It’s The Deep Breath Before The Plunge (part one)

So much news to tell, hard to put it all together into one concise synopsis.

There are tales of travel, and of reflection.

Of betrayal and growth and of one personal life chapter closing while struggling to flip the next page forward.

Of new opportunities and possibilities.

And a Brazilian.


So I promise that I did not forget about my lingering post from June 7 – in fact, I only recently decided (approximately 37 minutes ago) while savoring the first heavenly sips of my morning coffee to fulfill my posting obligation. That and I should likely capture these thoughts somewhere in order to have any attempt of a productive day at work. Trust me, I assure you that with the present workload volume I have, to say that any day is truly productive could be deemed an oxymoron.

So to start off with, let me take a moment to dispel some of the commentary my dedicated and dear readers left upon this original entry:
1) The Brazilian was not, I repeat not, a wax. Joe – I’m sorry to inform you of this tragedy.
2) Ant was correct in that I did indeed meet a Brazilian, but not Gisele or *shudder* Ronaldo.
3) As Messiah suggested, the beginning is likely the best place to start.
4) Doug, as I mentioned in the comment section at the time, I am delighted by the following comment you made: “it started to sound like a fascinating tale. One that I likely never would have heard before…”. And I intend to honour that as many of the things that take place in my world and in my mind many people have never heard of before.

So one last pre-plunge check before delving beneath the depths of my personal existence:

Does everyone have their safety buddy picked out? Good good.
And you all have a suitable beverage of preference in hand? Splendid.

Let’s begin.

My tales of travel reflect my love of being on the open road. I have a long-held the belief that I must be descended from gypsies or nomads as I live to travel. I love the exploration of the open road and of different cultures, particularly when I have someone to share them with. That, of course, is a bit of a double-edged sword, particularly if the other person does not like to travel (there is an epic tale rolling around in that one somewhere). As I am currently in the midst of pursuing a few different options in life right now, all of them wonderful, the vast majority of my finances are currently being utilized in many of those endeavours. As a result, I have had to limit my travel to more local surroundings.

Work has allowed me some marginal freedom in this realm; Vancouver, Montréal, Edmonton, Toronto, – none of them terribly appealing when work is the lone function for which I am handed a plane ticket. The only time I am granted to myself or to explore my surroundings is the few nocturnal hours between returning to my room from the lengthy team dinner hours earlier, and the wee hours of the morning awaking from my peaceful slumber to venture forth yet again on a less-than-stimulating day of planning sessions and/or golf tournaments.

Oh how I loathe those golf tournaments…well, in all fairness I had some wonderful experiences – but some days it is a struggle to remember only the highlights and dispel the unpleasant elements.

Perhaps in the near future I will share my tales of adventure on the matter.

However it was on what of these more recent trips that I met the aforementioned Brazilian – a man who happened to be sitting on the plane next to me. We chatted off and on over the course of the flight and still keep it touch periodically as time and job scheduling permits. (see Doug – not what you expected now was it?) It is not a romantic relationship, but a pleasant one in which I have the opportunity to meet yet another fascinating individual such as yourselves (only I actually met him in person – and yes, I’m working on that too)

And no one would believe what he does for a living. (No, he is not a member, current or former, of Menuedo so don’t ask)

My own travels have taken me to every corner of the province, and I miss my time on the highway. The open road allows me the chance to clear my head and escapes from the day-to-day existence of life.

It gives my soul the chance to heal and regenerate and feel again.

I have had a great many issues and upheavals to contend with of late, both personal and professional, but that wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone here as we all have a myriad of life events to grapple with. In fact, my problems are likely inconsequential when compared to those of my dear readers, but I thank you all for indulging me with mine just the same. Leaving the city just seems to help me put life back into priority. It gives me the chance to step back from the things in life that are piling up, or taking up far too much time and energy of my mental brainwave capacity.

It gives me the chance to breathe.

And I was beginning to feel as though I had been holding my breath for a very long time.

Too long.

So I inhaled – and it felt like heaven.