Here I am again. My usual routine of finger tapping.

The cool breeze of the air-con blowing down on my head as I type along.

It has been a while since I’ve written anything. It has been just a little under a month since my last entry.

My mind has been elsewhere. My thoughts has been on something else, a new project.

My mind is on the creative and it needs it. It definitely needs the new, the analytical thought process of creating something. I sorely miss it.

I’m taking a break today as I have pretty much figured out the first act and have a rough understanding of what it is that I want to do.

The next step is the big one, as I start the first pages. The typing. The creating. The putting words onto page.

It will begin shortly. Next week; for today is a break.

* * *

So what is it that I want to write about today? So what is it that is on my mind that I need to get words onto page?

I don’t’ know.

Just a little free write as I usually do. Free writing to clear the mind.

The instruments are blowing their little twiddling sound as I type words onto the blank canvas.

Life is a mystery, as we are looking for a blank slate. We are looking for the clean whiteness of new. The whiteness that we can put our own creative touch on, something that we can create, our own little piece of the canvas so we can leave our mark in this world.

I don’t need much. I don’t need much at all.

I’m living in the bare minimal of what many need. I have most everything that a person can possibly need to survive into his golden years.

I have over my head, a steady paycheck. I have a companion that just wants to be next to me.

I have a good appetite and relatively good health.

I have everything that one can possibly need to survive.

But why do I feel that some things are lacking?

Is it because I want too much, or because when it boils down to it, we as social animals need socialization and I’m not getting much of it.

Being a hermit that I am, it is tough to find the socialization sometimes. It is just tough to get the right amount of being alone and being with people.

I just need the right balance and at times, I just need to figure out what the fuck it is that I want.

I just need to.

* * *

You’re still constantly on my mind.

It has been a few months, but I still think about you. Thoughts of you lurk in my consciousness, pulling and tugging at this fragile heart of mine.

There has to come a time when you don’t’ have that affect on me anymore. I’m just waiting, silently waiting.

Am I still in your mind?

Was I ever?

* * *

Secret projects.

Performance art.

Art pieces.

There are so arbitrary now-a-days.

I feel like experimenting. I feel like just doing something that is random and random and just not caring.

It is a social experiment to see where it goes.

I just need an angle.

This is what happens when you are bored in life. You find things to do, just to see the outcome.

* * *

It is a quiet day today at the boba shop.

I’m sitting here alone, like I usually do with no one but the boba girls behind the counter.

There weren’t that many customers today, maybe it is because of the weather, but it is nice to just be able to type along without being distracted by eye candy or just people watching.

It is nice to just be able to focus and ramble on so unfocused that nothing I have written is relevant.

It has been a while to just get thoughts that don’t matter down, to just get it out of my head.

* * *

New project started.

Let’s see how it lasts.

Long game.

* * *

An old draft that I didn’t publish came into my little blogger client this morning.

I’m going to start over instead of continuing on that.

Continuing on.

* * *

Over.

Done.

No more.

It is done.

The last one just did it for me. I know I shouldn’t have acted the way that I have, but it was just disheartening.

I was actually hopeful for once. I was actually excited for once, the possibility.

But I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe I just came on too strong, too weird.

Maybe I was just being too much of me and this was all before we met.

Over.

Done.

No more.

* * *

Life is trudging along in the same trajectory that it has always been.

There’s a longing of a change, some kind of change, whether it is big or small, there’s a desire for something different.

I don’t know what it is yet. I haven’t made a choice yet. I’m still weighing my options and thinking things through.

I just need to figure things out.

Is it time?

Relocation?

Where?

Chicago?

Seattle?

Where?

I have a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Back. Back in the habit in lovely SoCal.

‘Tis is my home. ‘Tis is the place where I rest my feet.

‘Tis is life.

The drive down to Los Angeles was very uneventful, except for delivering about 200 lbs of shrimp for Gifu. Other than that, it was smooth sailing, easy drive.

* * *

Today is just the tail end of my little mini vacation. It is the last day, so I’m not going to do much. Relax, watch some tv/shows/movies and work on my pictures.

Easy peasy. Simple.

I live the simple life. I love the simple life.

It’s better that way.

* * *

Life is good.

Back to work. Well, tomorrow, I’ll be back to work, sitting at my desk, catching up on whatever it is that I need to catch up on.

Having been away for so long and not socializing as much as I normally would, in the sense of being around people constantly, it is going to be an adjustment. I just hope people don’t drain me. I just hope.

* * *

Leaving yesterday morning, it was the first time that I had such strong sad feelings about leaving. Walking out the house after giving mom a hug, it hurt. I could feel my heart hurting; the tinge of sad pain that comes with a cry.

It was the first time that that happened to me.

Maybe I do really miss home. Maybe moving back to Seattle is a very viable option.

Just maybe.

But spending that day in Seattle, it was nice. It felt right.

A beautiful day in the city, exploring and just taking in the views. It was just nice.

I know I was on vacation and it might just be a little different if I start living there, where I’ll just fall into a status quo like I have done here and not do anything.

I don’t know.

Visiting while on vacation is different than actually living there.

It’s something that is still up in the air. It’s definitely an option.

I have a lot of time to decide, so there’s no rush.

No rush at all.

* * *

Again, that yearly pilgrimage to where I grew up. I’m sitting in the same ol’ coffee shop that I usually do my finger tapping, but the owner isn’t the same.

She sold it to a couple who’s slowly in the middle of a remodeling and learning the ropes. I wish them the best of luck. Right now, they know what my drink is, since I come in every few days here and there and plus I’m easily recognizable with my hair the way it is.

Boy and his dog 2013. What can I say about it?

Let’s start at the beginning, the drive.

I didn’t have a problem with the drive to Fresno. That was fine and uneventful. It felt unlike any other drive that I have done to Fresno. My problem was the drive up to Seattle. It just felt longer, slower, and more tiring. Maybe I am just getting old with my age and my body just can’t handle the drive anymore. I don’t know, but it definitely took its toll on me.

Portland.

That’s when the dog problems started. That’s when Pickles became an asshole.

Pickles and Portland has a long history. Every time that we visited and that I left him at Phinney’s alone while I’m out to dinner, something always happens. He broke out twice. Chewed/slipped out of his leash harness multiple times and destroyed the screen door.

This year, taking everything that I have experienced with Pickles at Portland, I was prepared. He’s got a body harness that is tight. No possible way to slip out of it. I brought out the metal nylon leash. No way can he chew out of it. I slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I locked the deck door. Done and done. Done and done. No way can he slip out. No way at all.

Dinner.

Dinner was fine. Got to caught up with Julie and the kids. Emerson have problems with my hair and Mason thinks I look like an ant. It was fine, they’re kids, and I’m okay with that. I loved it when Emerson pointed out how bad my hair was and that it was stupid in front of the Waitress. It was kind of awesome and cute in the kiddie sort of way.

But dinner was fine. Chatted and caught up with Phinney for a bit and then went home. I do have to say, I was a little bit anxious when I got there. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in. Will Pickles be where I left him? Will he be gone? But he was fucking inside when Emerson opened the garage door.

He was fucking inside.

I looked at the crime scene. The sliding glass door was still closed and locked. I stepped outside, he slipped his harness. Fucking asshole.

I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How the fuck did this fucker get in?

I didn’t see it until Julie pointed to it. The fucking window. The mother fucking open window that lead to the living room. The windows.

More damage. The window screen in the living room was scratched out, destroyed and pushed out the window. It was too high for Pickles to jump thankfully.

I apologized profusely for his misdeeds, his little tempers tantrums, that fucking asshole. Bitch ass cunt of a dog. My dog.

Julie reported more problems while I was driving up; another window screen got damaged and the ultimate fuck you to everyone, he peed on their bed. That mother fucker.

That was Portland. What a nightmare. We will no longer be having dinner in Portland. It is done. I cannot outsmart him, which is kind of sad.

* * *

Dog issues number two started almost the next day. Pickles seems to have an infestation problem. His ass seems to be bitten all over and then he started to chew on his tail. I knew exactly what he’s going to do, so I bought him some shampoo and an anti irritation spray. Gave him a bath and that seems to help a bit, but his tail was gone.

He had a hot spot. I took him to the vet and he got a steroid injection and an ointment along with the cone of shame.

Thankfully, it all cleared up and everything, and now he’s back to normal.

Karma.

* * *

For this trip has been going as planned. Smooth sailing, dog issues aside. I got to catch up with family, seeing everyone bit by bit and just catching up.

Then I got a few good hiking trips in, one day with Pickles who seems to have enjoyed it immensely. But I did notice that he’s tiring out quickly. He doesn’t have the same kick in his legs anymore. Maybe it is his age that is showing.

It breaks my heart a bit to see that he doesn’t have the same amount of energy anymore, that he’s getting older, but it just warms up to see him try and keep up. He puts up with me. It just makes me smile to see him still try to scare the pigeons, geese, ducks, birds, whenever there is a flock around, even though he’s really tired.

I still see that and it just warms me.

He’s my copilot in life right now, my wingman in my little journeys. He’s my soul mate; if that is possible, but I feel that it is.

* * *

Montana, the small road trip with big gains. The brotherly bonding experience.

Glacier National Park.

I don’t think any words or descriptions that I can come up with can do that place any justice. Let’s just say that it is the most beautiful place I have ever stepped my two feet on in the lower 48.

I was just in complete awe the whole time, especially when we took the shuttle up to Logan’s pass. Just in awe. Just beautiful.

I was a little annoyed with my brother though, sure I shouldn’t have, but I was being impatient.

Whether he was winded from the high altitude and wasn’t able to adjust to it or he was out of shape in terms of cardio with all the workouts that he does or what, I have no idea. His legs started to cramp up and he was slow, and we just started.

Our first hike wasn’t even that strenuous at all. I’ve done worse without any problems, but there will be times when he’s so far behind that I can’t even see him anymore. Both his legs cramped up and that was that.

But he managed to keep up and keep the pace on our second hike, the long one, the most important one. So, that was good, but that fucked up his knees, which he has problems with.

I don’t know how bad it is, but it doesn’t seem like he can walk on it.

We took it easy on the second day with a short easy hike. After we got to Avalanche Lake, I went to explore it on my own, leaving him on his own. His knee.

But our time there was nice. Got to ask him a few questions in regards to his social life and dating. It was awkward, but I needed to know.

The scenery is very nice. I miss it already. I miss it already.

* * *

A new day, a new stride, but same ol’ paradise.

My days up here are coming to an end. My days are numbered, before I hit in my steel contraption on wheels and drive the 18 hours to the place where I rest my head. Home.

Home is such a relative term.

Many people say Home is where the heart is, but I think, Home is where you make it.

I have two homes. The new found old home that I have made up here in the great ol’ Pacific Northwest. It’s different from what I grew up with. The lifestyle is different. It’s changed so much, but there is still a semblance of home.

Family surrounds me up here. The dynamics of family has changed so much, so it seems. Whereas growing up it has always been cousins and uncles/aunts on my father’s side, and now, it is a mixture of both.

I make an effort to make all the rounds and visit all of the family that I grew up with. It’s important.

I know many would think that I don’t have a family bone in my body, being that I moved so far away without the thought of moving back, but I do love family.

Why wouldn’t I?

* * *

Seattle.

Proper Seattle.

These past few years, I have been able to explore Seattle like I never was able to do before while I was growing up.

Mainly because I didn’t have the means to do it because my parents were never the type to just go and explore. To them, Seattle was just Chinatown and they were okay with that.

But now, as I gotten to see Seattle more, the different facets of it, I’m falling in love with it more and more.

Spending the day in Seattle the other day, it really did make me miss the PNW. It really made me feel that maybe, just maybe it’ll be okay for me to move back. I don’t have to live with my mom and brother, that would never happen, but to maybe live in Seattle.

Just maybe.

That’s a viable option now.

But there’s still a part of me that still love the life I’m living in Los Angeles, and there’s another big part of me that would just love to pick up and move to Chicago.

Options.

That’s when things get deadly. You have to make a choice and the choice is all on you.

Options.

Life.

It’s such a blank slate. Anything can happen. I can only welcome it with open arms. Take whatever comes my way.

* * *

It has begun. The annual pilgrimage home.

It started out Thursday afternoon and it was an uneventful trip up to Fresno. Pickles was behaving as I was just listening to some podcasts what not. It was a simple and easy ride.

Friday, the day of the drive.

It was an easy ride, clear sailing and very little traffic. But for something reason, it just felt off, like I was going slower than usual. Maybe it was just me and that I’ve been feeling tired lately, but it just felt like it was a longer drive by an hour or I haven’t been driving as fast as I usually do.

It was just strange.

Throughout the drive, I had to deal with Pickles’ gas.

He is having some stomach issues. He doesn’t want to eat, or he’ll eat a little bit.

His stool is a little bloody and soft, but hopefully whatever but he has will get out of his system.

Eventually we made it to Portland.

* * *

Oh Portland. Portland Portland Portland.

What can I say about Portland and Pickles’ behavior in Portland?

He’s a handful; just a fucking crazy dog.

The first year, I tied him in the yard, he slipped out of his collar and found a hole and ran away.

The next year, I tied him on the patio and shut the door to downstairs, but didn’t lock it. Slipped out of his collar and harness and went around the neighborhood.

Last year, I tied him up to patio with his harness and leash, locked the patio door to the downstairs. He chewed through his harness and then clawed at the screen door, wrecking it.

This year, knowing everything that happened in the prior years, I brought out the metal long leash, wrapped it around the foundation of the patio and put on a really tight harness, shut and locked the patio door, slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I outsmarted him. He’s not getting out. I can go out and rest easy.

I was wrong. I was fucking wrong.

We got home and I was feeling a little scared, yet confident that my plan worked. It has to have worked. I outsmarted this guy. He couldn’t get out. But nope, as we went through the garage and opened the door to inside the house, there he was. I was like, how?

I went outside to the patio, his harness was in one piece. So he slipped out. The sliding glass door was closed and locked. How did he get in? The fucking OPEN WINDOW. He destroyed the screen and jumped through.

First thing he probably did was to go for the open window in the front of the house. He pawed and pawed at the screen, and finally pushed it out. Pickles looked out, too high, can’t jump. Then he went to the kitchen to the other open window. Started chewing on it, too high.

Then I guess he started to sniff around the house for me, ended up in the master bedroom and started to make it the master of his domain. Peed on the fucking bed. Fucking peed on the bed.

So pissed. So upset. So fucking angry that he would do something like that.

What the fuck is wrong with him? I wonder what goes on in that head of his to make him just go crazy and need to get out and find me. Why?

Where did the trauma stem from?

That is what I had to go through last night. That was the last event that happened during my first day of the road trip. Fucking Houdini Pickles.

The rest of the ride up to Federal Way was quiet, me seething in anger and thinking about how I could have prevented it or how what I can do about it in the future. There are options, but they are too much.

Frustrating. Very frustrating.

I give it. I gave up. I can’t outsmart him. It’s too taxing to figure out how he would react. I thought I knew him, and I did, but I didn’t see. I was at fault. I didn’t notice the open window. I should have known better.

I should have caught it. It was my responsibility. I was too wrapped up about him being tied up, he couldn’t possibly slip out of his harness.

I was wrong. I paid the price.

I was so wrong.

Fucking asshole piece of shit dog.

Urgh!

* * *

I need to find a boarding facility for him for when I leave for Glacier National Park.

I thought about leaving him in Puyallup, but after everything that has happened, I don’t want to take that chance of him getting out again and destroying stuff. It might be different since Scout would be there, but I don’t want to take that chance. What if he gets out and takes Scout with him. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that, that asshole.

So, the research begins for a boarding facility here.

Stiff.

That’s what I was last night. Stiff.

I went out. DTLA. Went to the trendy bars crowded by people that I am not familiar with, with some friends of mine, of which I only know one well.

It was their mission to get me laid. It was their mission to at least get me a number. It was their mission and it was a failure at launch.

Never take an introvert to a loud crowded place. NEVER.

It never works out well, as it’ll always be a night of small talk. Fuck small talk.

It was a night of being in my head, watching whatever was on the television even though I couldn’t hear anything at all.

It was a night of just being out for the sake of being out. It was a night of fulfilling my resolution, to be more social, to go out more.

It was just a night of not fun.

I’m sure the others had fun. They were in their element. They were in their little groove. They like the bars, they like the scene.

It was just too much for me.

I know that I could have been better. I know that I could have made a better effort, but there comes a time when I shouldn’t have to force myself to have a good time. A good time should never be forced. A good time should just exist organically. It should just be.

But it never happened.

It was that.

* * *

Tired.

My trip is coming up and there are just a few more things for me to do.

I need to make a trip to Target to get my usual road trip snacks and treats for the multiple hikes I plan on doing.

I’m really looking forward to this trip.

I just need to get away. I need to get away from people. I need to just be on my own. Me and the open road.

Heavenly.

* * *

Dating sucks.

I think that is all that needs to be said about that.

I’m not meeting anyone. Very little responses.

Blah.

* * *

Like a drum, baby don’t stop beating

Looking and searching. Searching and looking.

Time is slowly creeping up for my yearly pilgrimage home. My little road ventures up north, finding things to do, planning out my schedule.

I’m looking forward to the time alone with my dog, time alone with nature, time alone, walking the beaten path and making my own paths.

It’ll be new adventures. It’ll be new experiences. I’ll be new memories.

Life. It beats. That’s one thing that is constant. It beats. Eventually, you’ll stop beating, but the beat still goes on.

* * *

It’s gloomy today.

The freak nature of heat has turned towards the cool, leaving its brightness with the sticky wet humidity.

It bakes, basting our skin in our own sweat.

I’m in side, typing away, watching life happen as I live my own.

* * *

Empty chairs and empty tables.

Life of a hermit.

These are the times that make it for me. These are the time that makes it bearable. The emptiness of things around me. I’m just here, doing my thing, by myself.

No one is around me, but the people that need to be. No patrons, no loud people chatting, no distractions.

I sit as I just type away, thinking and thinking of words to put down. I sit and type and think of other stories that I can tell. I sit and think about the current projects that I have. I sit and think of a solution.

I sit.

Once in a while someone would come in. I glance up, give them a once over and think that is it.

It is time to play a little game.

* * *

Tall Asian guy in the Green shirt:

He’s a computer engineer working at a development company. He came over a while ago from Taiwan, but not at that impressionable age where he was able to fully assimilate into the culture. His way of dress is showing that he’s keeping his fobby sensibilities while trying to fit in at the same time. It’s too much, but it works. We can spot him.

He’s here for lunch at Tsujita, waiting in the long line. He was thirsty, coming in here for a quick tea and boba while his friends, all with similar backgrounds and that one token white guy, wait for their table.

They are all single, out here to just people watch, maybe hopefully catch someone’s eye, while talking about the latest and greatest in technology and maybe a little problem solving about work.

Tis is his life. Tis is their life.

* * *

Time to brainstorm. Time to write.

I think I have gotten to the point where I’m bored with my prose and want to jump back into some screenwriting.

I want to write an action script. I want to write a smart action script with a female lead. She’s not a gung ho unstoppable female lead, but someone that is flawed and can be hurt. She’ll pick up a partner who’s the same. Someone that is broken.

What is it though? What is the plot? What is the story?

I need to brainstorm.

Brainstorm.

Time to switch gears.

Stretching my fingers. Stretching my brain.

Testing the dexterity of these digits that haven’t been put to the daily grind of letters and words and sentences that transcribe the thoughts in my head. It has been a while where these free flowing thought are what they are. Free flowing. Thoughts.

I am always worried about finding something to talk about, something to write about. I am getting the creative juices again, thinking about new projects, new ideas and new scripts. I just need to stop being lazy and just do it. I need to change the way that I live and just be more active in the pursuit of these interests.

Do.

* * *

Change.

It comes slow, but it does come. It comes when it is ready. When there is a strong and united force that brings it on. Old thoughts slowly die as the new ones take its place. Change.

It’s a gradual process that doesn’t happen overnight. It’s slow, methodical, and sometimes it just explodes onto the scene.

Same Love.

Closer to equality. Closer to being the same. It is an idea that should have latched on so long ago, but it is sad that it has taken so long.

But it is here. A step closer to all. A step closer to equality.

No freedom till we’re equal. Damn right I support it.

* * *

Stirring. It stirs from within.

It ravages and howls with ravage intensity.

Its hunger surges through my body to take whatever it is that I can get for sustenance. It wants to devour all. Me

There’s a hunger for difference. There’s a hunger for a new status quo.

Change.

* * *

He drops.

His head cracks hard on the floor.

Everyone stops, not moving. They couldn’t do anything. It was a slow motion accident to them. All they can do is watch.

The howls of the boy blast through the little shop followed by the screams from his aunts, mother, and grandparents, in that order.

His mother reaches him first, picks him up and cradles him. She didn’t see it, but her sister did, the dark wet crimson that was on the ground. More hysteria.

All is quiet, but the soft whimpering of sobs.

* * *

I’m living on such sweet nothings.

I have run out of words to say. I have run out of thoughts to write about.

It has been really difficult to write much of anything. I have no idea why.

Is it because of the brain fog? No idea.

Riding riding, traveling with many others that I’m not familiar with even though they are family.

Family trips are difficult. Trips with people are difficult.

I’m just use to the solitary journeys between with me and my four legged son. Those are the best. Those are the simplest. But I guess every journey and company has their place and time.

* * *

Niagara Falls.

What can I say about it? What is there to say about the majestic falls that softly mists its tears, drenching us with its sorrows?

It was just simply beautiful to see in person and to experience the rage of the fall. The vastness of nature just makes me feel insignificant. It was definitely a treat for me to see it, as a nature lover.

Sure the area was a little touristy, but it is what it was.

As beautiful as the falls was, the wonderment of being at the bottom just getting drenched by its own precipitation, I didn’t have the sense of wonder that I did as when I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time nor when I looked out at Yosemite Valley after the first time climbing up Yosemite Falls. It was grand for sure, but it didn’t touch me with its beauty.

I don’t know why, but I thought it would touch me more than it did.

I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy it for what it was. It was great. But compared to the other wonders, I guess I just wasn’t as moved. I mean, going to the Grand Canyon for the second time, I was still deeply touched and in awe by the vastness of it. It just put me in my place. My little problems are nothing. I am nothing. We are nothing; just little insignificant specs of sand in the grand scheme of things.

Niagara Falls never made me feel that way. It was a different feeling. Was it because of the company that I went with or was it just that it didn’t do it? I guess I’ll never know.

* * *

Toronto.

It was cool. Like most metropolitan areas, it’s a city and everything that you would expect from a city. Traffic. Public transportation. People.

It was a very clean city with their different neighborhoods and their little quirks.

The best find for us was probably Kensington Market. It was a very quaint and cute area that reminds me of Los Feliz or even Silver Lake. Very hipster, artsy, healthy, bohemian, crunchy.

I guess I am secretly one of them. I never thought I would be. I’m still in denial. I think I’ll always be.

I did find the city to be very walkable, but in my sense of the word walkable — that I just walk everywhere. I never felt at any time I was in danger of being robbed or mugged or in any danger at all. I hardly saw any homeless people.

It was definitely a nice city. One thing that I found interesting was the amount of construction that was going on. There was a shit ton of construction that went on.

Usually for a city, a sign of construction, for the most part is a sign of a strong economy or a sign of growth. Whether that is the case for Toronto, I’m not sure. But interesting indeed.

* * *

The Storm.

It came out of nowhere. It was probably the worst storm that Toronto had in 60 years. It was very very interesting for us.

After we came out of lunch, the wall of dark gray and black came moving in behind the skyline. It was definitely going to rain. Thick clouds. No breaks. Storm clouds.

It was funny because before lunch, just an hour earlier, it was a bright and sunny day with a little cool breeze to stamper the usual humidity.

We were on our way to the ferries to go to Toronto Islands, hoping to spend a few hours there to see the Toronto skyline lit up at night.

Never got the chance.

As we walked onto the ferry, the cloud kept storming its quiet march over the city. The ferryman said it was going to rain and it definitely did. Almost right when we stepped off of the ferry to the Islands, the rain came and it never let up. The boom boom booming of the thunder with the light dance of lightening. It was almost majestic and beautiful if we weren’t stuck under a gazebo trying to steer clear of getting wet.

We’ve been there for about 30 minutes, waiting waiting waiting. Just waiting for an end that will never come any time soon. I was getting impatient of waiting. I need to be out there, doing something. Whether it was waiting for the ferry or go exploring the islands, I needed to be anywhere but under the gazebo; ’cause either way, we were going to get wet.

So the decision was made to get back on the ferry and head back into the city. Five seconds in the rain and we were drenched. Soaking wet.

We got back onto the ferry, got shelter for a few minutes as we patiently hit the city. After we reached land, we had to figure out how to get back to the hotel, or just figure out our plan of action.

Hailing a cab was pointless. Traffic was pretty much at a standstill. The city was flooded. Water was crashing over the curb, reaching over my ankles.

I haven’t been in a storm like this in years. Years! Instead of freaking out, I was actually kind of having fun in the rain, seeing the panic in some people and just how fucking hard the rain was coming down. The city was in a standstill.

We needed to get out of there (shelter under an office building). All I know was that our hotel was a few miles up the street and over a few blocks. We just need to figure out how to get there. I was prepared to walk. So that’s what we did, we walked a few blocks closer to our destination. We braved the rain, the power outage streets, the traffic, the over-ankle-high flooded streets and eventually made our way to Union Station.

Freedom. Salvation. Fucking awesomeness. We can get home.

But looking at the schedule, I had no clue which train to take.

Speaking with a Transit office, he told us that we can actually walk to our destination. At first I was like, ummm, how can we get there without getting wet, but then he said we can use PATH.

It is a series of underground pathways and corridors that connects all of these buildings downtown together. It was a MOTHERFUCKING MOFO BRILLIANT IDEA.

So, our series of unfortunate events turned into one of the most memorable and adventurous things we did in Toronto. I don’t think I would ever forget it. Just plain awesomeness.

By the time we navigated the maze of corridors and buildings and ended up at Dundras Square, the rain stopped, leaving the city stranded in a standstill of wetness and people.

People caught unprepared without umbrellas or those that were, were left without a way home. Subways weren’t running as they were flooded. They relied on shuttle buses, but they come on an inconsistent shuttle, even though they had replacement relief shuttles for the storm. Floods of people push forward trying to get on each bus, but they were soon filled leaving many to wait again, patiently for the next one, and the cycle continues.

The next day, it felt like nothing from the night before happened, but the pictures and news of the event. The city went on. The subway lines ran.

Life went on.

The city weathered the storm.

Toronto — a memorable trip.

* * *

Annoyances.

There were some annoyances on the trip. Most of it probably stems from the fact that I travel alone. That’s who I am, a sole sojourner, paving a path just for me and no other.

It’s just a matter of dealing with other people and their schedule and what they want to do, whereas when I travel alone, I only have to confer with myself.

Usually, I am go with the flow, do whatever and I still believe I am that way on this trip, but there were times where I do feel hindered and it was just a matter of there being a lot of waiting, of not doing anything when we can be doing something else.

There were some annoyances of health issues and things that came along with the food allergies and finding places and things to eat. Or even the constant discussions of all things health related.

In a way, it gave me the motivation to be fit, to exercise more, to excise this sedentary lifestyle that I am living. Maybe it did. I’ll make an effort.

Hopefully it’ll become a habit.

But we will see.

We will definitely see.

* * *

Change is coming. Change is on the cusp.

It all hinges on decisions and commitments and conviction. Change is on the way.

* * *

Travel.

The next one is planned. It will start soon, in about a month.

Looking for things to fill up the many days that I’ll be spending up north, and hoping to fit in some days of relaxation and be with family.

I guess we will see. We will see.

Tis the season to be wanderin’. Tis the time to walk this earth.

It’s hot. It’s scorching.

The final day is over. The last day is over.

The smooth comfort that we had, never left even though everything was out in the air. Everything went like we never skipped a beat.

We were we and I am thankful for that.

No awkwardness. There’s just a general mutual agreement of letting things go on until it stops.

Our final embrace, tight and long. Holding onto each other, keeping us in our thoughts just a little longer, extending our eventual departure to the unknown forever never just a little longer.

Now our future is no more. Now we are no more.

We have to let happenstance dictate our story. We have to let life happen and forget that we were a part of each other’s lives no matter how insignificant we were a part of it. We just have to let it be and maybe our paths will cross again.

The blank state of our empty canvas look similar now; each empty waiting for brush strokes to form the future that we make for ourselves.

Will our pictures and paintings turn out to be similar?

Will we have shared brushstrokes to mark our similar experiences?

Only time will tell.

But until whenever is whenever the time for things to happen, we’ll go on making our individual brush strokes, living our life into the masterpieces that only we can appreciate.

* * *

Searching.

The search continues. The search for what was hopeful, what was pined for, for that everlasting but always fleeting connection that everyone years for.

I held onto the hope for so long, that I maybe was blinded to some cracking sparks that came along the way. But I am free now, free to see those sparks. I just hope I don’t miss them, so soft and so subtle

I need an explosion to blasts its way into my life; a full fledge force of heat and chemical explosion that just blinds me to nothing but that.

I just need that connection.

It’s more than a want now. It’s a passion. It’s a desire.

This hopeless heart tires easily but continues to beat slow and steady.

Many say that love comes when you are not looking for it.

Maybe I’m just always looking.

How does one stop? I go on living my life, doing the things that makes me feel alive, capturing life, and putting my thoughts into words. Life goes and I live it.

But I guess with my hopeful heart constantly yearning, I guess I am always looking. Therefore love will never come to me.

Should I just stop? All of these online avenues, are they right for me?

I dropped one and will continue with the other until it comes time for me to just stop.

It should be easier than this. It should be better than this.

Maybe I’m just doing things wrong.

Maybe I just lived my life wrong.

But there’s no guidebook for this. People just live the best they think they can, making the decisions that they make and just hope things get easier that these little choices are the ones that are the best fit for them at that moment, at that time in their life.

I lived my life that way. I believe I will always live it that way.

That’s the only way that I know how to live life.

* * *

Options.

Those that are in front of me and those that are up in the ether.

Just a constant search and search and some just work, some are forced, but it is a game that we all have to play.

Am I paying close enough attention to the ones that are in front of me?

What about the Onassis 5 that I catch from time to time. We’ll be passing ships, blowing our horns of acknowledgment and formalities. Hi! Then we’ll be off on our separate ways. Me in my meandering destination of fix it nation and her to her little box of work.

I don’t know much about her. I don’t talk to her much. She’s off in the awkward corner, the one I rarely visit. Out of sight out of mind.

Is it I’m thinking about her and latching on (if I am, which I’m not saying that I am) because it seems I am interpreting her actions as interest?

I just don’t know.

My gut has been wrong before, but it has also been right. I just don’t know.

Ha! Life is a series of unknowns. That’s an understatement.

I guess it is our purpose to make these unknowns into knowns.

* * *

It’s like approaching 90s outside and I’m inside with a hoodie over my head.

There is definitely something wrong here.

* *

A new phase is starting. A new start. A new beginning.

I know now that my heart is not locked and is free to again.

A new start.

Maybe this is the change that I need. Maybe I’ll slowly entertain the thought of a new venue.

My life is officially free, in a flux of finding the right place.

Is this the start of it, the change that I have been feeling a need for?

Is it?

A new look. A new search. A new venue.

Entertaining thoughts of maybe a new city.

New.

Everything is new.

Change.

Thoughts?

Let’s just keep it as thoughts now.

We will see how I do, and what I choose.

No rush.

* * *

I can’t live without you baby, oh baby…

Maybe it is time that I stop listening to these sappy love songs that I love so much.

I’m such a cheese ball.

The highway don’t care…I actually don’t understand what that means.

Is it because the lover is leaving, going away and the highway don’t care about this dying relationship but I do, I do.

I think that makes sense. Maybe.

* * *

A new start. A new beginning.

Change is coming.

Change is here.

Life in flux.

Bring it.