march the 16th
That's right. Spring break is over.
I'm gonna have to get my body used to waking up earlier again - I was starting to get used to sleeping in until noon. It was such a comfortable feeling too. How could one not love the feeling of just laying in bed not having any pressure to do anything? A workaholic, you say? Well, you know what? I'm no workaholic!
Don't get me wrong, I like to get things done, and complete projects, feel that sense of achievement. I like to know that as an individual person I am able to produce, and within a group I am able to contribute. It really is a good feeling to have been able to create something that may help or be of importance in the future, and to do so would give me a great sense of satisfaction. But when it comes down to it, I KNOW that I'd rather sleep the day away and maybe just hang out. I think maybe this is due to the fact that I had to grow up real quick when I was younger.
I don't know... I think I was about 10, 11 or 12, I'm not too sure right now. That time of my life was really hazy and quite rocky, so I think I developed a pretty thick memory block around that certain chapter of my biography. But it was around that time that my father left us to work in the 'ole US of A in order to support our family better. Or so he says. In all truth it was probably to avoid or stall the inevitable scandal that would eventually turn our happy home into an angry, dysfunctional family. For a long time I've hesitated telling people this part of my life because it has hurt me for so long and has been a overwhelming factor in the evolution of my life, but I feel that it is necessary for you to know this in order to understand me better.
Where can I start this story? I suppose I can start in the Canadian city of Montreal where my father, my cousin (on my mother's side) and I went to go sight seeing and cultivate ourselves. I believe I was around the age of 5 and really didn't know what was going on. I have a few faint memories of visiting museums and walking down the french-canadian sidewalks, but other than that my mind is amiss. The trip was pleasant and such, from what I remember and from what the photographs reveal to me. Then one fateful day, about a week after the Montreal trip, I apparently told me mother, "Ate (that's what I called my cousin when I was little, kind of like a family respect tradition in our family) and Daddy slept together and I got the bed all to myself!", or so she told me that's what I told her. From there everything went downhill. It was the epitome of that over used "snowball effect" analogy. My mother didn't catch on right away (it took her about 5 years after that bearing of my young soul) but she does had a brain and finally figured out that my dad had an affair with my cousin. Now, you're probably thinking "Ewww! GROSS!!" because of the whole my dad/my cousin thing, but like I noted earlier, it was my cousin on my mother's side of the family, so it wasn't incest. Nonetheless it wasn't right of my father (which is one of main reasons that I am a firm believer in keeping true to one's partner), and for the longest time I held myself responsible for my family's break-up. My sister and half-sister (I have grown to call her sister now and care for her as is if we were full blooded siblings) were pretty young to fully understand what was going on, so I was pretty much alone and didn't have anyone to talk to. My mother had her friends, and my cousin had her friends, and my dad was living in the States for his job, and I was all alone. Little 'ole Randall. Alone. Pretty much like how I've been feeling like these past days, months, and years.
To make a long story short, this heart devouring and emotionally draining separation between my father and my mother lasted a good 13 years, but finally this past January they finished the divorce proceedings. I can't say that I'm happy, or that I'm sad because really I'm neither. I've become numb to the whole situation, and even though all that were involved would probably deny it, we all probably think of it sometimes. The scars are still there, and will always be there whether or not I find love or serenity or peace of mind and soul... and this is something that I've learned to deal with.
Now to further built my point, my father left for the States when I was around 10 and I pretty much became the so-called "man" of the house. I remember at one point of my life I was in charge of the mortgage and dealing with all the accounting, and with that, my childhood whisked away in a flash. No summer baseball camps, no running around in suburban lawn sprinklers, but instead taking care of my sister while my mother worked the graveyard shift at Toronto General Hospital and basically just doing stuff, never really enjoying my innocence. Before I knew it I was 16 and that was that. So it's only been recently that I've been able to just do nothing, and love it. It's pretty bad, but sometimes I think I've earned it in someway. Anyhow, let's finish this sappy story.
School was irritating. Basically it's just routine, listening to my prof blah blah blah about things that I already know. Then going to another class where we watch some sad attempt at making an education film on something completely useless. Basically a waste of time trying to be passed off as education. Blah. That's what I think of it.
I picked up Terry between my classes so that we could go over to a body shop and have an estimate on the damage repair for my car. I was right. Altogether it would probably cost 1150 bucks, but the guy there was nice and gave us another option that involved a little deception on our part, but wouldn't raise my premiums and would give Terry a huge break. A 650 dollar break. I settled with this idea and everything should be rolling without a hitch. Hopefully.
After school I came home, studied useless things but then got distracted by the computer. I went online. I conversed with Chel for quite a bit and we ranted and raved about being alone and such, the usual that happens between us. We came to the usual conclusions - that we were hopeless cases that would never find love and that we would be sad and depressed for the rest of our lives. Well, Chel never actually admitted to that, but that's I how I feel about myself right now.
I stayed home for the rest of the day, taking pictures of the outside through my windows, and playing songs on my sax and guitar in preparation for this coming Saturday. Well, I thought I was going to have to play this Saturday. Turns out that I won't have to play at all this month, and that I practiced a good 3 hours for nothing. To tell you the truth I really didn't mind, because I enjoy playing my music. It's so relaxing to my ears, mind and soul, and I soaked every minute of music that I played and loved it. That's just the way I am.
Live your days as if it were your last day on Earth.