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Showing posts from December, 2015

Good Riddance, 2015

It wasn't all that far along into this calendar year that I found myself sitting at this desk, on to which I had spilled a fairly large number of pills. I had grouped them in neat little rows, and I was trying to muster--not so much the courage, but the energy--to pick 'em up and start swallowing.

It had taken a great deal of energy just to live over the preceding eight months or so. Too much, really. And I'd expended a great deal more in a ferocious burst of writing over two weeks: not one note, but seven letters, two of them nearly twenty pages long, explaining and absolving. An awful lot of writing to say "it's not you, it's me".

Staring at those pills, thinking of th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love and all the rest, it wasn't fear of 'what dreams may come' that stayed my hand. Not really. I hold to the belief that death, like life, is what we make of it; and if ending my life only left m…

Lions, Sheep, and The Pink Kink In My Think

"The greatest fear in the world is of the opinions of others. And the moment you are unafraid of the crowd, you are no longer a sheep. You become a lion. A great roar arises in your heart, the roar of freedom."--Osho

With all due respect to the renowned Indian professor of philosophy and source of two of myfavourite quotes on love, I am not a lion. Nor do I have any wish to be. Lions are predators. Man-eaters, even.

People have been telling me for years that I'll know I've truly grown up when I no longer care what others think of me. That's supposedly a hallmark of maturity, of adulthood.

This is one of those sentiments that is so easily misconstrued. And what it often turns into, I've found, is "I don't give a shit what you think, and if I hurt you, that's your problem, not mine." Lions don't generally respect the opinions of sheep, after all.

I cared entirely too much about the opinions of my peers for entirely too long, it's true.…

Looks Like We Made It

We are not out of the woods, but we are out of the scary part of the woods. I don't believe in horoscopes: I've said this several times over the years, and it's true. But I do look at them, for entertainment purposes only, twice a year: on New Year's Day, and on my birthday. The New Year's 2015 horoscopes for Eva and I both made reference to persistent money problems this year.
Boy, I'm glad I don't believe in these things, I thought, then. Because this one seems to be telling me I won't be getting a job in 2015.

Little did I know.

I was hired on April Fool's Day and for the first time ever, I find myself working for a company that respects me. I actually have a career path plotted out, and I am confident that path is supported.

Eva, though.

The physical after-effects of her bariatric surgery meshed very unpleasantly with her mental health this year. She has been off work since April and without any sort of an income since August. Given my nine mont…

"A time to tear and a time to mend"

*note: this blog has been edited post-publication for clarity*

First of all, I would like to thank everyone who came to my mother's memorial service today. It means a lot to me.

My mom didn't want a memorial service at all. But so many people approached my stepfather in the wake of her passing that he felt obligated. He thought maybe ten people would show up.

There were a lot more than ten. There were probably more than a hundred. My mom touched a lot of lives, directly or indirectly: that was something I was going to say in the eulogy I had prepared.

I didn't want to have to talk about this, especially in the wake (ha-ha) of a day that was supposed to be all about my mother. But circumstances have made it imperative that I address some things. I was asked about that eulogy, which I put a lot of thought and effort into. I showed up late to the memorial and was not part of the receiving line; that also raised some eyebrows. Many of the attendees could be forgiven for not kn…