I'm confused... in more ways that one!

I'll give you a moment to read this:  

When I read this my first reaction was: OK so I must not love that much...  I know I can show very little compassion at times, or is that empathy?  Let me see what the web says:

com·pas·sion

/kəmˈpaSHən/

Learn to pronounce

noun

sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.

"the victims should be treated with compassion"

em·pa·thy

/ˈempəTHē/

Learn to pronounce

noun
the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.

Compassion is not the same as empathy or altruism, though the concepts are related. While empathy refers more generally to our ability to take the perspective of and feel the emotions of another person, compassion is when those feelings and thoughts include the desire to help.

Ok so I don't have much of neither of those, at times.  I say at times, because there are times when I will do lots to help others, but not necessarily do I understand or share their feelings.

When I think back to situations/conversations with my FIL lately, it's not pretty.  He tries my patience in many different ways.  I tried to be nice, to explain, to pamper, to explain again, to help, to do for him.  I see that my efforts are kind of expected and that doesn't sit well with me.  I made a conscious decision years ago not to have a child; it is a responsibility for life that I didn't want, and I didn't want to love someone that much.  I didn't know (or even trust) if I could show/have that "unconditional" love.  I guess deep down I knew already that blood isn't thicker than water...  Giving birth (or sperm) to someone doesn't make it so that you will love or even like that person.   It's not that automagic...  I don't think it is, anyway.

At times, I see people who are such a close-knit family and think is it because they love each other or because they have something in common?  Why are we that different from the animals, is it because we lost our instinct? Is it because we can think? (not that many people do, really, but hey, that is what science say).  I would have to look into this, but do animals take care of their parents?  I don't think so...  The parents let their kids go fairly early on, and are they worst off for it?  I don't think so.  We, as human, do everything for our kids, and some parents do a shit load for their kids.  Are we better off for it?  I don't think so neither...

I think the one big thing that differs between humans parents and animal ones, is the guilt aspect.  Do animals play the guilt card on their young ones?  I don't know, but I do know that humans do, on many levels and for whatever reason.

Are we showing affection, love, care, compassion, empathy because we can think or because we care to do so?  Are any of those feelings part of us as people, or we learn them, pick them up along the way?

What do you think?

It might be time...

 It's been a while since my last post, and even if I've often felt the need to write, I decided against it for various reasons like I didn't want to aggravate a situation, didn't want to share what I was really feeling, didn't know how to word it all, but today feels like it is the day for me to empty my thought bucket... it might be due to the fact that last night Hubbly and I had a good conversation, or the fact that it is a dreary day, or simply because deep down I am fed up of putting up with people's bullshit on a personal and professional level.  

According to Hubbly I put myself in situations where I will get criticized, and will be an easy target - he's right. (Shit!  Did I just admit this on the web for the world to see?  Oh well, shit does happen, right?) I do tend to join things like the condo committee or even better, me creating this Bacefook group for this postcards hobby of mine.  In doing so, I have to deal with people, many people.  And, I don't feel like it is my strong suit to deal with people.  I'm not anti-social I just have a VERY low tolerance to stupidity.  And having to deal with people it triggers that side of me a lot.  There comes a time when one has to ask themselves, is it time to call it quits, to walk away from it all?  

I think I'm reaching that point.  I've tried to be detached, to not take things personally, but after six years of managing a growing group (over 400 members), it is taxing on my mental, add to that this freaking pandemic and life throwing us some curve balls, and I see that little open door to leave as an invite, almost... 

The control freak in me doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to relinquish control, I see that clearly.  It was/is my baby, and I've put many, many hours into it for it to be an organized group.  I was told it was too structured, and yet I know that many like that aspect.  I know I can't please everyone, and somewhere I'm not trying to too much.  I try to make it easy for all and for me as well, and organization just comes naturally.  The idea of closing shop has been simmering for a while now, because having to deal with the drama and childish ways of many and their sense of entitlement and even many Dunning-Kruger Effect makes it all a heavy load to support. 

Plus to add to it all, we have to deal with Hubby's father situation.  The old man, he's 84, found himself in a real big mess from which we are working hard to get him out of.  All of his life he's had someone taking care of him (from his siblings, to his wife, to his girlfriend and now us) because on his own he is completely useless.  It is sad, really.  Yes he is old, but being old doesn't excuse being stupid and making bad decisions. Repeatedly. No, being old excuses him only so far.  I've had to use a lot of patience in my dealings with him, patience which is already running on low supplies.  Yesterday I had to spent part of the day dealing with the Airbnb host from whom we've rented an apartment for the past nine weeks, who wanted to basically kick my father-in-law out because he had not received the payment for the two weeks extension we had asked for in November. We had originally booked the apartment until November 30th, but because FIL's new place was to be ready in December, we asked the host to extend for the first two weeks of December, which he accepted.  I sent him a partial payment on November 19th to confirm the extension and didn't hear anything back until yesterday.  He sent me an email simply saying "I've received a reservation from Dec. 2nd to January 11th, and can't extent your stay.  Your reservation ends Nov. 30th."  I was surprised and wrote him back, asking for an explanation, etc.  It went on for over four hours, with me sending him proof after proof of the payments (made through PayPal/Visa), etc. for him to say that he never got any email from PayPal and that he couldn't access his account at the moment.  Let's just say, it is fixed for now, but man oh man, Airbnb might not be for me!

So, maybe it is the time of year, the cumulative of this past shitty year or whatever, but I really feel like I need a vacation, far away, where it will be sunny and warm and where nobody expect anything from me.  Having to deal with morons asking where they should put their garbage while standing in a garbage room is just too much for me.  I don't want to be patient anymore, or even try to be nice, I just feel like looking at them and say: 

“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.”
—Mother Teresa

Argh! Turkey. Elections. Did I say Argh?

I can't believe we are already in October; that today is our (as in, us, Canadians) Thanksgiving. 

I don't know about you, or if it is a French vs English thing, but Thanksgiving was never a big thing for us.  It was basically a day off.  We didn't do the turkey (that is a Christmas thing for me), we didn't give thanks, and we didn't even really get together as such...  It was more like the last day off before the Christmas break.  Since I've been exposed more to the English side of things, I've come to realize that more people might celebrate that day.  Nothing like our neighbors the Americans though., but still.

I will give thanks for what I've got.  I'm thankful for my health in general, for my good husband, for the family I chose, i.e. my friends.  I have a good life and for that I am thankful, and not just today but most days of the year.  I write most because I know some days I do forget...

This time of year my favorite "holiday" would be Halloween.  That I celebrate!  As I kid I used to dress up and go trick or tricking.  I just loved it.  I remember wearing my snow suit under my costume because it was so cold, or wearing a big garbage bag over my costume because it was raining.  The joy of living here, you never know the type of night you'll get.  All my goodies for the little monsters are ready.  I started assembling my little bags and realized that I had done them all.  I have one hundred and twenty of them, and I'm hoping it will be enough.  As long as the weather is cooperating, it should be good.

Things have happened here and there, and at times I feel like I should be a fucking recluse, with no neighbor, no screeching kids, no hyper sensitive people, no relatives, just myself. And maybe Hubby (depending on the day, ah!)

I've been trying to get things together for Canada Posts to issue an official Postcrossing stamp.  I've asked Canadian members to help me in this.  The response rate is low.  Oh, I guess I should be happy that some did answer my request, because after all, we are Canadians - we are great at asking for things, but when comes time to actually do something or to get involve we go roach (as in we disappear as soon as the light in on us).  We're are great for wanting, but to actually act, that is a whole other story.  And when you are one (of the rares) who do actually do something, you are judge for being a shit disturber or someone who's disturbing and even a bully because you are pressuring people to do something.  No matter what you are fucked.  Damned if you do and damned of you don't.

We've had Provincial elections, and for the first time in a long time, people actually elected a majority government that wasn't Liberal or Québécois, a first since 1966! Oh, by the way, if there is anybody from any of the political parties, the elections are now over, so please do remove all those big card boards.  We've seen them all, please take them down.  Last elections I had to send an actual email to a party to ask them to actually stop littering the neighborhood with their signs. As I was reading a news feed earlier I came across an article stating that the 'new' government was racist, because the Premier didn't want any religious signs (that old debate, again), and the Muslims, etc. were up arguing about it all.  Why are we supposed to remove any religious signs (as in crosses) from City Halls, Parliament, schools, etc. even if we are (mostly) a Christian nation and yet it would be allowed for women to wear a hijab or men/kids to wear a kirpan?  I don't get this not good for one, and yet the others do it.  If we are a lay-society,  then everybody is the same and shows nothing... but then that would be too easy.

We live in one crazy world that is for damn sure!

Being Me

This past week I turned fifty-one... I would lie to say it really bothers me, because it doesn't. I don't feel it and I don't really look it either.  Granted, there are times when I feel like my body and brain are not in sync, the body is showing a little more reluctance to follow let's say... but then again, I don't train like I used to... I don't train at all, actually!   I don't miss it one bit.  I know about the health benefits, etc., etc. I guess I haven't reached that point yet, where the benefits are more needed then how I feel about it.

One sure thing about getting old...er is the fact that we (should) learn to detach ourselves.  We learn to let go and to not care oh so much.  If not, than it should be our goal so that our remaining days are pleasant and drama free.  I don't know if it is because Hubby told me many (many!) times over that it's ok for me to let go, or if it is one of the benefit of meditation or simply because I am learning, but I'm trying hard to detach myself, to not care, to relinquish control of things (and/or people) I can not control.  I fully understand that we can't please everyone and that not everyone will like us.  I accept that.  What I (still!) don't get is how, grown adults will spread lies about others, how they will act like teens in high school and rally against someone rather than verify (for themselves) what a situation really is about.

The past ten years, I've been working on myself, my short temper, my bluntness and came to realize that there are some things about me that I'm willing to work on and change, and others that I (me, Stinkypaw) don't dislike at all.  I've come to accept that I am this way and I don't mind it.  I like the fact that I can say to someone what I think.  I'm trying to work on my delivery, but the message I want to deliver will remain the same, only the packaging will change.  I've come to realize I'm a good person, with good values.  I have a set of beliefs and can agree to disagree.   

I will not lie, it does bother me when I hear someone doesn't like me.  I want people to like me (Sue me, I haven't reached that step of detachment yet!), or at least to not dislike me for the wrong reasons.  To hear from someone who visits with me that she was asked how I really was IRL, disturbed me somewhat.  I know we're not all alike, since I would do a perception check with the person I feel something is going on, I would verify with them directly rather than ask a third party.  Yes, that is me.  Yes, that is the confrontational me.  If I have a problem with the clerk at the grocery store, I will tell her.  I won't be going to another clerk.  I will go to the source.  Not everyone is like that, granted.  I'm asking you this:  Isn't it easier to go directly at the source and get a straight answer rather than go to a third party who will give you their impression?

A few weeks ago, I was accused of bullying after calling out members of a group to participate directly.  This person asked me to stop putting her name up, she would not participate and no amount of bullying from me would change that.  I was quite surprise by her answer, and asked her why she just couldn't tell me that she'd rather not participate instead of accusing me of bullying.  Her answer was that she thought I was a bully and found I pushed people and that she usually tried to stay out of my way.  To which I only answered thank you.  To my surprise, she came back with an apology stating usually she doesn't say mean things to people, that I've always rubbed her the wrong way.  After that I did not answer anything back. Not really worth it, now was it?  That episode did upset me.  It made me rethink my behavior and how it could (maybe) be construed as bullying.  I only wanted more active members to participate in this project, not bully them.  It also made me see that no matter how you try, if someone has decided they dislike you no matter what you do or try to do they will not like you.  It is ok. Again, we can't please everyone, nor should we try I say.  We should do our best and hope we don't rub people the wrong way too much.

In our condo association I know I've rubbed some the wrong way, because I'm the one applying our by-laws.  Some people will (do) dislike me and others will (do) like what I do.  In managing a Bacefook group I've had people say they were leaving because of me (being a mean moderator) and others that they enjoyed how well the group was managed.  Isn't funny how all our lives we try to better ourselves to become a better version of who we are, and when we are that person, we only need one person to criticize or dislike us to try to become a version they would like... how fucked up is that, really?  I like who I am (most of time), granted I could have a longer fuse, I could be more gentle in my communicative ways, I could keep certain things to myself, and I could be a little less outspoken, and not swear as much, but then again that wouldn't be the real me, would it?

I know my flaws, and like I wrote before, some I've worked on others well, I don't give a fuck.  Really.  I am Stinkypaw, and if you don't like me, well... if we're "friends" on Bacefook and you don't like what you see or what I say, there are three little dots next to my name and if you click on those the option to delete post and remove user will be offered to you, click on it, and your (and mine, most likely) problem will be resolve.  It is that simple, really.  If you're a member in a group I manage, the first box on the left, under the group's banner says "Joined", if you click on it, it will offer you the option to leave the group, voilà, another problem solved.  It can be that easy.  It's not complicated and I won't even know it until the day I might want to contact you and realize you're no longer a member.  I will get over it.  Trust me.  I will.  As Deepak Chopra said: No matter what the situation, remind yourself "I have a choice."

I choose, on this full day completed in my fifty-first year, to let go of many things, and to be happy with who I am.  It's ok not to be liked, because despite those haters I do have great people in my life who do like me just the way I am with my lack of fuse, bluntness, raw words, etc.  They know me, and take me as I am.  To those, and to all of those nice people who took the time to wish me happy birthday by Messenger, by posting their wishes on my wall, by calling me and even to come see me, I say a BIG heartfelt thank you.  Thank you for your friendship and your kind words.

and with this I wish you good night!

Anonymous vs Identified

When I started to blog it was mostly to post my Friday Smiles.  Every Friday I would post a joke.  Then I took a liking to writing and started to post more, about everyday life, what ever happened that I felt I could write about.  I've met some pretty neat people through this blog, and through their blog as well, and I miss those days of logging in to see what Preppygirl was up to, or Marius... I miss them, reading them.  I miss my Blends (BLog friENDS) as I used to call them.  Most of us moved on to Bacefook, Twitter, Instagram or whatever else tickled our fancy, but in the process we lost touch.  I have kept in touch with some, I even met one person a few years back while driving by her town.  It was cool to meet IRL.

Since blogging became less present in my life, it was replaced with Postcrossing.  Doing the official thing only, i.e. sending/receiving registered cards through the site doesn't lead to meeting as many people as blogging did, but they have a Forum and on there we can exchange more.  Some people are intimidated by the Forum, so I've started a Bacefook group for Canadians wanting to exchange about postcards within Canada.  That was in April 2014.  We now have over three hundred members.  It's a fun group where we play many games, and share our addiction of postcards.  Through that I've also managed to meet some interesting people, develop some virtual friendships as well as real ones.  It's interesting to see the interactions between us.  Like in every group activity clicks develop, some become regulars, others are lurkers, it's quite a varied group.  We're a good bunch.  After all, we're all Canadians, eh!

Back in 1999, I had started to work on a manuscript.  I even sent it to a few publishers in town.  I didn't push it much, I was shy and (to this day, still) not sure I really want to share it.  Then again, I did had a few people read it. I did choose with whom I would share it.  The idea of sharing my story, dates back a long way (thus the original title of this blog: Stories 2 Tell), and the past few months the idea of actually sharing, here, one of my stories has been trotting in my head.  I'm thinking of using my blog as a 'publishing' tool, but then again I'm debating if I shouldn't instead start a new blog, completely anonymous so that nobody knows who the author is... because here many people know who I am IRL.  What started out very anonymous, slowly became more opened even if I never (I think?!) revealed my name on here nor those of the people I've mentioned.  Over the years this blog became for many a way to keep in touch with me, to know what was happening in my life even if we could talk IRL, some keep on reading for whatever reason.

I don't know what to do... I want to share my story because deep down I hope that what I did go through could maybe help at best one person to deal with a similar situation.  Writing about my father's suicide on here did trigger some reactions. I did tackle some subjects that made people angry, laugh and at times touched them too.  I still believe that everyone has a story to tell and in doing so, it might help one person to cope with something.  I'm just not sure... do you have any thoughts?  If so, please do share.

Swimming against the current, or it's all relative?

As we were heading home after running some errands on the South Shore, I came to a realization, well, sort of: Hubby often said we were like salmons going up stream when we moved from the suburbs to downtown Montréal.  I didn't think much of it at the times, other then it might have been related to the fact that we don't have kids, unlike our friends, who wanted/needed more land, bigger house, etc. 

When we decided to go on our Norwegian adventure some people in our entourage mentioned they wouldn't do something like that; just leave everything behind and go away for a few months to live in a different country.

I, again, assumed it was related to the kid factor.  You know, having to deal with their schooling, etc.  During a  lunch with a friend, she mentioned how much of a pain it was for her to have to come to town.  She lives in a borough of Montréal, within fifteen minutes from downtown. 

I used to meet once every other month with a girlfriend, we would alternate once I would drive to her area and the following time she would come to town but when we moved downtown it went to once per season.  She didn't like coming to town.  She lives in the same suburb we used to, which is about thirty minutes away.  - By the way, please note that, of course, all the times I'm giving are traffic free, and since that is rarely happening, I have no clue how long it really takes to get anywhere.  Seriously.

Saturday morning, we wanted to have Dim Sum, since we had not yet gotten our fix.  The day we tried, walking to Chinatown, I sprained my foot (which is doing better and I was actually able to go walk around in a running shoe!).  We decided to go to Chinatown no. 2, i.e. Brossard.  We got in our car and drove to the South Shore.  It is about twenty minutes away.  We had our delicious fix of Chinese food, much needed after more than three months without any and then we proceeded to run some errands.  I had to get some supplies, so we shopped on Taschereau Blvd., then went for groceries on Nuns' Island and made our way back home.

As we were crossing the bridge back, that is when I thought "Hmm, I guess it's true were swimming against the current." Not only we don't stay in our hood for our everyday errands, but we go "far"! We both still drive to the West Island for our hair cuts, as well as for other things. I prefer to drive to Fairview for shopping than going downtown, not only because there is parking but mostly because they don't only cater to young skinny things. I've been known to drive to Laval, for a store in particular, because I like their clothes which are not only age appropriate but actually fit me.  Many people we know will only shop in their area, they go out in their neighborhood, they might work outside of their hood, but for the rest they stay in their area.  We are just the opposite.  We often say we're "grocery sluts" - we get our groceries wherever is near us at the time.  Since we've moved downtown, we've been to so many different grocery stores, in neighborhood we just drive through or happen to think of something we'll need and will go in the first store we see.  We are no longer loyal to a specific store; we do have our preferred places for different things, but we are not always going to the same place. 

I wonder why it is that we, as people, need to have this routine like behavior, this need to go at the same place, close by and not venture further?  Does it go back to the days when we had to fend for our food and would try to remain close to our caves, to be in a safe area?  I can't help and wonder what makes us want this?  One of the thing I absolutely loved from our Norwegian Experience, was the fact that I didn't know anyone, nor anything about where we ended up, and had to discover things. I liked that we tried Rema 1000,  and Coop and Eurospar each offering different things.  Some were near where we lived and yet we would go further to try some other store, to see what they also offered. 

I will admit, for my hairdresser I am loyal and somewhat scared to try someone new; especially for a cut.  We changed dentists (both of us) last week to give a try to a clinic walking distance from home.  I had the same guy since 1984, but his office looks run down now and in serious need of a revamp so I decided to change.  Hubby's dentist retired while we were in Norway, so he didn't have a choice.  I went for my exam and cleaning and what a difference - not only the decor, but the service, the high tech equipment... and the price!

Why is it we, well, most of us, need to have this security sense, this comfort I guess for things we know, near us?  Why is that some need to venture out while others are scared to do so or are simply not interested?  Doesn't it get boring, being so repetitive?  Do I feel like a salmon when I come home after running errands in an area outside my comfort zone?  I don't know, but I do know I'm not finding it hard to swim against the current in that case... 

That shitty time of year again...

Since I have a tendonitis in my right shoulder, and pain is actually a daily occurrence,  I've been feeling crappy and crabby to say the least.  I've seen my osteo, which helps for a few days after treatment but the pain never truly goes away.  Last visit I had with her, she suggested to see an acupuncturist for pain management, so I contacted the little man I know.  I've seen him twice in the last two weeks, the first treatment really helped my arm's mobility, and yesterday's treatment was so painful it messed me up bad.  Today it does feel better, but I just can't wait for pain to be gone!!

To add to my shitty feelings, the weather has been crap - so fucking cold, my face looks like a shedding lizard, and this time of year is ALWAYS crap for me,  S.A.D. kicks in full blown.  Despite my "happy light" and "happy pills", there's always rougher days than others. So, when adding physical pain to it all, it's bad...

Good thing is I'm busy, between work and my postcards, I don't have time to get bored.  Between the official cards and some random act of smileness I basically get  cards on a daily base.  I love it.  Today I actually received an envelop from Gyor in Hungary from a man who lives there.  Turns out he had sent a request to join a (closed) group I manage on Bacefook for Canadian Postcrossing users, and when I saw that he was from Gyor, HU - which is the village my mother in law was from, I sent him a message asking him if he wanted to swap with me (since I wouldn't let him in the group).  We exchanged a few messages, I've sent him a card from here - which he liked and today I've received these cuties:

Baroque city of Gyor, HU

Budapest, HU

Seeing this reminds me that we WILL have to see Hungary before we're too old to travel!  Last time Hubby was there was in 1991, and I've never been, so we'll have to get our ducks in a row and go!

Today, I was informed that a member of our group (in Postcrossing Canada) is quitting.  I respect her decision, but I'm sad to see her go as she was one of the good and fun ones.   Do you ever have this feeling that things are crumbling around you, slowly?  Ever feel like the you're losing some good friends because they're moving or even worst they died? Or simply losing touch with someone you thought was closer than they actually were, since the tie broke (easily) since they had kids, or met someone new?  I hate seeing this and even more feeling it.  I know it's life, I've been around and seen it many times, doesn't mean I have to like it now, does it?

It might be time to walk away...

I've been toying with the idea of retiring or should I say doing what was the initial plan when Hubby and I created our company: to do our books and that's that.  A part of me feels guilty and don't like the idea of being a woman at home (with no kid) and feeling like I'm not pulling my weight.  Hubby has been telling me to ditch clients for months.  I did drop a few here and there, but have kept others.

We took one week off, and since I feel really overwhelmed and despite some serious efforts still not seeing the load getting lighter.  Plus to add to this yucky feeling, I'm not even doing the things I really do enjoy.  I don't have time.  I try to catch a bit here and there, spend some time with Hubby watching the shows we both like, and even that while sitting there I feel fidgety when I think that I should be invoicing or doing some bank reconciliation for a client or another.  It sucks!

I know it's all me.  I chose to get clients, and to keep them. It's me.  I just can't let go.  Is it only my need to feel needed, my ego for not wanting to be one of those housewives, the fact that I (guess) do care about what others think?  I don't know.  I just know that I need to get off, I'm starting to feel nauseous as I'm typing this.  I'm afraid to be lazy, even if I do know that I am, but to stop "working" would be like giving full freedom to my laziness.  I would rather be sick.  Weird to realize that I'm doing this to myself. 

I've never felt overwhelmed like I do the past few weeks.  I look at my desk, and it's a mess.  There are papers everywhere. I think I'm going to crash again, and this time I have no excuse; I see myself going, I see how I'm driving this boat and I know I'm going to crash it.  I have to do something.  I thought a week away, in the sun, would help, but I'm thinking it might have been the kick in the ass I needed to drop out.  To let go.  I've been told not to care, that as long as I'm being paid who cares what clients do.  I wish I could not care.  I do.  I've tried to turn off my emotions, like they say in vampires show, and yet, it doesn't seem to be working.  I'm no vampire, that's for dammed sure, even if I've been living at nights lately. 

I have to let go.  Something has to give and I KNOW it is me.  For my sanity, among other things.  I don't like feeling this way, so I will do something... Why do I feel like I'm about to throw up just thinking of which client I could let go of... why do I feel this lump in my throat as if it's something really scary?  I really don't like this.  It's all me.  I get that.  Now how do I pull the plug?!...

Times change

or do they really?

It never fails.

Just when I think things are good, something pops up. On Friday, my mother called. She rarely does. She called because a life long friend of the family had called her to let her know he had cancer. Again. He's been battling it for years, and I thought he was in remission, but he called my mom to let her know that his brain and lungs were now attacked. The end is near for him. When I had first found out a few years back he had cancer, I had written him a letter (I think I had posted about that back then). After I spoke with my mom, I felt sad.  He's a good man.  He wants to live and it saddens me to think of him going.  But such is life.  It sucks, but what that is why we're here, to live some and die.  Sad, ridiculous but true.  We don't have much choice about it. That's life.

Tonight, I found out the brother of a friend passed away.  He was only 42, father of two young ones.  It is sad.  I know he had a hard battle.  Not easy for anyone.

At times, I can't help but wonder if it is worth the effort we put in.  We're doing all of this, for what?  Nobody gets out alive, nobody's found a loophole, no matter your fortune, your relationship status, no matter how well or poorly you treat people, you will die too.  Nobody escapes it.  When I think of it, I then wonder why am I trying to be a better person, to be honest, to respect others, to be nice?  Does it really matter?  The way we live doesn't reflect on how we will die.  You can be an asshole all your life and go quietly in your sleep, while the nice person will suffer through cancer and all of that. 

Even if I do believe in karma, at times, it all doesn't make sense to me.  I guess I don't have that type of faith, the kind that will explain or rationalize it all, 'cause even if I try not to judge, because when I think someone isn't deserving of suffering I'm judging that person (in a good way, but still it is my judgement), and I shouldn't.  I should mind my own business, do my best and trust in the universe, or the energy or whatever.  At times, it is fucking hard to do.

I know life isn't easy, I get that.  We all have a path, that we choose or not to follow.  When I think of people (relative and friend) who stopped talking to me because I did or didn't do something, that they disliked but never had the gull to talked to me about it, it makes me... angry more than sad.  We have little time here, why are we wasting it this way, are we that arrogant?  Do we think that death will pass us by, that we have all the time in the world?  Can we really be that stupid?  Argh.

I swear, when I feel this way I so get why my father took the way out he did.  I'm assuming that was a way for him to claim some control over what he felt he could no longer control...  I still think it showed courage, and desperation, but courage to pull that trigger.  Courage I don't have.  At least not for that.  I have courage, but what I'm lacking at the moment, is hope, or is that faith?

Cultural differences or just plain disrespectful?

I'm not patient.  I've been feeling stressed lately (lots of work, and with Christmas around the corner it all adds up to more stress), thus a little less patient (if that's even possible).  I'll be the first to admit that I have very low tolerance for slowness in general.

When I talk to someone, even to a pet, I do expect an answer or at least a reaction, I'm funny that way.  So, when I'm facing someone who looks at me like a deer in headlights, I can't help but feel somewhat annoyed.  My impatience kicks in.  I'm this way in everything, unlike Hubby who tends to be more so when driving, but somewhat "nicer" when dealing with people.  I just think he fakes it better, that's all.

Since I've been self-employed I haven't have to attend too many (useless) meetings.  I do have to meet clients, but since they pay me per hour, they tend to be a little more efficient.  What irritates me no end is people not respecting me.  Some people are always late.  That's just the way they are, the way they function.  I hate that.  They always have an excuse also, which makes it all even worst.  Maybe it is due to my many years in martial arts, where respect was number one, but to me always being late shows disrespect, not only to me and those around but to yourself as well.

Two weeks ago I had a meeting at a client with two other consultants and three staff members.  While I was sitting with the employee who had called that meeting for the others to show (and I wasn't there in advance, but at the time called for), I did mention how I hated waiting for disrespectful people.  It as almost funny how he agreed with me, but then said "well... it's part of some people's culture".
One of the employee showed up 5 min. late while one of the consultant showed up more than 15 min. late.  When he came in, I couldn't help but to thank him to finally make it.  He laughed a little, but I knew he had gotten my message. 

Last week, the employee called another meeting.  I accepted and replied to all on the distribution "It would be nice if everyone could respect the schedule time and be there on time."  Everyone did.  Saturday, that client had his annual end of year celebration.  Things were running relatively on time, considering the size of the event.  At our table, five seats were left empty.  For having organized many events, there's nothing worst than expecting people (especially RSVP) who end up not showing up.  Those things do happen.  What I find weird is how it often always happen to the same unlucky bastards to be late, but hey...  They started doing the awards presentation, etc. and at some point, a lady sitting across from me, said "I think I know who's missing from our table, he's always late, it's cultural, you know."  I didn't say anything, but thought how easily she was forgiving this flagrant lack of respect.  The celebration started at 6pm.  The missing person showed up well after 7:30pm.

Because it was a special celebration this year, someone in the group of non-employees suggested to get a nice gift (all together) for the CEO.  He asked for a specific amount and said he would shop and give us a card we could all signed before the gift was to be remitted to the CEO during the celebration.  Five or six of us agreed and contributed.   Well, the party went on, and on, and no gift was presented to the CEO other than one from his employees.  At some point I went to see the "organizer" of our little gift plan and asked if it had been bought.  His answer was "Yes, it's in my car.  Since we were a little late, I didn't know if we'd have time to present it to him".  I felt like punching him in the mouth!  What an ass!  When I asked when was he planning to give it to him, he looked confused, to finally answer Monday.  I'm not at that client on Mondays, and since he didn't have the card (either) I couldn't sign it.  When I told him he looked at me like a deer in headlights, argh!  Another punch coming!

I'm supposed to accept this and excuse his total disrespect of all involved and the CEO as well, as cultural differences, because he's African?  Really?  I don't think so.  He's just an ass, who sure acted like a big dumbass!

Cultural differences are (according to CICB):

• Laughing is connoted in most countries with happiness - in Japan it is often a sign of confusion, insecureness and embarrassment.
  
• In the UK Ireland and Commonwealth countries, the word „compromise” has a positive meaning (as a consent, an agreement where both parties win something); in the USA it may rather have negative connotations (as both parties lose something).
  
• In Mediterranean European countries, Latin America and Sub Saharan Africa, it is normal, or at least widely tolerated, to arrive half an hour late for a dinner invitation, whereas in Germany and Switzerland this would be extremely rude.

I guess I'm not cultured, or lacking cultural knowledge or something, but to me what he did is so wrong, no matter where he's from...  I feel like putting a stop payment on the check I wrote him last week!

Ouch, that hurts...

Looking at the stats generated by Blogger, I should close this blog... If this was a business I'd run, I would have closed it by now following the numbers it's generating.  I'm hurting.  Big time.

I know many people left this media to play with Bacefook and to Tweet.  I've done it too, but always kept this going to some extent. I think I'm reaching my limit...

I've been trying to find new interesting blogs to read, but honestly I don't have time, and when I do well, I do something else.  I still enjoy writing, but I'm not sure I have much to say.  Let me rephrase that:  I still have lots to talk about, just not sure I want to write about it.

If you're reading this (post and/or blog) what keeps you coming back?  I know I can be blamed for lack of stability, I no longer post regularly.  One thing that did keep me posting was having regular readers, people I got to know through this blog (and theirs, often).  I'm a comment slut, I will admit it.  I just love reading comments.  It hurts when I post and get no comment whatsoever.  I actually hate it. I want comments, damn it!

I'm not a specific type of blogger, I'm no writer either, I write for my pleasure, because I want to express myself and like to connect with people.  When I get no comment it feels like I'm not interesting enough.  At times, I am aware that it is the case, but not all the time.  Come on!

I'm not cruising for compliments here.  I'm wondering what happened that I went from having some feedback from my readers to none.  Maybe I'm complaining too much?  Is that it?  I've always used my blog as a place to vent, maybe it got tiresome?  I've always called it as I see it, so maybe some got offended? I'm wondering... maybe it's just time for me to call it quit? 

I've been at it since April 2006. I've started slowing down last year.  May 2012 was the first time, since April 2006, that I didn't post at all.  Then it happened again this year, when I didn't post for the whole month of March.  My slowing down cost me readers, I know that, but still my numbers are somber and I really have to be doing some thinking here...I keep going and (try) don't care about the readers/comments I get, keep going for me because I want to write... hmmm... dilemma, dilemma...

I can't be the only one...

Ever noticed how, on TV and/or in movies, they show women shaving their legs while taking a bath?  It is a bit like for this picture, that position supposed she's in a tub or so I hope.

I haven't been a fan of baths as far back as I can remember.  There is something about sitting in dirty water that doesn't do it for me.  I do enjoy a relaxing soak once in a while, but after I will take a shower to wash it down.

To think of sitting in bath water while shaving my legs and having all those little hairs floating around is just plain gross to me... Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels this way, right?

Call me nosey but if the World is about to end I want to know!

Yesterday while getting my hair colored, I couldn't help myself eavesdropping the conversation the young girl (early twenty, if that) sitting a few stations over, was having with her hairdresser.  They started very casually, just like us old people do, by talking about the weather.  Luckily for us, despite Sandy's visit, we weren't really affected by it all, unlike our neighbors in Jersey and NY.  We had some rain and yes it was windy.   The hairdresser (also in her early twenties) was away in Cuba the week before (yeah, we do go to Cuba often, it's cheap for us) and caught the beginning of the storm.  They talked about the resort, traveling alone, etc.  I was also reading a book so I zoned in and out as time ticked off my timer.  At some point, the client started talking about how Mother Nature was reacting to everything we've done to it and Mother Earth and how it was all about the magnetic pull of the Earth, how the core was affected and how science wasn't truly able to explain it all, but that Mayans knew.  They did predict "the end" by December 2012. 

I was trying not to giggle.  She really sounded knowledgeable (wonder what she has read to know this much about that subject), and very assertive in her descriptions and facts.  In a way, it was nice to hear someone who believed in something - I have no idea what - and who was willing to share her knowledge.  I'm not saying she was wrong (or right, for that matter).  I was surprised.  And somewhat amused.

A part of me always feels something (I can't really describe it, since it balances between sympathy, derision, cries and laughter) whenever I hear talks about the end of the world.  Something is happening.  One would have to be pretty deep under ground not to see that the world is changing.  Is it coming to an end?  I don't know.  I do feel it is not going in the best direction, wherever it is heading.  Nature is reacting a lot lately.  I don't remember so many natural catastrophes occurring in the past.  There were some, they even mention one in the Bible, with Noah's. There always had been some, but this many, I don't recall.   Does that mean the world is coming to an end?  I don't know.  We talk about Global Warming.  I do think it is a fact.  It is happening.  We don't have much snow anymore, not like we used to.  We still have too much, if you ask me, but that's another subject.

Is it all due to us being more aware of things because of all the social medias, news, etc.?  I wonder at times.  Even if one tries to avoid the news (and trust me, this one does), at some point, some place, one hears the news.  We are being informed despite us.  What I wonder about is how accurate is the information we're being fed? That I would love to know!

Past Life

Ever wonder if you've had a past life, that is if you believe in those things?  I've never really felt drawn to another place or time, except when on vacation, I always think I could live there year 'round.   I have felt, at times, that I should have been born in the fifties or earlier, simply because I love the fashion of those days, but to say it is because I had a past life? Humm.

I 'm not closing myself to the idea, since I've often wondered why it was that once in a while I would meet someone and felt like we knew each other already.  Maybe I did know that person in a previous life?  Or it was simply because we clicked right then and there.

I do know people who strongly believe in past lives.  I was once told, by someone fairly close to me, that he knew me from a past life and that I actually used to work for him.  In the Caribbeans, on a dock... as a working girl... wow!  At least I wasn't freezing my ass off, unlike this life where I'm stuck up here with winter coming... argh.

I've never dreamed of anything like that, nor will I pretend to remember anything, but the thought of it is intriguing.  I'm not sure I'd be curious enough to consult a medium, because I would feel like I'd be taken for a ride down memory lane or let's make it up as we go type thing.  I've seen a fortune teller once or twice, and they both impressed me, but somehow predicting the future seems less bogus than a past that I don't recall.  I may be totally wrong, and both are just as bad or irrelevant, but what if?...

Olympic Twit

I've always enjoyed watching the Olympics.  I even get emotional watching gymnastics.  I know weird, huh?  There is something about watching these guys and gals tumbling and making their bodies do things that are not all that natural to start with, that gets me teary eyes.  I'm in awe of swimmers, at how easy they make it look. Yet, this year something that bothered me previously is really getting jammed along my tunnel of admiration for these athletes.  It bothers me to see professionals participating.  Serena Williams is a great athlete but she chose to play professionally and earn shit loads of money for being a professional tennis player, so she shouldn't be allowed to play against "regular" people.  I've taken Miss Williams but it could be anyone else who's a professional, like basket ball players, or any other sports.  I don't think it is right.

And what to say about these expulsions of different players for their Tweet, really?  I don't get this.  I did compete, at a local level mostly, and despite the "good spirits" there was always some dislike of my opponents.  I had to not like them if I wanted to play hard against them and beat them.  I do understand the racial aspect of things, especially at the Olympics, but at the same time, it is to be expected that players of different teams will comment and criticize their opponents, especially if they are on the losing side of the game.

I think the social media are being too intrusive and in some ways are restricting our freedom.  I mean, we've always expressed dislike of our opponents.  It used to be verbally.  Nowadays it is on Facebook and/or Twitter (to name only those).  Before only those close to us would hear our anger or racism.  Nowadays, it is for the world to see.  Since we are not bright enough to censor ourselves, because let's be honest, it looks like we can't do that in this era of sharing way too much information, society has to monitor what's being posted.

I do understand the terms of the International Olympic Committee's code of conduct, which requires athletes to show mutual respect, but come on, isn't that on for the field or stadium? At the same time, I can't help and wonder how did the Olympic Committee know about every tweet  issued by any athletes?  Someone must have complained. Should the Committee be involved in such issues?  Where does it stop?  It was after a game, on a personal account.  Does that mean that because you're going to the Olympics you can't express your opinions or anger? 

I'm just thinking about those professional basket ball players who constantly nag and pull each others' leg during a game (I did play basket ball and it can get pretty nasty at times), do the Olympic Committee think that because they are at the Olympics they will refrain from such tactics of intimidation?  Some players make their careers on being bad boys (or bad mouths), so because they're representing a country they will play nice, yeah right!

It seems to me like too much hypocrisy is going on.  Countries want to win and will use whatever mean necessary.  If it means dopes, or professional why not.  I don't think it's fair and I don't think it is realistic to think that because it's the Olympics that everything is swell.  Some nations have been hating each others for centuries and it's not a two weeks break that will change that.  Some people have no class, and being at the Olympics won't change that either.  Some people are racist, bigot or whatever else and that isn't about to change because we promote peace, love, friendship.  People have to want to change first and foremost.

I'm closing with this:

A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time. So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site. She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.

"Pardon me, sir, I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. What's your name?
"Morris Feinberg," he replied.
"Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"
"For about 60 years."
"60 years! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"
"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims. I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop. I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults and to love their fellow man. I pray that politicians tell us the truth and put the interests of the people ahead of their own interests."
"How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"
"Like I'm talking to a fucking wall."

Yep, that pretty much sums it up doesn't it? I think I'd get along with the old man...

How free is that?

I've been thinking... yeah I know, scary thought... about what you may ask? We often hear and read about how great it is to live in a place like Canada or the States, how free we are.  We have freedom of speech, free thinking, etc., but I can't help and wonder if we are truly free.  Yes, I can express myself on this blog (and I do!), among my piers, but deep down am I really free to do so?

If I truly expressed my opinions or even some deep personal thoughts, would it churn some shit?  I've been wondering about this.

We talked against dictatorship and such, and yet we are being pushed (with or without our participation) by our governments in directions that truly free people might not have followed.  For example, our student strike (going on for months now) and their walks in protest of the tuition raises; when they started doing it every other days and being really vocal about their "cause", the government passed this bill prohibiting them to demonstrate on universities grounds and that 50 or more participants to any demonstration must let the police know about their path (read more about it, here).  We aren't being told what to do, like a dictator would order, but laws are being passed, smoothly, to prevent us from expressing ourselves.  In the end, we're not really free to express our opinions.

I know we could have it a lot worst.  But I have this feeling that slowly (but surely) things are changing here and it may not be all for the best.

I don't know, but I don't think this is heathly...

When one has always lived a certain way, they assumed that's the way the world is.  You can hope for better things, better environment, but until you've had experienced some goodness, you won't really know how bad things are.

A child growing up in an abusive environment thinks parents are the same every where, until the day he gets exposed to a nurturing parent.  Usually, parents divide their roles: one is the good parent and the other is the bad one, or rather the disciplinary one.  Sometimes some parents assume the submissive or the dominant role.  Being talked down to is a common thing in an abusive family.  The father screams, hits, degrades. The mother endures, doesn't talk back and supports her husband's behavior and decisions, because that is what wives do.  The kids see, feel and live violence on a daily base. They don't really know any better and live in fear of being hit.  They have to follow the rules, oblige by them and never question them.  If they do, it can not be said, especially not to the father.  Observe and remain quiet.

The kids become adults, fairly adjusted despite everything.  They realize how things were and that there are other options out there.  They choose to apply and live with these less abusive ways.  The mother chooses to stand by her man. It might be due to her lack of courage, her habits, or because that's where a wife is supposed to be?  The father (may) also sees, as he's getting older, that his ways were not always the best.  He reproduced what he had received and knew  rather than improving or changing.  It could be based on his lack of education, his inability to open up and, or simply fear?

One day the father takes his life.  The mother is at a loss.  The one person who controlled her every moves, her life, is now gone.  She could, if she wants, take this as an opportunity to grow, to better herself, to become the person she didn't have a chance (or didn't let) to be.  She has too much anger to work on herself.  She hangs on to that anger, to those years of frustration.  He fucked her up big time, and it's all his fault.

The kids want change.  They work on themselves, seek professional help, they want to understand and move on.  They don't blame it all on their father.  Their mother had her share of responsibilities.  There is anger there.  There is also hurt.  They think things can only get better from there, they will help their mother and it will get better, they will heal together.

Time does go by.  The mother says and acts as if she's trying to better herself, but her actions at times show her children her true color.  Having been exposed to abuse and lack of respect for so many years, one could argue it makes it hard for one to know better.  Maybe it is the children's expectations of their mother that is too high?  Maybe it is a simple generation gap?  In her times, a parent was meant to provide a roof, food and clothes to their children.  For a child to feel loved by his parents after the essentials were supplied was almost a luxury.    Maybe it is a recent thing this "feeling the love" thing? 

The children are adults.  Mature adults.  The mother is elderly.  They visit each other, they talk, but (of course) not as much as the mother would expect.  There are still some unspoken issues between them.  The father's suicide, even if talked about openly, has never been really accepted by the mother.  She feels abandon.  She has lots of anger.  Her anger isn't always directed at the right person. Despite being seen as a victim by many who were exposed to the family when the father was around, the mother is not.

A parent who says they would do anything for their children, would protect them in case of danger.  Shouldn't a parent whose spouse is abusive protect them as well?  Why would a parent stay in a house where one is being put down, screamed at, and at times hit chose to remain there? Why would a mother choose to stay with a man who would hit their children, take pride in saying that her husband never hit her, because if he had she would have left him?  Should the children think of this statement as how little value they represented for their mother?  Why would a parent who knows are much words can hurt, would choose to say such words to their children?  How can a mother tell her own children, that she says to love more than life itself, to go fuck themselves?  As adults, shouldn't the parent and kids respect each other, or at least respect the fact they are related to one another?

I'm not a parent, but those of you who are, what do you think?  Besides not being a healthy relationship, do, like I do, still see abuse in the mother-children relationship?

Numbers only or not?

I know, I know, I didn't honor veterans yesterday.  I did in my own way, just not publicly.  Yesterday was also all about the fact that it was 11-11-11... What's the big deal about that?  This phenomenon has been happening for the last eleven years (at least) and it did before and it will again.  Woohoo, all the digits in the date are the same, and we should all do something also when the time is all on ones.  Come on people, don't you have anything better to do? 

If one makes a big deal about this 11-11-11 and chose that date to get married so that their spouse would easily remember their wedding date, fine, I get that.  Hey, we got married in 2000, so that Hubby could have easy maths to do when asked how long we've been married.  But other than that I just don't get it.

I'm somewhat superstitious, but when it comes to numbers, not so much. I know for some it is cultural.  Chinese people care a lot about numbers.The number three is important somehow.  I found that out at dimsum.  Do you care about it all or it's just a fun fact?

Next year the big date will be 12-12-12, wow, can't wait!  Oh no, but then we'll be in 2012... oh crap, we're in for some serious shit, no?

OK, it snowed now! Woohoo!

How can people live in a house which smells so friggin' bad?  As soon as the door opens, you get hit by this really foul smell: a mixture of wet dog and cat urine.  I'm very sensitive to odors.  I like smelling fresh and clean.  Being in an environment that smells like cat piss turns me off so bad.  After spending a few hours in there, I feel like I smell as bad as the rest of it all.  It feels as if it almost burning the inside walls of my nasal passages.  It is so strong.  I feel the need to shower.  This is really not pleasant.

I once thought things were getting better, and they sort of did for a short while.  Lately it's gotten worst.  Burning smelling candles, using plug-ins, leaving a window open doesn't do much.  The candle helps in the immediate area where it's lit, but that's about it.

If having so many cats is too much for a family, why don't they get rid of them?  I understand the attachment, the commitment, but this is ridiculous.  This house smells worst than many vet's offices and even kennels I've visited.  I can't believe they don't smell it.  It's impossible.   Can one get immune to it? The sad thing is I do know it is not really the cats that smell, its their environment, their litter box that need to be emptied, changed, refilled.  Don't they see the litter bits all over the floor?  Don't they care that their house is taken over by filth?
My little corner is clean.  I keep it clean, as much as I can.  They even comment on it, which always makes me feel a little weird.

As I leave there, I think everything smells.  It's been hours since I was in there and yet, I still have this smell hanging over me, I can almost see it.  I really don't get it.  How can one be so disconnected, so out of touch with reality not to care anymore?  I'm disgusted, feeling dirty and somewhat sad... argh.