaving the position of full-time staff and will only be back occasionally, to fill in for shifts that are due to some extenuating circumstances no longer filled.
This friend has since become very close very quickly, no doubt in part because her circumstances are dire enough that she must be open to help and support, and I am more than happy to provide it given one of these rare opportunities in which I can step in to do small things that will mean much to someone I know just well enough to be confident that she will accept and appreciate the gestures.
And so, now, she has asked me to look for an apartment to share with her. Her offers are so generous that I am somewhat suspicious of them. Having access to more money than me, she expects to pay more of the rent accordingly. In addition, she intends to look for an in-house nannying position that would keep her away from the apartment even during nights for most of the week, giving me free reign and privacy of the entire place while she is working. Finally, she says she does not mind if I have the larger of the two bedrooms. I don't think I will ask for it, though. This much generosity is cause for skepticism and suspicion, and so I will watch vigilantly, though I have no other reason as yet to think that she is not quite serious and genuine in her offer.
Time shall have to tell us. We intend to apply for an apartment we went to see today. The layout was nice, the condition of the place reasonable, the view beautiful. I do not expect our search to be this easy, but I do look forward with careful, patient, unexaggerated hope, to hearing whether we will be accepted there.

To my new friend, if you end up reading this, I suspect you will understand well enough not to take offence to my suspicions. You know well how devious some people can be. I do not mean to distrust you; only to keep myself quite aware of the level of my own vulnerability to deception and disappointment, and keep that knowledge with me to inform my own decisions.

Oh, also, I should note that I did play an independant piece at the recital and was met with many compliments for it. The skill level among the performers was not high, and I take the compliments happily, but not with much weight. This audience was very easily satisfied, and their approval does not mark great skill, but nevertheless it is always pleasant to know that my performance is appreciated.

Also, also, I have been listening to an audiobook of Sun Tzu's Art of War. I suspect the formality of it may have rubbed off on me somewhat.

Nevermore

Should I be happy?
What I am is uncertain-
I'm restless; Do I fake it? Do I try? It's not working-
I'm sinking. I'm reeling.
I have a funny feeling
that I'm headed somewhere I've been to before
Somewhere I swore, Nevermore...

Should I be braver?
Should I try to be fearless?
I hold, I hide, behind my pride, an arrogance peerless-
I'm crashing. I'm losing-
There's something I was choosing
that was chosen before
Somewhere I swore, Nevermore...

Looking for confidence
amidst apathy and emptiness-
Something was shining in me
not an hour ago. Tell me
Where did it go-
How can I get it back
from the grey and the black
Lost my way; Found a track
Something from a long lost memory-
What did I do, before,
when my terrors were killing me
wounded and sore
was there a secret door?

Nevermore. No return.
You must live. You must learn.
Without me.
Forsaken you, child? No, I've only set you free.
You know all I ever taught you, still.
You can remember, if this is your Will.

How? I'm not sure even as I grieved
that I ever more than half believed in you, strange wonder,
And your secret's only known to the deepest soul-

You can see
as deep inside of me
as any master, open your eyes!

But we all disguise the truth with our lies
I might as well catch nonsense as the master's prize!

You know the way,
the master will say.
Just cast your fears, your doubts aside,

and doubt me Nevermore...

Regarding my Arrogance and Insight

I'm starting to suspect I was one of those kids who was bright enough to make it through high school and mostly excel without having to do much work. I felt most inspired when my own thoughts took the subject matter and extrapolated it to other thoughts and ideas: When we touched on black holes among star types in grade 10 science, I got thinking about the Big Crush Theory before I remember hearing about it. After brief mention of the binary system, I ended up contemplating that there was a lot of philosophical truth in the system of unity, Base One, absolutely useless for measuring or comparing, but what seemed to be a mathematical basis for the ancient spiritual thought that all is one and all is none, or nothing, or nothing to count, at least, when you transcend differences.

If, then, I'm right, I never really learned much work ethic, and I find myself at once certain that I have much to contribute and afraid that I don't. I fluctuate between feeling ashamed of my laziness and fear, my paralysis of uncertainty about what to do now and how to do it, and proud, indeed arrogant, at my brightness. I show off reflexively, but have a very hard time weathering frustration long enough to accomplish things that are difficult. I'm not sure where to go from here. I want help learning how to learn the way other people, to whom school didn't come so easily, did... But deeper than that, I want to be a miracle child to whom everything comes easily. I'm guessing that's what I'll really have to let go of before I can join in the culture party, and really use the brightness I know I do have to do something useful, something wonderful. But then the question is... How?
Can I do it on my own?
...Do I have to?

I'm kind of alienated from my blood family at this point, with few resources to make use of, and even less experience struggling until I am victorious without giving up and coming back to nothing. How do I fight my own arrogant need to be perfect? Can I ever leave it behind?

Even now I suspect my difficulties with relationships follow many of the patterns of Rimm's too-Dominant child. There is no question over conforming or not. I don't see conformity as a virtue at all, and often struggle to see the good in the legacy of civilization (though sometimes I do wonder at it in admiring ways rather than appalled ones). I have never gone to college or university, largely because everyone seemed to expect me to, but also partly because I have had so many areas of fascination that it was hard to think of how I might choose something specific to study. At this point, the choice is somewhat more clear - psychology, especially the psychology of language and how we say things we don't know we're saying, different levels of self-awareness, have always fascinated me and been things I already think a lot about.

I find it hard to hear criticism. I sulk reflexively and sometimes even physically retreat from it, even... especially... when I know it's justified. I genuinely do value the honesty when people tell me things I get defensive about hearing, but I don't know how to change my behavior.

Someone I spoke with only briefly recently told me that my desperate reaching out for love was almost tangible, and I am consciously aware (although not always) that I want discipline, too. I want a do-over. I want someone to treat me just like what I am - a very bright, perhaps even talented, but not very disciplined, 22 year old child. I want to be parented, but I suspect no-one out there has the patience to deal with my passive-aggressive tantrums and panic attacks, my cravings for praise when I face my fears even in ways that may be hard to see; When I make an effort. I want to find the ability to persevere. I don't think I have it yet. I want help.
Who can help me?

Loud Nights

Even with earplugs, I have to get past loud snoring and even louder boisterous talk and swearing from outside our open windows to sleep at night.

I slept soundly last night, though, and didn't wake until 8:30, automatically missing breakfast again. I feel incredibly gloomy today, stressed and unfocused and struggling to remember the things I decided I wanted to do with limited assets or limited time.

Brother love is not coming to see me today, because he is sick. I am lonely, and tired. I need a good cry, but there is no quiet, private place to go. I have no more to say right now.

Fire Alarm

2AM, klaxons wail. I am shaken on the arm before I stir, and pull on clothes. Fire Alarm. We are herded out down stairwells and stand in the grass, everyone swearing as they always do. Some hug for warmth in the cold, some stomp and complain. A tall, thin, shirtless man with long hair and a smile laughs and says this is neither truly early in the morning nor truly cold. Smokers smoke and everyone speculates the smell of smoke, the flashing lights coming from within some windows. There does seem to be more sourness in the smell of the air than tobacco smoke or pot would usually bring, but maybe I don't know those smells that well, really. In time, the firemen carrying maul and sledgehammer, trudging wearily up and down the stairs, emerge and leave. In time, the wailing stops, and we are all herded back in. There is competition for the bathrooms as each of us has an interrupted body rhythm and wishes for relief before heading back to bed. There is some noise and light: No doubt, the awakeness will last a while for some. Myself, I write and hope that sleep will not be too long finding me again when I return to her soon. I consider quietly that in the rush, the only thing I grabbed to take with me was my locker key.

I presume this incident may be why I'm so tired today. On the other hand, I was tired last Sunday, too. With the library closed and many of the other shelters and support structures closed as well or running shorter hours, there is much less to do on this one day.

I feel I am getting closer to the city. You know what's funny? I have a favorite toilet stall at CitiPlaza. It's because of some activist graffitti someone wrote on the inside of the door in black marker: "What did your purchase support today? VOTE with your WALLET!"

I can sit in the plaza and attempt to do sudokus, at least, or draw. I keep making mistakes in the sudokus without realizing it. It's rather distressing. I think I'm paying attention, and only writing in answers that are certain and follow absolutely from what is already there, but somehow I end up with a contradiction. Sometimes I wonder angrily whether there has been a printing error and the sudoku is impossible, but I have yet to prove that that's the case. I think I will challenge Damon tomorrow to try to solve the one that tricked me up today, to see if he can do it.

You should all listen to Sonata Arctica. All of you. It's a great band. I got really caught on two songs in particular today: It Won't Fade, from Unia, Damon's favorite album, and Alone in Heaven, from their newest album, Stones Grow Her Name. I want to try playing Alone in Heaven on piano. It seems like one of the rare pieces that is simple enough that I should be able to do an accompaniment for the whole thing.

Pardon My Absence

I'm sure it's no surprise to the mythical creature that I might suppose actually reads this blog that I haven't posted anything new in a full month now. Allow me some forgiveness, friend, for I have been much busier of late, with a great deal of nothing to do. My time at the townhouse with friends who eventually became enemies has finally come to an end as one of them not so patiently reminded me that I had been invited to stay temporarily, as a guest, and as uncooperative as the bureaucracy of our welfare system had proven to be, as impossible as it was to arrange to have my own place to move into, I would, in fact, have to be leaving. About now.

Let it never be said that I don't listen when told I am unwelcome. I left that very day, and have since then been back on the streets; so to speak. I returned to Crash Beds until one fateful night that Crash Beds was full, and the lady on duty told me it was her job to refer me to the Salvation Army. Not wishing to return, I resolved to try to find a place outside, on my own, to sleep, and try I did, but the night was cold and so after a brief nap I shivered and shuffled my way to the remaining refuge, where I was welcomed and led to a bed. It's been several days since then. I spend my days solving Sudokus, playing piano at a safe place during the day sometimes. I have been keeping a diary of sorts. Perhaps some time when I have more time for typing, I will share parts of it with you. I am attending a creative writing workshop called "Grit Uplifted," too, which is giving me the spark and the challenge to write some interesting things. I hope it continues to do so.

I should note that I have actually found some happiness in this wandering homelessness, free from being trapped in a safe place with bitterness and hateful politics. I feel much more self-driven, and actually find myself relaxing sometimes. It's a nice change.

For now, farewell. The library is about to close, and I would hate for this post to be delayed.