Forever Tainted

Lets start with the latest first… My father’s fourth child Amanda, who made the choice from the start, not to give me the time of day sent me an email today. It was in response to my email to her that outlined how lonely she’s chosen to make herself by spontaneously deleting me from her facebook (and not even giving me a chance to be her sister to begin with). Here’s what it said,

i never ask you for your opnion in this matter! The only reason i don't want you in my life is the reason with renee i don't want to be hurt like she hurt me... I really don't want to know anyone from dads side or do i need anymore sisters( one is fine)... that why i don't talk to you and thats why i prefer to be by self.. I'm not a negative person and/or a horrible person... i have lots of friends and i'm good going girl.... I really prefer not to talk to you and i don't think that i will ever... Never had you in my life and i really don't need you here now... sorry

Here’s what I had to say back:

Thank you Amanda.

You’ve made me rather certain I don’t want you in my life either. I am not Renee. Your experiences with me are totally different than yours with Renee. Renee and you is your past. With me (and now), you’ve proved yourself to be an unintelligent, narrow-minded, selfish little bitch who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the wall and certainly doesn’t deserve my attention – while Renee has done nothing but shown me love, willingness to build a relationship with me and include me in my nephews’ lives. Renee is a godsend compared to you!

May your son (my nephew- whether you like it or not bitch) grow to be a better person than you are – because God knows you’re nothing more than a dirty little cunt. You’ve fucked your little sister over her entire life by being the evil-spirited, mean person you are – you should’ve had your tubes tied by force before you reached puberty – just my opinion (that you didn’t ask for, but you certainly created).

Enjoy your lonely life, while I enjoy mine full of love from my family (sisters and all) and friends. You need not respond to this. I’m certain nothing you could say will change my mind about what a terrible excuse for a human being you are.

There’s not a lot I can say about that, as one of my good friends Ibti summed it up in a status today saying:

"My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them.”

I have far more important things to talk about… But this is enough for now...

My shoulder sounds like there’s a diaper stuck to it. This afternoon I went to Incendiary to get the Arabic in my mom tribute tattoo touched up. I also introduced Jimmy to my next piece, which is now scheduled for the 3rd of March. The next piece will almost frame my mom’s tribute, draping from the upper portion of my right back/shoulder and then dropping down my arm. It is a floral henna-inspired tribute to my son that I drew, first on paper and then electronically with Illustrator. My least favorite part about getting fresh ink has to be the bandaging. It’s annoying and uncomfortable – though I suppose (like the non-pain of today’s touchup tattooing) it’s another test of the calm and the mind’s strength I’ve found of late.

This evening, Lars and I went back to the shop for a little get together. While Lars had a few drinks with the rest of them, I opted to be the sober driver so instead made way to Timmy’s for tea. As I was leaving with my mint tea, a collective giggle & snicker in the corner proved (once again) that some things never change nor grow. As I walked out the door I took a deep breath and felt a whole-hearted smile grow within me as that short moment was confirmation that I have made some very decent choices in my life about the people I choose to and choose not to surround myself with. With that I will share that if you are a part of my life today, I value you, so thank you.

Yesterday I turned off all my Facebook notifications so I’m not longer notified by email when someone comments on my page, likes a link or even adds me as a ‘friend’. That means I’ll no longer get Facebook on my phone. That also means (I found out rather quickly) a whole lot of freedom & time. I actually had a bit of time to read a book (on Yoga) in the afternoon yesterday! And today, we made time to do something social. It was nice!

There’s a lot changing in our lives right now. Lars and I bought our first shared pets today, Mikky & Malorie the Siamese Fighting Fish. We’re increasingly thinking & talking about making human babies and other things that the future might hold for us. Next year, we intend to buy property – sometime after of course, our April wedding.

Spending an hour a day on myself meditating is opening a whole new world of calm for me. It’s also helping ground me in ways I never knew possible. I feel inspired as I watch what would normally stress me right out roll its way through my entire being with each breath, like a leaf in the wind. I’m finding a true sense of calm and contentment in my life – and that’s all kinds of awesome.

Fuck you.

I’m not angry anymore about that stupid bitch. She’ll get hers, one day.

My brother and his girlfriend (the soon to be parents of Lars and my newest niece or nephew) came by for dinner tonight. Jesse called his father who insisted on talking to me, and then informed me that my aunt Patty has been diagnosed with lung cancer and has been given two years to live.

I’m just learning to deal with the stress with the everyday things like my job and my health for fucks sakes… I’m trying really hard not to make this about me, but fuck is it ever hard. Either I’m just selfish like that, or life really does need to throw me one goddamn lemon after another… But tonight… Tonight I’m making lemonade.

Jesse and Rachel are off buying an Ice Cream cake. I’ve asked them to make sure it says something lovely about the woman we could all live without. We’re going to eat that bitch sister of mine in some nasty way like we ate my grandmother a few weeks back.

And then next weekend, we’ll go show Patty some love over dinner.

My horoscope for 2012 says this year I’ll be hard to deal with. Maybe it has something to do with this year throwing more shit at me than I want to bother with. Or maybe, that’s just the stress still talking.

I finally got a response from the lawyer today. It didn’t come without pulling teeth though. Here’s how the conversation goes:

~*~

“Hello ***,
This is my 4th email to you about the status of my mother’s estate and whether or not Sheila’s refusal has had an effect on the same. There are two other beneficiaries here that are interested in the outcome who are looking to me for an answer. Are we going to get a cheque soon from my mom’s estate?
Martin and I are now questioning whether or not we wish to use you as legal counsel in the future as you are simply ignoring my request for an update. This is not what we look for in a lawyer at all.
As the legal executor of my mom’s estate, you have the right to charge us, but legally we question whether or not you have the right to ignore us when we have been as cooperative as we can about the entire situation.
If you could please update us as soon as possible on the same, we would appreciate the same much. We understand how frustrating it can be to deal with Sheila, but it is still not our fault.
Thanking you in advance for a response,
***”

~*~

“Hi ***, I sincerely apologize for not getting back to you. I spoke with (insert name of nasty former fireman who is fucking my sister and thus thinks it’s his business to get involved) last month and he indicated that Sheila is not prepared to waive a formal accounting of the estate, as they feel I acted inappropriately in selling the trailers to Martin. I have given a lot of thought to how to proceed. A formal application to the court to approve the estate administration may be inevitable given Sheila’s refusal. However, I will be speaking to (insert name of very expensive lawyer) on Monday about this to see if there are any alternatives and will report back to you after our call.
***”

~*~

“Thanks for the reply ***,
Is it safe for me to assume (and to tell others) that we are not going to get any money from my mom's estate, due to Sheila's refusal?”

~*~

“Hi ***, we will try to have the cost of the court application paid out of Sheila’s share, but it is possible that everyone’s share will be reduced.
***”
~*~

That fucking bitch and that dirty fat old bastard that’s fucking her, has issues with the executor selling my father the trailers for a thousand dollars after the appraisal came back and literally said they were worth nothing and should be recycled at the nearest dump. Do they really think they are going to get anywhere with this?

They’re not. Nope.

Just one more way that bitch can piss away any bits of remaining cash from my mom’s estate. It’s not bad enough she’s single-handedly forced us to spends thousands upon thousands of dollars on lawyers we would not otherwise need or want. But now, she has to deplete the little bit that’s less with an illogical refusal to end it all.

Some people truly are a waste of fucking air and should not have been born in the first place. This fucking cunt is the reason abortion should not only be legalized but FORCED upon some people. If my mom knew upon conception what Sheila would turn out to be and to do, there’s not a doubt in my mind she’d have aborted that fetus herself with a fucking hanger had she no other choice.

Sheila Fouchier (and all those dirty bastards who Google her name from time to time, know all you need to know about her is said in the next 7 words) you are a waste of human life.

Having breakfast at Sophie’s Place with my dad and Larry yesterday, I realized that one of my earrings is missing. These are the diamond studs Lars gave me a few weeks before Christmas. They match the tennis bracelet I unwrapped from him on Christmas morning.

When he gave both pieces to me I mentioned that I’d probably lose the earrings and break the bracelet (it being so dainty and all). He told me to wear them and that so long as I get to enjoy them then if they broke or were lost then it is what it is. Yesterday when I realized an earring was missing he reminded me that he could and would find me more shinies.

None of this makes me feel any better. I don’t want more earrings. I want those ones. I found the backing next to my side of the bed but I cannot find the actual stud. I feel as though I’ve looked everywhere and I keep hoping I’ll just roll over in bed and find it in my fingers or something. That’s probably not going to happen. But hell, it’s a good enough reason to go back to bed now.

As I sit on the couch here, I watch out the windows as two Humming Birds fly up and drink from each of the two feeders we have hanging outside each of our two bay windows. I can’t help but think as Lars’ Facebook status said this morning, ’just another morning in paradise.’ If it weren’t for those feeders, the Humming Birds would die, having no natural food source here in the winter and having learned long ago to depend on human assistance so they no longer migrate south. In a way, it’s a Paradise we help build – for us and for those around us. Even the Humming Birds now too lazy to fly away from the cold.

Why do we take so much offence to a person (any person) telling us, “We’re nothing alike you and I.” Is it the underlining insinuation that we can’t understand or empathize with where another person is at emotionally? That’s about all I figure it can be. It’s a conversation that started yesterday online and got my mind ticking and me thinking.

As we drove for what I referred to as a late-night trip (it was 6pm) to Dairy Queen to get an Ice Cream Cake to feed this sweet craving I was having, I mentioned to Lars how little he and I have in common. His response was, “Fuck off! We have a lot in common.”

That’s the way I felt when someone told me the same thing earlier. But really, our differences are what make life as entertaining as it is, so who cares about the rest? We all get to live in the Paradise or Hell we choose to create.

What we really need to figure out is, why do we spend so much time creating little ‘mind-hells’ to dwell in when right here, right now, where the Humming Birds dance in front of my windows, I could be enjoying a little bit of my Paradise?

I woke with a headache this morning, but it made me realize I didn’t have one yesterday. Yesterday was a break from the month-long hurt I’d be enduring. Getting a good night’s sleep seems to be bigger portion of the problem than I thought.

It occurred to me yesterday as my boss spoke about the upcoming year’s events and how much a part of the plans I still was, she had ignored (or not been totally informed by her daughter) of my resignation.

I’m thinking that’s exactly what I needed.

I don’t want to quit my job. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. I just need to learn to handle the stress better.

She’s not the first person to blatantly ignore me when I’m insisting on things that perhaps aren’t in my best interest. My mother-in-law ignored me when I told her I don’t want more babies. I thought it was ridiculously funny then and now, I see that I was maybe wrong.

The month-long headache I’ve endured is a migraine. There’s no increased pressure in my eyes, nothing else to explain it. It’s most-likely stress induced and appears to be the cause of my spontaneous blurred vision. Since birth control is known to increase migraine symptoms, I’ve been taken off the pill. My sleeping pill prescription has been renewed and I’ve been warned to take it for up to 5 or 6 nights in a row to get into a good sleeping pattern and then to leave it be as it’s a highly addictive drug.

The doctor offered me a stress leave note and I told him it wasn’t necessary. I won’t be that person and we’ve kind of moved beyond that now anyway. It sure wasn’t hard to have him offer though – he couldn’t do much to diagnose stress so I was pretty much offered a free ticket to E.I. based on my word. I can’t help but wonder if it being so easy is a huge part of the reason so many people in this society are given free tickets. It’s a little food for thought, that is…

Anyway, instead of a free ticket to vacation supported by Unemployment Insurance he offered me a counselor’s name and suggested if I could afford it I went ahead and made an appointment or two. He also asked me to read two books, Full Catastrophe Living, and Feeling Good. Full Catastrophe Living is meant to guide you through how to deal with and manage stress better and Feeling Good is meant to enhance your cognitive abilities to deal with negative emotions. I’ve bought Full Catastrophe Living for my iPad, and intend to start reading it tonight. It cannot hurt at this point. Once done, I’ll find the other and read it too. Can’t help but like a doctor who prescribes reading!

Instead of spending a few hundred dollars a visit to a counselor, I think I’ll spend a hundred or so dollars a month on Yoga. I’ll stop eating all the crap I’ve been eating of late and I’ll start spending time in my gym again. And I’ll start treating myself better in general, too! (Even if that means I have to say no to others every now and then). All of these things can only help me feel better. And just knowing I’ve made these choices, is already a great start.

My head still hurts… but at least I know I’ll sleep tonight.

It’s that feeling you get when your brain takes over and says you need to let go of something you love. I felt it when I left the UAE; left my son, 4 years ago. I feel it now, as I explained (as best I could without turning into a blubbering idiot) to my boss that I was resigning.

The night before last I lay in bed tossing and turning so thoroughly upset over the day’s professional events, I realized I couldn’t spend another night without sleep because of this stress. I got up and sent off a thoughtless email asking for a demotion. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for other people,’ was the gist of it, though I admittedly rambled on about other responsibilities that aren’t near the stressors that this one has been lately.

“I want to serve drinks,” I stated today. I know it’s not really true and said so soon after. I could never be happy with such a job. I need to think, and face mental challenges. If only my emotions could grow with the same gust.

I realized while exhausted yesterday and as I woke this morning, a demotion just isn’t feasible – for the company or for me. So instead, I quit. And my heart is sincerely broken and I so wish there was another way. I’ve tried over the last few months to find a way to better manage, better deal with the stress I am faced with. I have thought about yoga and excessive exercise, and I’ve considered counseling. None of them have stuck, and the stress is now adversely affecting my health and life in general. There’s a problem when you can’t enjoy fucking the one you love, let alone fall asleep because frustrated thoughts of work are getting in the way.

I feel like crap. I feel like I’m taking the pansy’s way out. Once again I’m not strong enough to face life, so instead I’m running away. And this time, I’m letting people down. Just like leaving let my son down. I know they don’t want me to go. I know it is a disadvantage for them for the moment, even if they will be fine without me. I love them. I love my job. And I love my company. I certainly don’t want to bring any negativity or bad their way.

My heart hurts. But I need a nights' rest. I intend to start the New Year on a positive note and I have a few days to get into that frame of mind!

People like you are able to tell me things about me that I don’t know, thanks to this crappy memory of mine. In fact, most of my childhood friends are. The ones who I still communicate with casually on facebook or elsewhere all seem to remember things we did together that I don’t recall in the faintest. I wish so many of us didn’t live so far apart these days… I’d love to catch up, be reminded of the things we got into. Perhaps it’d help explain why few of people I view as friends from way back then, seem so contently distant today? Or… maybe that’s just what grown ups do; get busy with life.

At 7:27am my son gave me a missed call this morning. I called him back right away and he answered. He sounded miserable. The most I got out of him was a ‘fine’. When I asked him why he seemed so down, he said he was tired and when he told me he loved me, he mumbled so that his words were almost inaudible. It would have been 7:27pm his time, so I suppose him being tired makes sense.

Trish explained that she’s seen the same thing with her young daughter as she talks to her dad on the phone. She’ll sound like dooms approaching, then hangs up and skips away merrily. I’m glad she shared this, as it makes me feel a little more like everything is as it should be and everything will turn out just how it’s meant to be – and I know in the end that will bring my baby boy to me. He wasn’t miserable to talk to me, just doing what a kid does on the phone. I just need to be patient is all.

As Lars mentioned earlier, it was lovely to hear his voice anyway. His dad has promised to send me photos by email soon too. I can’t wait.

My father left this morning for Ontario again. He’s gone for 7 – 10 days (with luck). On the 17th, Lars and I have the ‘Something like Christmas Dinner’ with Lars family in Langley and from there, I’m off to Squamish for a week of work – coming home just in time for Christmas. Lars will be coming with me to Squamish, if my dad’s back by then.

We’ve been having lots of fun getting ready for Christmas around here. The tree is up (and lopsided the way I like it), and there are gifts under it, in the closet and then others hiding from each of us in places unknown. Though with Lars giving me diamonds last week, I can’t imagine what in the world there still is hiding…

It’ll be a busy little while around here. In the meantime, I really need all of you who reached out to me after that last entry to know that I appreciate you. Thank you. Your kind words really did do me some good – they did matter. <3

I find myself browsing the UAE classifieds looking for potential positions and feel my eyes swell up with tears, my throat tighten and my stomach turn itself inside out until there’s a hollow tugging pull in all directions. I am terrified of that place. I’m terrified of what it once made me and has the potential to make me again. I’m terrified of how dangerous it really is, with its ass backwards laws and consequences and unexplained actions. I half fear that customs will grab me at the airport as I enter for some unknown, unseen crime I’ve committed (or even just been accused of committing) and been charged with in absence, without ever being made aware of it.

I’m stuck between a rock and a real hard place right now.

It’s literally been months since I’ve spoken to my son. No one ever answers any of the telephone numbers I have for him and his father is useless at encouraging him to call me. After a night of dreaming about my baby boy being in my arms again, I woke this morning knowing I’ve about had enough of this.

Sometimes I curse my own morals and the fact that I couldn’t, wouldn’t and didn’t kidnap him and somehow bring him home with me.

I called Dubai Police. It took four or five different telephone numbers I’d found online before I finally found one that didn’t just ring and ring. The man who answered was kind and gentle, but about as useless as I recall the majority of the UAE population to be. He told me to contact the UAE Embassy in Ottawa as they should help me. I explained I have tried to contact the UAE Embassy in Canada multiple times in the past for various reasons and I am never able to get through (as like most government offices in UAE, no one answers their Embassy phone here, either). He asked me to hold then came back with a local Dubai telephone number for me. After making me take it down, he explained it was the Canadian Consulate’s number in Dubai. They should help me. Of course, I’d have to wait until their tomorrow morning, or our current evening, to get an answer.

So I called the Canadian Consulate this evening. The man who answered the phone spoke with a thick Arabic accent and was so rude I called him out on it. He transferred me to a kind lady, who again couldn’t help me at all. Apparently, the only way I can get the UAE authorities to look into this, is to go back to the UAE myself and file a complaint with Dubai Courts. The only other possible option I have is to somehow give someone who is there, who is willing and able to help me fight for this, power or attorney. Of course, to give power or attorney to someone there, I have to do it in the UAE Embassy in Ottawa – or go to the UAE again.

Dealing with this country is spinning round and round, as fast as you can, in place. You don’t get anywhere and every now and then you find yourself so fucking dizzy you are left with a combination of severe pain and nausea.

So for now, I think I’m going to tuck myself into bed where I’ll cry myself to sleep. I’ll wake up tomorrow and hope being this far from my baby is less hard on me, than it is every other day. And I know it won’t be. So I’ll hope that the days will pass quickly and soon he’ll be old enough to come to me on his own, that he chooses to, and that when he does, he forgives me the choices I’d had to make that have kept us apart for so long.

I got a lot more done today than I thought I would. I woke early, as I often do these days. I jumped on the treadmill hoping to sweat this cold out of me. I took a shower and ran out the door with Lars to pick up tickets for tomorrow nights’ show, and get to Incendiary Tattoos, to get his tattoo started. Today was his turn to be tortured, and apparently it was my day to be spoiled.

As Jim worked on getting the sketch of Lars’ burning man just right, Lars handed me an unexpected present with a card. I opened a pair of beautiful diamond earrings. His reasoning was that he’d thought my ear piercing had closed over it being so long since I’d worn earrings – so Bubbles could prick me right there and I could wear these beautiful studs home. My ears hadn’t healed over. I didn’t need to get my ears re-pierced. Instead, I opted to get my labret re-pierced.

In 2002 or 2003 (I don’t remember which now), I had both my tongue and my labret pieced while in Belgrade Serbia. I was over charged and it probably hurt a lot more than I remember. I was pretty drunk that trip. Zorana’s grandfather encouraged early morning shots of homemade absinthe to combat the freezing temperatures. Who was I to argue? Mind you, the man also advised us to wear socks in the shower for the same reason. I didn’t comply with that one.

Anyway, a late evening, early morning dip in the Arabian Gulf induced by depression and a potentially-lethal combination of prescription drugs and alcohol resulted in me removing all my piercings, including my belly ring. By the time I sobered up the next day, each of the piercings were either closed over or too painful (most-likely more due to the hangover than actual pain) to bother putting them back in.

I didn’t think I’d ever get the labret done again. But here it is. Lars has been drawing this tattoo of a man burning at the stake, symbolizing his tortured soul, (he’s so utterly perfect, some nasty has to fit in somewhere, no?) since he was a teenager it seems. And now, he has that too!

And I’m still sick & dying.

By the time I got to work today, I felt like I could pass out. I got everything I needed done (and more). I’m proud of myself for this one, as I doubted my own abilities from the start. Anyway, it’s past my bedtime now and I shouldn’t be pushing myself still. We have another long day tomorrow.

I’m sick but that’s ok. It’s a tired, stuffy-headed, sniffly, sneezy, brain-in-the-clouds, kind of sick and not the I-want-to-puke-while-pulling-my-own-hair-out-and-shedding-my-own-irritated-skin kind of sick. I can live with this sick. And I’d rather be sick now than during Christmas or over the New Year.

And today, I was reminded once again how lucky I am. I was allowed to leave work a few hours early today – not really because I’d asked, but because it worked and I really am not feeling well. My brain already seems to want to turn off before 8pm anyway, so working until this time is harder on me than it used to be. I’ve spent the extra few hours I have cuddling on the couch, and re-baking the dinner buns I tried earlier but managed to kill the yeast with heat so they didn’t rise properly. This time, they rose perfectly. Now I know exactly what I’m bringing to our ‘Something like Christmas dinner on the 17th’. And they are good!

Tomorrow is Lars tattoo day. I cannot wait to tease him as he get stabbed billions of times over and over and over again. I cannot wait to see the finished result and to help him heal. I <3 him. And I love that I’m able to give him this (in a way). Even if he won’t tell me what he got me for Christmas.

Buns are about ready to beep at me. And my eyes are growing weary. I’ll sign off with a big breath of contentment. Life is good. Even when I’m sick.

Lars read that last entry of mine. Then, we opened a few early Christmas presents and celebrated ‘Us’. It occurred to us that we were spending so much time building up for one special day, we were kinda missing the ones in-between. So we celebrated. I left for Squamish knowing there was nothing wrong with us – knowing my everything would be waiting for me when I get home.

The week in Squamish was tough. On the way there, I got lost after dark. Lars' directions were vague, and the Port Mann construction meant they were void. Ramps no longer exist and the signs aren’t what they used to be. I fell into a raging fit of absolute hysteria. I felt like a little girl, alone, scared and so very vulnerable. I took it out on Lars. He let me. And then, when I calmed down a little, I realized I had my iPad. My iPad showed me my way, and secretly (under my tears and raging anger) I thanked Lars. His instructions may have been ass-backwards and confusing, but his gift is what showed me my way.

I arrived in Squamish shaken up and pissed off. I slept that night feeling like a bag of rattled nerves. It wasn’t the best way to start my week. The week was spent working – training our newbies, concentrating on closing the holes in our training process, and learning to improve myself. I have been working on being a nicer, more positive person as I am far too blunt at times. I’m thankful for having some fantastic guidance in my office. I really enjoyed being there and having an opportunity to learn myself.

When I wasn’t working, training or learning, or sleeping, I found myself concentrating on helping one of my very best friends cope with loss (mourning a little myself for her puppy who suddenly grew a heart too big for his body, and took his last breath in the middle of my visit). It’s all been emotionally exhausting.

I came home to find my gym almost finished. My weights are set up, my treadmill is plugged in, and everything is in place. When Lars was done with that, he rearranged our bedroom, just the way I’d suggested I’d wanted it. He is far too good to me.

I’m happy to be home. I’m happy to know that tonight I will sleep in my own bed with the man I want to wake up with every day for the rest of my life sleeping right beside me.

Lars and I aren’t at each other’s throats… but we’re nor at each other’s hearts either these days. We’re lukewarm, at best. Today while we were out shopping I snapped at him – I was on the verge of making one of those public scenes I hate so very much (and should probably be very thankful that he didn’t let it escalate but instead just stayed quiet). He was busy admiring the Dyson fans and I wanted his opinion on hangers (or maybe I was indirectly asking if I should bother buying them for myself, as he might just be as observant to realize they were something I really needed and want and may already be waiting under the tree for me?) The shopping trip wasn’t about him or me. I was going out to pick up gifts for the people in Squamish so they’ll be ready to go with me tomorrow.

I wasn’t looking at things for us (I’m pretty sure we’ve both already been spoiled for Christmas). I restrained myself from looking at things I really wanted. I felt annoyed and betrayed that he spent so much time on his own interests (like I didn’t notice the movie he had hinted he’d like to find under the tree at the store just before) – even if it does feel like it was just a few minutes looking at one fan to him, it felt like all day for me, waiting by those stupid hangers for a response. It’s not really the time of year for us to be thinking about ‘me’ at all and I would have normally just bought them for myself without blinking, but I don’t dare now, as it’s Christmas time and just maybe they’ve already been purchased. And now, we should be looking out for others. Today, Lars and my trip was meant to be about others… But it’s more than that…

I know how hypocritical this may sound. But I wasn't dwelling on, investigating or trying to spend any time on the stupid hangers - I just happened to notice something I think we need and didn't know if I should purchase them or if they've already been purchased for me. Lars was looking and learning about things for him. Earlier, I'd found lost him in the damn movie store as he was looking at (and eventually hinting at) movies he was interested in.

Our relationship feels dry right now. It has for a few days now. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s been longer than that and I’ve just pushed it under the carpets. I love him. I know he loves me. And our chances are higher than most who run off and get married these days, as it’s real…. But is this the dry, uninterested, taking-each-other for granted place couples find themselves in when they are so comfortable it doesn’t matter? He doesn’t make himself ‘pretty’ for me these days. I try to keep myself pretty for him. Maybe he doesn’t see it anymore? We aren’t as intimate as I want to be… I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the time of year. Last year, this time, Lars and I almost broke…

Perhaps I just need to wait and see… In the meantime, it’s important I recognize and those around me (Lars) realize… I’m just not feeling it right now.

I’m leaving for Squamish tomorrow. I will miss you and I hope when I come home, things feel a whole lot better (for us both – as I’m sure if I’m feeling something’s off, so are you!).

It translates to:

my mother my heart
every sun must rise and set
(her signature)
July 23, 1954 – July 23, 2011

It hurt a fuck of a lot. But Lars let me squeeze his hand throughout – teasing me a little along the way. I smiled a whole lot too – being half naked in a public place was weird for me!

He’s scheduled for the 30th of November to have his sleeve done. While my little tattoo there took around 2 hours, what he has designed is estimated at 20 hours. I’ll only be able to pick on him for part of it, as I work late on the 30th.

I have mixed feelings about the way mine turned out. Jim is a very talented artist, but I feel the Arabic writing needs some work. In my eyes, it looks a little like an unlearned hand has written it – which is only natural as Jim of course, does not speak or write Arabic. I don’t think that he’ll have a problem thickening up the lines a bit. But I need time to heal first. He touched up the superiority stamp on my wrist and that looks a thousand times better than it did when dickhead finished it. Lars will have his touched up too by Jim.

We’ve had company all weekend, not a lot of time to rest or spend together. My father’s fucked his back up pretty bad and hasn’t gotten out of bed for a few days now. Pretty soon here, we’ll have to have the paramedics come round and get him, if the pain doesn’t let up. Lars has been tending to the birds, and I’ve been on alert – running up the stairs to help every time he screams out, or thumps loudly. I had to put the painkillers in his mouth and hold his drink up while he drank and swallowed them today. I’ve never had to tend to him like this before. Between the oddness of the situation, and my sincere fear for his pain, I shook as I assisted him in drinking and ended up pouring liquid all down his front – that he insisted I leave alone, even though he can’t move well enough to wipe himself up even.

I’m worried about him. Only once do I ever recall he’s been like this before in Dubai. He spent 3 or 4 days in bed and I remember hearing his screams as he tried to move. I hope he’s better soon.

Lars has come back from the pens. We’ve cleaned the kitchen and now we’re about to cuddle up with a drink and watch some crappy TV, play some video games. I suppose this is all for now.

Occupy Me… Misery Welcomes Company

I really didn’t want to get into this, but since I was so explicitly asked about it… here goes:

If an entire class of kindergarten students start screaming and yelling; one that he’s thirsty, another that she’s hungry, third that he needs to go to the bathroom, a fourth that she’s being sexually or otherwise assaulted at home, a fifth that his dad, the soul provider for the family just died of cancer and the insurance company didn’t give mommy the money they were promised so mommy cries all the time, one that he’s eaten so much he wants to vomit, another that the class bully won’t stop picking on him, the bully screaming that he’s hungry and doesn’t have lunch, a few who just scream to join the yelling masses, while others scream other woe-worthy situations, how the hell are any of these voices going to be heard? How are these problems going to be fixed? Does the teacher centre in on one and say allow the hungry child to eat? Will the others screaming accept that one problem was sorted while the rest were left on hold to deal with it? History proves not. That’s a recipe for complete chaos. Shall the teacher then walk out and hand the power over to the kids to sort out for them selves? As it seems to me, that’s about the only possible solution for that teacher to find any sanity – leaving the masses in complete anarchy.

The Occupy Movement is just that – but on a bigger scale. There are a LOT of injustices in our society. But screaming about them all at once is not going to do a damn thing, especially when so many things are contradictions in themselves, so many others just illogical. I read today one person sum up the movement as:

“A bunch of deadbeats who racked up tens of thousands in college loans in useless majors (“Art History”, “World Religions”, “Women’s Studies”) and are now whining because they can’t find jobs in their degree fields and the “evil banks” are demanding payment.”

Seems to me, from some of the initial interviews I saw from Wall Street Occupants, that this is EXACTLY how it all started. And I won’t support that at all.

Now, the Occupy Movement screams about the 1% - when there is no FACTUAL evidence that the 1% even exists: Poll: Are you part of the 99%?



I don’t support fiction- especially when it’s presented as fact.

The Occupy Movement screams about unfair taxes and big business, yet I know for a fact in the most recent British Columbia HST votes, many of the people supporting the Occupy Movement here, also voted to keep the higher taxes for the individual person (which lowered tax for big business), the HST, over reverting back to the lesser taxed public (higher taxed big business) GST & PST system we once had. I do not support to hypocrisy that seethes from this.

Combine that which I don’t support with the sheer numbers of people supporting this movement who continue to make complete asses of themselves:



…and you have a recipe for a moment I will never stand behind; just like I wouldn’t support a classroom of screaming children making countless demands.

There’s no doubt in my mind our society needs changes – many of them. I don’t believe these are the same changes as the ones Wall Street, or even the same changes that Ontario needs. Squishing all of our collective problems together, under one “Occupy’ front, simply reduces all necessary change as insignificant – ultimately unheard and unresolved.

It’s a bunch of wasted energy. Period. I don’t want to be a part of it. I don’t want to see it (camped in our parks, on our streets, or even on the news). I don’t want to add to the energy this movement is, in my honest opinion, wasting. I’ll fight my battles, and I’ll pick them wisely. This isn’t one of them that’s worth my time. I’ll use my energy to fight for causes I know I can win or at least help make change with; I'll keep earning charity for associations I can give to, speaking about the injustices I can clearly see and to the people I know can make a difference based on them - and I'll ask those who agree with me to support me along the way.

You fight your battles, whatever they may be, and I’ll respect that. In the meantime, I’ll share that I believe, if you want change you need to be change. You need to make it happen with a clear vision, one clearly definable goal at a time. Otherwise, you’re just a bunch of people celebrating your different grievances about life in general. And to me that reiterates the old saying that, misery welcomes company.