Confidence.

That's what it is.

This thing growing inside that I've never had before.

Four years ago I did that yucky thing where a thong sticks out of your pants. I swear it was unintentional.

Have I let you down? It's been almost two weeks, but you still come back looking to see if I've said something new yet.

First, I was too drunk to write. Now I'm too happy to. I mean, it's hard to find the motivation to pour out positive emotions. It's too fun to just go out and feel good. Then I have no time to tell you all about why I feel so good.

A few weeks ago, I got something I really needed. Closure. I can't put my finger on exactly how, but I know it's been onwards and upwards ever since. I'm sure there will be other dates over the rest of the year that I remember "10 years ago..." but I'm finally coming at things from a different and much better perspective.

I'm building my own routines and it's working out well. I still need to work on the cooking issue, but it's coming.

I go to boxercise twice a week now and still fucking love it. I've never really been active at all in my life, and the shit they say is true. It really is boosting my energy levels and my happiness. Physically, it's great too. My abs are slowly reaching the level of tautness they had when I was regularly sexually active. My arms are finally getting some definition and I'm learning how to confidently throw a punch or kick. I still plan on eventually starting Yoga on Wednesday nights.

I jam with new people now. We have only gotten together once so far, but in a few days that will be twice. I was pretty nervous about it; afraid that it was a mistake to let other people see certain sides of me. I'm a big poseur. But, once I finally stopped nervously giggling at myself and started playing something it turned out to be a lot of fun. And shit, I've missed my bass over the last year or so.

I seem to be moving up in my job and they want me to return after my trip. They are just going to get a temporary temp to replace me while I'm away.

My relationships are going and growing well. I'm very happy with who my closest friends are. KC and I still have a lot of fun together, usually on Tuesdays. I'm getting to know people I've always wanted to know better and guys are finally clueing in that it's over and they can, and should, be flirty with me. I've tasted new lips for the first time since that making out with girls phase a few years ago.

I'm going away in a couple of weeks, but only for a short trip. Dog Day are going to the other side of the country to play shows with a band that was highly important to me growing up. I mean, Julie played a huge part in me convincing my parents to buy me my bass 14 years ago. Now I get to travel and play shows with them and watch them play with the Vaselines.

So, yeah, all in all, things are pretty fucking good right now and I'm sending out huge thank yous to absolutely anyone and everyone who has had a part in helping things get this good.

(four months)

Last year, I referenced Piggy and the Replacements.

"I can't really have whiskey anymore."

"Sure you can."

Of course the guy who was feeding me the whiskey would say that, with a smirk, even if he wasn't the one I was kissing later in the night.

I'm doing everything all wrong (but at least I'm doing it my way).

Could I have been anymore drunk, trashy, and desperate? I don't really know. I can't remember it all. And the answer is probably yes. I like to get fucked up. There was a time when I could get that smashed and still remember it the next day. Oh well. Memory loss comes with age, and I'm certainly too old for the way I've been acting.

But don't get me wrong. I'm not whining or complaining. I'm not sitting here feeling guilty and reminding myself I said enough was enough awhile back. No. Some of it is embarrassing, but whatever. It was so much fun and how can someone feel bad about fun?

The only problem is, I have to be careful. He can't be my donkey, and that's all I can have right now. I can't put myself in a situation that I know will end with me causing pain. It has to be someone I don't really mind hurting, or better yet, someone who doesn't care enough to get hurt. Not a sweet boy.

I do know who can be my donkey, if he actually does something beyond feeding me booze.

Last year I confessed something I think is obvious: I've always wanted a penis.

Loose lips sink ships and I'm not a very good Captain. Booze gives my mouth diarrhea.

During soundcheck, I got briefly cranky about something 

"You need some rhodiola."

"No I don't"

"Really, you could use some rhodiola."

"No, I just need a good fuck."

At the end of our set, into the microphone, after thanking everyone:

"Somebody fuck me."

haha oh boy. Then there was more beer.

A few weeks ago, I woke up and started to tell Emily about a really weird dream I had just had. One of my duties as a Pop Explosion volunteer was to find somewhere to house one of the bands' donkey. I led him with his leash up a set of stairs to a flat. Later, when I got back from a show, he was sleeping on the couch, but he had turned into a human boy. Emily found it very easy to psychoanalyze that one.

"Oh, you just need a piece of ass. Something that doesn't matter."

I think it's soon time to find that donkey I keep talking about. The sharks are almost gone.

Last year, I saw Nancy's new computer. The one that I'm currently typing this on.

I went to jam and I was given jam

I didn't get the dress

So frustrating. I'm trying to do the right thing and these obstacles keep popping up. Fuck. At least I have a poster made. I guess I won't be copying it until tomorrow. I'll put them on poles on my way home from work. On the bright side, walking to a few copy shops for nothing helped me walk out some of the lactic acid in my thighs and buttocks. Ocean tried to kill us yesterday at boxercise. She made us do all these ridiculous squats. I can't wait to see how hot I'll be by the time my birthday comes around. I mean, if I think about the little improvements I'm noticing now after an hour a week for 4 weeks (4 classes over 5 weeks, really) and then multiply that by the fact that I will be going for two hours a week starting next week and adding an hour or hour and a half of yoga...Oh boy. Oh, and feeling good. I'm happy to think of how great I'll feel by then too. it's not just about looks.

I've had a great couple of weeks. Maybe sometime I'll have the time or motivation to tell you all about it, but right now I'm going out to my step-sister's new house in Cole Harbour.

Last year I was happy to be back working at the Paper Chase (and reading about crazy shit like the astral plane).