I sit here in the darkness
In the overwhelming silence
While the echoes in my mind
Bounce around and try to find
Some meaning to it all
A reason not to fall
And succumb to the shadows
That were painted long ago

 

I've stared hard into the flame
While the dice to this game
Were rolled and rolled and rolled
Just play harder, I was told
Predator and prey
Which one are you today?
We claw through the nights
And lose track of what is right

 

Sometimes I wanna scream
And lose control
I wouldn't get too mean
Just enough to cleanse my soul
Sometimes I wanna scream
Tell the whole world where to go
Is this just a dream?

 

Is this just a dream?

 

It's hard to see reality
As a farsical fallacy
Where ignorance shall rule
To the tune of being cruel
Perhaps you can try
Just to open up your eyes
See the colours through the cage
And dance upon the stage

 

Or whisper in the wind
All the things you have sinned
Or run through the rain
Just to wash away your pain
If I could wish upon a star
I'd make us better than what we are
But do wishes comes true?
Well that's up to me and that's up to you

 

Sometimes I wanna scream
And lose control
I wouldn't get too mean
Just enough to cleanse my soul
Sometimes I wanna scream
Tell the whole world where to go
Is this just a dream?

 

Is this just a dream?

You know you’re in love when you can stay up nearly 8 hours into the night talking to your girlfriend and then realize you have been awake for a full 24 hours.  That was Friday night, and wow am I tired today (Sunday).

 

At the moment, I’m trying a new smoothie concoction of my own design:  strawberry-banana yogurt mixed with Arthur’s Mango Plus smoothie.  It’s actually not that bad, and with a bit of rum it could even have a kick to it.  But, uh, to keep it healthy, we’ll keep out the rum (for now).

 

Today, all I wanted to do was get my haircut.  That’s all I really wanted to do.  I forced myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 8:00 am on a Sunday morning.  Knowing I had to act fast, I threw on some clothes, tossed towels and clothes into my laundry hamper, and bolted down the stairs in my apartment building.  The 2 washing machines on this side of the building were not in use, so I took advantage of them (and later did my laundry, too!).  While loading them up, a man came in and asked if I was going to use them both.  I had to break his heart, tell him yes, and send him on the long journey to the other side of the building to do his laundry elsewhere.  Score.

 

I then came back up the stairs to my unit, had breakfast, and made my way down to the laundry room 30 minutes later.  After putting my wet clothes in the drier, I came upstairs and got on with the day.  Dishes.  Fuck.  A sink full.  A week’s worth.  Fuck.  I really do hate cleaning dishes.  If only this unit had a dishwasher that was a machine and not me!  Actually, that’s a lie.  I made my way downstairs again 10 minutes after I started my laundry in the drier because the power flickered and shut things off for a good second.  Upon my arrival I discovered the drier was stuck in a “waiting for drying mode to be selected” kind of mode. 

 

My laundry was finished drying by the time I was done with all the dishes, pots, and pans.  I went and collected it, came back upstairs, threw it all on the bed and folded and put it away.  Fun times, I assure you.

 

Hrmm ... this smoothie is pretty good, but I think I’d like it thicker.

 

Okay, now that all that stuff is done, it’s time to go and get my haircut, get some lunch, and buy groceries.  So off I go!

 

Fuck, again!  The barbershop isn’t open.  The door to his building is locked (his shop is upstairs in an office-like building).  Okay, not a big deal, really.  It’s just past 11:00 in the morning; the building and little shops probably aren’t open yet.  Time to move on.  Grocery shopping!  I did a really quick run-through of all the aisles and gathered necessities for the week.  I then pulled out a recipe I grabbed from the kraftcanada.com website.  I shall try it tonight.  Looks yummy, eh?

 

After I put my groceries away I called my girl and, well, woke her up.  Yay for a 2-hour time difference.  We talked for a bit, and then it was off toMcDonalds!  Actually, try as hard as I might, I just can’t get too excited about that.  I’d much rather a Harvey’s or A&W when it comes to the world of burgers, but this is all that’s close to me.

 

While enjoying my lunch, a lady opened the door to the women’s washroom to let her 4 or 5-year-old daughter out.  A metallic clanging shattered the airwaves in the room.  The little girl had tried to put a paper towel in the garbage, but only managed to pull off the triangular metal top.  The mother told her to leave it.  Apparently she had broken the toilet seat, not the garbage can lid, and to just leave it.  What a great lesson to teach your kid, Mom!  No, don’t be responsible and bend over and put it back atop the garbage can.  Don’t suggest to your daughter that she take responsibility for her actions and tell an employee (who’d probably give her a free toy for being honest.)  No, just leave it be.  It’s someone else’s problem now.  People annoy me.

 

Just as I was leaving McDonald’s, a man dropped his tray.  The floor was treated to a splash of soft drinks and a splattering of a chocolate sundae.  Poor floor.

 

Ah well, it was now time to go visit my barber and get this mop chopped off.  Alas, the door is still locked!  What the fuck?  Why is it locked?  It’s past 1:00 now!  I’m quite annoyed.  I’m quite positive that I have had my haircut on Sunday’s before by him.  What the hell is going on?

 

Okay, okay, stay calm.  There’s a salon in the same plaza.  Yes it’s called Falko and is probably full of la-te-da type of people, but screw it, I need a haircut.  I walk over and look in.  People are in there, yes!  The door opens, yes!  I walk in and … and … get dumbfounded looks.  Suddenly I’m strangely out of place.  The man cutting another man’s hair looks at me with a queer smile on his face.

 

“Can I help you?” he says, eyeing me as if I just walked off the screen of a 50’s movie and forget to change my dated clothes.  “Uh, yeah, I’d like a haircut,” I say, pointing to my hair.  He looks at me more strangely, as if I do not understand something.  “Sorry, I can’t cut your hair today.” He tells me.  What the fuck?  You’re cutting that guy’s hair, and there’s other people standing around him.  What the hell is going on?  Okay, I just thought that part.  I really said, “uhhhhh, ookkaaayyy…”  Seeing that I don’t understand what’s going on, he informs me that it is family-hair-day and they are not really open (despite the open door).

 

So I leave.

 

Fear not, I know of another barbershop just down the road a bit.  I walk.  I listen to music on my iPod.  I look in shops and watch a woman with a seeing eye-dog look through sidewalk-sale items with perfect vision.  Perhaps she’s tunneled vision, I conclude.  Ah, here we are, Leo’s barbershop!  I manage to walk past Leo’s door and open a big white door.  Well, it opened, so I walked in.  Something doesn’t look right.  I walk further … oh, fuck, these are apartments.  Dammit.  I let myself out.  I try Leo’s door, and it’s locked.  Dammit!  What the hell is going on?  This is Toronto, isn’t it?  Yes, it’s Sunday, but it’s friggin’ Toronto!  Everything was always open in Newmarket on Sundays when I was growing up, so what the hell?

 

Remain calm.  It’s okay, it’s OK.  I walk back towards my apartment, and then hang a right to go east.  I know of a few more barbershops along the way.  It will all be okay.  I’m on the wrong side of the street, but I see a little unisex hair salon just across from me.  I’ll try them on the way back if the one I’m thinking of is not open.  Ah, there’s the one I was thinking of … just across the road … with a police cruiser sitting in front of the main door with its lights flashing.

 

I look up the clouds and ponder, just for a second, if someone or something in this world doesn’t want Mike to get his haircut today.  Usually when things like this happen, it’s for a greater purpose.  Something is going to happen to me today, I can feel it now.  I’m being guided, directed, shown the way to do something incredible or meet an old friend that, in another set of circumstances, would find the encounter had passed me by.  Perhaps I’ll save a life today; push someone out of the way of a speeding car, or help someone at the scene of an accident.

 

I’m now just across from another major shopping complex.  I’ve come this far, I figure, I might as well go into Canadian Tire and just browse.  See that fireplace I’ve been eyeing and tell it once again that, in the immortal words of Mike Meyer’s, “She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine!” One day.  When I have four or five hundred dollars I just don’t need.

 

Oh, and yes, I did have that big moment in my day.  While standing at the stoplight, waiting for it to change, I notice a woman helping a man up from the street.  His bicycle is beside him.  I guess he fell.  He’s got to be over 60 years of age.  He walks his bike over to me.  Shit, he’s getting closer!  Ah, phew, he walks right past me.  Then stops.  Then looks down at his bike, and then comes back to me!  Fuuuccckkkk!!

 

I can barely understand his gibbering language as he stares at the gears and asks, “Is it broken?  Broken??”  It looks fine, but he’s very persistent.  He’s holding the whole frame off the ground, so I reach down, grab a pedal, and spin the back tire round and round.  “No, that chain is on there, it’s working fine.”  His dumbfounded look would have confused even the stupidest of dogs.  “You sure?” he asks.  “Positive,” I say, “it’s on and your bike is fine.”  He doesn’t even thank me, gets on his bike, and heads off down the road.

 

That was it?  That was my great purpose for today?  What the hell?  Seriously.  That was just retarded.

 

I make my way over to Canadian tire, browse, buy some double A batteries, and leave.

 

On my way back I pass the barbershop that had the cruiser.  It’s long gone, but the establishment is nevertheless closed.  Another block or two up the road finds the unisex shop closed, too.  Okay, I get it.  I’m not supposed to get my haircut today!  Geeze!

 

I saunter home, defeated, and decide to take the back entrance into my building.  I can see my windows from here, and the windows above my unit.  What is that in their windows?  It looks like … oh my god, it can’t be.  Yup, it is.  It would seem the people living above me don’t believe in curtains.  They believe in clothes.  Why use curtains for privacy, when you just hang all your shirts on a rod across the windows?  This is a first for me, I have never seen this before.  I have seen flags in windows, beer bottles in windows (very creative use of beer bottles, here), and even just no curtains in windows.  But to hang your clothes and use them as curtains?  I need to move.

 

I get into my unit and mix up this smoothie-yogurt drink that is now long-gone.

 

And that, my friends, was my day.