It's the second month of the year and I think it's a good time to take a moment and see some progress with my resolutions and life.
So let's get the easiest topic out first.
Work
My days basically start with me waking up at 5:45, snoozing in until 6:28, drag my ass to the bathroom, brush teeth, wash face and drag myself back to room to get dressed and be out in the 7th circle of Hell cold morning to wait for my first bus at 7:02. (Though we had warmer days, it's been about 2 weeks of epic minuses making having 2 scarves over my face and my tuque down to my eyebrows, looking like a gangster - and worse of all - I foken love the looks!) By 8 am I am in the office where I have a good 30 mins to settle down, make tea and order my day's work if I have piles of paper. Most of the month is a rather smooth ride composed of me playing phone/faxing yakuza hunting down clients who haven't sent us meter reads since the last century and inquiring about the love story between them and their copier machines. Then around the 12th, my team mate sends out requests and the juice flows in and I have an express ticket to Heaven! I love entering data! It's ... how to say it ... very routine like, linear ... open email, open pdf, open the right window, get the first codes in, open second window, enter the read, mark as okay, move to the next. But while my fingers automatically do these, another part of my mind wanders far off in spiritual meditation or creative blooms and I find myself a thousand miles away in new stories or landscapes. Near the end of the month, people go crazy and I am being invited to the party.
I prepare invoices, I print them out. I also handle small credits (get request, send it off for approval at Toronto head office, get signed copy back, input it in Great Plains). I make piles and piles and piles of invoices. Me and my team mate we also try to gather the max reads before the month's end - which means I get to be social on the phone and press some lazy ones to get movin'! And then the last day of the month, we become an undeclared crazy house. Everyone freaks out, loose their heads, panic, abuse the servers, try to do one million things at the same time, which slows down our server, making us even more edgier. Just yesterday was such a day and we stayed at the office until 7:23 (normally I leave at 5) to wrap up everything up and post everything so that it becomes available for the Finance department in Head Office.
The next day (like today) I get my katana out and I slice and dice piles of invoices. I basically verify the client's code and see if they only have one or more invoices. If it' only one I shift them to a pile which I will fold with the folding machine and put them in envelopes and stamp them and mail them out. This usually lasts 2-3 days. Then it get's back to playing social on the phone and time goes until the 12th and then it's a circle in motion, but stuff always come up in between!
I am happy though. I get to better my customer care relationship and speak and help them out. I gain confidence in myself, in my skills and abilities. I also am growing more accustomed to the way the software works, the way the team works, the way the work works.
Health
I significantly improved on this too! First time ever! I started gradually, second week, I think, of January by including baby carrots and spinach leaves in my diet. Of course at first I didn't cut down the meat and salami, but at least I added some vegetable! Filo sheets became my best friends! Not that I prepared them the way most websites will give you recipes and indications to. I will soon share my own technique and recipes and tips. I also included frozen beans and carrots to my rice and tried to lower the amount of meats/salami overall.
This week that is ending was the best though! I managed a whole week without meat and I have never felt this full of energy and light and aware. I mainly had wraps with eggs, spinach leaves, feta cheese, rice with veggies, spinach and orange slices, again Filo sheets with feta and spinach leaves and I started a new trend at the office! Two weeks after I started the baby carrot as a crunchy side dish - 2 young other women followed and tried it out! One recipe I especially liked this week was spaghetti with spinach leaves, feta (both cheese and the water in which I un-salt them) with a trail of pineapple sauce and canned mushrooms I boiled and sauté-ed a little. I never thought a bag of spinach leaves would go by so fast! By Wednesday I was out! I also have a yogurt as a dessert for the sweet, which cuts my need for bad sugar like candy or cake or artificial fattening calorific treats. Not that I totally cut that out of my life! I still have a few Fibre1 caramel bars for mornings where I need a little extra energy source. But I try to be more aware and conscious of my choices, not giving into bad sugars too easily. (I did indulge myself with Two Bites Cinnamon Rolls this morning because I stayed at the office until 7 last night and I wanted to treat myself a little.)
It's incredible when I compare myself how light I feel after a good healthy veggie based meal (rice + spinach leaves + baby carrots and a bit of cheese) versus a fully meat based one (turned egg + salami + cheese + pickle). I sleep better, I dream better (if I go to bed early too, it helps, thus why I have cut my social actives on the net to 3 hours a day (counting from when I get home at a little after 6pm until 9pm, giving me a hour to fully relax and de-connect from the day's tiredness and by 10 I am really ready to drift into slumber and dream land. I would recommend this actually. Half an hour or an hour to just listen to music in your bed, meditate, let thoughts out, pray, do what ever to build a strong yet smooth bridge between you hectic day and your peaceful night.
As for the physical exercise part, I have bought a yoga mat and 2 weights of 8 pounds each but I still need to set up a work out schedule. And as soon as the afternoons will be less dark - I am thinking March, April - I will subscribe to a gym near me and go there maybe 2 days a week + week ends to get toned and fit for the summer.
Personal Life
Couldn't be happier! I am officially booked since last week I think ... Monday or Tuesday (I swear Time flies by so fast I loose track of what happened when!) ... I was saying, I am booked at Burning Monk Tattoo Shop here in Montreal with Jeff (the artist I wanted the most from that shop) to get my first tattoo on the date I wanted the most! February the 9th 2013. (Accordingly to my Facebook - it happened January the 24th and I quote myself : "Emilia updated her status. "omfg I'm so fucking happy!!! I will get fucking tattooed by Jeff at Burning monk tattoo on Feb 9 !! Ooooh can I just like explode ??!! thank you God!! now if this current state is not happiness, it's free crack cocaine!!"
Can you feel the happiness ? Just thinking about it makes my heart flutter and I get tingly fingertips!
At first, I wanted a french man named Pierre from Tattoomania (I think), but he was overbooked when I sent him the email in December. He recommended me to a colleague but that one never answered me. So I looked around, found another shop (Adrénaline Tattoo) but I didn't felt a special connection with any of the peeps in there through their art, so I googled some more and through a forum post I found the Burning Monk and it was love at first sight! The shop is zen themed like a Buddhist temple and after going through each artist's gallery, I set my heart on Jeff whose works pleased me the most. And it just makes perfect sense for me! Burning = fire, which is my astrological element. Monk representing what I do consider myself sometimes (I wanted to be a Nun as kid and a monk in my teenage years); it's just perfect! And like I said - I got the ultimate luck and privilege to have the artist i just naturally feel comfortable to ink me on the day that is significantly important for me, in relation to the tattoo I am getting. The pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly!
I haven't done my hair yet as I planned but at least I sort of found the definitive look I like. And most importantly, I bleached out some of the black so I don't feel as depressive and "not me" as I did some weeks ago. Black was not my brightest idea let's say.
"It's not great shakes, but you gotta start with baby shakes!" ~ Christina in The Perfect Storm.
Works perfectly fine and it works fine because great shakes are bound, most of the time, to lead you to exhaustion and defeat.
Art and Crafts & Creativity
Not much as you can see by the lack of uploads in my gallery but, I have no time or no energy. I do try to do a little on the week ends and I do cheat and open a Word file on my office computer to jog down random bits of poetry when inspired. I also started 2 random stories on blackberry via my Facebook but I need to order them and revise and get them decent before sharing and I still am not sure where I am going. (Well, maybe I know but - I am still sort of figuring things out ;) )
Also working on my next poster illustration which I am not even sure will come out for the right date! And I have 2 more I need to upload on the 9th since they were originally done in relation to that date. Good thing my appointment is at 12:30 - i have just enough time to do that ;)
For the summer though, I would like to set up a small bookmarks project with beads and ribbons and my illustrations. We will see how things will go.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Friday, February 01, 2013
Sunday, November 25, 2012
It feels like
It feels like suddenly liking and wanting a dish one never took any special interest in before, a dish one knows to be dangerous, because of serious allergies, and yet, this one time, one feels uncontrollably driven to take a bite, or two, or to finish the plate, even if it means a possible death after the meal.
And it feels odd and it's scary because the dish is now all of a sudden very real in front of you, appetizing, with exotic and yet familiar scent, taunting and burning your hunger.
It was easier before when the dishes I craved for were, and still are, not in my own dimension.
And it feels odd and it's scary because the dish is now all of a sudden very real in front of you, appetizing, with exotic and yet familiar scent, taunting and burning your hunger.
It was easier before when the dishes I craved for were, and still are, not in my own dimension.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
I want to love Whom I want to love
And I am actually doing it.
I have decided that I wouldn't give the slightest fuck to people disagreeing with how I feel about a certain man. This is My Heart and My Life. If my heart made this choice, I fill follow the path it is tracing for me and enjoy every step of the way!
Friday, November 02, 2012
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
About the randomness of songs
I was working on the second part of my story today, working the cottage scene, making myself a tea and kept having Trans Siberian Orchestra's A Final Dream's lyrics in my mind "Lay your head down, and sleep on my shoulder" http://www.elyrics.net/read/t/trans,,Siberian-orchestra-lyrics/a-final-dream-lyrics.html
A couple hours later - Tom tweets his song of the day : Tom Hiddleston @twhiddleston
A couple hours later - Tom tweets his song of the day : Tom Hiddleston
Song of the Day: "Let's Stay Together", by Al Green. Mmm-hmm.
How coincidental.
Love the randomness of life.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Potential Idea for Morvan's ending
I had this scene in my head a couple months back - I shared it with Cyndie.
My character is sitting on the bathtub's edge, she is bleeding. She just came out of the shower, but the water still runs. Her third son - Norman - storms in, not knowing his mother was there; he is shocked seeing her like that and is worried by the blood. Norman throws a towel on her shoulders and wraps her. She lets him do.He sits on the floor to face her, looking up at her.
At first he thinks she is having a miscarriage - even if the family hadn't planned new kids. (Sybille, 19, Philippe 17, Norman 15)
She whispers that it's not a miscarriage. Her tubes were ligated after Norman's birth.
Norman is shocked - he doesn't want to admit the other alternative. Henri is not aware of it yet. Although Ellie had been randomly bleeding on and off, it's neither her menopause nor last remaining cycles and she had managed to hide it from her husband. They have a pact between them, that Henri is forbidden to die out in the sea - which is his field - and she feels odd that she is the one ready to die, here in her field, home by her own femininity. Norman swears to keep the secret until she has confirmation by her doctor.
Last few chapters : she is in the hospital, dies.
The grieving, the mourning. Her ghost remains on earth to watch over her family for 3 months - until things settle down.
Philippe's daughter - by his Japanese wife - can see Ellie's soul / ghost. She informs the family, but does not disturb the process of life and doesn't play messenger between Ellie and her family. They need to open their hearts to her in order to hear her last recommendations.
Ellie's last actions as a ghost.
Assist Sybille and her fiancé Jacques on their own walk on the Camino de Santiago, since she always wanted to do it herself.
Give confidence to Philippe to be a theatre actor.
Save Henri from a rogue wave that would have killed him.
"Remember your promise to me. You cannot die in the sea. She won't have my man."
All the family members will see her one last time during the day they most need her.
My character is sitting on the bathtub's edge, she is bleeding. She just came out of the shower, but the water still runs. Her third son - Norman - storms in, not knowing his mother was there; he is shocked seeing her like that and is worried by the blood. Norman throws a towel on her shoulders and wraps her. She lets him do.He sits on the floor to face her, looking up at her.
At first he thinks she is having a miscarriage - even if the family hadn't planned new kids. (Sybille, 19, Philippe 17, Norman 15)
She whispers that it's not a miscarriage. Her tubes were ligated after Norman's birth.
Norman is shocked - he doesn't want to admit the other alternative. Henri is not aware of it yet. Although Ellie had been randomly bleeding on and off, it's neither her menopause nor last remaining cycles and she had managed to hide it from her husband. They have a pact between them, that Henri is forbidden to die out in the sea - which is his field - and she feels odd that she is the one ready to die, here in her field, home by her own femininity. Norman swears to keep the secret until she has confirmation by her doctor.
Last few chapters : she is in the hospital, dies.
The grieving, the mourning. Her ghost remains on earth to watch over her family for 3 months - until things settle down.
Philippe's daughter - by his Japanese wife - can see Ellie's soul / ghost. She informs the family, but does not disturb the process of life and doesn't play messenger between Ellie and her family. They need to open their hearts to her in order to hear her last recommendations.
Ellie's last actions as a ghost.
Assist Sybille and her fiancé Jacques on their own walk on the Camino de Santiago, since she always wanted to do it herself.
Give confidence to Philippe to be a theatre actor.
Save Henri from a rogue wave that would have killed him.
"Remember your promise to me. You cannot die in the sea. She won't have my man."
All the family members will see her one last time during the day they most need her.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Loki'd - part 2
So in fact I did go to bed after I finished the blog, which was around something past4 am. Among the dreams I had, and I curse my subconscious for this, I was making a fancy cake with Thor ( ?? ) He was wearing a simple grey long sleeved shirt, belt and jeans. We were kneeling in front of each other on the kitchen's floor working out to make some white very transparent but very viscous material into a circular mold for the cake, we were laughing about it. I knew it was highly sweet, like concentrated sugar, and sort of gooey when I put a hand in it, but I was trying to contain it in the mold in which I needed it for the cake.
He made a comment or something because I found it funny and started to laugh it out. The next thing I remember was me bending over the cake's mold to kiss him on the lips. His lips reminded me of Brad Pitt for some odd reason, but it was really the actor who plays Thor. I couldn't resist looking down at his pants to see if he was hard and if I could notice a bump. And of course he was hard and it was a pretty clear.
In the rest of the dream, there was something to do with a huge Twilight Sparkle (MLP-FIM) plush toy, and a bigger Celestia one and a notice from the post that I received a package, which Thor - thank you so much - took from where it was laying and hid it from my mom's eyes (i presume he knew I'd get into trouble). So we were shoving the plush toys under my bed like a dark secret and trying to act normal.
My question this morning - okay this afternoon, since it's 3pm now - Thor is the total opposite of Loki and yet I masculine-ized him in the dream, meaning, gave him his natural attributes, does this mean that I am just ... finally ready now, at age 28 ? versus age 19 when I lost my virginity ? I did it to be like the others, even if I knew that I wasn't that much rushing to get it done. It wasn't peer pressure, more like social pressure. But deep inside, I was not ready. That is what I think today.
In many instances it feels as if I am 8 years .... as if the first 8 years of my life didn't belong to me, to Emilia Ildiko Tokes. In that context, at 19, I was really only 11, which would explain why I jumped into the sex pool like a child not knowing what to expect and what to do with it. I had it done to be socially normal, but personally, it was the biggest error of my life.
I often regretted in the following years. I should have waited. Even if it means 28 years. Or even never! I know the theory of it and I can satisfy myself alone. All i really need is a man to inspire me and boom, voila, I can imagine a thousand stories, and the sensation is as strong if not stronger than in reality.
I think that Loki is somewhat of a realistic image of Rudiger and Sabik, hence, why I so badly and intensely fell for him, and hence why I give him full masculinity. He has Rudiger's hair and eyes, with Sabik's body and sexual power of attraction.
Something a bit off which I remembered this morning which I wanted to discuss in the previous post is the fact that during high school, I created these two characters to help me through my youth. Paul, in his early 30's, black hair, blue eyes, thin, in shape, well built and Philippe, a 17 year old gay teenager who falls in love with Paul and sort of converts him. They were both prostitutes, well, mostly Philippe, but I inserted myself in the story to have Paul at least once.
And I realized recently; he was / still is a tall thin man with black hair and blue eyes. And during all those years while writing that story, I could imagine his dick - in sex scenes with myself or with Philippe - but I never imagined Philippe's. And I cannot explain it to myself, as to why not ? When I was writing the story, we technically were of the same age, or he was a bit older than me, so I had no moral reason to not imagine him. (I mean, i wouldn't imagine a man younger than me naked, because I would just feel dirty about it).
I once wrote a gay erotic story, and the oldest man in the story, the Master, was also a tall thin black haired man with blue eyes.
It's to the point where I ask myself if this is just Rudiger's legacy or if it goes a bit deeper and further in my past ?
The blonds were a revenge on Rudiger for breaking my hart. He had black hair with blue eyes and was not real, so to take revenge, I started loving blonds, and the more I practiced, the easier it became with years, almost to the point where blonds were the top and the dark haired came in second place.
Loki pulverized my self defense systems! His looks just reminded me that my original type of men were like him. (After all, Flynn Ryder and Adam Jensen have both brown hair and I find them very cute both; the first as a brother and the second as and adventures companion).
Over the years, as much as I tried to put it behind me, I never stopped being fascinated by gays, goths, androgynous men and in the perfect combination a mix of all these inside one man.
Run away from your natural attractions and they come back full speed to slap you.
Loki just made me realize that i was lying to myself all these years.
I am able to give masculinity to my type of men because they are the ones I want to be able to give me pleasure and fulfillment. I unconsciously deprive the others to make it easier for me to eventually come back to the first type.
I might have quit on my goth life, but the dark overlords are still and for ever be the type of men I want in my bed. They are just the most efficient to bring my femininity out, and so naturally!
With Sabik and Loki I can imagine myself doing things I would blush and consider impossible or out of my range of acceptance with the blonds. And that alone is a huge discovery and quite interesting : between "acceptable" and "shuddup let's do it" with the passion i can give such actions, there is quite the distance!
This whole thing also made me realize why I am unable to build a real strong and normal relationship with standard men which are accessible to me.
Without facing or accepting it, my subconscious judges them at the speed of a computer processor and knows that they wouldn't be able to inspire me go beyond my boundaries so I am not making much effort to either get them or keep them. I just realized recently that I could do things, outside of my imaginary world, IF i have a man of a specific type to inspire me.
He made a comment or something because I found it funny and started to laugh it out. The next thing I remember was me bending over the cake's mold to kiss him on the lips. His lips reminded me of Brad Pitt for some odd reason, but it was really the actor who plays Thor. I couldn't resist looking down at his pants to see if he was hard and if I could notice a bump. And of course he was hard and it was a pretty clear.
In the rest of the dream, there was something to do with a huge Twilight Sparkle (MLP-FIM) plush toy, and a bigger Celestia one and a notice from the post that I received a package, which Thor - thank you so much - took from where it was laying and hid it from my mom's eyes (i presume he knew I'd get into trouble). So we were shoving the plush toys under my bed like a dark secret and trying to act normal.
My question this morning - okay this afternoon, since it's 3pm now - Thor is the total opposite of Loki and yet I masculine-ized him in the dream, meaning, gave him his natural attributes, does this mean that I am just ... finally ready now, at age 28 ? versus age 19 when I lost my virginity ? I did it to be like the others, even if I knew that I wasn't that much rushing to get it done. It wasn't peer pressure, more like social pressure. But deep inside, I was not ready. That is what I think today.
In many instances it feels as if I am 8 years .... as if the first 8 years of my life didn't belong to me, to Emilia Ildiko Tokes. In that context, at 19, I was really only 11, which would explain why I jumped into the sex pool like a child not knowing what to expect and what to do with it. I had it done to be socially normal, but personally, it was the biggest error of my life.
I often regretted in the following years. I should have waited. Even if it means 28 years. Or even never! I know the theory of it and I can satisfy myself alone. All i really need is a man to inspire me and boom, voila, I can imagine a thousand stories, and the sensation is as strong if not stronger than in reality.
I think that Loki is somewhat of a realistic image of Rudiger and Sabik, hence, why I so badly and intensely fell for him, and hence why I give him full masculinity. He has Rudiger's hair and eyes, with Sabik's body and sexual power of attraction.
Something a bit off which I remembered this morning which I wanted to discuss in the previous post is the fact that during high school, I created these two characters to help me through my youth. Paul, in his early 30's, black hair, blue eyes, thin, in shape, well built and Philippe, a 17 year old gay teenager who falls in love with Paul and sort of converts him. They were both prostitutes, well, mostly Philippe, but I inserted myself in the story to have Paul at least once.
And I realized recently; he was / still is a tall thin man with black hair and blue eyes. And during all those years while writing that story, I could imagine his dick - in sex scenes with myself or with Philippe - but I never imagined Philippe's. And I cannot explain it to myself, as to why not ? When I was writing the story, we technically were of the same age, or he was a bit older than me, so I had no moral reason to not imagine him. (I mean, i wouldn't imagine a man younger than me naked, because I would just feel dirty about it).
I once wrote a gay erotic story, and the oldest man in the story, the Master, was also a tall thin black haired man with blue eyes.
It's to the point where I ask myself if this is just Rudiger's legacy or if it goes a bit deeper and further in my past ?
The blonds were a revenge on Rudiger for breaking my hart. He had black hair with blue eyes and was not real, so to take revenge, I started loving blonds, and the more I practiced, the easier it became with years, almost to the point where blonds were the top and the dark haired came in second place.
Loki pulverized my self defense systems! His looks just reminded me that my original type of men were like him. (After all, Flynn Ryder and Adam Jensen have both brown hair and I find them very cute both; the first as a brother and the second as and adventures companion).
Over the years, as much as I tried to put it behind me, I never stopped being fascinated by gays, goths, androgynous men and in the perfect combination a mix of all these inside one man.
Run away from your natural attractions and they come back full speed to slap you.
Loki just made me realize that i was lying to myself all these years.
I am able to give masculinity to my type of men because they are the ones I want to be able to give me pleasure and fulfillment. I unconsciously deprive the others to make it easier for me to eventually come back to the first type.
I might have quit on my goth life, but the dark overlords are still and for ever be the type of men I want in my bed. They are just the most efficient to bring my femininity out, and so naturally!
With Sabik and Loki I can imagine myself doing things I would blush and consider impossible or out of my range of acceptance with the blonds. And that alone is a huge discovery and quite interesting : between "acceptable" and "shuddup let's do it" with the passion i can give such actions, there is quite the distance!
This whole thing also made me realize why I am unable to build a real strong and normal relationship with standard men which are accessible to me.
Without facing or accepting it, my subconscious judges them at the speed of a computer processor and knows that they wouldn't be able to inspire me go beyond my boundaries so I am not making much effort to either get them or keep them. I just realized recently that I could do things, outside of my imaginary world, IF i have a man of a specific type to inspire me.
Loki'd
It's actually 2 am and I cannot sleep, so better make the most of it.
I been thinking, this week especially and in the last few days more specifically, about my relationship to men, to love and to how I perceive these peculiar things.
First off, the simplest part : falling in love, in awe, in admiration, call it what ever you want to call it, it's the easiest thing in the universe. When the trigger is there, I'm the first who is shot. It's rather unpredictable, but the effects it leaves are pretty much the same as a real bullet.
The last one in a long series made me think of a couple of aspects of my life, because, he happened to enter my life at a very "cross-road"-ian type of moment.
So let's break down the bigger issues into simple statements.
I fuck men I don't love. I don't touch men I love. I "de- or - un mascunilize" men I mentally fuck. (I know I have issues, I am working on them)
First one : Among the 5 men in my past that I did have sexual encounter or experience with, I cannot say that I passionately loved any of them. I had felt endearment ? or something but ... not the hardcore violently passionate feelings I feel for the second category listed just previously.
Frederic, my first. I thought I loved him, but in fact, I stopped after our first kiss. To me it felt and tasted like as if a saint bernard dog shoved it's tongue in my throat. He was physically beautiful and well built, so it was pleasant to have had my first time with him. But, our relationship didn't last longer and his mission was clear. Wake me up and start my education.
I think it ended because i fell in love with another of my friends who had long dark brown hair and clear blue yes, Dominic - had a huge crush on him, and in the beginning, he was supposed to take my virginity but it didn't turned out that way.
The second, Christopher, lasted one summer. He basically taught me that he was a damn expert at masturbating me, discreetly, in public places and torture me with the : I am having an orgasm, but I cannot show it too obviously. We made love once, it was nice, first time my body didn't .... react in a negative way - I am not sure if it was because his dick didn't frighten me or because he distracted me, but, I didn't contract against the penetration, as I normally unconsciously did with Fred. (To this day I still think it's the size and shape; in my memory it was less intimidating).
The third, Tristan, was pretty much a bum ipn the road, or a casual accident. He was the friend of the girl who would later become the girlfriend of my second, Christopher, and he one night came over to our apartment with that girl, found himself in Montreal late at night, and instead of going back to St-Hyacinthe, we sheltered him. He wanted to sleep on the floor of my bedroom, but I am by nature too kind to have let that go in that manner, so I offered the left side of my bed.
But he couldn't sleep and in the middle of the night, he just randomly asked, how it was to kiss, so after some explanation, I just asked him to get up, I would show him. Yeah I am that type. I didn't mean much to me ! He would have asked me how to shake hands or do a shadow bunny with the lamp, I would have shown him the same way. He found the kissing agreeable and even sort of addicting. So either that night, or the next morning or soon after, he just flat out asked me out. And what the heck, I said yes. He was a virgin with girls, so I would take care of that. But soon he just got totally on my nerves being the I Know It All and I am Awesome sort of guy.
The fourth was shortly after. Found him ... not even sure where I found him. And I don't even know his real name. I only know his stage name. Dixy. But he was the incarnation of my type of guy. Tall, goth, blue eyes, pale skin. He was also very tormented. Our relationship lasted a good 36 hours! Or, more specifically, from Saturday 11am to the following Monday morning. And he actually fucked me out of pity. Because i was there, and that was he saw that I was totally drooling over him. And obviously, my body didn't cooperate. Again, I got that natural reaction of stiffness which made it slightly complicated.
The fifth, and best, and longest in the my personal book of records; Carl. Professional model photographer. He made me make peace with men and sex. Made me realize that yes it could be really awesome and really pleasant. Loved kissing him, could never get enough. The tip of his tongue was always sweet! And yet - even if the first part of sex was totally amazing, he made it last a good 2 hours, which bore me out of my mind, and made it a tad bit painful near the end - was his thing to get his pleasure. Lasted a hefty 6 months ! Which is totally unbelievable after a record of 36 hours, 3 months in average.
In the last moments with Carl, I also ... I am looking for the right words here.... insanely, violently, passionately, deeply fell in love with Christian, who was a clerk working at the Betonel store right under the head office. Love at first sight I think. Or the Epic Fall from the clouds into the endless pit of doom. Being in love with him, as strong as I was, made my relationship with Carl a burden. I felt hypocrite and like cheating on both because I was loving one with my heart and the other with my body. At some point it just became unbearable and I ended my story with Carl (who still did try to get me back later on, in my first year of college and later, when he randomly found me on dating sites, at 2 occasions). I can't be sure if he really loved me or if he was missing my body and the fun we had in bed.
With Christian, nothing happened. Of course. Remember : I do not touch men I love.
When the movie The Walk of the Emperor Penguins came out in theaters here in Montreal, I crafted him a little orgigami penguin who was holding an invitation. I was inviting him to see the movie with me. I left the paper penguin at his work spot down in the back shop one afternoon as I was leaving and I spent the following day in Hell waiting for an answer. My heart was pounding in my chest, I was nervous as an Atomic Bomb ready to blow off. Every foot step down the corridor of the office area upstairs, every cough, every time the phone rang, my heart would just about burst out of my chest and explode. I didn't knew what to expect of him : would he come in person, have an arm on my cubicule's corner and smile and say yes he would love to go; would he rather call me up ?; would he wait for lunch time ? after work ? ...
Let's just say that those were the worst 7 hours of my life. I was a basket case, on the verge of having a heart attack. And to keep a cool face, do my work as if nothing, keep carrying on ... I'm a real poker face.
Of course he never answered. And I was pretty crushed.
That is when the water drop made the vase explode. If I were doomed to fall in love with guys who were just not meant for me, I would just altogether quit the whole human business and move on to the dolls and fantasies. At least, they didn't have a girl that broke their hearts before you, there didn't have an ex that wrecked their lives before you, and they wouldn't ignore you as if you were nothing. Would a simple no, I'm sorry, I already have a girlfriend, or No I'm sorry I'm not interested been that hard to .... say or to write down or what ever ? He was the last one to break my heart. At least, the last one of his species and social circle : aka : the accessible young men social circle. I took an oath to never fall in love with a living man that could touch me or talk to me ever again.
Worked pretty fine for a couple years! And dolls helped me a great deal! First there was this ... I don't remember his name, but I remember his face. Of course, instant love : long black hair, blue eyes, beautiful mold. Even though it is a piece of sculpted plastic, it helped me through my heart break.
The following year, Sabik came on the market and I was done for! He became my everything. It was just so easy with him! I could have sex with him anytime of the day, anywhere, in any circumstance and be fulfilled. He could interpret any role I wanted him to be. He was rough, tender, passionate, strong... without ever hurting me.
Of course I fell in love with his head - as it always happen with men. The head is the selling point. Then comes the body, and his was just ... as if made to suit my every desire.
Being a BJD doll, he had sex organs too, which in my fantasies, became perfectly shaped and sized. He was the first male figure I could Imagine myself detailing his penis and enjoying it. With other fantasy lovers, I always skip that part. I enjoy the kissing, the hugging, but I skip the middle section to jump straight to the end part, were both parties are satisfied and carry on.
With Sabik, the pleasure was and still is, shaped around the Every Moment of It. From beginning to end. Not that I ever fantasized about giving him a blow-job - mostly the opposite - even if in reality, I personally hate being licked, but at least, with him, I could stroke his penis and play with it and act normally.
About 2 years ago, maybe 3, based upon a dream, I started this new story in my head with a man I dream of since I'm 8 years old. We practically grew up together, and once he gave me his name. So I decided to give this dream guy a real presence in my head through that story. Little did I knew how strong Sabik's hold on me was ! In the original draft of the story, even though Henri is my husband, and father of my first child, I have a passionate affair with Sabik, who is his best friend and who becomes the father of the second kid. Only in version 2 did I completely replace Sabik by Philippe, so that I would be faithful to Henri.
Which brings us to the crispy point. Even with Henri I was and still am sort of blocked. I cannot imagine his penis. I cannot imagine myself stroking it, I cannot imagine myself watching him naked making love to me. Of course I have fantasies, and of course they are detailed, but the penis is always somewhat ... existent, but never seen. And I think that is an important thing for me.
In the only dream, with the blond man, where I had full sex, I could feel him inside of me, but he was doing nothing. He was just inside, with that precise feeling, and he was having his fingers crossed with mine and telling me of a super funny joke.
In another dream where we made love on wolf skins in the forest. I can remember me approaching him, us kissing, laying down, but the middle part is completely blacked out. I only remember him getting up and telling me that he has to go back to the village to make sure everything is fine.
This is typically normal of my sex dreams. The few I had and remember of,I am either a guy (as a teenager I used to dream I was the singer of Offspring making love to a girl), otherwise, when I was a girl myself, a simple kiss was more than sufficient to make me reach my orgasm and I always decided which dream character I wanted that close to me. When I usually would want one, I just concentrate on my desire and I kiss them. I never let a dream man come close to me if I do not want him. And i never see or feel or touch their penises. It's as if men are toys whom do not need that item which defines their masculinity to give me pleasure. And yet I am not lesbian, because the sole concept or idea gives me nausea. I had lesbian dreams, but I always felt nauseous at the memory of it in the morning.
In the winter of 2009 or early 2011, History repeated itself. I fell again in love - in that same strong and unbearable fashion with a postman, from Post Canada who was delivering mail to the clinic where I worked. There was something about him that made me die inside. Of course, when I realized that i was in love, my first reaction was to deny it, to curse it, to tell myself that I was too old for this. But I couldn't deny the way he made me feel, the intensity was hard to bear. When he would come drop the box of mail, I felt about ready to die and each time it was a struggle to keep working without letting anything transpire.
One girl - a younger student - did notice that something was odd with me and asked. So I shared. And I felt like confessing that I had AIDS!
Funny enough, when I tried to imagine myself having sex with him, I couldn't. No matter the strength of his effect on me, I simply couldn't imagine him naked and making love me; mental masturbation was epic fail! He never managed to make me wet. And yet, I couldn't look at him, or be in his presence without literally shaking, trembling and having my heart on the verge of exploding in my chest.
With the Post Man, each day felt like that one day of pure agony when I was awaiting Christian's answer to my invitation. Lasted 2 months and abruptly ended just before Valentine's day, as I was thanked - fired - from the clinic. Not "pro-active" enough. Well, sorry if you didn't really need a real medical archivist to do your student clerk work! (I feel they hired me for the looks. They did a short promotional video where I was featured, and labelled as a real Medical Archivist and during the Christmas Office Party, they used my name and my title to give the Archives department a small trophy for the good work. They could have used the team leader, Robert, or the best girl who worked there and the one with the more years experience, but no, it sounded fancy in front of their investors to have a Real Medical Archivist!)
When I got fired, I took my stuff and headed home and only when I arrived at my metro station that I realized the full blown signification of my departure.
And I was so crushed, I think this was a new record in all time low and hurt.
The next day I went to a theater near me to watch Daybreakers to change my mind, but it's excellent entertainment was not sufficient to cool off my torment. I kept dreaming and thinking of that man.
I was depressed and shit mooded for the following 6 months and my best friend on msn did felt it every day! No matter the amount of happy smile faces i would put in my sentences, he felt how wrecked I was, and I was hard on his mood too. (We are soul siblings, what he feels, I automatically feel it, what I feel, he feels it too! And sometimes one sort of multiplies the bad feeling or mood and re-sends it triple to the other one, so it was pretty much an infernal vivacious circle.
I don't know how I got out of it, but the memory of him never quite died and I cannot understand why! Two years later, one day, while talking about this with a new friend from my new job, I realized that I hadn't forgotten him yet and it was still pretty painful subject to bring about, even if I knew deep down that it wouldn't have worked out anyway between us.
Fun fact : we never exchanged more than glances and one and only once did we share a full "good morning".
After him, I sank back into Sabik's arms and I sworn to take a very long break from human males. Since I was cursed with them, there was no point in trying to build something that would never come about anyway.
After the Post Man, I had officially given up on the me + guy = relationship equation. I had my best friend, I had Sabik and I had Henri, plus a few side dishes to entertain me. Never again would I be weak and fall in that pit.
Let's now get to the men who have - for some reason - the chance to have dicks. And Iam still working on this to figure it out.
In a dream, I was having an affair with a married man represented by Adrian Brody. We were having sex on a couch in a church's basement's room. Funny thing, he was sitting on the couch, me on top of him and I could very precisely feel his penis inside of me, the motion, the sensation, the pleasure I was getting.
In a second dream, I was on top of a reversed small rowboat in the back yard playing field of my grade school. An immature dirty blond long haired man was laying on the boat, taking up the 3/4th of it, leaving me and the black haired man on the back. We took a bus and ended up on my street. I think there was a rainy storm because there were water droplets on the flowers and the sun was shining especially bright. He said "Colors are always more vibrant after the storm" and I snuggled up against him, kissing him and clearly feeling his erection in his bathing shorts. As I was kissing him, I was imagining myself making love with him on New Year's eve in my bed, in my room. Of course, when I woke up, I could remember perfectly the sensation of his body against mine, the hardness of his penis pressed against my body and the imaginative vision of us on my bed.
In third dream, which actually comes way before all these ones, I had an affair with Samael, the Angel of Death. I could remember the saltiness of his mouth when he kissed me and my burning desire to make love with him, even if, at the time of the dream I was 14. I still can remember this little sort of a trying room like they have in stores where we sneaked in to do it. I cannot redeemer the full details, but at wake my pleasure was more intense than any previous dream.
And now - to where all this leads.
It's just absolutely hilarious how through all these years I have loved, lusted, crushed on various men - from actors to singers to video game characters (Adam Jensen being the most recent, from fall last year), and I never with anyone of them, felt the need to give them their manly attribute ! I am still somewhat unsure if it's because they do not inspire me to that deep of a level, or if unconsciously I do not see them as "men" in the full sense of the terminology ... And let me just make the statement that, in the past 7 years, if I go back that far, I had quite a collection of crushes!! And to come to the conclusion that neither of them had dicks,... it's pretty impressive!
And this ends today, or this week,with Loki. The damn bastard which I have no idea how, awakes the full blown female side of me.
I actually noticed him last month or before, on a fellow deviant art member's webcam section of her page. It was an animated sequence of him, in the movie The Avengers, where he is wearing a black suit and just turns around and smiles. I thought : hello cute stuff, and left it there.
Last week end, I finally saw Thor (which movie I was at first happy they finally made it - since I he was the first hero that would be of my type and I was honestly expecting to fall in love with him and add him to my long list of crushes) but ... for some reason, it didn't happen. The actor who plays Thor is sure a beautiful man, but too muscular to my taste.
Watching the movie with no expectations what so ever, Loki fell on me like the Hiroshima bomb. Or in simple terms : Sabik Number 2. I first fell in love with his face; his yes, his lips, the way he smiles, his expressions. And about 2 days ago I started this random fiction with him; like all of my fictions, it's purpose was to help me fall asleep. A bed time story. But his ... powerful attraction over me twisted the story into an adult rated story and I found myself naturally giving him his rightful manly-hood. Which is ... a first case scenario with a real movie character. Pushing the experience further, since I am curious about it, I discovered that I was able to do that with the actor who plays Loki. Which baffles me even more so !
Considering the fact that I spent years loving and worshiping a dark rock singer, to whom I never gave this much ... i don't even know how to say it. But in blunt English : How come, Andrew Eldritch who was the x to the y of the whole groupie equation, and whom I adored for years, and had sex fantasies with, how come HE didn't have a dick, but Loki, out of the blue, has one ? And right off the bat damnit !
Am I finally mentally growing up ? Or am I just highly and very fine moouthedly picky ?
Let's consider the following.
1992 First guy I loved with my heart and soul : Rudiger (Der Klein Vampyr) : i wanted to have sex with him, I wanted to get pregnant by him, I wanted to sleep in his coffin. --- Black hair, blue eyes
2008-09 : the Adrian Brody dream = black hair, blue eyes
2009-10 : the black haired man = black hair, blue eyes
2011 : Loki = black hair, blue eyes
Is this a .... sine qua non sort of thing ? that I give the right to have penises only to this type of men ? And is it in memory of Rudiger ? Am I still wanting to find the adult version of him? As if, or as in, he is the only one who can rightfully have me as a woman ? I expressively mean : the others, even though I have sex fantasies with, are deprived of their penises no matter who they are and what their age is.
I will conclude this entry like this. With questions. Because I am still unsure about the answers.
Who is the Black haired man in my dreams ? Why do I want him? Why does he have his masculinity over all the other ones ?
Why do I grant this masculinity to Sabik and Loki and deprive all other men of it ?
I been thinking, this week especially and in the last few days more specifically, about my relationship to men, to love and to how I perceive these peculiar things.
First off, the simplest part : falling in love, in awe, in admiration, call it what ever you want to call it, it's the easiest thing in the universe. When the trigger is there, I'm the first who is shot. It's rather unpredictable, but the effects it leaves are pretty much the same as a real bullet.
The last one in a long series made me think of a couple of aspects of my life, because, he happened to enter my life at a very "cross-road"-ian type of moment.
So let's break down the bigger issues into simple statements.
I fuck men I don't love. I don't touch men I love. I "de- or - un mascunilize" men I mentally fuck. (I know I have issues, I am working on them)
First one : Among the 5 men in my past that I did have sexual encounter or experience with, I cannot say that I passionately loved any of them. I had felt endearment ? or something but ... not the hardcore violently passionate feelings I feel for the second category listed just previously.
Frederic, my first. I thought I loved him, but in fact, I stopped after our first kiss. To me it felt and tasted like as if a saint bernard dog shoved it's tongue in my throat. He was physically beautiful and well built, so it was pleasant to have had my first time with him. But, our relationship didn't last longer and his mission was clear. Wake me up and start my education.
I think it ended because i fell in love with another of my friends who had long dark brown hair and clear blue yes, Dominic - had a huge crush on him, and in the beginning, he was supposed to take my virginity but it didn't turned out that way.
The second, Christopher, lasted one summer. He basically taught me that he was a damn expert at masturbating me, discreetly, in public places and torture me with the : I am having an orgasm, but I cannot show it too obviously. We made love once, it was nice, first time my body didn't .... react in a negative way - I am not sure if it was because his dick didn't frighten me or because he distracted me, but, I didn't contract against the penetration, as I normally unconsciously did with Fred. (To this day I still think it's the size and shape; in my memory it was less intimidating).
The third, Tristan, was pretty much a bum ipn the road, or a casual accident. He was the friend of the girl who would later become the girlfriend of my second, Christopher, and he one night came over to our apartment with that girl, found himself in Montreal late at night, and instead of going back to St-Hyacinthe, we sheltered him. He wanted to sleep on the floor of my bedroom, but I am by nature too kind to have let that go in that manner, so I offered the left side of my bed.
But he couldn't sleep and in the middle of the night, he just randomly asked, how it was to kiss, so after some explanation, I just asked him to get up, I would show him. Yeah I am that type. I didn't mean much to me ! He would have asked me how to shake hands or do a shadow bunny with the lamp, I would have shown him the same way. He found the kissing agreeable and even sort of addicting. So either that night, or the next morning or soon after, he just flat out asked me out. And what the heck, I said yes. He was a virgin with girls, so I would take care of that. But soon he just got totally on my nerves being the I Know It All and I am Awesome sort of guy.
The fourth was shortly after. Found him ... not even sure where I found him. And I don't even know his real name. I only know his stage name. Dixy. But he was the incarnation of my type of guy. Tall, goth, blue eyes, pale skin. He was also very tormented. Our relationship lasted a good 36 hours! Or, more specifically, from Saturday 11am to the following Monday morning. And he actually fucked me out of pity. Because i was there, and that was he saw that I was totally drooling over him. And obviously, my body didn't cooperate. Again, I got that natural reaction of stiffness which made it slightly complicated.
The fifth, and best, and longest in the my personal book of records; Carl. Professional model photographer. He made me make peace with men and sex. Made me realize that yes it could be really awesome and really pleasant. Loved kissing him, could never get enough. The tip of his tongue was always sweet! And yet - even if the first part of sex was totally amazing, he made it last a good 2 hours, which bore me out of my mind, and made it a tad bit painful near the end - was his thing to get his pleasure. Lasted a hefty 6 months ! Which is totally unbelievable after a record of 36 hours, 3 months in average.
In the last moments with Carl, I also ... I am looking for the right words here.... insanely, violently, passionately, deeply fell in love with Christian, who was a clerk working at the Betonel store right under the head office. Love at first sight I think. Or the Epic Fall from the clouds into the endless pit of doom. Being in love with him, as strong as I was, made my relationship with Carl a burden. I felt hypocrite and like cheating on both because I was loving one with my heart and the other with my body. At some point it just became unbearable and I ended my story with Carl (who still did try to get me back later on, in my first year of college and later, when he randomly found me on dating sites, at 2 occasions). I can't be sure if he really loved me or if he was missing my body and the fun we had in bed.
With Christian, nothing happened. Of course. Remember : I do not touch men I love.
When the movie The Walk of the Emperor Penguins came out in theaters here in Montreal, I crafted him a little orgigami penguin who was holding an invitation. I was inviting him to see the movie with me. I left the paper penguin at his work spot down in the back shop one afternoon as I was leaving and I spent the following day in Hell waiting for an answer. My heart was pounding in my chest, I was nervous as an Atomic Bomb ready to blow off. Every foot step down the corridor of the office area upstairs, every cough, every time the phone rang, my heart would just about burst out of my chest and explode. I didn't knew what to expect of him : would he come in person, have an arm on my cubicule's corner and smile and say yes he would love to go; would he rather call me up ?; would he wait for lunch time ? after work ? ...
Let's just say that those were the worst 7 hours of my life. I was a basket case, on the verge of having a heart attack. And to keep a cool face, do my work as if nothing, keep carrying on ... I'm a real poker face.
Of course he never answered. And I was pretty crushed.
That is when the water drop made the vase explode. If I were doomed to fall in love with guys who were just not meant for me, I would just altogether quit the whole human business and move on to the dolls and fantasies. At least, they didn't have a girl that broke their hearts before you, there didn't have an ex that wrecked their lives before you, and they wouldn't ignore you as if you were nothing. Would a simple no, I'm sorry, I already have a girlfriend, or No I'm sorry I'm not interested been that hard to .... say or to write down or what ever ? He was the last one to break my heart. At least, the last one of his species and social circle : aka : the accessible young men social circle. I took an oath to never fall in love with a living man that could touch me or talk to me ever again.
Worked pretty fine for a couple years! And dolls helped me a great deal! First there was this ... I don't remember his name, but I remember his face. Of course, instant love : long black hair, blue eyes, beautiful mold. Even though it is a piece of sculpted plastic, it helped me through my heart break.
The following year, Sabik came on the market and I was done for! He became my everything. It was just so easy with him! I could have sex with him anytime of the day, anywhere, in any circumstance and be fulfilled. He could interpret any role I wanted him to be. He was rough, tender, passionate, strong... without ever hurting me.
Of course I fell in love with his head - as it always happen with men. The head is the selling point. Then comes the body, and his was just ... as if made to suit my every desire.
Being a BJD doll, he had sex organs too, which in my fantasies, became perfectly shaped and sized. He was the first male figure I could Imagine myself detailing his penis and enjoying it. With other fantasy lovers, I always skip that part. I enjoy the kissing, the hugging, but I skip the middle section to jump straight to the end part, were both parties are satisfied and carry on.
With Sabik, the pleasure was and still is, shaped around the Every Moment of It. From beginning to end. Not that I ever fantasized about giving him a blow-job - mostly the opposite - even if in reality, I personally hate being licked, but at least, with him, I could stroke his penis and play with it and act normally.
About 2 years ago, maybe 3, based upon a dream, I started this new story in my head with a man I dream of since I'm 8 years old. We practically grew up together, and once he gave me his name. So I decided to give this dream guy a real presence in my head through that story. Little did I knew how strong Sabik's hold on me was ! In the original draft of the story, even though Henri is my husband, and father of my first child, I have a passionate affair with Sabik, who is his best friend and who becomes the father of the second kid. Only in version 2 did I completely replace Sabik by Philippe, so that I would be faithful to Henri.
Which brings us to the crispy point. Even with Henri I was and still am sort of blocked. I cannot imagine his penis. I cannot imagine myself stroking it, I cannot imagine myself watching him naked making love to me. Of course I have fantasies, and of course they are detailed, but the penis is always somewhat ... existent, but never seen. And I think that is an important thing for me.
In the only dream, with the blond man, where I had full sex, I could feel him inside of me, but he was doing nothing. He was just inside, with that precise feeling, and he was having his fingers crossed with mine and telling me of a super funny joke.
In another dream where we made love on wolf skins in the forest. I can remember me approaching him, us kissing, laying down, but the middle part is completely blacked out. I only remember him getting up and telling me that he has to go back to the village to make sure everything is fine.
This is typically normal of my sex dreams. The few I had and remember of,I am either a guy (as a teenager I used to dream I was the singer of Offspring making love to a girl), otherwise, when I was a girl myself, a simple kiss was more than sufficient to make me reach my orgasm and I always decided which dream character I wanted that close to me. When I usually would want one, I just concentrate on my desire and I kiss them. I never let a dream man come close to me if I do not want him. And i never see or feel or touch their penises. It's as if men are toys whom do not need that item which defines their masculinity to give me pleasure. And yet I am not lesbian, because the sole concept or idea gives me nausea. I had lesbian dreams, but I always felt nauseous at the memory of it in the morning.
In the winter of 2009 or early 2011, History repeated itself. I fell again in love - in that same strong and unbearable fashion with a postman, from Post Canada who was delivering mail to the clinic where I worked. There was something about him that made me die inside. Of course, when I realized that i was in love, my first reaction was to deny it, to curse it, to tell myself that I was too old for this. But I couldn't deny the way he made me feel, the intensity was hard to bear. When he would come drop the box of mail, I felt about ready to die and each time it was a struggle to keep working without letting anything transpire.
One girl - a younger student - did notice that something was odd with me and asked. So I shared. And I felt like confessing that I had AIDS!
Funny enough, when I tried to imagine myself having sex with him, I couldn't. No matter the strength of his effect on me, I simply couldn't imagine him naked and making love me; mental masturbation was epic fail! He never managed to make me wet. And yet, I couldn't look at him, or be in his presence without literally shaking, trembling and having my heart on the verge of exploding in my chest.
With the Post Man, each day felt like that one day of pure agony when I was awaiting Christian's answer to my invitation. Lasted 2 months and abruptly ended just before Valentine's day, as I was thanked - fired - from the clinic. Not "pro-active" enough. Well, sorry if you didn't really need a real medical archivist to do your student clerk work! (I feel they hired me for the looks. They did a short promotional video where I was featured, and labelled as a real Medical Archivist and during the Christmas Office Party, they used my name and my title to give the Archives department a small trophy for the good work. They could have used the team leader, Robert, or the best girl who worked there and the one with the more years experience, but no, it sounded fancy in front of their investors to have a Real Medical Archivist!)
When I got fired, I took my stuff and headed home and only when I arrived at my metro station that I realized the full blown signification of my departure.
And I was so crushed, I think this was a new record in all time low and hurt.
The next day I went to a theater near me to watch Daybreakers to change my mind, but it's excellent entertainment was not sufficient to cool off my torment. I kept dreaming and thinking of that man.
I was depressed and shit mooded for the following 6 months and my best friend on msn did felt it every day! No matter the amount of happy smile faces i would put in my sentences, he felt how wrecked I was, and I was hard on his mood too. (We are soul siblings, what he feels, I automatically feel it, what I feel, he feels it too! And sometimes one sort of multiplies the bad feeling or mood and re-sends it triple to the other one, so it was pretty much an infernal vivacious circle.
I don't know how I got out of it, but the memory of him never quite died and I cannot understand why! Two years later, one day, while talking about this with a new friend from my new job, I realized that I hadn't forgotten him yet and it was still pretty painful subject to bring about, even if I knew deep down that it wouldn't have worked out anyway between us.
Fun fact : we never exchanged more than glances and one and only once did we share a full "good morning".
After him, I sank back into Sabik's arms and I sworn to take a very long break from human males. Since I was cursed with them, there was no point in trying to build something that would never come about anyway.
After the Post Man, I had officially given up on the me + guy = relationship equation. I had my best friend, I had Sabik and I had Henri, plus a few side dishes to entertain me. Never again would I be weak and fall in that pit.
Let's now get to the men who have - for some reason - the chance to have dicks. And Iam still working on this to figure it out.
In a dream, I was having an affair with a married man represented by Adrian Brody. We were having sex on a couch in a church's basement's room. Funny thing, he was sitting on the couch, me on top of him and I could very precisely feel his penis inside of me, the motion, the sensation, the pleasure I was getting.
In a second dream, I was on top of a reversed small rowboat in the back yard playing field of my grade school. An immature dirty blond long haired man was laying on the boat, taking up the 3/4th of it, leaving me and the black haired man on the back. We took a bus and ended up on my street. I think there was a rainy storm because there were water droplets on the flowers and the sun was shining especially bright. He said "Colors are always more vibrant after the storm" and I snuggled up against him, kissing him and clearly feeling his erection in his bathing shorts. As I was kissing him, I was imagining myself making love with him on New Year's eve in my bed, in my room. Of course, when I woke up, I could remember perfectly the sensation of his body against mine, the hardness of his penis pressed against my body and the imaginative vision of us on my bed.
In third dream, which actually comes way before all these ones, I had an affair with Samael, the Angel of Death. I could remember the saltiness of his mouth when he kissed me and my burning desire to make love with him, even if, at the time of the dream I was 14. I still can remember this little sort of a trying room like they have in stores where we sneaked in to do it. I cannot redeemer the full details, but at wake my pleasure was more intense than any previous dream.
And now - to where all this leads.
It's just absolutely hilarious how through all these years I have loved, lusted, crushed on various men - from actors to singers to video game characters (Adam Jensen being the most recent, from fall last year), and I never with anyone of them, felt the need to give them their manly attribute ! I am still somewhat unsure if it's because they do not inspire me to that deep of a level, or if unconsciously I do not see them as "men" in the full sense of the terminology ... And let me just make the statement that, in the past 7 years, if I go back that far, I had quite a collection of crushes!! And to come to the conclusion that neither of them had dicks,... it's pretty impressive!
And this ends today, or this week,with Loki. The damn bastard which I have no idea how, awakes the full blown female side of me.
I actually noticed him last month or before, on a fellow deviant art member's webcam section of her page. It was an animated sequence of him, in the movie The Avengers, where he is wearing a black suit and just turns around and smiles. I thought : hello cute stuff, and left it there.
Last week end, I finally saw Thor (which movie I was at first happy they finally made it - since I he was the first hero that would be of my type and I was honestly expecting to fall in love with him and add him to my long list of crushes) but ... for some reason, it didn't happen. The actor who plays Thor is sure a beautiful man, but too muscular to my taste.
Watching the movie with no expectations what so ever, Loki fell on me like the Hiroshima bomb. Or in simple terms : Sabik Number 2. I first fell in love with his face; his yes, his lips, the way he smiles, his expressions. And about 2 days ago I started this random fiction with him; like all of my fictions, it's purpose was to help me fall asleep. A bed time story. But his ... powerful attraction over me twisted the story into an adult rated story and I found myself naturally giving him his rightful manly-hood. Which is ... a first case scenario with a real movie character. Pushing the experience further, since I am curious about it, I discovered that I was able to do that with the actor who plays Loki. Which baffles me even more so !
Considering the fact that I spent years loving and worshiping a dark rock singer, to whom I never gave this much ... i don't even know how to say it. But in blunt English : How come, Andrew Eldritch who was the x to the y of the whole groupie equation, and whom I adored for years, and had sex fantasies with, how come HE didn't have a dick, but Loki, out of the blue, has one ? And right off the bat damnit !
Am I finally mentally growing up ? Or am I just highly and very fine moouthedly picky ?
Let's consider the following.
1992 First guy I loved with my heart and soul : Rudiger (Der Klein Vampyr) : i wanted to have sex with him, I wanted to get pregnant by him, I wanted to sleep in his coffin. --- Black hair, blue eyes
2008-09 : the Adrian Brody dream = black hair, blue eyes
2009-10 : the black haired man = black hair, blue eyes
2011 : Loki = black hair, blue eyes
Is this a .... sine qua non sort of thing ? that I give the right to have penises only to this type of men ? And is it in memory of Rudiger ? Am I still wanting to find the adult version of him? As if, or as in, he is the only one who can rightfully have me as a woman ? I expressively mean : the others, even though I have sex fantasies with, are deprived of their penises no matter who they are and what their age is.
I will conclude this entry like this. With questions. Because I am still unsure about the answers.
Who is the Black haired man in my dreams ? Why do I want him? Why does he have his masculinity over all the other ones ?
Why do I grant this masculinity to Sabik and Loki and deprive all other men of it ?
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Looking for Myself - Part 2
My brain is a total bitch.
Here I am at 11:00PM, right out of a nice 2 hours of Low Theta 4Hz brain waves mixed with 2 types of rains, thunder and waves, and at my mini laptop typing away because my brain has genius ideas that makes my heart pound with excitement and keep me from sleeping.
I think it began with this new hope for a job. Mom found something in the free newspaper about making ribbons and chocolate boxes, and I have decided to go there tomorrow to check it out and all of a sudden, it's as if ... something rose up again in me; I want that job. In my prayer, I even asked God, to throw me the ladder because I was ready to get out of my well. (It's an old analogy a theology student has shared with me in high school). And, fact is, I am. I am ready to climb out if this chance is given to me. I want to move on, get projects going on, do stuff. And as odd as this may seem, other things in my life been sort of ... like champagne's bubbles bursting into life, which usually happens before a new step of my life is about to begin. I am always more inspired to draw when I am about to go back to school for example.
The last 2 weeks before the end of vacations are the ones where I can draw the most of my sketch book's content! It's almost as if something deep inside of me knew that change was coming ahead. As silly as this might seem, here is a concrete example of the recent past. We came back from vacation from my hometown village in Romania and i had no inspiration and no will what so ever to draw, even less my trademark illustrations and doodles. Part of the reason was the constant presence of Mom around me, sipping away all my energy and will and inspiration, as if I was conditioned to be a mopping half dead potato.
But then, one week before she'd get a phone call from her job that there were orders and she was being needed again, I bloomed like a volcano's wake up. I doodled my stuff, finally uncovered a character I had in mind since over 2 years without really figuring her out on paper, created a whole new one, and been doodling random jokes with my character like there was no tomorrow, even offering myself the luxury of sketching some iconic figures from the 50's. All this happened precisely one week before Mom got her call back and in the following week! How did I knew that it would happen ? (Because i am at my best when i am alone, i work better, i draw better, i have better mood).
Yesterday I was out in downtown and because of a fuck-up and the inability to successfully achieve my errands, i was randomly walking in the Eaton Center and got into this natural products store and got myself a 62$ value 2 bottle "slim down/help with your diet/appetite" kit which I started today and for once I find it efficient. (Of course I didn't quite followed the prescription way of taking it but what the hell, it works!) I also skipped my feta cheesed omelet for a healthy bowl of rice. I did cheat and added 2 hot dogs, and i had a bit of feta in the afternoon, but over all, it seems that this time i might just succeed with my goals.
This new regime triggered the inspiration of a another project which i been pushing off since a couple of years since i never had the perfect - accordingly to my personal taste - template to get it carried out fully.
I want to tattoo 2 names on the sides of my belly and i need a flat tummy for that, for the end result to look as gorgeous as i envision it. And the whole process of the tattooing is like the treat, the winning prize at the end of the challenge. Of course these tattoos are carefully thought out and they hide a secret meaning which came to me in it's full understatement not so long ago, so I am fully aware and wanting this specific tattoo in the way i have designed it. I can always add on details to it - which is also a small detail of why I am currently up and typing.
I was in bed trying to fall asleep, imagining myself at the tattoo shop which i chose where it should be done, i was seeing the guy doing it, and i was seeing the result on paper, us discussing it, and as I was imagining all this, I kept adding significant details to the two parts of the tattoo which excited me even more and thus woke me, instead of making me sleep!
And then I tried to have a "bed time" story that usually makes me fall asleep, because the context of the story has both the image of sleeping and with the fine details makes me want to sleep, but this time, it sort of got carried away and got more adventurous and more brain working than brain tiring!
Then I just kept thinking of the possibilities of me having that new job, the money income wouldn't hurt my bank account and I could shop that new bigger laptop more at ease with my consciousness than now - as i am just sort of shopping and not getting any income of any sort since April (since I quit my last job because i was going mentally nuts).
I also thought of the Christmas presents. Of course, my niece is the first person that comes to mind when I think of Christmas shopping. She's a cute little child and I have a heart and a mind of a child, so she's pretty clear to figure out : If I melt and want something, it's about a 100% chances that she would like it too!
And then a sort of a crazy idea came to me. I imagined myself getting 2 beanie plush, same animal, same size, because one would go for my own child and one for her, so that there wouldn't be any jealousy among the two.
The question is, or the odd factor is, I don't think I'm yet ready for that.
My mind has been sort of pushing the kid idea once in a while, on a daily occasion and I sort of can imagine myself with one, but my rational side only thinks of the negative aspects and i just can't come by that!
Which reminds me of the momentum i imagined of me and the tattoo guy in the shop discussing of the thing before he'd get to work and that whole "no sex" for 8 months and so on and I imagined the following as a pretty close to reality explanation why I wouldn't give a rat's ass about no sex for 8 months.
I was telling that man in my imagination, the real dream i had 2 nights ago.
Dream of the 5th September 2011
I was in a white corridor and at it's end was a room in which a man in a white hospital uniform was there, but I knew he was a patient and even though he was calling for me, I ran away, afraid of him. I felt he had a mental condition and I didn't want to go close.
On my way running to the opposite direction, I turned a corner and saw this little Asian girl who was afraid too and was looking for someone, or just flat out help, so I picked her up and she guided me into a bigger room where there were real Hospital staff people, beds and other patients. I sat down at a cafeteria table's bench seat, with the little girl next to me, and this Asian young man came to talk with me. We got along right after we introduced each other and we were looking at the screen of an electronic tablet. He was showing me information that i wanted to know, because i was really interested in it. At the same time, I took the little girl on my knees, because she was curious too, to show her the animations and the information on the screen. The young man touched my finger tips and this incredible delicious electricity sparked between his fingers and mine. As he was crossing his fingers with mine, the electricity became stronger and warmer and it was just an incredibly arousing yet fulfilling sensation at the same time.
In the next scene, we were in another room, I was on one side of the counter, he was on the other, I was fiddling with a pink very thin gadget-y camera, took his shot, but he got worried and i erased it and then i found the magazine. I opened it and on a page, left side, somewhat near the beginning, I saw a full page of a beardy man in his mid 30's. Tall, strong, wheat blond with tints of rust in his hair and beard, sharp blue eyes - he was smiling and I thought his teeth were a bit too long and i had that classic Red Riding Hood phrase in my head about them. He was wearing the dark navy blue short sleeved uniform of a doctor, arms crossed on the chest, confident smile. So I asked the Asian man if he knew him (the man in the magazine), to which he replied yes, and I asked if he knew how to get in contact with him and he also knew! That man was my quest, in a way, my goal.
And now, to come back to my bed time story moment with the Tattoo guy - I imagined myself asking him to press his fingers against mine, crossing his fingers with mine and nothing would happen and i would explain him my dream and how reality was fade compared to them, and so, that is why i wouldn't miss anything during 8 months. Humans simply are boring and ... not as energetically powerful as dreams, and I have lost interest in the real ones since too long. I am probably asking too much, but I want a man who feels electric, intense at the slightest contact, and yet calm and strong inside as a cathedral, without necessarily looking like that outside - i want a man who's aura shine through, and impressions make statements.
And it's 10 minutes to midnight and I feel more awake and energized than how i was at 9 this morning.
Here I am at 11:00PM, right out of a nice 2 hours of Low Theta 4Hz brain waves mixed with 2 types of rains, thunder and waves, and at my mini laptop typing away because my brain has genius ideas that makes my heart pound with excitement and keep me from sleeping.
I think it began with this new hope for a job. Mom found something in the free newspaper about making ribbons and chocolate boxes, and I have decided to go there tomorrow to check it out and all of a sudden, it's as if ... something rose up again in me; I want that job. In my prayer, I even asked God, to throw me the ladder because I was ready to get out of my well. (It's an old analogy a theology student has shared with me in high school). And, fact is, I am. I am ready to climb out if this chance is given to me. I want to move on, get projects going on, do stuff. And as odd as this may seem, other things in my life been sort of ... like champagne's bubbles bursting into life, which usually happens before a new step of my life is about to begin. I am always more inspired to draw when I am about to go back to school for example.
The last 2 weeks before the end of vacations are the ones where I can draw the most of my sketch book's content! It's almost as if something deep inside of me knew that change was coming ahead. As silly as this might seem, here is a concrete example of the recent past. We came back from vacation from my hometown village in Romania and i had no inspiration and no will what so ever to draw, even less my trademark illustrations and doodles. Part of the reason was the constant presence of Mom around me, sipping away all my energy and will and inspiration, as if I was conditioned to be a mopping half dead potato.
But then, one week before she'd get a phone call from her job that there were orders and she was being needed again, I bloomed like a volcano's wake up. I doodled my stuff, finally uncovered a character I had in mind since over 2 years without really figuring her out on paper, created a whole new one, and been doodling random jokes with my character like there was no tomorrow, even offering myself the luxury of sketching some iconic figures from the 50's. All this happened precisely one week before Mom got her call back and in the following week! How did I knew that it would happen ? (Because i am at my best when i am alone, i work better, i draw better, i have better mood).
Yesterday I was out in downtown and because of a fuck-up and the inability to successfully achieve my errands, i was randomly walking in the Eaton Center and got into this natural products store and got myself a 62$ value 2 bottle "slim down/help with your diet/appetite" kit which I started today and for once I find it efficient. (Of course I didn't quite followed the prescription way of taking it but what the hell, it works!) I also skipped my feta cheesed omelet for a healthy bowl of rice. I did cheat and added 2 hot dogs, and i had a bit of feta in the afternoon, but over all, it seems that this time i might just succeed with my goals.
This new regime triggered the inspiration of a another project which i been pushing off since a couple of years since i never had the perfect - accordingly to my personal taste - template to get it carried out fully.
I want to tattoo 2 names on the sides of my belly and i need a flat tummy for that, for the end result to look as gorgeous as i envision it. And the whole process of the tattooing is like the treat, the winning prize at the end of the challenge. Of course these tattoos are carefully thought out and they hide a secret meaning which came to me in it's full understatement not so long ago, so I am fully aware and wanting this specific tattoo in the way i have designed it. I can always add on details to it - which is also a small detail of why I am currently up and typing.
I was in bed trying to fall asleep, imagining myself at the tattoo shop which i chose where it should be done, i was seeing the guy doing it, and i was seeing the result on paper, us discussing it, and as I was imagining all this, I kept adding significant details to the two parts of the tattoo which excited me even more and thus woke me, instead of making me sleep!
And then I tried to have a "bed time" story that usually makes me fall asleep, because the context of the story has both the image of sleeping and with the fine details makes me want to sleep, but this time, it sort of got carried away and got more adventurous and more brain working than brain tiring!
Then I just kept thinking of the possibilities of me having that new job, the money income wouldn't hurt my bank account and I could shop that new bigger laptop more at ease with my consciousness than now - as i am just sort of shopping and not getting any income of any sort since April (since I quit my last job because i was going mentally nuts).
I also thought of the Christmas presents. Of course, my niece is the first person that comes to mind when I think of Christmas shopping. She's a cute little child and I have a heart and a mind of a child, so she's pretty clear to figure out : If I melt and want something, it's about a 100% chances that she would like it too!
And then a sort of a crazy idea came to me. I imagined myself getting 2 beanie plush, same animal, same size, because one would go for my own child and one for her, so that there wouldn't be any jealousy among the two.
The question is, or the odd factor is, I don't think I'm yet ready for that.
My mind has been sort of pushing the kid idea once in a while, on a daily occasion and I sort of can imagine myself with one, but my rational side only thinks of the negative aspects and i just can't come by that!
Which reminds me of the momentum i imagined of me and the tattoo guy in the shop discussing of the thing before he'd get to work and that whole "no sex" for 8 months and so on and I imagined the following as a pretty close to reality explanation why I wouldn't give a rat's ass about no sex for 8 months.
I was telling that man in my imagination, the real dream i had 2 nights ago.
Dream of the 5th September 2011
I was in a white corridor and at it's end was a room in which a man in a white hospital uniform was there, but I knew he was a patient and even though he was calling for me, I ran away, afraid of him. I felt he had a mental condition and I didn't want to go close.
On my way running to the opposite direction, I turned a corner and saw this little Asian girl who was afraid too and was looking for someone, or just flat out help, so I picked her up and she guided me into a bigger room where there were real Hospital staff people, beds and other patients. I sat down at a cafeteria table's bench seat, with the little girl next to me, and this Asian young man came to talk with me. We got along right after we introduced each other and we were looking at the screen of an electronic tablet. He was showing me information that i wanted to know, because i was really interested in it. At the same time, I took the little girl on my knees, because she was curious too, to show her the animations and the information on the screen. The young man touched my finger tips and this incredible delicious electricity sparked between his fingers and mine. As he was crossing his fingers with mine, the electricity became stronger and warmer and it was just an incredibly arousing yet fulfilling sensation at the same time.
In the next scene, we were in another room, I was on one side of the counter, he was on the other, I was fiddling with a pink very thin gadget-y camera, took his shot, but he got worried and i erased it and then i found the magazine. I opened it and on a page, left side, somewhat near the beginning, I saw a full page of a beardy man in his mid 30's. Tall, strong, wheat blond with tints of rust in his hair and beard, sharp blue eyes - he was smiling and I thought his teeth were a bit too long and i had that classic Red Riding Hood phrase in my head about them. He was wearing the dark navy blue short sleeved uniform of a doctor, arms crossed on the chest, confident smile. So I asked the Asian man if he knew him (the man in the magazine), to which he replied yes, and I asked if he knew how to get in contact with him and he also knew! That man was my quest, in a way, my goal.
And now, to come back to my bed time story moment with the Tattoo guy - I imagined myself asking him to press his fingers against mine, crossing his fingers with mine and nothing would happen and i would explain him my dream and how reality was fade compared to them, and so, that is why i wouldn't miss anything during 8 months. Humans simply are boring and ... not as energetically powerful as dreams, and I have lost interest in the real ones since too long. I am probably asking too much, but I want a man who feels electric, intense at the slightest contact, and yet calm and strong inside as a cathedral, without necessarily looking like that outside - i want a man who's aura shine through, and impressions make statements.
And it's 10 minutes to midnight and I feel more awake and energized than how i was at 9 this morning.
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Looking for Myself - Part 1
Saturday night, we have a heat wave over Montreal and I fight it back with my newest sound application on my iPod Touch.
I been thinking over things as of late and some conclusions came to me. When you take the time to think, you take the time to ask the right questions and the answers naturally come to you, as if given by your secret help.
I have dealt with chronic depression most of my life time, starting off real young, having suicidal thoughts and such and I only realize now, the reason for all that time lost in despair.
As a kid I, like most of them, I had dreams, aspirations and goals. I wanted to be a detective. Since I am 8 years old i am fascinated and captivated by the police or law enforcement world, especially detectives who find out the truth through the small clues left behind.
I have been gathering the clues scattered around my life and i am putting together the pieces of the puzzle that is my life.
I have abandoned my dream of a cop, a detective, a police agent, because mom was too afraid for me and my sis - and she still is. My sister wanted to follow the same career, she is now a married woman, a house wife, who spent some considerable years at a beauty products company as a customer service agent on the phone. I have done computer graphics and designs to please dad and he thought i would liked that - and in fact i did, but there was no job opportunities when i finished, and medical archives to please mom who always seen me safe and sound in a hospital doing paper work. I never worked with all that my title as a medical archivist entitles. I merely did clerical work in a private clinic where i thought I'd go mad after the first day and where each day was basically spent dreaming of running away, taking a train to Halifax and forget about myself and my lousy life.
Then I got this job at the small airline company and everything was fine and dandy until we got in the low season at the beginning of the year, up until spring and I thought I'd go mad because basically i had nothing to do. I loved that office, i loved my team, even if i barely spoke with my team leader and felt like a complete useless alien, i did love some aspects - like the location of the office, the exotic of the clientèle, and some other little details, but the burden was becoming too big.
I was unease with myself, with my life and i couldn't pinpoint the key factor. I felt miserable and like a failure, to come to my age without nothing that i had thought was what shaped a life, when i was a little kid. No career, no husband, no house, no pet, not kid.
And i realized, today, that i didn't knew who in fact i was.The detective dream which died left me empty, like a puppet that others manipulated to see their dreams come true through me. I became, by unconscious will or by accident, the chameleon which took the color of their dreams and complied with ease and a smile even.
The bad side of that, is that i made choices which didn't fit my ideals; which contradicted the life style i wanted to have. Being stuck in an office doing repetitive work can soothe me in the sense that i love routine, but it cannot shape my goals and satisfy me in the longer run of things.
I always dreamed of making a difference. In my dreams at night i was always a SWAT type of person, or cop, barging in on miserable poor apartments to free the hostages from the local armed wacko. I saved kids from all sorts of villains. I wanted to become that hero, that cop. It gave my life a sense. Specifically a sense of accomplishment, but overall, a sense of doing the right thing. At 8 years old, i wanted to be a super hero like Superman, Batman and all those. I wanted to save the world. With time, that dream sort of faded away and i thought i died.
And i became the puppet of my parents.
I realize now i was wrong. I wasted my life, my youth, my opportunities of becoming the person i wanted to become.
I often dreamed of joining the army, but there is something about getting up at 5am to clean boots that doesn't come by me. Nor the idea of making my bed, nor the fact that i have to blindly obey a superior. What i love about the army is the training and the missions, saving lives, making a country live better, helping the people in need. I can do that without the army, if i find the right NGO (Non-Governmental-Organization) which i still have some faith left, i will one day.
I would like to travel to those other foreign countries where ppl have real values still in 2011. Where families, friends and good neighborhood-ing are essential every day life questions. I would like to teach poor kids English, so that they'd have a chance in their future. I know I would be a good teacher, I have an ease to share my knowledge with easy simple down to earth communicative ways. I dreamed of teaching my mother tongue, Hungarian, to local Québecois people here - teaching English to Filipino or Vietnamese would be about the same, except, with a purpose and a helping outcome in the future.
I would like to have a simple life, like a monk, with a few essential things and maybe a few hobbies, but not be bothered by money, power and fame questions like everyone in North American seems to be concerned. I don't want a condo downtown. I don't want the year's touch-and-park-alone-bio-electric car. I'll be honestly happy with my Rapunzel doll, my laptop and my iPod watching the rain fall down for weeks.
I want to feel useful and know that i have made a difference in the life of someone, or some people. I want to help get their hopes stronger and shine brighter in the face of adversity! I don't want medals or recognition, i just want to act upon what i have and what i can do to help those who don't have much of a choice in life. Their success would my ultimate thank you, the only recognition and medal i would accept.
I been thinking over things as of late and some conclusions came to me. When you take the time to think, you take the time to ask the right questions and the answers naturally come to you, as if given by your secret help.
I have dealt with chronic depression most of my life time, starting off real young, having suicidal thoughts and such and I only realize now, the reason for all that time lost in despair.
As a kid I, like most of them, I had dreams, aspirations and goals. I wanted to be a detective. Since I am 8 years old i am fascinated and captivated by the police or law enforcement world, especially detectives who find out the truth through the small clues left behind.
I have been gathering the clues scattered around my life and i am putting together the pieces of the puzzle that is my life.
I have abandoned my dream of a cop, a detective, a police agent, because mom was too afraid for me and my sis - and she still is. My sister wanted to follow the same career, she is now a married woman, a house wife, who spent some considerable years at a beauty products company as a customer service agent on the phone. I have done computer graphics and designs to please dad and he thought i would liked that - and in fact i did, but there was no job opportunities when i finished, and medical archives to please mom who always seen me safe and sound in a hospital doing paper work. I never worked with all that my title as a medical archivist entitles. I merely did clerical work in a private clinic where i thought I'd go mad after the first day and where each day was basically spent dreaming of running away, taking a train to Halifax and forget about myself and my lousy life.
Then I got this job at the small airline company and everything was fine and dandy until we got in the low season at the beginning of the year, up until spring and I thought I'd go mad because basically i had nothing to do. I loved that office, i loved my team, even if i barely spoke with my team leader and felt like a complete useless alien, i did love some aspects - like the location of the office, the exotic of the clientèle, and some other little details, but the burden was becoming too big.
I was unease with myself, with my life and i couldn't pinpoint the key factor. I felt miserable and like a failure, to come to my age without nothing that i had thought was what shaped a life, when i was a little kid. No career, no husband, no house, no pet, not kid.
And i realized, today, that i didn't knew who in fact i was.The detective dream which died left me empty, like a puppet that others manipulated to see their dreams come true through me. I became, by unconscious will or by accident, the chameleon which took the color of their dreams and complied with ease and a smile even.
The bad side of that, is that i made choices which didn't fit my ideals; which contradicted the life style i wanted to have. Being stuck in an office doing repetitive work can soothe me in the sense that i love routine, but it cannot shape my goals and satisfy me in the longer run of things.
I always dreamed of making a difference. In my dreams at night i was always a SWAT type of person, or cop, barging in on miserable poor apartments to free the hostages from the local armed wacko. I saved kids from all sorts of villains. I wanted to become that hero, that cop. It gave my life a sense. Specifically a sense of accomplishment, but overall, a sense of doing the right thing. At 8 years old, i wanted to be a super hero like Superman, Batman and all those. I wanted to save the world. With time, that dream sort of faded away and i thought i died.
And i became the puppet of my parents.
I realize now i was wrong. I wasted my life, my youth, my opportunities of becoming the person i wanted to become.
I often dreamed of joining the army, but there is something about getting up at 5am to clean boots that doesn't come by me. Nor the idea of making my bed, nor the fact that i have to blindly obey a superior. What i love about the army is the training and the missions, saving lives, making a country live better, helping the people in need. I can do that without the army, if i find the right NGO (Non-Governmental-Organization) which i still have some faith left, i will one day.
I would like to travel to those other foreign countries where ppl have real values still in 2011. Where families, friends and good neighborhood-ing are essential every day life questions. I would like to teach poor kids English, so that they'd have a chance in their future. I know I would be a good teacher, I have an ease to share my knowledge with easy simple down to earth communicative ways. I dreamed of teaching my mother tongue, Hungarian, to local Québecois people here - teaching English to Filipino or Vietnamese would be about the same, except, with a purpose and a helping outcome in the future.
I would like to have a simple life, like a monk, with a few essential things and maybe a few hobbies, but not be bothered by money, power and fame questions like everyone in North American seems to be concerned. I don't want a condo downtown. I don't want the year's touch-and-park-alone-bio-electric car. I'll be honestly happy with my Rapunzel doll, my laptop and my iPod watching the rain fall down for weeks.
I want to feel useful and know that i have made a difference in the life of someone, or some people. I want to help get their hopes stronger and shine brighter in the face of adversity! I don't want medals or recognition, i just want to act upon what i have and what i can do to help those who don't have much of a choice in life. Their success would my ultimate thank you, the only recognition and medal i would accept.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Rapunzel, let down your hair
Today, I had arranged my hair in a way that it was "up done" but falling down on both sides, touching my shoulders bu leaving the back of my neck open. And for some odd reason, I looked ... oddly cuter than last week, or how I usually do when I have my hair in a tight bun...
My change of looks didn't go unnoticed. A colleague from another department, who was around ours to discuss work with one of my teammates, noticed the change of hair style and commented, in a half kidding, half like a woman knowing when another is changing her appearance to get someone's attention, which I denied of course. Today, I just felt like changing my hair, I felt simply less stressed and less office professional ( the tight bun means office girl in a serious context ).
The colleague came over to my neighbor and my own desk and insisted I'd tell who's attention I was trying to get. I denied it again, because, in fact I just wanted to start a casual Monday. Usually, my clothing and my hair determines how I feel and what are my intentions, if I want to please someone else, be socially fitting in or simply just doing myself a favor.
So, it came down to a sort of logical elimination of possible candidates, calculated on my behavior. Since, I did that new hair style today, it had to be to impress a new-comer to the office. D. Which is absolutely false, since that young man looks too childish, too tall, too built and too ... simply not inspiring one bit ! And most of all, how can I love a man whom I never see, don't work with, have no chance on stumbling on in my normal routine ?
I shared a random honest comment, from the first and only time where I had seen that man, he seemed too fat for me. My desk neighbor didn't understood well, and he asked if another man in the office - who is fairly new but not the newest - is too fat - which nearly killed me of laughter ! The first woman brought back the topic in line and in between two laughs, I tried to look normal at the mention of that one - who might actually be inspiring me.
C-2, who is the second newest, in our department is completely out of the range of possibilities - being fiancé and getting married later this year, end of summer.
C-1 ...
I had a dream with him, I was happy with him, we were sharing a house or an apartment, I remember the view on the back yard with summer light and I was happy. He was holding me in his arms, but when he turned me around to kiss me, I told that I was not ready and I woke up.
And now, since a week or so, it seems that a new filter has been overlaying my eyes - my sight. I am seeing him as a charming handsome young man, on top of the already acquired good understanding we have at the office, a sort of casual friendship with small chats, laughs and little moments stolen here and there.
I still don't know for sure if I am ready.
And, at best, it will be like all others. One way ... interest.
My change of looks didn't go unnoticed. A colleague from another department, who was around ours to discuss work with one of my teammates, noticed the change of hair style and commented, in a half kidding, half like a woman knowing when another is changing her appearance to get someone's attention, which I denied of course. Today, I just felt like changing my hair, I felt simply less stressed and less office professional ( the tight bun means office girl in a serious context ).
The colleague came over to my neighbor and my own desk and insisted I'd tell who's attention I was trying to get. I denied it again, because, in fact I just wanted to start a casual Monday. Usually, my clothing and my hair determines how I feel and what are my intentions, if I want to please someone else, be socially fitting in or simply just doing myself a favor.
So, it came down to a sort of logical elimination of possible candidates, calculated on my behavior. Since, I did that new hair style today, it had to be to impress a new-comer to the office. D. Which is absolutely false, since that young man looks too childish, too tall, too built and too ... simply not inspiring one bit ! And most of all, how can I love a man whom I never see, don't work with, have no chance on stumbling on in my normal routine ?
I shared a random honest comment, from the first and only time where I had seen that man, he seemed too fat for me. My desk neighbor didn't understood well, and he asked if another man in the office - who is fairly new but not the newest - is too fat - which nearly killed me of laughter ! The first woman brought back the topic in line and in between two laughs, I tried to look normal at the mention of that one - who might actually be inspiring me.
C-2, who is the second newest, in our department is completely out of the range of possibilities - being fiancé and getting married later this year, end of summer.
C-1 ...
I had a dream with him, I was happy with him, we were sharing a house or an apartment, I remember the view on the back yard with summer light and I was happy. He was holding me in his arms, but when he turned me around to kiss me, I told that I was not ready and I woke up.
And now, since a week or so, it seems that a new filter has been overlaying my eyes - my sight. I am seeing him as a charming handsome young man, on top of the already acquired good understanding we have at the office, a sort of casual friendship with small chats, laughs and little moments stolen here and there.
I still don't know for sure if I am ready.
And, at best, it will be like all others. One way ... interest.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Going back to my roots
Already since the beginning of February I had this lingering rumor running around my family.
My sister wanted my niece to meet my grand mother on my mother's side - aka - my niece's Great-Grand-Mother. As simple as this sounds, it's a very cute - the littlest lady of the family meeting the oldest. 4 generations of women gathered in a photo - I dream of shooting that actually.
Last week, the rumor became a little more tangible. Last week end, just before leaving for the south for vacations, my sister was on the phone with mom about our own familial vacations back in our village. I thought - oh, one week, two at worst - I can live with that.
Today, we had a gathering for a triple birthday and a welcome back from the south where my sister, brother in law and niece spent a week of vacations. We talked about the home village vacations again. And all of a sudden, it became a longer project. A month long project !
My heart about half broke when I learned that.
My first thought went to the fact that I love my job, but I am only on a contract through an agency. What are my guarantees - my safe grounds - my future, my projects ? Do I ... say good bye and move on, concentrate on my photography career ? Do I take this opportunity to try to have great shots and try to publish a book and launch my potential ?
I love my team - I love the people around me, our little habits we developed, the tight links, bonding we created with time, the chemistry among us.
But about the same time, I really feel like dying inside since I am deprived of time to photography and arts. I am an artist - I need that like people need ... what ever they most strongly strive for.
I am ... with conflicted emotions but not that afraid it seems. I see this as an opportunity to take my flight and see what happens.
On the practical side I only worry about money, stable source of income. I have of course savings but one can never know for sure and predict the future.
I still need to analyze my emotions and see what I really want.
My sister wanted my niece to meet my grand mother on my mother's side - aka - my niece's Great-Grand-Mother. As simple as this sounds, it's a very cute - the littlest lady of the family meeting the oldest. 4 generations of women gathered in a photo - I dream of shooting that actually.
Last week, the rumor became a little more tangible. Last week end, just before leaving for the south for vacations, my sister was on the phone with mom about our own familial vacations back in our village. I thought - oh, one week, two at worst - I can live with that.
Today, we had a gathering for a triple birthday and a welcome back from the south where my sister, brother in law and niece spent a week of vacations. We talked about the home village vacations again. And all of a sudden, it became a longer project. A month long project !
My heart about half broke when I learned that.
My first thought went to the fact that I love my job, but I am only on a contract through an agency. What are my guarantees - my safe grounds - my future, my projects ? Do I ... say good bye and move on, concentrate on my photography career ? Do I take this opportunity to try to have great shots and try to publish a book and launch my potential ?
I love my team - I love the people around me, our little habits we developed, the tight links, bonding we created with time, the chemistry among us.
But about the same time, I really feel like dying inside since I am deprived of time to photography and arts. I am an artist - I need that like people need ... what ever they most strongly strive for.
I am ... with conflicted emotions but not that afraid it seems. I see this as an opportunity to take my flight and see what happens.
On the practical side I only worry about money, stable source of income. I have of course savings but one can never know for sure and predict the future.
I still need to analyze my emotions and see what I really want.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
To come home to this
I came home five minutes past 5pm to yet another night of familial despair or dismay.
I had asked my father his HMV store card because I wanted to buy the Ice Road Truckers DVD series from History Channel. I was planning on going in on Thursday, but since he is not working at the moment, he went to the mall and got it for me yesterday ( Tuesday ). I said I would repay him back. I had already money taken out - good thing.
What bugs me is his attitude. He's an alcoholic since God knows when ( and he is turning 60 this year, meaning he has been drinking since close to 20 years, or 30 if I want to be idealistic and optimistic : half his life ! ) and obviously he has been drinking today too ! He had to quiet it down during December's end and January's first 2 weeks because mom wasn't working and she was home - so he didn't quite have the freedom to drink a bottle a day like he can normally. So, yesterday he drank and forgot to turn on the heating in my room, today the same. But, before, it was always fine and warm and heat taken care of for when I would come back from work. He is home ALL day - would it kill him to turn on the heating one little hour before he knows I get home ?
So, I come in the apartment, shout ( in Hungarian ) "It's only me." He was in the bathroom, but heard me pretty damn well, but still had to loudly ask "Is that you Emi ?" ( I find this kind of ... thing dull, redundant and moronic ! I just fuckin' stated it was me. )
He goes on about the fact he bought my DVDs and they are in my room - I am not that idiot, I have seen them on the corner of my furniture piece and the bill too.
I get out the money of my wallet - 80$ in 20$ bills and a 5$ bill to reach 85$, but I say that if he has change for a 20$ - I have one more to reach the agreed amount of 95$ for the 3 DVD series.
Instead of just plain and simple take the money, give me the change and move on, he took a whole half an hour rambling about honesty, counting over and over the bills, throwing them on the living room coffee table like a professional mafioso man, throwing 2$ coins along side his 5$ bill in the same fashion and rambling on and on and on about the agreement of that amount of my DVDs and the bill and the total and ... I was keeping calm, but I was totally fed up and annoyed. I mean, for fuck's sake, just count the damn bills, give back what you want and move on ! It's only a 100$ not a million !!
Then mom came home.
This episode just ... exploded like a natural geyser when dad asked if we were going back to our home town village because my sister wants to go back in March. My mom said that yes, but that Nothing was set in stone, nothing was sure since my sis wants the whole family to go back ( her husband, daughter, me and mom ) but she doesn't know when her husband can have vacations so Nothing is sure. Dad goes on :
He was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking. Mom just had a long day of work ( from 7 am to 4 pm ) and went on top to do some groceries, puts them down and Dad like a crow bird of ghastly bad future telling goes on " I had a vision ( dream ) of your mother. You should speak to your mother." My mother of course naturally asks when he had that dream, sight or what ever. Dad asks, in repetition - clue that it wasn't recent. Thus, not a true common phenomenon with a real death annunciation as it is quoted in some books on the topic. He goes on that he had that thing some time ago ! My mom asked - Since I was home for the past two months why didn't you told me this before ?? And she is absolutely right ! He, on the other (drunken) side just ketp on rambling that my maternal grand mother had cursed him ( his bad luck with work, his difficult and miserable life ). My mom defended her mother naturally and I agree with her, and said "I just come home from a long day of work - why do you tell me this now ?"
My mom, further one and sort of under the rush of a small vengeance, asked or said that dad's Mother was responsible for his doom. And dad - instead of defending her mother - repeated 3-4 times "Yes, my Mother is a whore!"
That completely shocked me !
In truth, his mother had fallen in love or has fallen under the charms of the young master of the house where she was working and serving as a cleaning girl and got pregnant. Of course, the young man being the heir of a good family, the girl being a poor ( I am not sure if she was orphan or not, but poor for sure ) couldn't stay there. This is a small village in 1930's or 40's Transylvania. A woman's virtue, honor and life was ruined by the passion of a man who'll never face charges, guilt or anything ! For him, it was a game, a pleasure moment (s) and nothing more. For her, shame, guilt, a kid to bring up on her own - a kid who wears her mother's name because she cannot bear her father's - being a bastard child.
The young woman eventually got a small one room house somehow, met a soldier, got married and had 4 more children with the man. The last one, being my father.
But what happened to her in her young years, in the circumstances of her life cannot be held against her and she does not deserve to be treated the whore word by her own child.
... I don't know to conclude this one, so I'll leave it as is - just saying that all this adds to the cup and one day soon, the cup will overflow.
Even if I have to take my mother with me in the new place.
I had asked my father his HMV store card because I wanted to buy the Ice Road Truckers DVD series from History Channel. I was planning on going in on Thursday, but since he is not working at the moment, he went to the mall and got it for me yesterday ( Tuesday ). I said I would repay him back. I had already money taken out - good thing.
What bugs me is his attitude. He's an alcoholic since God knows when ( and he is turning 60 this year, meaning he has been drinking since close to 20 years, or 30 if I want to be idealistic and optimistic : half his life ! ) and obviously he has been drinking today too ! He had to quiet it down during December's end and January's first 2 weeks because mom wasn't working and she was home - so he didn't quite have the freedom to drink a bottle a day like he can normally. So, yesterday he drank and forgot to turn on the heating in my room, today the same. But, before, it was always fine and warm and heat taken care of for when I would come back from work. He is home ALL day - would it kill him to turn on the heating one little hour before he knows I get home ?
So, I come in the apartment, shout ( in Hungarian ) "It's only me." He was in the bathroom, but heard me pretty damn well, but still had to loudly ask "Is that you Emi ?" ( I find this kind of ... thing dull, redundant and moronic ! I just fuckin' stated it was me. )
He goes on about the fact he bought my DVDs and they are in my room - I am not that idiot, I have seen them on the corner of my furniture piece and the bill too.
I get out the money of my wallet - 80$ in 20$ bills and a 5$ bill to reach 85$, but I say that if he has change for a 20$ - I have one more to reach the agreed amount of 95$ for the 3 DVD series.
Instead of just plain and simple take the money, give me the change and move on, he took a whole half an hour rambling about honesty, counting over and over the bills, throwing them on the living room coffee table like a professional mafioso man, throwing 2$ coins along side his 5$ bill in the same fashion and rambling on and on and on about the agreement of that amount of my DVDs and the bill and the total and ... I was keeping calm, but I was totally fed up and annoyed. I mean, for fuck's sake, just count the damn bills, give back what you want and move on ! It's only a 100$ not a million !!
Then mom came home.
This episode just ... exploded like a natural geyser when dad asked if we were going back to our home town village because my sister wants to go back in March. My mom said that yes, but that Nothing was set in stone, nothing was sure since my sis wants the whole family to go back ( her husband, daughter, me and mom ) but she doesn't know when her husband can have vacations so Nothing is sure. Dad goes on :
He was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking. Mom just had a long day of work ( from 7 am to 4 pm ) and went on top to do some groceries, puts them down and Dad like a crow bird of ghastly bad future telling goes on " I had a vision ( dream ) of your mother. You should speak to your mother." My mother of course naturally asks when he had that dream, sight or what ever. Dad asks, in repetition - clue that it wasn't recent. Thus, not a true common phenomenon with a real death annunciation as it is quoted in some books on the topic. He goes on that he had that thing some time ago ! My mom asked - Since I was home for the past two months why didn't you told me this before ?? And she is absolutely right ! He, on the other (drunken) side just ketp on rambling that my maternal grand mother had cursed him ( his bad luck with work, his difficult and miserable life ). My mom defended her mother naturally and I agree with her, and said "I just come home from a long day of work - why do you tell me this now ?"
My mom, further one and sort of under the rush of a small vengeance, asked or said that dad's Mother was responsible for his doom. And dad - instead of defending her mother - repeated 3-4 times "Yes, my Mother is a whore!"
That completely shocked me !
In truth, his mother had fallen in love or has fallen under the charms of the young master of the house where she was working and serving as a cleaning girl and got pregnant. Of course, the young man being the heir of a good family, the girl being a poor ( I am not sure if she was orphan or not, but poor for sure ) couldn't stay there. This is a small village in 1930's or 40's Transylvania. A woman's virtue, honor and life was ruined by the passion of a man who'll never face charges, guilt or anything ! For him, it was a game, a pleasure moment (s) and nothing more. For her, shame, guilt, a kid to bring up on her own - a kid who wears her mother's name because she cannot bear her father's - being a bastard child.
The young woman eventually got a small one room house somehow, met a soldier, got married and had 4 more children with the man. The last one, being my father.
But what happened to her in her young years, in the circumstances of her life cannot be held against her and she does not deserve to be treated the whore word by her own child.
... I don't know to conclude this one, so I'll leave it as is - just saying that all this adds to the cup and one day soon, the cup will overflow.
Even if I have to take my mother with me in the new place.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Cultural perspectives and questionnings
I was randomly chatting with a work colleague this morning. I had left a comment in a game we play on facebook - it said : Bonsoir - Good evening - Jo estét ( which means good evening in Hungarian ) and we were discussing about how during the just past Holidays she never said Merry Christmas because it became politically incorrect as of recent ! I had left plenty of Merry Christmas wishes myself and I couldn't care less about who got offended or not.
Here in Québec we are plagued with something called "accomodements raisonables" - which can roughly be translated into "reasonable accommodations" or the art of being friendly, serviable and politically correct towards everyone, every culture and every nation possible which habits our vast territory, land - country.
I got shocked though.
I cannot say Merry Christmas in my country - free country, modern country, rich country. Canada. Why ? Because it's politically incorrect and it can hurt the feelings of non believers, non practionners and folks of other faiths and religions.
On the other side of the world, in Saudi Arabia, they decorated an 11 million dollar worth in a public place. Why ? Because it's the symbol of the Christmas holidays, it's fashionable and in my opinion - if they have the budget, why not ? They are actually showing an opening towards another culture, towards other habits of a particular time in the year.
Which topic brought us to the next.
It is now allowed by companies for the muslim praticant workers to take of time 5 times per day to pray but it is forbidden for the Christians and for the others to say Merry Christmas during the holidays at the end of the year, to enjoy the cheer, the spirits, the jolly mood as we have known it for centuries.
In the past - about 40 years ago - morning prayer ( christian prayer, catholic prayer ) was a mandatory thing in gatherings, meetings and schools.
Today it is forbidden, because we push the layman angle.
Yet ! the Muslim who practice their faith are granted 5 times per day time off their work to pray, because their faith asks for such devotion and because we are such an open minded country and government and culture - we allow it, we reasonably accommodate and we make new laws and rules to try to please everyone ... at the Very Clear and Destructive Erasing and Extermination of our own !
If anyone travels to countries where culture, faith and religion rule, the traveller is oblived to follow the rules of what ever the tradition asks for : veil, body all covered up, etc., and travellers agree without a protest.
Here, in a free country, agglomerate of all cultures of the world - we have such loose laws and regulations that we do not have a solid basis of our own. We do not have a solid standing rule and law that says : this is allowed, this is forbidden in this country, this is how you you behave if you travel or live here. We allow anything and everything and we are shocked when our own culture fades away, swallowed by the incoming cultures.
I do not blame them, I do not stand against their culture. But there are limits of how friendly and willingly idiots we are, or can be.
I think it's unfair that we bend to every possible rule in other countries and let our own culture, religion and faith just fade away !
I find it completely unfair to be forbidden to have Christmas trees in airports, to say Merry Christmas and to sing Christmas songs because it can politically incorrect towards other cultures.
I ask - so then, how come that Chinese New Year is not offensive to our culture and customs ? How come we do not say nothing against Bar Mitzvah, and pushing it further, we do not even educate our own kids to have their Catechism done ? Are we that ashamed of our Christian faith and religion ? I am aware of the Silent Revolution here in Québec in the 1960's but is that a reason to completely shove off our culture ? How come Muslim faith followers can take off time 5 times a day to follow their religion's rules and we think that a simple Christian prayer is an offense before a meeting ? Since when did an immigrant religion became better than the local indigenous one ?
And this is valid for Christians to try to impose their faiths in villages in Laos, China, Vietnam and all over the world where Missionaries go.
Each culture and country, each gathering of people, should have and be proud of their own faith and traditions, keep it and share it, but not impose it upon other countries, gatherings of people and communities.
We are slowly killing diversity and going back to the eternal fight of "my faith is better than your faith and my god is stronger than your god" and we do wars and conflicts, invoking those gods and kill, torture and harm the innocent.
I say it's all Bullshit !
oh and ...
Merry Christmas and may God bless your New Year !
Here in Québec we are plagued with something called "accomodements raisonables" - which can roughly be translated into "reasonable accommodations" or the art of being friendly, serviable and politically correct towards everyone, every culture and every nation possible which habits our vast territory, land - country.
I got shocked though.
I cannot say Merry Christmas in my country - free country, modern country, rich country. Canada. Why ? Because it's politically incorrect and it can hurt the feelings of non believers, non practionners and folks of other faiths and religions.
On the other side of the world, in Saudi Arabia, they decorated an 11 million dollar worth in a public place. Why ? Because it's the symbol of the Christmas holidays, it's fashionable and in my opinion - if they have the budget, why not ? They are actually showing an opening towards another culture, towards other habits of a particular time in the year.
Which topic brought us to the next.
It is now allowed by companies for the muslim praticant workers to take of time 5 times per day to pray but it is forbidden for the Christians and for the others to say Merry Christmas during the holidays at the end of the year, to enjoy the cheer, the spirits, the jolly mood as we have known it for centuries.
In the past - about 40 years ago - morning prayer ( christian prayer, catholic prayer ) was a mandatory thing in gatherings, meetings and schools.
Today it is forbidden, because we push the layman angle.
Yet ! the Muslim who practice their faith are granted 5 times per day time off their work to pray, because their faith asks for such devotion and because we are such an open minded country and government and culture - we allow it, we reasonably accommodate and we make new laws and rules to try to please everyone ... at the Very Clear and Destructive Erasing and Extermination of our own !
If anyone travels to countries where culture, faith and religion rule, the traveller is oblived to follow the rules of what ever the tradition asks for : veil, body all covered up, etc., and travellers agree without a protest.
Here, in a free country, agglomerate of all cultures of the world - we have such loose laws and regulations that we do not have a solid basis of our own. We do not have a solid standing rule and law that says : this is allowed, this is forbidden in this country, this is how you you behave if you travel or live here. We allow anything and everything and we are shocked when our own culture fades away, swallowed by the incoming cultures.
I do not blame them, I do not stand against their culture. But there are limits of how friendly and willingly idiots we are, or can be.
I think it's unfair that we bend to every possible rule in other countries and let our own culture, religion and faith just fade away !
I find it completely unfair to be forbidden to have Christmas trees in airports, to say Merry Christmas and to sing Christmas songs because it can politically incorrect towards other cultures.
I ask - so then, how come that Chinese New Year is not offensive to our culture and customs ? How come we do not say nothing against Bar Mitzvah, and pushing it further, we do not even educate our own kids to have their Catechism done ? Are we that ashamed of our Christian faith and religion ? I am aware of the Silent Revolution here in Québec in the 1960's but is that a reason to completely shove off our culture ? How come Muslim faith followers can take off time 5 times a day to follow their religion's rules and we think that a simple Christian prayer is an offense before a meeting ? Since when did an immigrant religion became better than the local indigenous one ?
And this is valid for Christians to try to impose their faiths in villages in Laos, China, Vietnam and all over the world where Missionaries go.
Each culture and country, each gathering of people, should have and be proud of their own faith and traditions, keep it and share it, but not impose it upon other countries, gatherings of people and communities.
We are slowly killing diversity and going back to the eternal fight of "my faith is better than your faith and my god is stronger than your god" and we do wars and conflicts, invoking those gods and kill, torture and harm the innocent.
I say it's all Bullshit !
oh and ...
Merry Christmas and may God bless your New Year !
Monday, January 03, 2011
New year bleh
I don't even know how to really start this blog.
I feel like not being myself - like having let down my projects, my goals, my dreams.
I guess it started last April when I got my current job. At first it was great for the income money, security of something, and a healing balm on my feeling of misery and failure ( after a 3 year program, not finding a job in my field, having yet another time invested time and money and coming out without income, success or any such thing which makes one feel accomplished).
So the job helped, at first I had hopes of permanency, later, the though of my position being only temporary through agency comforted me. But with time, it took a toll on me. I started to eat my soul, but gave something in exchange : I loved my team, my work, my responsibilities, I came of help to my department, I felt useful and appreciated, at a certain level.
Sure the amount of travel there and back slowly started to slowly build up, but it really became problematic in late fall, and winter. When one finishes work at 4:30 pm, but gets home at 7, 8pm, it is discouraging.
And because of the nature of the company, of the work itself, there are peak times and low times in the year. Winter being a low empty one, since planes cannot fly as regularly because of mechanical caused by weather and weather itself.
The summer temporarly fulfilled me, made me forget about what was worrying me - but sooner or later the deep rises to the surface and yet again a feeling of having wasted my life has taken me over.
I haven't had any real occasion to do photography, to travel around, to discover - but with stolen moments.
In October I had a day off due to an interview to a potential job in my field, which left me a very cold impression, but gave me a great sight to take photos of at least.
But how many days I was on my bus, longing to take pictures of that path, with glorious cherry blossoms in the spring, but felt too bad to ask a sick day, felt too guilty to come in late - since I had no valid excuse and wanted to make sure to be a hard worker - an honest person, responsible and be there on time to build myself a good reputation.
But I let my private life aside, my hobbies, what made me happy, and thrilled about life.
Photoshop illustrations, sharing photos, keeping my photo blog updated, sharing home made junk food recipes - I was longing to make myself a professional looking flickr account but never passed the strep of getting the pro account.
I feel like not being myself - like having let down my projects, my goals, my dreams.
I guess it started last April when I got my current job. At first it was great for the income money, security of something, and a healing balm on my feeling of misery and failure ( after a 3 year program, not finding a job in my field, having yet another time invested time and money and coming out without income, success or any such thing which makes one feel accomplished).
So the job helped, at first I had hopes of permanency, later, the though of my position being only temporary through agency comforted me. But with time, it took a toll on me. I started to eat my soul, but gave something in exchange : I loved my team, my work, my responsibilities, I came of help to my department, I felt useful and appreciated, at a certain level.
Sure the amount of travel there and back slowly started to slowly build up, but it really became problematic in late fall, and winter. When one finishes work at 4:30 pm, but gets home at 7, 8pm, it is discouraging.
And because of the nature of the company, of the work itself, there are peak times and low times in the year. Winter being a low empty one, since planes cannot fly as regularly because of mechanical caused by weather and weather itself.
The summer temporarly fulfilled me, made me forget about what was worrying me - but sooner or later the deep rises to the surface and yet again a feeling of having wasted my life has taken me over.
I haven't had any real occasion to do photography, to travel around, to discover - but with stolen moments.
In October I had a day off due to an interview to a potential job in my field, which left me a very cold impression, but gave me a great sight to take photos of at least.
But how many days I was on my bus, longing to take pictures of that path, with glorious cherry blossoms in the spring, but felt too bad to ask a sick day, felt too guilty to come in late - since I had no valid excuse and wanted to make sure to be a hard worker - an honest person, responsible and be there on time to build myself a good reputation.
But I let my private life aside, my hobbies, what made me happy, and thrilled about life.
Photoshop illustrations, sharing photos, keeping my photo blog updated, sharing home made junk food recipes - I was longing to make myself a professional looking flickr account but never passed the strep of getting the pro account.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
You think you want something
Because it's fancy, it's costly, it might bring you more than what you have at the current moment but... do you really want it ?
Example 1 : Volks limited Charlotte BJD doll which I found on a Danny Choo blog entry and instantly fell in love with and ... I was ready to bust 1,500$ US on it ! The next day, I saw it - random search on Den of Angels and it was announced for 1,250$ US and yet - I was ready again to get it.
Until the evening of the same night, when I went to Soom Doll site. And when I saw her. Better price, better looking, and her young adult offers advantages a kid looking face/body cannot - it has more limitations for what I know I would have planned in the future.
Good thing I didn't jump into the first purchase ! For that same price, I can get the doll and the clothes I want.
Example 2 : In the summer, I completely fell in love with the Olympus EPL-1 Pen camera which is about a small dslr point and shoot style. I loved it at first sight because it was small, reflex, digital and offered in the basic lens kit a lens that was in the10's or 20's of mm which is basically wide angle, normal, landscape. But that camera had a price I wasn't yet ready to spend for a small compact camera.
Good thing, again, I didn't bought it because I found - still in my beloved Canon Family - the perfect little point and shoot camera in the Canon PowerShot SD3500 IS ( pink of course ) which does exactly ( !! ) what I want it to do : high quality pictures ( 14mp ) from landscape perspective ( 24mm ) the 5x zoom is the least of my worries since I am already equipped with a Canon EOS 50D and a Canon PowerShot SX 10 IS for the zooming options, and other various needs. I have to add that the video quality is incredible ! I don't know if they inserted a lens flare "thingie" in their lens, but filming water on the lake St-Louis came out way less "light lined" as when I used to do it with the SX10 IS. ( normally, a special lens on is used with DSRL to diminish and cut that counter effect of light ) So yet another win.
And finally coming to example number 3. The most recent and the most life changing one. I graduated last year in Medical Archives from O'Sullivan College and I after 3 years of pain and much energy put into it, I was sort of hoping that the real life deal would bring me peace with something that these famous 3 years thrown in the mud and shredded to confetti.
In the beginning, I didn't even had job offers. When I did and applied, I never got answers back. Once I applied two different times, having received the offer two times and neither once did I even got as much as an answer that they got my application form. Not even that little courtesy. Other offers were geographically located at the extremes of Québec province and I didn't felt like braving that kind of an adventure : to go live in God knows where north city and build myself a life up there, from scratch, away from everyone and everything I know.
More than a year later, I finally get an offer in Montreal and it's from a place where I always dreamed of working. But it's also the best example of how illusions can be of the sparkles and how reality can deceive and not be at all how one could have dreamed it.
I finally had a job offer for Douglas Psychiatric Institution, here in Montreal. Always wanted to - dreamed of it, talked about it in college, burnt everyone's ears with it.
Now that I had the occasion, I find it ... rather cold and ... I know it was only an interview, but an interview goes both ways. Both parties judge the other one and I personally didn't quite like the cold attitude of the Medical Archives Chief person.
That detached coldness ... really doesn't inspire me to want to be more in contact with that person.
And I realized that - it's been over a year ! since I graduated. I saw psychiatric case once in the final exam for the course... they would need to train me from A to Z and I would need to completely re-learn which I really don't have the ... motivation to do so !
My current job location is a drain for the time it takes me but I love it ! I feel secure there, I love my team and I love my simple job. Lesser pay but I don't care - i still could manage to live decently and afford my hobbies.
If Douglas calls back - in a couple of weeks - I am personally not accepting. Though I wish they wouldn't call back - I wish they find two candidates who'd really appreciate and need those two positions because I won't - I don't want anymore.
Example 1 : Volks limited Charlotte BJD doll which I found on a Danny Choo blog entry and instantly fell in love with and ... I was ready to bust 1,500$ US on it ! The next day, I saw it - random search on Den of Angels and it was announced for 1,250$ US and yet - I was ready again to get it.
Until the evening of the same night, when I went to Soom Doll site. And when I saw her. Better price, better looking, and her young adult offers advantages a kid looking face/body cannot - it has more limitations for what I know I would have planned in the future.
Good thing I didn't jump into the first purchase ! For that same price, I can get the doll and the clothes I want.
Example 2 : In the summer, I completely fell in love with the Olympus EPL-1 Pen camera which is about a small dslr point and shoot style. I loved it at first sight because it was small, reflex, digital and offered in the basic lens kit a lens that was in the10's or 20's of mm which is basically wide angle, normal, landscape. But that camera had a price I wasn't yet ready to spend for a small compact camera.
Good thing, again, I didn't bought it because I found - still in my beloved Canon Family - the perfect little point and shoot camera in the Canon PowerShot SD3500 IS ( pink of course ) which does exactly ( !! ) what I want it to do : high quality pictures ( 14mp ) from landscape perspective ( 24mm ) the 5x zoom is the least of my worries since I am already equipped with a Canon EOS 50D and a Canon PowerShot SX 10 IS for the zooming options, and other various needs. I have to add that the video quality is incredible ! I don't know if they inserted a lens flare "thingie" in their lens, but filming water on the lake St-Louis came out way less "light lined" as when I used to do it with the SX10 IS. ( normally, a special lens on is used with DSRL to diminish and cut that counter effect of light ) So yet another win.
And finally coming to example number 3. The most recent and the most life changing one. I graduated last year in Medical Archives from O'Sullivan College and I after 3 years of pain and much energy put into it, I was sort of hoping that the real life deal would bring me peace with something that these famous 3 years thrown in the mud and shredded to confetti.
In the beginning, I didn't even had job offers. When I did and applied, I never got answers back. Once I applied two different times, having received the offer two times and neither once did I even got as much as an answer that they got my application form. Not even that little courtesy. Other offers were geographically located at the extremes of Québec province and I didn't felt like braving that kind of an adventure : to go live in God knows where north city and build myself a life up there, from scratch, away from everyone and everything I know.
More than a year later, I finally get an offer in Montreal and it's from a place where I always dreamed of working. But it's also the best example of how illusions can be of the sparkles and how reality can deceive and not be at all how one could have dreamed it.
I finally had a job offer for Douglas Psychiatric Institution, here in Montreal. Always wanted to - dreamed of it, talked about it in college, burnt everyone's ears with it.
Now that I had the occasion, I find it ... rather cold and ... I know it was only an interview, but an interview goes both ways. Both parties judge the other one and I personally didn't quite like the cold attitude of the Medical Archives Chief person.
That detached coldness ... really doesn't inspire me to want to be more in contact with that person.
And I realized that - it's been over a year ! since I graduated. I saw psychiatric case once in the final exam for the course... they would need to train me from A to Z and I would need to completely re-learn which I really don't have the ... motivation to do so !
My current job location is a drain for the time it takes me but I love it ! I feel secure there, I love my team and I love my simple job. Lesser pay but I don't care - i still could manage to live decently and afford my hobbies.
If Douglas calls back - in a couple of weeks - I am personally not accepting. Though I wish they wouldn't call back - I wish they find two candidates who'd really appreciate and need those two positions because I won't - I don't want anymore.
Monday, September 20, 2010
So is life meant to be ...
a long river of "acceptance and compromises" without the thrill of passionate love or are my self defence mechanisms way to fucking strong for my own good ... ?
and here I go again in the white thick mist of my doubts, back in my own white darkness again - the night is dark, the snow is white and comfortingly white and fluffy, the sky is clear with stars, but the stars are so distant and unreachable ...
and here I go again in the white thick mist of my doubts, back in my own white darkness again - the night is dark, the snow is white and comfortingly white and fluffy, the sky is clear with stars, but the stars are so distant and unreachable ...
Friday, September 10, 2010
And I am doubting again
and I epic fail at ... considering ...
I mean it felt so fucking weird to have a real man sitting at my table meeting my parents ! it's not me ! it's not who I am.
I always saw myself as those 40-50 year old single men, lonesome wolf type of, "le célibataire endurci" from the 80's movies - the tough guys, either divorced or never married. That was MY life path all traced for me ! Apartment, job, life, best friend.
Apartment. My Current Job. My Little Brother.
and my photography hobby. No need for a partner, a relationship or that kinda thing.
I think I tried - but I just proved to myself that I am NOT made for that type of life.
I don't see myself ... getting married and having kids. At least not with the current one.
I want Henri. So desperately want him.
I mean it felt so fucking weird to have a real man sitting at my table meeting my parents ! it's not me ! it's not who I am.
I always saw myself as those 40-50 year old single men, lonesome wolf type of, "le célibataire endurci" from the 80's movies - the tough guys, either divorced or never married. That was MY life path all traced for me ! Apartment, job, life, best friend.
Apartment. My Current Job. My Little Brother.
and my photography hobby. No need for a partner, a relationship or that kinda thing.
I think I tried - but I just proved to myself that I am NOT made for that type of life.
I don't see myself ... getting married and having kids. At least not with the current one.
I want Henri. So desperately want him.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
White pants on a red day
I should have known better. A night in the arms of two blond men, followed by a night with Andrew only could foretold the upcoming monthly joy of the female flood. I even joked about it with a friend on msn but failed to take into consideration the screaming signals and had the most wonderful idea of putting on my pale beige tight pants (first gift from my first ex upon my change of looks) and voila ! I couldn't have picked a better day !
I just pray now that no ... bad omen will leak through the improvised barrier.
I just pray now that no ... bad omen will leak through the improvised barrier.
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