June 21–July 10, 2003 — Wayward distractions

I’m trying to figure out why this summer has felt so short. (I know it’s not over yet, but I was the sort of kid who could never enjoy Sundays because I couldn’t ignore how close I was to waking up the next day and going back to school; this is the same idea: I can feel winter coming.) At first I blamed my three weeks outside of Toronto, but the weather here was still pretty miserable when I returned. And I can’t blame work anymore. Maybe television? I think cable TV is ruining my life. The only things worth watching are poker tournaments, trick-shot pool competitions and Sugar introducing animé shows for twelve-year-olds on YTV, but I still spend far too much time in the living room. Part of the problem is not having a kitchen table or chairs; aside from my computer chair, the only place to sit and eat is in the living room, and it is all too easy to end up reaching for the remote control. It is a vicious cycle, and Sugar never seems to be on YTV before three or four in the afternoon, so it’s seldom worth it.

With this summer starting to peak, the heat reminds me of last summer, my first in Toronto. I’m in another house without air conditioning, and I still refuse to use fans. (I maintain that fans make me sick and that tolerating the heat builds character.)

I was still seeing a lot of Alex last summer, and she hated how warm my room constantly was. My room bred lethargy, but I didn’t have a job or anything to accomplish, so I was content to let the summer pass and spend time with Alex. It was a strange summer. Alex made me happy, and I liked spending time with her, but part of me was convinced I was forcing it on myself, trying to prove a point. When I was happy, I was too bitter to accept it for what it was.

Things could have been very different. I’d done some things in the month or two before I met Alex that I would have liked to take back, and this ended up defining much of our relationship. I tried to pretend that I was moving on, but I wasn’t, and I ended up feeling like I was using Alex. It was the only feeling I had to compete with bitterness.

I don’t know how much I’ve improved. Most of the time I’m alright; I am getting better at letting go. But there are still moments: When I realize I’m talking to myself, when I am alone in the house and sigh at no one in particular because I know I won’t have to explain myself to anyone.

I am hiding again, though, and it’s rare that I’m willing to spend time with people. On Canada Day, I had the chance to spend the night with Marika and Andrew and some of Andrew’s friends, but I decided to sit alone in my room with my lights off staring at my computer screen. Any complaints I might make about being bored and lonely should be ignored because I don’t make any effort to change.

I think I’d prefer to learn how to play poker instead. I don’t think it costs much more than $10 000 to enter the world championships...