Everyday Swan

Oh the joy

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of the cycle of the moon, the cycle of the blood

Last month I was 4 days late, now I’m 5 days early. What the fuck is my body telling me?

Get some rest, relax, let go, forget, remember, exercise, eat better, get some sleep, let GO. Of everything. It’s getting too much to bear anyway.

If I don’t leave some things behind, they will drag me down forever. It’s not being blind. It’s about acceptance. It’s not denial, hell, I’ve been looking at everything too closely. Not denial. Just letting go of unecessary shit that haunts me, that keeps me from settling, from looking at other things, from thinking about other things.

I know where the weight is. I know exactly where the rope is tied. I think I’ve only made half assed efforts to untie it.

I’m still looking for balance. If I let go of everything, it’s too much, if I don’t it’s not enough to come up. Keep some, lose some.

But the deeper I look, the heavier the weight gets. So, definately have to untie, to cut, to sever if necessary. I need to breath.

I didn’t say that

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Why do people say they didn’t say something when they did?

That is such a waste of my fucking time.

You said it, live with it.

If you think you said it wrong, just apologize.

C’est pas compliqué ça.

Tu me dis quelque chose en pleine face, pis 15 minutes plus tard tu me dis que t’as pas dit ça.

C’est qui qui a l’air fou là?

It’s a beautiful day in the… NOT!

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I was right, the office sucks. The biggest problem is that I love my job. I have ambition, drive, experience, a very good reputation in my field. My boss is an idiot, corrupt, has no drive and has been riding on my coattails since he hired me.

I deal with an assistant who no matter how many times I explain something will ask me about it the next day. Who instead of looking up the orders she puts in the computer will also write them down, each of them, on a piece of paper and try to trace them later. Who insists on transfering me a line when I’m already on one with 2 holding, who insists on giving me a message when I’m fucking kneeling in front of the photocopier, my hands stained with toner, torn sheets scattered on the floor.

I deal with ignorant sales reps, who think that the products they sell deliver to their customers on jet planes that burn water and that are driven by computers. They don’t understand that the freight is actually put on a trailer, pulled by a truck that burns fuel and that is driven by a human being. I asked for a phone number because the driver could not find the location, the coked up asshole went nuts, screamed for 5 minutes and finished by saying ” well, it looks like the driver is a fucking idiot anyways, all that’s left for him to do is to go and shoot himself in the head”.

I work in a business where screwing your customer is the norm, where importing exotic lumber that is bordering extinction is ok, even for customs and government agencies.

I’m a dispatcher. I love my job. It’s just going to kill me one day.

Yé!

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Fuck I’m glad this one’s over with.

The pile

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Writing about my childhood really brought back a lot of stuff… Things I had buried deep under newer stuff, stuff I can deal with.

I’m thinking about putting it down here. But I don’t know if I want to let it surface, or just let it hover for a while, until it goes back under the pile of shit taking most of the space in my head right now.

Nice parallel with the wall.

I’m getting confused.

So sad

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Not the Christmas anyone expected…

On the 22nd we learned that my sister in law’s brother died in his sleep the previous night. He was in his early 40’s, with 2 kids. She had lost another brother 4 years ago. She is now an only child… Both parents are still alive.

This year it was her turn to have us over for the Christmas dinner. She decided she did not want to cancel and still have a party. And it was a great idea. Everyone had a great time, we drank a lot (me too, a big fucking lot), did karaoke, word games, the food was great, we hugged a lot, cried, laughed, said I love you… L. did a wonderful santa for the kids.

That was last night. Before leaving for the party I called my dad to ask what time he wanted us to be there tonight for dinner. He said well, we might have a change of plans… My step mom’s sister has been in the hospital for a few weeks now, terminal cancer. And S. was there all night (23 to 24th). The doctors told the family she only had a few hours left.

This morning I called again, and my father told me S.’s sister had died yesterday. They are 10 brothers and sisters in her family, both parents are dead (of cancer). They were all there with their sister when she passed. I spoke with S. a little bit, we cried together, and I tried to comfort her as best as I could.

So we came back here. It’s been a very strange Christmas. I wasn’t looking forward to it, yet it probably was one of the best party we’ve ever had.

Maybe we were celebrating life.

Pain in the blog

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A funny thing happened. I started to write here because something was missing, things were changing, events were definately not happening. And I was wondering where my love for writing had gone. Slowly it came to me, that torrent of words, of ideas, of emotions, feelings, thoughts, pains. Now I just can’t stop. Can’t hold anything inside.

In the few months I’ve been here, I’ve browsed other peoples spaces, read their thoughts, ideas, stories, poems. Interacted with a few, to different degrees. Some want to be writers, some are. Some, like me, just need a place to express their feelings, no matter how dark. Others are true artists, social commentators, spectators.

It’s a wonderful experience so far. I belong wherever I go. And every one belongs here. I like to leave comments, I like it when people leave comments here. I try not to think about the audience when I write though. That’s a big trap. I’m not here because I want to be a writer when I grow up. I’m here for everything else.

Anyways, here’s Maddox’s take on blogs, enjoy!: If these words were people, I would embrace their genocide.

One Slip

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I will, I will she sighed to my request
And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test
Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire
I lead the way to the funeral pyre
And without a thought of the consequence
I gave in to my decadence
-D. Gilmour

Decadence… what a lovely word. Nothing proper these days, nothing appropriate pleases me. I want depravity, self indulgence. I don’t want to please anyone. I want to be pleased.

No content

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It will take me sometime to recover from the events of the weekend. Sometime to be able to write about how I feel about everything. Lots of words, lots of feelings. Everything’s good, just a bit overwhelming.

So I’ll be on the lighter side for a few days.

I discovered God Of War today. What a great game. I can’t stop playing. I love to kill the minautors with my double swinging blades (whatever they’re called I don’t care, they fucking KILL). Also rented Donnie Darko and The Score.

I spent my birthday crashed on the couch ripping monsters apart and smoking cigarettes. I’d say it was near perfect.

35

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C’est mon âge depuis minuit. Depuis minuit ma vie à pris un nouveau souffle. De belles possibilités. Une shot au bonheur. On a décidé de se donner une chance. Depuis minuit, je dors mieux.

Faut quand même décorer l’crisse de sapin.