Mercury’s in retrograde until Saturday, and apparently what that means is that communication is difficult. Horoscope sites and astrology message boards caution against having intense conversations because of the possibility of misunderstanding. While I don’t consult an astrological oracle for advice on decisions I need to make, I see the effects of these communication difficulties all around me, particularly in romantic relationships. 2009 has been a major transitive year, and not just for myself. I’m witnessing the dissolution of supposed life-partnerships all around me, and on a weekly basis, I’m exposed to the fallout from friends’ break-ups.

Obviously, one result of this has been hours of conversations about relationships. Words like “toxic”, “draining”, and “heavy” are repetitively used to describe these recently-ended relationships, most of them operating under the description of partnerships, implying a more committed endeavour. Recently, a friend who came out of a relationship with someone who she had invested so much in said: “I need to find my life purpose, and [her partner] was creating distortion. I’m trying to balance, and I need to do that alone.” Listening to post-relationship commentary while the hurt and the grief are still fresh makes me evaluate what I want out of life, specifically in a partnership sense. I do believe in learning from others, and I don’t arrogantly think that I can avoid the mistakes that they have made. What I do know is that I don’t want to be in a toxic relationship, or one that takes me away from my what I need to and love to do, one that doesn’t take away from me more than it gives.

At this point in my life, I do have some idea about what I would expect to find in a life partner. And I use that term loosely, because I’m still not sure I believe in what sometimes seems to me the achingly naive idea of there being one. I’d like to transition into a partnership, if that’s even in my cards, rather than actively seek one out with the sole purpose of making a go of it.

My criteria isn’t some close-minded checklist of pre-requisites and achievements; more along the lines of I’ve processed so much, and for the first time in my life I’m paying conscious attention to understanding who I am, and I’m figuring out what’s complementary and what’s detrimental to my wellbeing. And it is, unapologetically, a little bit selfish, but I really don’t see the point in sacrificing simply for the sake of building in a relationship setting.

I need to be with someone who is comfortable with who they are, and who is in turn, comfortable with who I am. All of me. I used to think that this meant blind acceptance of my flaws and tolerance of my idiosyncrasies, but what it means to me now is that I need someone who can say to me at all times: “I see you, and I’m still down.” I don’t need the crazy to be indulged or stifled (or worse, caught up in a horrible feedback loop), but simply to be recognised. And my anxieties and insecurities made latent rather than kindled.

Call me jaded, I used to believe in unconditional love, but I don’t believe that exists anymore, or not for extended periods of time anyway. I still believe though that everyone needs to experience a belief in unconditional love, no matter how fleeting. I also used to believe that I was okay with someone loving me to the best of their ability, but honestly, that ability better be damned good. I can’t make up the difference.

Most importantly, I need to be the best (or even better than that) person I can possibly be in the context of my relationship with someone else. I need to wake up and know that I’m trying, that my effort is reciprocated, and that I am okay with the work being put in. I underscore this by knowing that relationships take a lot of work, and the desire to do that work is part of this. And I need to be proud of us for what’s achieved together.

Affirmation rather than validation, and enhancement rather than completion. I want my walk to be bouncier, my body to glow, and my eyes to shine. I want my partner to see their love and support reflected in my achievements. And vice versa.

On a more superficial level, I need someone who can come along for the ride with all its (high) ups and (low) downs, who can maintain for themselves and not be worse for wear. I don’t really level, although I’m a lot more balanced than I used to be.

I expect the same from myself that I would from a partner, and nothing less. I now understand the kind of love that I give, and it’s a fierce, intense, fiery, loyal-to-a-fault, protective love. Don’t make your wings out of wax if you’re planning on getting close.

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Addendum: I do realise that all this could, and probably will, change over time and I’m cool with that. I’d still like a snapshot of where my head’s at right now, hence this post.

• eating salad with fingers on a concrete block at the end of a streetcar stop, while not waiting for a streetcar.
• watching the moon come up over lake ontario, talking about godzilla.
• invitation to a memorial service for someone taken by aids.
• sleeping underneath the stars. in central london.
• driving through native land, learning history.
• cult underground movies, made in the basements of fast food joints.
• backyard, harlem. sizzla on the airwaves.
• getting woken by a phonecall just to watch the sunrise, with you.
• videogames at 4am.
• falling asleep to enter the wu-tang on repeat, and waking up to m-e-t-h-o-d maaaan!
• moonlight in plenty, autumn 00.
• mist over snow-covered fields.
• following train tracks, taking photos of graffiti. giggles.
• unexpected parcels. special delivery!
• drinking tea with a rehabilitated convict, on a day pass from a halfway house.
• tearing down at 1am after a day filled with outdoor jazz.
• empty bars down the street.
• singalongs in drained water thoroughfares.
• photoshoots in living rooms (mine and yours).
• prince’s encore.

I’m in the process of working on a project that uses photographs I’ve taken over the past ten years. Geographically, they’re from all over – the States, prairie and central Canada, the Caribbean, Europe, East Africa. Archived memories re-access, images setting off a whole chain of thoughts. Good times, most of them. We don’t try to capture sadness. At least I don’t – I think I should.

I look back on the faces who were participants in events that defined me, that brought me to this present moment, sitting in my studio loft in Toronto, working on being creative. I wonder what happened to the people who I’ve lost touch with: the woman who, last time I spoke to her was six years ago, and her mother had just been diagnosed with a serious illness. My Regina J-school colleagues. The facilitator at the military training for journalists workshop I attended in Alberta in 2003. The South African band huddled in my kitchen when I lived in midtown Toronto. The rappers I interviewed. The friends who are still around, and treat me as one of their own.

It’s a different environment now. These photos remind me that I need to stop right now. Stop and take stock. Remember where I came from, and figure out where I’m heading. Evaluate current relationships and friendships.

The photos also remind me that it’s been a while since I walked the streets with MF Doom in my ear and my camera on my shoulder. That’s a project for another day. Right after I find my iPod charger.

Living in Toronto, I can’t avoid the Tamil protests going on downtown. Not because I am directly affected by them: I haven’t had any route I needed to take blocked and nothing’s been disrupted. Unlike the numbers of Torontonians who seem to have had their very important lives inconvenienced by the protests.

I’m not disgusted at the fact that young children have been taken by their parents to these protests. (Di Manno, can you pass any more judgment?) Rumours of SWAT teams and police on standby do have me concerned, because so far, these protests have been quite peaceful and non-aggressive.

I can’t help but wonder though, if alarmist privileged Canadians fully understand what’s going on here? If they can sense the difference in energy between the Tamil protests and the other neatly-organised, scheduled demonstrations that happen (the march for equality for women, the Palestinian demonstrations, Noone is Illegal, Darfur, etc.). The latter happen out of anger and a demand for fairness and justice. My sense of the current protests is that they’re happening out of love. Love and concern for family members back home. Demonstrators driven by fear for mothers and uncles and cousins, not knowing whether the violence has taken them. And frustration at being so helpless here, that all you can do is pack up your children, head downtown and ask your politicians to step up.

just be prepared to deal with all the passive-aggressive comments on media reports about how your neighbours were stuck in traffic because of your thoughtlessness. i have to ask the complainers: would you do the same for your family? would you grab a flag and stand in the street for hours because it’s the only way you believe you can affect the outcome? would you block a highway, if you didn’t know if your mother was dead or alive? would you take it further? or would you do nothing? just saying.

Democracy promises a voice for its citizens. It assures ways and means to voice concerns and produce pressure for desired outcomes. The freedom that has been promised though, is hollow. It only delivers when you’ve got a certain amount of privilege. When you play nice at being Canadian. If you’re lucky – and this is where persistence pays off – it will deliver when you can’t be ignored any more.

The expectation is that your heart belongs here, but for immigrant populations, it doesn’t. It’s left back in the old country, with blood relatives and childhoods. And when back home isn’t safe (and I know this feeling all too well), you risk losing it.

Some of the posts on message boards and comment sections are horrifying, complaining about the traffic and noise. Comments along the lines of “I really don’t care about the issues these people are demonstrating about.” and “Get off the streets, quit disturbing peoples[sic] lives and find other ways to get your cause in the news. Being street terrorists isn’t helping.” Some of the comments get into the bloody and complicated history of violence in Sri Lanka, with the typical they’re-killing-people-over-there-so-it’s-not-my-problem attitude.

But the comment that got my goat the most was this one, stating that the protests were “also unfair to all those immigrants who’ve accepted our hospitality by graciously leaving their issues at the border.” To put it in as mild-mannered a way as possible, as a non-Sri Lankan immigrant, that one really hurts my feelings. Am I really expected to leave my ethnicity, history, identity, and associated emotional baggage on the other side of Pearson Terminal 1? You’ve got to be kidding me. My family’s back home, holding on to a piece of my heart.