LJ 23-03-2005 “My trip to Toronto.”

Previously Posted at my Livejournal.

My trip to Toronto.

Part 1

Here I am. This whole situation seems unreal. I need to write and I’m not sure why. I guess I’m scared. I’m leaving Ottawa and, metaphorically, everything it represents: home, school, support, security, strength.

I was uncomfortable in Toronto, the last two times I went. This should furthers my discomfort.

I’m not sure what will happen or what I’m going to do but this feels like one event that will mark me for the rest of my life. What will happen? I can only go with the flow, react with compassion and love.

Odd watching a movie, mimed to the sound of Cake. (In the greyhound you need to plug your earphones in their sound system to hear the movie but I chose to listen to music instead.) The bus is a normal Greyhound, nothing remarkable. The passengers seem to be the same but I’m sure they all have a story to tell. In a seat behind me sits an attractive girl, she looks like she’s been traveling a long time. Well equipped, she lies down to sleep on a makeshift pillow. All the rest seem just as average.

In the station I saw woman, Asian maybe, she walked around the station with a bright green suitcase, the kind that you pull, it seemed bigger then her. She was in her late teens a little woman with few curves. As I got into the bus I saw the suitcase standing alone in the middle of the station. I wonder why it was alone, I wonder what happened.

I love my father and I wish him no harm. I wish, as all people do, that it was happening to someone else. I don’t think that I will get there and everything will be wonderful, I just want to see my dad. I want him to know that I care and that I carry no hard feelings.

Well the board is set, the pieces in movement, the players nervous and now all I can do is be strong and caring, If not for him then for myself.

Eric Desmarais
The 22nd of March 2005. 10:06 am.

Part 2

Well I’m home now and in front of my computer. No longer does fear assail my heart, well not much anyways. I went yesterday to Toronto and met my dad and his wife and two of their friends. I haven’t seriously spent time with him in 5 years. Allot changes in five years and even more becomes exaggerated in a young mans mind. We spent a nice evening together, spoke of my family and how everyone is doing. We were all scared but joked most of the night. I never realised that his sense of humour was so close to mine. I think things went well because he wasn’t trying to be a parent anymore. He just wanted to be with his son. It was like hanging out with friends. Sadly I can no longer vilify my dad’s wife; I can see why he’s with her.
My dad and his friend drove me back to the Bus station at 11:30pm to grab the bus at 12. (My Dad couldn’t drive me alone. He’s considered legally blind.) We hugged and said our goodbyes. It was a typical male moment. It was nice.

On the trip back I talked to different people and finally fell asleep. I woke up a few times and when I go to Kanata, I took the 96 home and crawled in bed. The only problem with traveling to Toronto and back in under 24hours, is that I now feel (physically) like shit. Emotionally I’m great but I think I’ll take tomorrow to relax and then the long weekend to work on the things I’ve been putting off.

I received to phone calls today. The first was from Doris (Dad’s wife). The operation went well; they took 35% of the tumour out. Sadly they think it might be cancerous but they won’t know till the tests come in. Besides that he’s ok, no side effects and the headaches are gone. He’s will be back home tomorrow. They scheduled him for an appointment in 3 weeks and we’ll know more then. Middle of my 3 exams… sigh.

The second was from my mom. It’s strange realising that your parents are just normal human beings. She spoke with me for a while and I realise that maybe some of my anger towards him came from her. I don’t blame her though. He left her pregnant and didn’t talk to her till I was 1. He was 18 at the time and probably had no clue. She’s still hurt and I think in her own emotional way (I guess that’s where I get it.) she’s afraid that if I have a close relationship with my dad it will hurt the one I have with her. She’s sort of jealous that she can’t be in that part of my life. I love my parents but they’re just human. It makes me feel good and a little scared. It’s odd when the omnipotence of parents is proven false.

I have spoken to many people about this subject and the reactions I got surprised me. Many thought that I would be better off dealing with the whole situation if I had a girlfriend or a religion. I guess religion would have been comfort when I thought he was going to die. It would have been a comfort if I truly believed in an afterlife. Just knowing for sure that he was going to a better place would have been nice. I had to deal with it differently; I hoped he was going to a better place. I hoped that there was a higher being that was watching over him but these are concepts that I have a hard time believing in. I don’t want to believe the alternative, so what I do is decide to figure it out later.

The girlfriend thing surprises me a great deal more. I knew that religion was a comfort but a girlfriend? I guess I can see where I close partner could help me, comfort me and listen to me. A girlfriend might have helped me not be so grumpy for the past 2 weeks. According to some people sex is the cure for everything. Harrumph! I’d rather be playing D&D. I wouldn’t have minded a girlfriend to help me through this but to put it up there with religion?

I must either be strong or have a good support network because I came out of it stronger, and I thing I’ll be ok for what ever comes next. It was nice having real friends there for me and giving me there support despite the fact that I wasn’t in the greatest of moods, it wasn’t so nice to be attacked personally but let’s not start this again.
One last thing, some of you might be wondering why I don’t put things like this in the friends only section or why I don’t stop people from commenting or even delete nasty comments? The answer is easy, I write to work through things. I become more at peace when I write. The Lj system incites me to write because then I can come back and reread what I said and what others had to say on certain situations. If I write on this, I might as well let anyone read it and if anyone has to read this then they should have the right to respond. So there it is. I get peace of mind therefore you should get the chance to comment on it.

Eric Desmarais
The 23rd of March 2005. 11:02 pm.

LJ 16-01-2005 “E-Ffish-en-Chips”

Previously Posted at my Livejournal. It was written after a really bad date and a walk through the city. Oye, I was an angst ridden young man.

E-Ffish-en-Chips

Alpha male growls as omega man crawls.
The clown fish sits back and listens.
Gamma man bawls.
The lesbian Ish glistens.

Delta girl looks for a mate.
Never finding the right date.
Never being able to cleanse the slate,
The marble of her fate.

Kappa girl spies the others.
Steers as each and every suffers.
Throws out a line.
The clown fish enjoins decline.
She sets her sails and rudders,
For calmer waters.

Alpha male beats his chest.
Omega man lies down to rest.
Delta girl makes a jest.
Kappa girl sails in quest.
Gamma man touches the steel to his breast.

The soft soaps turn garish.
The Greeks lie in lonely parish.

And the lesbian Ish ran away with the fish.

LJ 26-10-04 “This will make little sense, read on once dear friends.”

Previously Posted at my Livejournal. It was written after a really bad date and a walk through the city. Oye, I was an angst ridden young man.

This will make little sense, read on once dear friends.
The man in white beckons me onward, and I walk. The red does not bother me and I walk. My friend the moon, who has always been with me, shines light on the dreary, deceased shell of another city. I walk and smell the pot, see drinkers, in the alley I see the ugly lovers in the trash. Plip plop go my shoes. The man in the painted mask passes on his bicycle, his arms pumping in the air and he whistles. An image of Bruce Willis in an apron is spliced with a shot of a radiant smile. I stop to gaze at the giant egg about my head. I walk. A sad little walk, that of a man who knew and refused to accept. A man who still refuses and wants to strive. A man who hates to admit he has no control. I walk on. The melodrama of my life is neither grand nor all that interesting but I walk. The night is warm yet I feel the chill laugh of the bear and the ladle. The moon stays with me. I walk. My mind knows not where it is but my feet are well trained. My heart has decided to sleep, no not for long. It has retired to a cabin in the woods watching Freddy, making it laugh as it over analyses it’s romantic vision. Soon it will return to the triumphant sound of a Russian violin, then it will either stay or go to the Bermudas. In the mean time I will sing, coach the blue surprise and write of Sunshine sketches, masked comedy and lovable monsters. I do no write for you, I write for me. I let you read my thoughts, disjointed as they are, if I didn’t want them to be read they wouldn’t be here.

Am I a fool? No! Ask someone else and you might be surprised.