Everyday Swan

The times, they are… yes

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-My husband and I are separating.

And right there a little sadness reached his eyes.

-I want something close to the children's school, so they can walk. And close enough to the house as well.

-So you're looking for a new beginning? Everyone wants a new beginning these days…

-It's more like a continuation you know. I'm not starting over, I'm carrying on.

-So many people now… So many…

-The times have changed, society's values have changed. We've given the best to our children, and will continue to do so. Our family hasn't died, it's evolving.

He's about seventy. Could barely get out of his car without me helping him. He's proud. He build this house by himself twenty five years ago. He really likes the place. Looks out the window with a smile on his face as he describes how the trees in the park look in the summer from here.

-It really looks like it was built a hundred years ago. You did a wonderful job.

-My son helped me. We did everything in accordance with the city's requirements. It had to fit in the historic district to a t.

And still pride upon his face at the mention of his son, how they chose the roofing, how they negotiated with the suppliers.

Unfortunately, it's a fucking dump. The hall reeks of cat piss. The whole apartment is filthy. The floors in the bedrooms are made of vinyl tiles, and at some places not even level. The cupboards in the kitchen are cheaper than what they sell at WalMart's. So cheap, the shelves are drooping and stained… caked. The windowsills are cracked and you can feel the wind through them. It's been empty for three months. No wonder. He's asking at least 150$ too much a month.

I want to tell him:

-Change the flooring and the cupboards, fix the windows, clean this place up and I'll take it.

But I tell him:

-I'll call you back.

I smile, and I leave.

A young couple was waiting their turn outside. I let them in and got in my car. It's the apartment I wanted. I'm not disappointed though. I'm rather proud of myself. It was so real. I have another visit scheduled tomorrow… The hunt is on.

2 x 5

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Well… after a year and a half of blogging I was tagged for the first time! Then again the following day! Since it's for the same thing, I'll do it in both French and English… But I will not reveal ten secrets. No way.

Thank you Quartz and Dave 🙂

 

Et bien, j'ai finalement été taggée, après un an et demi de blogging. Et une deuxième fois le lendemain! Mais puisque c'est le même tag, je le ferai en français et en anglais… Pas dix secrets, y a des limites à la disclosure!

Merci Quartz et Dave 🙂

 

1. I have a tiny hole in my palate, and in school I used to stick needles in it to impress the kids… Untill I developped an infection that nearly cost me my front teeth.

1. J'ai un trou minuscule dans le palais et pour impressionner les kids au primaire je mettais des aiguilles dedans. Jusqu'au jour où ça s'est infecté bien comme il faut et que j'ai failli perdre mes dents d'en avant.

 

2. I'm the least punctual person I know. I'm always late, even for job interviews. And that prompts me to lie and invent stories that people totally buy.

2. Je suis la personne la moins ponctuelle que je connaisse. Je suis toujours en retard, même pour des entrevues. Ce qui me pousse à mentir et inventer des histoires tout à fait plausibles.

 

3. When I was around ten, I never showered. My mother used to let it go and I could go a week without a shower. Once at my dad's he looked at my neck, and shoved me in the bathroom yelling I was a fucking pig, in front of his friends and their kids. It pretty much took care of the problem.

3. Quand j'avais environ dix ans, je ne prennais jamais ma douche. Je pouvais passer une semaine sans me laver. Ma mère ne s'en souçiait pas du tout. Un jour en visite chez mon père, il a vu la crasse dans mon cou. Il m'a sacré une poussée vers la toilette en me criant après et me traitant de truie, devant ses amis et leurs enfants. Ça réglé le problème.

 

4. Throughout primary school and high school I was stealing in stores and reselling the stuff, or offering it as gifts on birthdays or Christmas. Also was stealing in my mom's stash and selling by the joint.

4. Au primaire et au secondaire, je volais dans les grands magasins et revendait le stock ou l'offrait en cadeau aux anniversaires et Noël. Je volais aussi dans le stash à ma mère et revendais des joints à l'unité.

 

5. I was hired to work at the Montreal casino, after going through all the tests and police interview. They called me at home the morning I was supposed to start to tell my I failed the drug test… I had had a puff on a fucking roach a few minutes before they called me to go pee in the cup… Meanwhile I knew a fucking wife beating drunk who was mopping the floors there for 20 bucks and hour. I told the guy on the phone. Didn't really changed his mind about me.

5. J'avais été embauchée par le casino de Montréal, après avoir passé la batterie de tests d'aptitude et médicaux, et l'interview avec la GRC. Ils m'ont appelée à la maison le matin où je devais faire mon premier shift pour m'annoncer que j'avais échoué le test de drogue. J'avais fumé une poff sur un criss de butch de joint quelques minutes avant qu'ils m'appellent pour de dire d'aller pisser dans le pot le lendemain. J'étais frustrée. Je connaissais un ivrogne batteur de femmes qui moppait les planchers à 20 piasses de l'heure dans leur casino. Et je l'ai dit au gars au téléphone. Ça l'a pas impressionné.

 

All done.  

Love-Soeur, je te lance la balle 🙂 

So so so alive

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I don't even remember how I discovered blogs. Really, I have no recollection whatsoever. Only that I started mine very tentatively, a few entries here and there. And well, I guess the fire caught and it became an almost daily thing for me. It was never an obligation to write. I don't sit here wondering what to write, or thinking I should write something. It is true that I write in the negation of the reader. Not denial, never. But when acknowledged, you my readers inspire nothing but love. I must say however that here is not a place created for you, a place where I try to please or entertain you. I come first. That you have decided this place was worth your time, that what you read you can relate to, is for me like and extra blanket on a very cold night.

I didn't even think through the title and the URl. But with time I realize I couldn't have found a more accurate address or blog name. Aspinelesslaugh, taken from Exit music (for a film) by Radiohead is a song that I listened to nonstop in January 2000 when my best friend killed herself. Driving to the funeral I popped OK Computer in the tape player, and from that day, it has haunted me. 

Socrates' citation I had come across while reading about self-knowledge and the illusions we perceive as reality when reflecting upon our responsibilities as individuals. I've always been conscious that there was more to me, to my life, than what I was working so hard to achieve as a person. Being able to deconstruct my own perception of who I am, and deal with whatever I discovered, even if it was to be negative. And yet again, the word negative only applies in the perception of others…

I'm not a whatif kind of person. No whatifs about my past, no whatifs about my future. The past is gone. Not quite buried yet, but dealt with more and more every day. The future… well, the future is made of everything I want to put in it. There is no can't in it either. I've always lived in a way that assured me that there would only be one person to blame for anything I had regrets about. I just can't blame others. I can't. I believe everyone has it in them to make their life better. It may take time, there might be pain, and loss, and hurt. And lessons learned. But at the end of the day, if you have to close your eyes and go to sleep blaming someone else for your woes, then you need to take a closer look at yourself.

And that might hurt more than anything else.

I wrote about crossroads a little over a year ago. I already knew, could express it. But only today can I actually live it. I had all the tools, just needed a little time to figure things out. And so many other posts from my first months, that really were showing me the way. But I was still blind. I just had to go through everything. Had to live this last year here, this way. For weeks now I've been telling the same stories, through different words, sentences, arrangements. And I really feel that this blog would've died with me had I not finally moved on. It's that simple. Life or death. And it wasn't the gun to my head that scared me the most. It was the realization that I was all thought out. That there was nowhere left for me to go but forward. Or die.

I am alive. Alive. I fucking chose to live, and nothing now will change that. Especially not fear. Fuck her. I can even say, right now, this instant, I am happy. Happy. And being scared of saying it, writing it will not stop me. And the dark days ahead I will embrace as warmly as the bright ones. For they will only remind me that I chose life.

Joyeux, merry and all that stuff

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I wish you all a Merry this and that. Sorry no rounds. But I mean it. Enjoy this time with the ones you love and tell them that you love them. And please don't let them drink and drive. Ever. It will be the most sincere proof of love  you can ever give them.

Je vous souhaite un joyeux quelque chose, peu importe la forme que cela prend par chez vous. Je ne ferai pas de tournée de souhaits, mais c'est sincère. Profitez au max de ces moments auprès de ceux que vous aimez… et dites leur que vous les aimez. Et s'il-vous-plaìt, ne les laissez pas conduire s'ils ont bu. Jamais. C'est la plus belle preuve d'amour que vous pourrez leur faire. 

Pump it UP

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This is the perfect tool to get my ass back in shape. Buns of steel and all that crap.

My thighs hurt, my ankles are sore, my knees are on fire… 

Give me another month on that pad and I'll be able to do squats for hours.

Hehe…

oh… that was bad…

Feh!

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Party de noël de compagnie demain… 300 personnes… 150 suits Moores en rut. Une madame avec un kit du tonnerre…

Grosse salle de réception italienne à St-Léonard, souper 78 services, buffet en entrée, buffet en entremets, buffet de fin de soirée, fontaine de chocolat… wiiiiii. Eurk. (N'oublions pas l'orchestre disco revival, le continental, le train, et les moves à la John Travolta) J'ai déja mal au coeur.

Bonsoir! Salut, ça va? Allo! Comme si ça faisait pas 24 heures qu'on s'était vus, mais plutôt 5 ans. Fait chier (en fait y a pas grand chose qui me fait pas chier cette semaine, genre un propriétaire qui met un logement à louer et qui ne retourne pas ses appels, genre faire le crisse de mail Champlain au complet pour finalement RIEN trouver, genre vouloir me faire des toasts pour souper pour me rendre compte qui a plus de pain)

Positif: Pouvoir magasiner dans les boutiques normales, essayer des vêtements, et qu'ils me fassent! Ça fait un an que je ne porte plus de housse à tank à eau chaude, et j'éprouve toujours autant de surprise et de plaisir à constater que le extra large, c'est trop grand, pas trop petit.

Très positif: Trouvé un look super, 50's, du veston aux shoes, pas cher. Même les madames qui magasinaient me complimentaient. Je l'prend, merci beaucoup. Jamais eu autant de compliements. Mets ça dans le sac avec ma facture svp.

Poche: Je manque le Marathon des Crottés. Je vous souhaite une bonne soirée, et je vais venir faire un tour en revenant, si j'ai pas trop bu de vodka canneberge dilués (c'est bar open…)

 

Nausée autosport

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J'arrive du Monster Spectacular… J'ai même pas de mots… Saut en skidoo, cascades, des gars qui se tiennent sur la tête sur leur moto, du tir de tracteur. Du. Tir. De. Tracteur. Ciboire. Et bien sûr, bien sûr, les Monster Trucks.

50623 personnes. Dont certaines (plusieurs) ont fait la ligne pour acheter un tshirt à l'effigie de leur truck préféré. On se lève et on applaudit, on encourage, on scande "Jurassic Attack" "Iron Outlaw" "Bounty Hunter"…

J'ai jamais vu autant de chandails East Coast Chopper dans un même endroit…

On peut pas fumer nulle part dans le stade. C'est beaucoup trop dérageant. Ça se mélange mal avec tout ce monoxyde de carbone. On voyait à peine la toile en fin de soirée… Comme après Pink Floyd en 88. Mais ça sentait crissement moins bon. J'ai mal à tête. Y avait un tracteur avec 6 moteurs dessus. 11000 horsepower. Babu était ben impressionné. 

Mon fils vient d'aller se coucher. Un an de plus. J'espère qu'il va me demander du cash l'année prochaine. 

 

I’m spiked

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Tonight I watched TV for 4 hours straight. Something I haven't done in months. Maybe even a year. Two CSI's (I got Spike tv for me, I love that channel. I know, I know! I get UFC whenever I feel like it, isn't that great?) The simpsons, South Park then I flipped between the news and Criss Angel Mindfreak. CSI rules, period. Grissom is God. Criss Angel? I can't separate his act from David Blaines stuff. And his look is just ridiculous.

I'm ashamed to say this, but I've finished only two books of the 12 or so that I've started since this summer. I used to read two or three a week. Today I read during my break at work. And while eating lunch.

Today I had KFC for lunch and felt like shit for hours. But I enjoyed the food.

Today I left work early drove around my (small) town to look for "For Rent" signs. Then came back home and slept for two hours.

Today I thought, bite marks are ok now.

Today I realized that tomorrow could be like that too. And the next day. And the next.

 

Day whatever

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I won't turn this into a chronicle. But Day 0 and Day 1 had to be identified. Notes to myself not forget.

I have no clue where I'm heading. But it's through the biggest door I've ever seen that I'll be walking out.

For I am.

20 years. Not leaving anything behind. Not closing my eyes. Not avoiding. But

Being.

Day 0. Day 1. Another one is coming up. And it's quite fine.

Weekly offering

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Yes,all to:

L'écume des blogues

Now!!! 

—oOSOo—

I just didn't want to to this tonight. Didn't have the energy. Inspiration is always there though, at the tip of your words.

—oOSOo—

As I think about what I've been writing here since the beginning, the changes, the stories, fictional and not so fictional, I realize that everything was a premise for what is to come. A kind of rain check on the inevitable, a silent yet violent therapy.

I haven't lived my life through my blog, rather, I lived because of it. Or resuscitated. Which ever it is, nothing else could've prepared me better. Will I ever be ready is another question. I guess not. Never.

I'm feeling the physical effects of the extreme emotional stress I've been under and it scares me. That alone should be enough warning. 

Also, denying myself of all the love I need to give and receive has made me a very bitter and angry person, and I don't like to hang around too long in my head these days. I miss that.

Despite what everyone has been telling me, I still cannot convince myself that I deserve, that I am worthy, that I am allowed. To. Anything.

It would be easy to blame. To point fingers. But I refuse to do that. In the process though, I have to fucking stop scourging myself. And just move on. Move the fuck on.

The ground has never been shakier. Yet, I'm willing to make one more step. And another one. And another one.