A Love in Colours: Sky Blue

The breathtaking blue sky seemed to go on forever in every direction. Kites were being flown by fathers and their kids, adult birds were returning to their nests mouthing worms to feed their young ones, and thin, wispy clouds remained as a distant reminder of the rains of the previous few days. This spring afternoon featured a sky that was almost surreal, the kind that one could lay on the grass and stare up at for hours upon hours, which they did. They lay there, saying but a word, lost in the blueness of the sky, next to each other, the only people in the universe.

His heart had just skipped a beat and he finally fully understood the seriousness of the often overused cliche. She was stunningly beautiful and he was at a loss for words. He was not panicking as he was certain that after a short period of time he would either find his words again or they him. He was also silently cursing himself for misusing and abusing the word "beautiful" on countless other occasions when referring to nice looking girls whom he previously had anointed with the highest level of physical praise when he should have been reserving it solely for this rare type of woman that he previously had only seen in his imagination. His eyes darted away, he quickly pinched himself in four separate locations in quick succession and then slowly looked back just to make sure that it wasn't some sort of small, localized mirage appearing in front of his history lecture room at the university. Who was she, he wondered? A visiting lecturer from some far-away pristine land of beaches of white sand? A new student whose main purpose in life was to prove to all other students that it was indeed possible to possess both highly advanced neurological proclivity as well as perfect skin and flowing hair? A sign that he both needed new glasses and had zero interest in filling the prescription if this was the result? Regardless, he needed to meet her and ask her about her noticeable lack of any skin blemishes, to know her name and favourite drapery patterns and to take her out for an evening of fine dining, whispering by candlelight and the taming of wild horses if that happened to come up organically. Time seemed to stand still. He had been stuck there, watching her from a far, and almost missed his chance as she started to walk towards the bus loop, but thankfully as he began to fall in her direction as if felled by a large axe, he put one foot in front of the other as his parents taught him during his formative years and he ran after her.

She was not looking to meet someone, or at least she had convinced herself of this after writing lines saying this all weekend, No, she had learned the hard way what happened when she allowed herself to be distracted by all of the cute, hunky guys who made her jaw drop and almost walk into walls only narrowly missing as she had to stop walking due to the pain in her slightly dislocated jaw. With her newfound focus, she strode towards her first class of the new school year and what an interesting class it had been. Proud of herself for both not making a fool of herself too profoundly on the first day and for leaving that door open just in case she decided to strategically act the fool in the future, she left the class and saw him. He was adorably trying not to stare at her by pretending to read a book that he was holding upside down or he was actually reading the book upside down and was just showing off his skills. She instantly remembered that he had spoken up in class a few times and was clearly quite bright as well as doing something in his free time, she wasn't quite sure what, that made his muscles fill out his shirt just so. She briefly contemplated sashaying over there and either saying hi or kissing him with such force that he would either need medical attention or be interested in grabbing a coffee sometime. He was quite cute and she had a soft spot for cute guys that was sort of like the top of a cantaloupe when it was perfectly ripe - she quickly made plans to buy a cantaloupe on the way home for a refreshing mid-afternoon snack. He clearly seemed interested and she prayed that he would make his move. After waiting as long as she could and running out of ways to seem occupied while standing facing a nearly empty bulletin board, she decided to go home, as staying there any longer and he would think she was a little too interested in the empty wall. It was only the first day of class, she reminded herself, there was lots of time to get to know him.

The Juggler

He sat in front of his dressing room mirror overwhelmed with a tornado of strong emotions. For the past 15 years he had been a juggler with the circus and was a veteran of over 900 shows. The grandfather of the circus. Tonight was his last show.

His whole life had been spent in and around the big tents. It was the only reality he knew. He briefly relived the shock of the others when he unceremoniously announced that he was choosing to walk away. The face he saw as he looked into the mirror looked weathered and old. He was old.

It was two hours until the show - his big send off - and he took out his dinner. His wife had made him a succulently baked chicken leg with all of his favourite sides. He closed his eyes and inhaled the wonderful aroma that reminded him of his cozy home and his amazing wife who had stood beside him all these years. It had not been easy for her. He would not have blamed her for leaving. This was not what she signed up for.

He removed his knife and fork slowly and deliberately, savouring every one of his last moments and experiences as each represented years upon years of similar times. He ripped into the flesh of the once proud bird and aggressively stuffed his mouth full of the juicy meat. His tongue darted out attempting to catch every drop of the cooking liquid as if he were parched, alone in the desert. 

Again and again he returned for more only to occasionally pause to keep his imagined attackers at bay. Over the years he too had felt the pain of his flesh being metaphorically ripped from his bones by dictator-like owners, vindictive managers and back-stabbing colleagues each trying to get ahead by squashing the vulnerable around them. He had been vulnerable. He had felt pain.

Outside the wind blew and rattled the poles and the thin layer of protective canvas surrounding him. The wind was always there, blowing in and around the circus; popping in and out of crevasses, playfully rousing hair dos and reminding all that it was barely skimming into its huge arsenal of power. He loved the wind and longed for its cold touch and sometimes he wished it would lift him up off his feet and blow him away from this place.

After tossing his scraps for the dogs, he began carefully applying his make-up, the many layers that combined to create his facade, his prison. He smiled ear-to-ear for the imaginary photographers and frowned for the audience members whose gaze lingered after the spotlight had quickly found the trapeze artists or clowns or whatever the crowd yearned for. 

Many times he had prayed for the spotlight to remain and for a chance to wow the people. He had a dream where he had boundless energy and pulled off incredible stunt after stunt and was greeted with a stunning and overwhelming standing ovation. He would sign autographs, give interviews, receive bonuses and smile until his cheeks hurt. He would feel wanted and loved and his tears would be for joy for a change.

"Thirty minutes!" the voice barked out snapping him out of his reverie. The harsh return to reality slapped him in the face. The eyes in the mirror stared back at him with the hallowed look of a beaten man. He rose slowly, cracked his knuckles and took a long, knowing look around his mess of a dressing-room. His sanctuary, his safe place, the house for his tormented soul.

He wanted to paint a black and gray portrait of a man full of sorrow and neglect using his face as the canvas. He wanted to juggle with his tormentors egos high upon a stack of carefully balanced furniture pieces only to slip and drop the egos and see them crash into a million little pieces as if they were but porcelain dolls. His cackle would be heard for miles. For years he had bit his tongue and closed his eyes and turned his cheek. The light at the end of the tunnel was finally in sight.

It was ten minutes until show time and his mind drifted, as it often did, to the night of the tragedy. It was so many years ago and yet it felt like yesterday. He felt trapped inside the prison of his own making, wishing he could forgive himself. Others uncaringly comforted him, he saw shrinks, talked to police, and fell, shaking, into his wife's arms each evening. "It wasn't your fault. He wasn't being careful. You are only a juggler." As the final opening curtain approached he stood outside his dressing room; a lone man awash with moonlight, longing for his release.

Searching For a Victimless Crime

I am spreading peanut butter everywhere as I transition to a world where peanut butter is spread everywhere...wow...what a sticky, sticky, rich and tasty mess this is.

You spend every minute of your free time at the library mostly for the easy access to amazing literature and topical magazines but also out of misplaced guilt. Libraries have always been a destination for you when you have a surplus of misplaced guilt.

I decide to abruptly halt my drafting lessons to fly to the African jungle to observe gorillas in their natural habitat only stopping on the way to make a bead necklace for my aunt and eat exactly four egg yolks.

You are always dreaming of a world where the morbidly skinny and the refreshingly-positively obese can live harmoniously side-by-side.

I'm excited by the idea of being a micromanager - just the concept of being really really tiny sounds very enjoyable, although I am concerned about getting lost in the wind and having a hard time earning and keeping the respect of those I am tasked with managing.

You always wear a lot of brown clothes without even a hint of sarcasm, but you promise everyone that you are working on it.

I often wonder if items in the clearance bin are more excited about the prospects of being bought and finally escaping the horrors of "the store" or if they have just given up hope and just want to be eaten already. It's also possible they just love bins and for that reason, I have made a series of my own bins in a variety of shapes and sizes to house the items for the first few days after their purchase, to ease the transition.

You have achieved your goal! Your lips do in fact say "kiss me" while the rest of your body says "that will be $10 please".

I have decided to spend this winter being as irrationally optimism as is safe. It will be a welcome progression from a totally irrationally-spent summer and a ridiculously-optimistic autumn. Who knows what next spring will bring? 

You are relishing your new role at work and it makes you smile ironically as you have always had a strong distaste for relish and those that smile upon eating it.

I have come to the decision that if I am to start breaking all of your rules, I will only do so according to a new set of rules that I will spend hours and hours devising as I am just not ready to disregard the existence of all rules, yet, just yours.

You love my spirit and my soul and to a lesser degree my clothes, which I say are only the fabric representation of my spirit and soul, which you are such a big fan of. You only shake your head and refuse to hold my hand when we walk in public places.

I am totally enjoying my new role as a deal breaker and, if things continue to go well, I may look into expanding into becoming a final straw as well. I've always figuratively wanted to be a straw and am willing to attempt a literal application as well as long as someone else provides the cup.

You are spending a disconcerting amount of time dribbling a basketball outside in the rain without any socks on. Put on some socks already!

I enter my living room and I see a small pile of books on the table and don't think much of it as, let's face it, they look fairly harmless. Later on, I enter the living room again, and the pile of books appears slightly taller and, it may be just me, more menacing. Before heading to bed, I need to grab a book to read and I enter the living room to find one and I that the pile of books on my table has become huge and that is not only intimidating, but also clearly not into the whole me-choosing-one-to-read-before bedtime thing and I swear I feel not only multiple sets of eyes upon me as I inch out the room but also a series of low growls and grunts. Suffice it to say, I went to bed without a goodnight story yet again.

You always let your imagination get the better of you to amazing results and you have been thinking about offering a class on this at the local community centre.

I have been spending a lot of my free time searching for a victimless crime - just in case. The rest of my time is spent grating and occasionally eating carrots.

You are just so exhausted these days. It is cold and flu season, you are working long hours and just not getting enough sleep or exercise. Your imaginary monkey and panda miss you.

A Love in Colours: Pink

The dress was an amazingly stunning shade of pink and it sashayed and swirled around the dance floor. The music blared and couples around the club were virtually yelling to be heard, but the two of them danced, passionately in silence, undistracted by all around them, focussed only on each other, so much in love and nearly engulfed in a seemingly-magical and mesmerizing pink fabric that was practically glowing. 

She was sitting at her desk in her office and was watching the pouring rain through her window. The water was falling with such force that some would have referred to it as 'angry', while she prefered 'misunderstood' as she was certain that no one had bothered to listen to the rain's point-of-view. The constant drumming of the rain reminded her of the constant drumming of her sister while growing up and, perplexingly of how she would stand outside of her window at night, often in the rain, waving and smiling. She missed her sister aside from all of the incessant waving and smiling - it was nice at first, but it got old especially when they got older. As she sat there her mind drifted to him. Always to him, and occasionally to the tree in his front yard. How she loved that tree. Her mind settled on a single image from their vacation that summer and she smiled when the picture of his sandy, muscular body running with reckless abandon on the beach came into her head. She appreciated his recklessness so much more when it only appeared in her head while staring outside at the rain and less so when he was driving them to the movies. Tonight was the night they were to meet her parents for the first time and she was oddly calm and was sort of disappointed as she had been looking forward to being nervous. Having dinner with her own parents made her nervous at the best of times, but his presence relaxed her so much that she often became fairly concerned while cooking. She knew her parents would love him, and that made her happy, but she only hoped they didn't love him unconditionally as she believed that everything should have conditions. The rain continued to fall, and she tried to get some real work done as no amount of pretend work would feel satisfactory in the long term. She used to spend hours and hours pretending to work as a child which made her parents a little worried both because she wasn't just playing like an average child, but also because the work she was pretending to do, was being done fairly haphazardly. The work day was over and she saved her files and put her computer to sleep, only this time without the pillow and blanket as it was starting to draw her some unwanted attention from others as well as making her increasingly sheepish and apologetic around her printer and fax machine.

He was in the middle of yet another boring meeting and had a passing thought about why meetings were usually so boring, but then he partially remembered what his aunt always said in one of her less lucid moments "sometimes I just like being quiet". It was a true statement but it didn't make sense at the time and wasn't really that helpful right now either. He started a new list with the first item being starting to remember more appropriate quotes and the second being fully listening to his aunt when she  was "on". When the meeting wrapped up, he went to the washroom to apply some warm, soapy water to his face and the upper part of his neck all the while making a mental note to apply at least the same level of hygiene to the rest of his neck later on, He enjoyed the face-wash at little bit too much and actually let out a small squeal of joy which was thankfully heard by no one, but even if it had been they were used to his cute animal noises made periodically throughout the day. He was meeting her parents tonight and was supremely confident in his ability to impress them without having to resort to deception and trickery, although he was fully prepared to go there too if he met with any initial resistance. He had viewed a lot of photos of her mom and dad and had mentally given them entertaining and quite animated voices that always made him laugh uproariously and he just hoped that they were somewhat close to their actual voices. He couldn't decide what clothes to wear and had narrowed it down to a choice of either his vertically-striped suit or a pair of casual jeans and a unique and hip graphic t-shirt. The suit made him appear older and slightly taller but also was probably a better fit for a visit to the bank which he was fairly certain wouldn't come up that evening unless they all mutually decided on going to the bank after desert. And the casual and hip outfit, although comfortable, was maybe too relaxed-looking which may have his hosts wondering "Why is he already so comfortable here? Maybe we should apply some more pressure?" He hated having to choose clothes to fit occasions and he blamed his mother for that aversion as he couldn't come up with anyone else to blame at all on such short notice. He promised himself that he would look further into it and after plenty of research, type up a comprehensively exhaustive list of everyone else who may have played a part in his inability to match his outfits with his activities. As he left work, he ran to the car excited to see her.