The Neighbour

For as long as I can remember, when I think of someone, they either walk past me immediately, message me within one to three days, or I run into them that same day. It has been heightened the last few weeks. It ranges from thinking of someone, with no other thought related to them, or it has a specific tie to them. I’ve always been super interested in synchronicity or meaningful coincidences because of this. Apparently synchronicity happens when we are in flow with the universe, that tapping into the collective unconscious, rather than insisting the universe flow our way. I think about it like a radio station you tune into, except, the other person has to be on same frequency, else the connection is lost. Some people I have very strong connections to, and those are the more detailed thoughts or immediate encounters. It makes sense to me, with someone like a best friend. My bestest best friend soul mate friend, my other soul half of a bestie type bestie. It doesn’t make as much sense to me when it is a stranger, especially a stranger with no previous contact.

Maybe it is like a beckoning, I beckon them, some resist. Some tune in. Some resist, but tune in sooner than they would have liked. A couple of days ago I was thinking about my best friend, how I wished she was out on a walk with me. I began walking with my mini me to try to exhaust him better for evenings, I was about to go home then he actually wanted to keep going. We began a different path home than I had intended. You see, this always happens when my path is changed, an unintentional change of direction, then the run in happens with whom I am thinking. I was wishing my best friend would be on walks with us, just to give me some fucking sanity as Mr. baby was fighting me about safety. I wish I was in a more residential area, there are cars everywhere here, it stresses me out. I can only hope his stubbornness and diamond will power does him well one day in something. Right now, it sucks. It fucking sucks so much to be around. Then, there she is. My bestest best friend, I didn’t recognize her at first, I was almost looking through her. I exclaimed I had just been thinking of her and wishing she was on a walk with us. She said that was so funny because she was just thinking of me too and a walk. She and I hadn’t talked about going on walks together, but apparently we had both thought it. We walked more together, she got me an energy drink while I struggled with Mr. baby to wait for her outside the gas station. I told her I would message her when we go on walks as we both need to reclaim sanity. I need to be around someone that won’t flicker a moment of me feeling immensely sour. She can be the same way towards me and I am happy we have been friends for so long.

Yesterday we walked again, we happened to both be out again, a much different time and day than the last run in. She found me with my screaming toddler because I didn’t want him to throw a rock into the highway. We walked together, she bought me liquor and frankly, I get it why there are so many wine mom memes. Oh I fucking get it. I rarely drink, but at this point, I think it might be something to take up more often for the time being. I’ve probably thrown out or given away more alcohol than I have drank in my life, most of it tastes gross, but I get it.

Anyways, there is this guy. There is this guy in my building that I first noticed several months ago, maybe a year now since my broken ankle and recovery sliced a nice half of the year up. I used to frequent the park near daily to exhaust Mr. baby of course and is a nice little community hub of all the local parents. I actually can’t remember…why…or when, I just remember gushing uncontrollably to my best friend about this guy. This guy I had seen in my building, I thought he was hot. I don’t even want to scroll back to the messages to see what I wrote. I don’t want to feel that. I don’t want to feel how I felt. I saw him a couple times, and we noticed each other. It is interesting with the masks to see what people look like, just the eyes or what type of mask/scarf they wear. He isn’t a mask guy, he is a scarf guy. He has a son, I think eight or nine? I thought of him, I thought about him a lot. Then I am at the park. There he is. I think of him again, we walk by mere moments of probably should have missed each other, running into each other with fast walking speed on the way out, towards the mail. We are almost always passing each other. Opposites. Opposite directions. One time at the park Mr. baby ran up to him, he is very athletic and sporty, Mr. baby was interested in the ball that time. I apologized.

I hadn’t seen him in months, mostly because I have been the most house bond I ever have in my life. While injured I didn’t leave my place for three weeks, then two weeks, and frankly got so used to not leaving my place, even after I got better I would sometimes not leave for a week at a time. Even though I love going for walks, I don’t love screaming toddler walks though, and those are the only walks I have. Sometimes screaming, sometimes not. Unpredictable at the very least. I used to walk two or three times a day before I got injured, now I am back to once sometimes twice a day. I have a set routine for a lot of things, but for stuff I hate doing like taking out the garbage, no there is definitely not a certain time I do it. Yet, I almost always see the neighbour, I see that neighbour when I am taking out the trash, taking out the recycling, going to the mail. An impulsive, fuck I should really do this or I won’t, type action. I’ll think of him, I’ll think about how I need to do this stupid chore, and then poof. There he is, going the opposite direction. I have said hi to him sometimes, he doesn’t respond. I feel like he was happier before. Happier when I used to pass him.

Now, when I think of him I wonder, why are we interconnected? Why do we have synchronicity. As my connections have previously happened with people I had interacted with more prior. With him, we haven’t even had a conversation. I don’t have a crush on him anymore, and I dislike when I see him now. I dislike it because I don’t understand why we are in sync, yet I feel he does not seem open to it or is not aware of it. He seems like a single dad, which is fine, and whether he is or was dating someone is also fine, I just like to get to the bottom of why I am connected to someone. The more connected to someone I am, the faster and more specific the happenings are surrounding them, like with my best friend. With the neighbour, it certainly is not delayed. Which, again, is bizarre for someone I do not know.

I understand there are the particular types that will focus on coincidences, and I think unless this sort of thing has happened to you enough times through your life. You can’t not…believe in some sort of frequency connection between people. I’ve had a lot of weird shit happen to me in my life. Whether I stumble into someone’s life and I unmeaning to shove…something, usually good, thankfully, but a catalyst for something big in their life. It happened with my sister because of my injury, a couple of things, she said were my fault but in a good way. With others, often I have arrived shortly after someone has died, like it has happened so many times it kind of pisses me off. When I worked in a hospice palliative care, even weirder stuff happened. But the people who work there know this and experience it too.

I am chaos. I am the whirlwind energy. Burning bright.

Two sailing ships passing by. Always opposite. So close, yet so far away.

Perhaps that is a lot of it. I have suffocated the entirety of my chaos, my impulsivity. I have always loved and been amazing at organizing, planning, but felt stabilized planning a day for free impulsivity. Now I have zero. I have fucking zero and have for what seems to be an eternity of a couple years. Within all that chaos my luck had lived and thrived. Within that chaos, my happiness had blossomed. Controlled and measured, but not suffocated like it has been. I thrive in chaos, I thrive in uncertainty. Always moving, fast. Fast, like the hummingbird. And I have a whole thing with hummingbirds, too, haha. They have been a signal for me, showing up in places they have no fucking business showing up in. A very in your face check point, reminder. Including quite literally being inside my god damn place last year. I came home and a fucking hummingbird was in my place. It took me an hour and a half to help the little one get out. It stuck with me even more that day as I had been listening to Leonard Cohen’s, Listen to the Hummingbird all day that day, after discovering it for the first time. Then there they were, my little buddy. I have pictures of them, on top of my fridge I shall find for another day. I fed them a raspberry. I love these little enigma birdies.

Edit: I wasn’t going to post this, not unless I saw him again when I impulsively went to my storage to grab some stuff for my desk in separating it. I don’t think of him each time I leave my place, but this made sense to me today. I rarely leave my place at this time. As I was coming back, someone entered the building and was talking to another. Who was he talking to?

The neighbour.

The neighbour I always see. And this time we were both going up.

Except, he takes the stairs. I assume he lives on a lower floor then. I often take the stairs too, when alone or if I don’t have the stroller, Mr. baby and I take the stairs many floors up. Not today though, not with the heavy items I was carrying. Instead, I shared the elevator with another neighbour, he was talking to.

So in saying all of this, he is my signal, he is my reminder how important my impulsivity is to me in thriving or experiencing luck. Whether we ever talk or not. He is meaningful in my life. Meaningful without realizing his importance. Fleeting importance I am assuming, none the less just as important.

The mere moments between missing another person and not I find fascinating. One more second, one less second. It can change everything and nothing. I’ve passed him four times in the last couple of days. Hence, I will take these meaningful coincidences. These things can cause you to stop and pay attention, cozy up to the present. What is happening and the feelings surrounding that. The fears and doubts holding one back from desires. Although I find Jung’s research close, I came across Gibbs A. Williams. I am going to buy his book and below is a quote about it I find appealing.

“His naturalistic perspective is in marked contrast to the findings of Jung and his followers, who view these odd events as “channeled” messages from a transcendent realm of spiritual reality. Instead, Williams concludes that meaningful coincidences are the surface manifestations of an individual’s unique creative process, accommodating the “best” available resolution of a problem for a person initially feeling “stuck” in a seemingly intractable dilemma.

While his analysis robs the magic associated with only reacting to the “numinous uncanny aura” associated with synchronicities, it nevertheless affirms a wondrous appreciation for the creative capacities of each person to order his or her own chaos. Readers are treated to a rich mine of historical data, novel concepts, and theoretical insights drawn from speculative philosophy, depth psychology, and esoteric occult and spiritual traditions, and they are shown how to decode their own synchronicities in order to be able to use their embedded “messages” for increased self-awareness, cohesiveness, and expanding consciousness”


The Midnight Cowboy

The Swing, 1767, Jean-Honore Fragonard

There are times, a person comes unsolicited into your mind, capturing a part in your brain you never asked them to navigate freely. Right now, I find my thoughts going to the Biomedical Engineer. Which, is truly bizarre. Then again, I felt such synchronicity and a catalyzed result from crossing paths with him I truly needed. I listen to this song I love, although there are many, certain ones loop on repeat certain hours, certain days. Tonight, is the Midnight Cowboy’s time to loop, by John Barry. I highly recommend you look it up, right now. Actually, go here. If John Barry sounds familiar, he did a bunch of songs for James Bond movies between the 1960s to 1980s. Oh how I love James Bond movies. I have added in “Far From Any Road” from the True Detective theme song (god what a good show) by the Handsome Family here. There, that is how I feel. That is how he makes me feel. Albeit, nobody can make you feel anything, but I think you know what I mean. Now, I want you to feel the way I do right now. Unbeknownst to him.

I can always tell what part of my life I was in by certain songs I come across in a playlist of mine. Certain songs stay long term. I’m talking about you, Coma White. I never listened to The Midnight Cowboy until the last several months, and Far from Any Road was a few years ago, back in my hardcore pole dance training days. I miss that. I miss them. Hence, I am not quite sure why this reminds me of him. Neroche is undoubtedly tied to him, as I have mentioned before, he introduced me to them and they have been tied to my soul ever since. When I listen to it, I don’t think of him though. I think of myself. I think about listening to it while giving a guy a blow job in my friend’s place while she was out with her boyfriend, and spat his cum into a cup on her coffee table. I might be a horrible guest at times. Or, well used to be. She’s a horrible cat owner in my failing attempt at excusing this. Her place was also when I got obsessively introduced to Casefiles and, in my opinion, the best true crime podcast. I love that the host is anonymous and I am low key entranced by his voice. Anyways, we’re here to talk about Mr. Biomedical Engineer, not the random guy. I can’t even remember his name. I just know he had a cool jeep and brought me to the ferry once, or was it he picked me up? I can’t remember.

In this moment I can only think that thinking about the Biomedical Engineer is nothing, in fact, to do with him, but more so what he represents or represented to me. A part about me, that is needed to transcend something…right now. He was handsome, and there are many handsome nerdy guys out there. He was strong, there are many strong men out there. He was weird. Lots of those, absolutely. Hiding a secret, yeah, no thanks. He had a tattoo, love that, but again, not that. Music was a thing, between us, random songs that were his favourite, that happened to be completely tied to my soul as well. Ahh, Wicked Game came on once, it was this remix, he thought I had snuck it onto his music. No, I hadn’t. Perhaps you notice by now I love my sad, sad girl songs. Sad makes me happy. There are people you come across you know nothing about, and perhaps should know nothing about, yet are forever entangled by some sort of essence. Some people you know a lot about, and are bonded by trauma or shared interests. Others you thought you knew inside and out, yet, they never existed. I think he is the first one, and it is quite alright by me if it is one sided, as we had enough weirdness between us in the brief moments we flashed upon one another. It just makes me so fucking sad, not the good kind of sad, not the thoughtful moments, philosophical kind of sad. I wish I knew what it was that made me sad. Because it isn’t him inherently. If I figure it out, I will let you know. For now, it is a mystery for me.

It has been six years, I think, I am trying to remember my hair colour. It has changed so frequently, that is generally my gauge as to what I was doing or whom. Yes, I am capricious, fickle, a flight risk, impulsive, gun shy. Although, none of that matters as I am content being house bond most of the time, quarantined, babying, working. Whatever may be. I was blonde, honey blonde in a long transition from ginger to become platinum. Sigh, that didn’t last long. Living in my most beloved 1940s house with two roommates, the ones who fell in love there, got married later and now live down the street from me. Six years, yes, it was then. Mr. Biomedical Engineer was really into women’s rights. Love. That. Something on the University campus about women and he had a pin he wore. God, he had horrible fashion. So many men here seem to wear plaid. The Canadian way is plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Redneck plaid. I don’t mind it actually.

He loved flowers, as I do, too. He brought me to the most beautiful park I would ever dreamt even existed in our city. He did weird impulsive romantic things, the only other person to do that sort of thing was the first sociopath I ever dated ten years ago. Story for another day. He looked like Johnny Depp in many ways from the Secret Window. Mr. Biomedical Engineer and him both have glasses. For whatever reason, 80% of my boyfriends or lovers, or something have had glasses. Is this a requirement? Apparently without meaning to. You can be smart with contacts, you know. I don’t even have a glasses fetish and I find them a bit annoying to work around. Loved his voice, I do have a heavy voice fetish. That is a make or break for basically everyone I go near. Perhaps too much weight is given on the voice fetish, but regardless, it’s my thing. I will say, very rarely do people get into my head. I shake them out before I ever thought of inviting them in. I shake them out before they even realize there was a chair for them, perhaps, in the first place. But again, it isn’t specifically him, something symbolic about him or something I am forgetting about myself my brain is trying to remind me of. I LOVE film-noir and neo-noir, he introduced me to his favourite movie, Brick with Joseph Gordon Levitt. Going back to The Midnight Cowboy, I probably should watch the movie, and I do love anything from the 1960s or about prostitution.

I hope I find a path from these intrusive thoughts around Mr. Biomedical Engineer, and find the part of myself calling out. Pika had used to say to me she could taste my sadness when I was melancholy. Taste my sadness.

I wish you could have seen the way she looked at me when she would say that.

Well hello there, Tumblr

A Water Baby, (1895). (Details). By Herbert James Draper.

Tonight I made the quick decision to save some of my sanity and rejoin Tumblr. I miss it. I could overdose on GIFs and little pictures all day long. I have so many fond memories of blogs, always had a blog, even as a kid. Love writing, memes, and art. I’ve decided to rotate Pinterest, Tumblr, and Houzz in-between all the work. Social media and pages to save my own misery and dread I have for how much I have to be on the computer. How much dread and disdain I have even looking at my computer, which once used to bring so much pleasure for many, many years prior.

I am not sure why this didn’t occur to me before. Work hard, play hard. Something something something. No, I am not sharing my Pinterest, Houzz or Tumblr with you all. It is my sacred space!

I will, share the tags I follow though. Some of them, haha.

Vintage, pin-up, celebrities, asethetic, romance, sculpture, hollywood regency, art deco, museums, movies, puppies, runway, hollywood, library, pets, painting, health & fitness, home decor, antiques, glamour, gifs, DIY, history, Italy, Rococo, macabre, gothic, Midcentury, 1960s, art history

“Dante And Virgil In Hell” by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. (1850)