i have a bieber song in my head. it's been stuck there since the morning with the refrain "sorry" repeating itself like a broken record. i give credit to the kid - the song has a catchy tune, but i'm no bielieber. and with the mood i'm in right now, it's not improving my emotional state.

i think of poet Kim Rosen and her teachings. i suspect there's something in the lyrics that has nicked my nerves. a quick google search for the lyrics drums up hundreds of web results and i choose one, skimming over the words - literally, a fast read. i make sure not to connect with the words - i have the tune stuck in my head, i have no desire to have the lyrics "written on the bones," as Kim would say. no, i'm in no mood for either forgiveness or second chances - these being the words that pop out from the screen. i keep the veil of cynicism cloaked around me, guarding all my supressed frustrations and annoyances. it forms a slick layer of grease on my skin and it irritates me further.

it's february and the weather is fucking gorgeous. the sun shines brightly outdoors - the light bouncing off the white snow. it's a scene that is postcard perfect, and yet, i feel like it's mocking me. i imagine all the people outside soaking in their required vitamin D, and a battery symbol with the percentage of the charge level above each of their heads.

who is at full?
who is maximizing their efficiency for their charge to last?
who is running on empty?
and their charge level, is that indicative also of their level of happiness?

i want to be happy. i often pretend i'm happy - the mask goes on and i resemble someone who has their shit together. but i'm on the verge of cracking. i slip - i keep forgetting to lock my door at night. i gorge on food and smoke cigarettes. i wring my hands and clasp them tightly. i sink back into the hole in the sidewalk. i disconnect. and this all irritates the shit out of me too.

distractions - i seek them out. i'm on edge and the bieber song isn't helping me - it's like chinese water torture. i want to drown out the song - avoidance is flashing like a warning signal, its message coursing through all the neuro pathways. i pick a romantic comedy from my on-line library - happythankyoumoreplease. i have no idea what the film is about - i simply need an escape. if i get a few laughs out of it, bonus.

but then i freeze. pablo schreiber is in this film. shit.

(a little context - up to this point, i've only ever seen schreiber in Law and Order SVU, where he plays a very convincing serial rapist, william lewis. his portrayal of this character has plagued and challenged my anxieties over the years - he embodies and reminds me so vividly of my own rapist - manipulative, controlling, expressionless, a predator.)

there are clearly messages that the universe keeps leaving at my door step, and no matter how many distractions i put up as obstacles, that knock on the door isn't going away. it's schreiber's character in the film, charlie, where i gain a bit of insight:

“Did you play sports when you were a kid? D’you remember ‘walk it off’. No matter what happened right? I mean your eye-ball could be hanging out of its socket, coach would run over, scoop you up; ‘Hey you’re alright kid just walk it off.’ And I’m sure a few of those times I was legitimately hurt, but just having this concept, walk it off, as a way to, I don’t know, heal myself, it worked. I just walked that shit off.”

walk it off. it's as simple as that. it's not about running to escape, but walking it off to heal. i do just that. it feels good to get the legs moving and breathing in the crisp winter air. i have no destination in mind, so i head to the local mom and pop shop to check my lottery numbers. i don't win anything, but i buy another set for the following draw. who knows, maybe with a little thank you, more please, i might win something more.

as i continue on my walk, i sense a lightness - i seize the chance and face the yet undefined thing that is causing me distress. the blurry edges come into focus and hones in on my anxieties. ghomeshi. there's a whole media storm going on right now. i cringe when i read the onslaught of questions posed by defence counsel to the victims. the chatter around the trial is everywhere and it overwhelms me. but ultimately, i hate how defence is painting a picture of "you liked boy, you sexted with boy, you wanted boy" with a timeline detailed and outlined for all to see. i acknowledge defence counsel is doing her job, but i find it hard not to take it personally - with each question, i find myself reflecting back to my own actions or inactions. did i do/say something that could be perceived as consent to cause the outcome of my rape?

i remind myself that this isn't my trial and i'm not on any stand to be judged. the debates, the dialogue, the comments - these are needed to effectuate change, and though it may at times make me uncomfortable and vulnerable, i need not fear it. and if it does, well, i just need to buy a pair pf new runners so that i can walk that shit off.