Well, I figured, since I've actually shared the link to this blog now, I should actually post some stuff in it.
However, since this is sort of a limitedly shared blog link, I'm gonna feel free to share some of my more tender past moments. Things that I wouldn't necessarily tell everyone.
So today I'm gonna discuss some traits I've sort of discovered about myself. The first one almost keeps me from saying that I discovered these things. This first trait is the inability to say good things about myself. Mostly this arises when it comes to describing myself. Sure, I can describe myself just fine. I have brown hair, hazel eyes and really odd facial hair. But you'll probably never hear me say "Oh yah, I'm good at writing" or "when it comes to metaphors and analogies, I'm the best". It's one thing to shrug off compliments. That can be chalked up to humility. However, I can't even call myself humble. Then that means I'm taking pride in being humble, thusly completely eradicating the humbleness. I don't think it's low self esteem either. Cause, I think that I'm good at these things, you'll just never hear me saying it. I just try to exhibit my talents hoping that someone will notice and compliment then. But really, why do I even do that? I just shrug it off anyhow. Even when it comes to describing these traits. What right do I have to describe myself? I'm sort of a little biased don't you think. It should be someone else that describes me. And yet, when others do describe me, I'm always thinking to myself, "no, no that's not it at all. they don't actually no me." So yah.
Another trait of mine, is the incessant need to find a reasoning for every action or inaction of mine. Some mine call them excuses, but to me, it's just an obsession for figuring out why. When someone is scolding me about something I've done, and I blurt out some possible reasoning, it's not me making up excuses. It's me offering up a possible explanation, because at the time I usually don't know why. But, from a young age, my step dad liked to beat the idea into me, that nothing just happens. Everyone does everything for a reason. Most of the occurrences being when my normal clumsy self happened to drop a plate, or break a glass, or even accidentally knocked over half a stack of bails because I was young and didn't know any better not to pull from the bottom of the stack. The latter being the cause of the situation I'll describe. Naturally, knowing that I had done something wrong, I didn't say anything hoping that no one would notice however, naturally someone did. So there I was, listening to my step dad rant and rave asking who did it. I denied it at first, but after the first few punches I gave in and admitted it. And then he asked why I lied. Cause I didn't wanna get in trouble I'd say. And he'd say, well now your gonna get a worse one. "Why'd you knock over the bails?" "I don't know, it just happened" BAM! "That doesn't just happen, you probably know damn well why you did it" "They just FELL!" Bam!! "THINGS DON'T JUST FALL---" "Actually there's this thing called gravity. They bales went up didn't they? They had to come down" BAMBAMBAM!!! "DON'T GET STUPID WITH ME" "Just returning the favour" BAMBAMBAM!! "YOU WANT SOME MORE?" "If I get more, when your done, will you still be yelling?" etc... etc... etc... I grew tired of the ceaselessly yelled questions of "why did you do it?!" and so I got pretty good at coming up with some reasons why I did it. And to this day, everytime I screw up, by force of habit, I start trying to come up with a reason behind it, even if it's far fetched. And really, sometimes, things are accidents. Maybe there is a reason why it happened. But really, who cares about the reason behind it when you have a 3 and a half inch nail in your knee. But the whole way to the hospital, there I was, replaying the scene in my mind, trying to figure out why the gun slipped. But yah, the irony of it all is that I just came up with a reason as to why I come up with reasons for everything. How silly am I. lol. Mind you, there isn't anything wrong with doing that, it just annoys me lots because it always feels like I'm just making excuses. And sometimes other people see it that way too.
Another trait of mine is the fact that I don't tend to tell people about my own problems. I love to hear all about other people's. I love helping them. But my own problems are my own. I guess it's cause I don't want to burden them. If I tell them, then their gonna start caring, and take time out of their own lives to help me. And my two main live objectives are 'never hurt anyone' and 'never get in the way of other people's plans'. So telling them my problems is out of the question. But that doesn't mean I can't write cryptic poetry describing them. If someone takes the time to decipher it and learn my problems, that's their own fault. Has nothing to do with me.
So lastly, I like to think that I'm good at coming up with analogies to simplify and or explain a difficult situation or decision.
I'll give a good example:
A buddy of mine is having trouble with his girlfriend. She did something that sort of jeopardized the relationship a bit. It had just happened, and my buddy came over to my place to get it off his mind. However, he kept trying to call her, get ahold of her, and was basically just obsessing. His girlfriend said she wanted to wait till the next day to discuss it so that he would be cooled off. I figured it was a good idea. In fact, I knew it was a good idea. I told him so. I quote myself almost directly. "Relationships with anyone are like eternally painting a bench. The passage of time in those relationships are like the process of adding paint with the brush. However, every once in awhile, you put a fingerprint in the paint. Whether it's you or the other person, there's a mar in the paint. In your situation, it wasn't just a finger print, someone sat on your bench and took a bunch of paint with it. Now, what your trying to do is just throw paint back in there to try and fix it. However, if you do that, then it's gonna dry like that, and there will always be a little bit of a mar in that paint. Instead, you should let it dry, after it dries, you can sand down the bumps, repaint it and it'll look just as fine, and after it dries again, no one but you will know." Basically, if he kept pushing to resolve the issue that night he was angry (while the paint was wet), he'd end up saying something he regretted (leaving lasting mars and hurts for later in life aka. bumps in the paint) and so he should wait till tomorrow, when he's calmed down and work through it properly.
Yah, I didn't do the best at explaining it per say, as my mind to word ability isn't the greatest. However, I've used that analogy in a few other situations. There's lots of things that can go wrong when you paint a bench =P But even if you run out of paint, you can always get some more.
Anyhow, I feel that I've gone on long enough with this nonsense. I may even write another entry later on tonight if I feel so inclined =P Perhaps it'll be a "cryptical poem" =P We'll have to see. Thanks for reading.
-like to find a reason for everything
-self analytical
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
The Beginning of Yet Another Shattered Era
Today I moved my cat's to my mother's place. They lived their entire lives in my apartment. The measly two years of their lives, but to them I'm sure it's an eternity. They are very out of sorts, and have done nothing but lay curled up on the couch beside me. They went from a tiny space into a huge space. An experience, I know from experience, to be somewhat traumatizing. Although my experience was the reverse. I went from living in a big house, to a tiny room in my mom's friends mobile home, and then from there to a small apartment in the city. I went from being dirt poor for 18 years to having a job and an income. Suddenly I had money, the freedom to do what I wanted to with the money and no experience in controlling how I spent it. I didn't really know what to do with myself. Now here I am three years later. over 15 thousand in debt, a big 12K one because of a wasted 3 years at university and another 2k one from being unable to pay my rent and such. All because I didn't know how to handle my money properly. I'm moving back to my mom's and hopefully I'll be able to pick up the peices.
I suppose that last paragraph can be considered the obligatory normal updating you on my life post. Doesn't it seem so normal, sane and collected? It's almost like I have my mind in order eh? Welllllllll, guess again buckaroos. I, am in a state that can be best described as: emotional shambles. (Note to self, that would make for an interesting poem or something). I must warn you, this post is more for my own sanity than anything else. It does me good to ramble on senselessly about things. I suppose that once I see my stupidity written out where I can see it, it sort of encourages me to buck up and suck it up and continue on. So I'm gonna go ahead and start a new paragraph, and begin my night of rambling.
So here I am, sitting on my mom's couch at 230am on this the 30th day of August. I am beyond sleep. In fact I'm wide awake. Also, I am lonely. A wise man in my life once described how horrible it is to feel lonely even when you aren't alone. I've experienced that and I can tell you, it's not as bad as being lonely while you actually are alone. For the last 3 years, I lived in a tiny little apartment all by myself. Sure, I had my brother as a room mate for alot of that time, but he's anti social, so I never actually talked to him much. It was usually just me, myself and I, trying to pass the time. You'd be surprised at how many movies I bought in the last 3 years. I never really watched them because I enjoyed them. It was more for the passage of time until the next time I got to see other human beings. This summer has been the worst. I've not had anything for roomates all summer. Everyday, I would sleep in, and then go to work at tim hortons for 3pm until 11pm. During those 8 hours, 90% of the customers I served were repeat customers. All eight hours long, i do the same thing over again. "Hi, I'd like a large double double and an apple fritter" "Alright, that'll be two dollars and fourty four cents" "Here you go" "Thank you, your change is 56 cents." And then I make the coffee, grab the doughnut, give it to them and then move on to the next customer. EIGHT HOURS LONG!!!!. And then I walk home to my empty apartment. Feed my cats, watch a show or something till I fall asleep. The next day, I do the same thing. My weekends are broken up only when I go to my mom's to house sit for her while she goes to the lake. I spend the weekend alone in her house watching television, browsing face book and hoping someone will call me up and ask me to hang out or something. The last 5 months have been like that. With my best bud out of town, I really have no one to hang out with. I'm literally going nuts.
Not to switch topics or anything, but I'm gonna go ahead and switch topics. I mean, like really. I may act like I have a really positive attitude, but that's just talk. As much as I say that things will turn out, I don't feel like it. Right now I feel so lost. Ever so lost. I know what I gotta do in the next upcoming day, but that's as far as I know. My future is totally bunk. There's nothing for me. I let all my talents go to waste for some reason. In doing so, it's let all my non-talents come out to play. And they didn't pick up their toys afterwards. Now I've metaphorically stepped on a pointed building block that "Lack of Frugality" didn't put back in the toy box.
Writing is a talent of mine I believe. I can string together words and phrases that roll off the tongue. Or at least I think so. Freaking humility gets in the way of everything. Sure, I've written some okay stuff, but not that I'd actually try to let it go anywhere. I think it's good, but I don't want to start proclaiming it as good. I want other people to be the one's to say that. Not just saying "oh that's cool" to be nice. I want actual critical readings of it. But who do I know that can do that? No one of course. So I have to be content with writing only for myself. Meh, oh well.
So now I'm living at my mom's. So at least I'll have family to pull me through. I like my family, the hustle bustle, the commotion and all that. Passes the time hardcore. That's all my life has been reduced to. That's all anyone's life really is. Just a passage of time. Doing things so that the next day will come. Perhaps tomorrow things will be different we say to ourselves.
I'm gonna be an uncle. My silly older brother and his promiscuous ways. Sure, I'm glad that I'm gonna be an uncle, but at the same time I worry about my brother. Some brother I am, getting myself into a financial position where if my older brother needs help, there's nothing I can freaking do. Isn't it sad that society has degraded to the point where everything is about money. We define our lives by the method in which we earn money. The social pecking order is defined by comparing each individuals quantity of income. Wars are fought over that vile green stuff. My sole goal right now is getting the lack of green settled. All the money I owe. It's what I obsess about now. 90% of my daydreams are scenarios involving me obtaining a large some of money. With enough money, I could get everything I think I need. But then what would that do to my character? Would I become a different person with that much money? DUH!!!! OF COURSE I WOULD!!! I don't want win a huge some of money. I want money that I worked for. I have to work for it otherwise why do I deserve it. The unfortunate thing is that as willing as I am, it doesn't help me. People have to be willing to have me work for them.
Well, it's getting late, and I do have a few other things to do tonight, so I shall bid adieu. Until another rant.
Here is a small peice of writing for your sampling pleasure
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Estranged Acquaintances
I felt a slight tension as he walked through the doors. The doors were those of a small town pub located on the main floor of a shady motel. The bouncer at the door checked my identification. He didn't show any hint of recollection at the name he saw. This did little to ease my tension. The bouncer handed back my identification. I surveyed the pub and it wasn't at all as I imagined it to be.. In fact, it was rather bright and colourful. The band on stage was playing a cover of some pop band's latest song. He didn't recognize it off the top of his head but he knew it was another one of those songs that the radio stations overplayed. On one wall, there was a fireplace of sorts. There were a few tables setup near it, and a group of older fellows were happily chatting and drinking. Along two of the other walls were booths, and most had one or two people sitting in them, conversing and sipping their drinks. Spanning the length of the last wall was the bar. It seemed almost out of place with the rest of the bar. It's black marble counter top clashing with the wood paneled walls. The brass mouldings seeming tacky compared to the dull, tarnished bar stools. Even the lighting in that corner seem a little brighter. It was in this corner that the other man sat. Wearing a worn out baseball cap, and a faded jean jacket. His hair was long and his beard was untrimmed. The man sat hunched over a mug of beer, and he seemed to be muttering to himself. I made my way across the room and sat on a stool at the bar. Only one stool was between me and the bearded man. The bar tender asks me what I want. I tell him to pour me a shot of whiskey. As I wait for the bartender to bring me my drink, I glance over at the muttering man. At a closer glance, it is obvious to see he is an alcoholic. His trembling, veined hands, his skinny state and the way he was hanging onto the beer mug as if someone was going to steal it. As I was looking at him, he glanced up and caught my stare. I quickly looked away, and luckily the bartender was bringing my drink. I sucked back the shot quickly and grimaced when the burn hit. I asked the bartender for a simple beer to follow. As I asked, the man in the corner spoke up
"Charlie, put it on my tab" he said
"Are you sure Sid? You already have a pretty big one stacked up" the bartender said.
"I'll just work it off" Sid replied "I have some bigger jobs ahead of me anyways. It won't take long"
"Alright man, whatever you say" Replied the bartender as he popped the cap off the beer and set it in front of me. "This one's on the house."
I turned to the older man and expressed my thanks. It seemed that it wasn't going to be that simple though.
"Ah ah ah, I did you a favour, and a simple thanks isn't all I want in return." Sid said displaying a toothy grin. "I tell you what, you move on over to this stool next to me, and we'll have a chat alright?"
I really wasn't in the mood for talking. I hadn't come into the bar with any intentions of chatting. This man only made me feel worse. But I couldn't refuse his offer, it just didn't feel right. So I moved a stool over and offered my hand as I introduced myself. Sid quickly gobbled up my hand with his own in a handshake of violent proportions. His hand was cold, clammy and bony and his touch sent shivers down my spine. The smell coming off of him confirmed his alcoholism. His eyes were very furtive, and eye contact was completely out of the question. I was still feeling pretty tense and unsure, but I could sense his excitement and out of kindness decided to at least hear the old man out. The bartender handed me a beer, and for at least 10 minutes I sat there sipping it, waiting for the man to say something. He seemed to be struggling to think of something to say. At last he turns to me, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then turns away muttering. At this point I'm getting a little impatient, and so I try to get the conversation going a little.
"So do you follow football at all?" I asked
He looked up at me, and a curious look overcame his face, but then a confused look came over it. He seemed unsure of where he was almost. And then he spoke all of a sudden
"You know. You know what?" he asked "You know why I bought your drink for you?"
I just shrugged my shoulders in a silent gesture of ignorance.
"Something about you voice made me do it." He continued "Something about the way you asked for the beer, and something about the way you fired back that shot of whiskey. There's something familiar about you that I just can't put a finger on. It's almost as if I can see some of myself in you. You understand what I'm saying?
"I really don't know how that could be possible" I replied "When would you have seen me before?"
Sid took a chugged the remainder of his beer mug and slammed it onto the bar, signalling for more. He grew silent as his eyes went out of focus and he sway against the bar. He seemed lost in thought, however I knew it was drunken stupor. Finally he replied.
"I - I - I can't put my finger on it --- but --- Oh! I don't know anymore!" His words died off into a mutter. "You know what?" he continued "That doesn't matter, what matters is that I'm here and you're here. God planned this you know. He wanted you to come here, because he knows that even though I'm a senile drunkard, I still have something I can say. I still deserve to be heard. I'm still a human. You believe me right?"
I started to feel pity for the man. I answered back "Yah, I guess. Yah I do. I believe you."
He leaned real close in to me, and I could taste is breath in my mouth. He pointed a finger real close and cocked his head as if in thought. Suddenly, he leaned back quickly as if he'd had a sudden revelation.
"I ran away from a trouble once. I ran away because I didn't want to deal with. I hid from it, I hid from it good. It isn't a problem anymore I've hidden so well. Hiding made more trouble though. So I got to hide from that trouble too. I'm hiding from the troubles of troubles. Its a hard life but I'm hiding from that too. Now I'm done hiding, no more trouble to hide from. Nope, no more trouble. But I have nothing to show myself too eh. I have nothing to go back to. Everything changed while I was hiding. I came out of hiding, and there was nothing for me. I had kids, but I'll be damn if I remember what they look like. I had a wife, but she left me and took my kids. I came out of hiding, only to go back in because everything had changed. Everything is changing. changes. CHANGES! GOD DAMN FUCKING CHANGES!!!"
He punctuated those last four words with a pounding fist on the bar top. He swayed a couple times, and muttered under his breath a little more. Then he straightened up and look straight at me. His eyes for once still, his face tightened into an angry frown.
"You aren't hiding anything are you!" He snapped at me "Don't hide! Face your problems. Your troubles are like rocks on a path. You can just climb over or go around them. If you can't do that! Well, get a big fucking hammer. Bash those fucking rocks with ALL YOU MIGHT!!! Make them into gravel. That gravel of broken turmoil is going to line your path. Instead of hiding, you're going to be treading on your trials. Your tribulations!! YOUR TRIBULATIONS!!! Under your feet. I can see a bit of me in you. I don't know why. But I'm warning you. Don't hide. DON'T HIDE."
With his last statement, he lurched forward and collapsed against me. His weight pushed me over backwards and him and I tipped over onto the floor. The bartender rushed around the counter to help, while the rest of the people in the bar looked on. The bartender helped me to my feet.
"I'm really sorry man. Good old Sid Melnyk here. A real nice person if you catch him sober. Very hard to handle drunk. John! Bruce! come take Sid up to his room. Put a glass of water on his nightstand. He'll need it in the morning."
I let the bartender know that it was perfectly okay. My nerves were pretty shot at this point though. It was too much to handle. I left my beer sitting on the bar and hurried out the door. Luckily I didn't have far to go to get to my car. As I was unlocking the door, I heard the bouncers voice yell out behind me.
"Sir! Sir!" He called out "Sir! You dropped your ID!"
I sighed in frustration, and walked back to the bouncer. I thanked him and turned around to head back to my car. As I was stepping into my car, I heard the bouncer call out again.
"Have a goodnight Mr. Melnyk, drive safe"
I sighed and drove off. In my rear-view mirror I could see the cheap motel fading into the darkness.
I suppose that last paragraph can be considered the obligatory normal updating you on my life post. Doesn't it seem so normal, sane and collected? It's almost like I have my mind in order eh? Welllllllll, guess again buckaroos. I, am in a state that can be best described as: emotional shambles. (Note to self, that would make for an interesting poem or something). I must warn you, this post is more for my own sanity than anything else. It does me good to ramble on senselessly about things. I suppose that once I see my stupidity written out where I can see it, it sort of encourages me to buck up and suck it up and continue on. So I'm gonna go ahead and start a new paragraph, and begin my night of rambling.
So here I am, sitting on my mom's couch at 230am on this the 30th day of August. I am beyond sleep. In fact I'm wide awake. Also, I am lonely. A wise man in my life once described how horrible it is to feel lonely even when you aren't alone. I've experienced that and I can tell you, it's not as bad as being lonely while you actually are alone. For the last 3 years, I lived in a tiny little apartment all by myself. Sure, I had my brother as a room mate for alot of that time, but he's anti social, so I never actually talked to him much. It was usually just me, myself and I, trying to pass the time. You'd be surprised at how many movies I bought in the last 3 years. I never really watched them because I enjoyed them. It was more for the passage of time until the next time I got to see other human beings. This summer has been the worst. I've not had anything for roomates all summer. Everyday, I would sleep in, and then go to work at tim hortons for 3pm until 11pm. During those 8 hours, 90% of the customers I served were repeat customers. All eight hours long, i do the same thing over again. "Hi, I'd like a large double double and an apple fritter" "Alright, that'll be two dollars and fourty four cents" "Here you go" "Thank you, your change is 56 cents." And then I make the coffee, grab the doughnut, give it to them and then move on to the next customer. EIGHT HOURS LONG!!!!. And then I walk home to my empty apartment. Feed my cats, watch a show or something till I fall asleep. The next day, I do the same thing. My weekends are broken up only when I go to my mom's to house sit for her while she goes to the lake. I spend the weekend alone in her house watching television, browsing face book and hoping someone will call me up and ask me to hang out or something. The last 5 months have been like that. With my best bud out of town, I really have no one to hang out with. I'm literally going nuts.
Not to switch topics or anything, but I'm gonna go ahead and switch topics. I mean, like really. I may act like I have a really positive attitude, but that's just talk. As much as I say that things will turn out, I don't feel like it. Right now I feel so lost. Ever so lost. I know what I gotta do in the next upcoming day, but that's as far as I know. My future is totally bunk. There's nothing for me. I let all my talents go to waste for some reason. In doing so, it's let all my non-talents come out to play. And they didn't pick up their toys afterwards. Now I've metaphorically stepped on a pointed building block that "Lack of Frugality" didn't put back in the toy box.
Writing is a talent of mine I believe. I can string together words and phrases that roll off the tongue. Or at least I think so. Freaking humility gets in the way of everything. Sure, I've written some okay stuff, but not that I'd actually try to let it go anywhere. I think it's good, but I don't want to start proclaiming it as good. I want other people to be the one's to say that. Not just saying "oh that's cool" to be nice. I want actual critical readings of it. But who do I know that can do that? No one of course. So I have to be content with writing only for myself. Meh, oh well.
So now I'm living at my mom's. So at least I'll have family to pull me through. I like my family, the hustle bustle, the commotion and all that. Passes the time hardcore. That's all my life has been reduced to. That's all anyone's life really is. Just a passage of time. Doing things so that the next day will come. Perhaps tomorrow things will be different we say to ourselves.
I'm gonna be an uncle. My silly older brother and his promiscuous ways. Sure, I'm glad that I'm gonna be an uncle, but at the same time I worry about my brother. Some brother I am, getting myself into a financial position where if my older brother needs help, there's nothing I can freaking do. Isn't it sad that society has degraded to the point where everything is about money. We define our lives by the method in which we earn money. The social pecking order is defined by comparing each individuals quantity of income. Wars are fought over that vile green stuff. My sole goal right now is getting the lack of green settled. All the money I owe. It's what I obsess about now. 90% of my daydreams are scenarios involving me obtaining a large some of money. With enough money, I could get everything I think I need. But then what would that do to my character? Would I become a different person with that much money? DUH!!!! OF COURSE I WOULD!!! I don't want win a huge some of money. I want money that I worked for. I have to work for it otherwise why do I deserve it. The unfortunate thing is that as willing as I am, it doesn't help me. People have to be willing to have me work for them.
Well, it's getting late, and I do have a few other things to do tonight, so I shall bid adieu. Until another rant.
Here is a small peice of writing for your sampling pleasure
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Estranged Acquaintances
I felt a slight tension as he walked through the doors. The doors were those of a small town pub located on the main floor of a shady motel. The bouncer at the door checked my identification. He didn't show any hint of recollection at the name he saw. This did little to ease my tension. The bouncer handed back my identification. I surveyed the pub and it wasn't at all as I imagined it to be.. In fact, it was rather bright and colourful. The band on stage was playing a cover of some pop band's latest song. He didn't recognize it off the top of his head but he knew it was another one of those songs that the radio stations overplayed. On one wall, there was a fireplace of sorts. There were a few tables setup near it, and a group of older fellows were happily chatting and drinking. Along two of the other walls were booths, and most had one or two people sitting in them, conversing and sipping their drinks. Spanning the length of the last wall was the bar. It seemed almost out of place with the rest of the bar. It's black marble counter top clashing with the wood paneled walls. The brass mouldings seeming tacky compared to the dull, tarnished bar stools. Even the lighting in that corner seem a little brighter. It was in this corner that the other man sat. Wearing a worn out baseball cap, and a faded jean jacket. His hair was long and his beard was untrimmed. The man sat hunched over a mug of beer, and he seemed to be muttering to himself. I made my way across the room and sat on a stool at the bar. Only one stool was between me and the bearded man. The bar tender asks me what I want. I tell him to pour me a shot of whiskey. As I wait for the bartender to bring me my drink, I glance over at the muttering man. At a closer glance, it is obvious to see he is an alcoholic. His trembling, veined hands, his skinny state and the way he was hanging onto the beer mug as if someone was going to steal it. As I was looking at him, he glanced up and caught my stare. I quickly looked away, and luckily the bartender was bringing my drink. I sucked back the shot quickly and grimaced when the burn hit. I asked the bartender for a simple beer to follow. As I asked, the man in the corner spoke up
"Charlie, put it on my tab" he said
"Are you sure Sid? You already have a pretty big one stacked up" the bartender said.
"I'll just work it off" Sid replied "I have some bigger jobs ahead of me anyways. It won't take long"
"Alright man, whatever you say" Replied the bartender as he popped the cap off the beer and set it in front of me. "This one's on the house."
I turned to the older man and expressed my thanks. It seemed that it wasn't going to be that simple though.
"Ah ah ah, I did you a favour, and a simple thanks isn't all I want in return." Sid said displaying a toothy grin. "I tell you what, you move on over to this stool next to me, and we'll have a chat alright?"
I really wasn't in the mood for talking. I hadn't come into the bar with any intentions of chatting. This man only made me feel worse. But I couldn't refuse his offer, it just didn't feel right. So I moved a stool over and offered my hand as I introduced myself. Sid quickly gobbled up my hand with his own in a handshake of violent proportions. His hand was cold, clammy and bony and his touch sent shivers down my spine. The smell coming off of him confirmed his alcoholism. His eyes were very furtive, and eye contact was completely out of the question. I was still feeling pretty tense and unsure, but I could sense his excitement and out of kindness decided to at least hear the old man out. The bartender handed me a beer, and for at least 10 minutes I sat there sipping it, waiting for the man to say something. He seemed to be struggling to think of something to say. At last he turns to me, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then turns away muttering. At this point I'm getting a little impatient, and so I try to get the conversation going a little.
"So do you follow football at all?" I asked
He looked up at me, and a curious look overcame his face, but then a confused look came over it. He seemed unsure of where he was almost. And then he spoke all of a sudden
"You know. You know what?" he asked "You know why I bought your drink for you?"
I just shrugged my shoulders in a silent gesture of ignorance.
"Something about you voice made me do it." He continued "Something about the way you asked for the beer, and something about the way you fired back that shot of whiskey. There's something familiar about you that I just can't put a finger on. It's almost as if I can see some of myself in you. You understand what I'm saying?
"I really don't know how that could be possible" I replied "When would you have seen me before?"
Sid took a chugged the remainder of his beer mug and slammed it onto the bar, signalling for more. He grew silent as his eyes went out of focus and he sway against the bar. He seemed lost in thought, however I knew it was drunken stupor. Finally he replied.
"I - I - I can't put my finger on it --- but --- Oh! I don't know anymore!" His words died off into a mutter. "You know what?" he continued "That doesn't matter, what matters is that I'm here and you're here. God planned this you know. He wanted you to come here, because he knows that even though I'm a senile drunkard, I still have something I can say. I still deserve to be heard. I'm still a human. You believe me right?"
I started to feel pity for the man. I answered back "Yah, I guess. Yah I do. I believe you."
He leaned real close in to me, and I could taste is breath in my mouth. He pointed a finger real close and cocked his head as if in thought. Suddenly, he leaned back quickly as if he'd had a sudden revelation.
"I ran away from a trouble once. I ran away because I didn't want to deal with. I hid from it, I hid from it good. It isn't a problem anymore I've hidden so well. Hiding made more trouble though. So I got to hide from that trouble too. I'm hiding from the troubles of troubles. Its a hard life but I'm hiding from that too. Now I'm done hiding, no more trouble to hide from. Nope, no more trouble. But I have nothing to show myself too eh. I have nothing to go back to. Everything changed while I was hiding. I came out of hiding, and there was nothing for me. I had kids, but I'll be damn if I remember what they look like. I had a wife, but she left me and took my kids. I came out of hiding, only to go back in because everything had changed. Everything is changing. changes. CHANGES! GOD DAMN FUCKING CHANGES!!!"
He punctuated those last four words with a pounding fist on the bar top. He swayed a couple times, and muttered under his breath a little more. Then he straightened up and look straight at me. His eyes for once still, his face tightened into an angry frown.
"You aren't hiding anything are you!" He snapped at me "Don't hide! Face your problems. Your troubles are like rocks on a path. You can just climb over or go around them. If you can't do that! Well, get a big fucking hammer. Bash those fucking rocks with ALL YOU MIGHT!!! Make them into gravel. That gravel of broken turmoil is going to line your path. Instead of hiding, you're going to be treading on your trials. Your tribulations!! YOUR TRIBULATIONS!!! Under your feet. I can see a bit of me in you. I don't know why. But I'm warning you. Don't hide. DON'T HIDE."
With his last statement, he lurched forward and collapsed against me. His weight pushed me over backwards and him and I tipped over onto the floor. The bartender rushed around the counter to help, while the rest of the people in the bar looked on. The bartender helped me to my feet.
"I'm really sorry man. Good old Sid Melnyk here. A real nice person if you catch him sober. Very hard to handle drunk. John! Bruce! come take Sid up to his room. Put a glass of water on his nightstand. He'll need it in the morning."
I let the bartender know that it was perfectly okay. My nerves were pretty shot at this point though. It was too much to handle. I left my beer sitting on the bar and hurried out the door. Luckily I didn't have far to go to get to my car. As I was unlocking the door, I heard the bouncers voice yell out behind me.
"Sir! Sir!" He called out "Sir! You dropped your ID!"
I sighed in frustration, and walked back to the bouncer. I thanked him and turned around to head back to my car. As I was stepping into my car, I heard the bouncer call out again.
"Have a goodnight Mr. Melnyk, drive safe"
I sighed and drove off. In my rear-view mirror I could see the cheap motel fading into the darkness.
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