Splat

I have never came on my own face until tonight.

In all honest, I'm actually really shocked by it - and there was a lot!

My reaction was to freeze, thinking to myself HOLY SHIT...THAT WAS WEIRD.

In fact, I'm shocked enough to turn on my laptop and write this random diddy in the blog.


So...enjoy!....I suppose....


Oh, and the pictures are in no way related to the post.

Diary

I would like you to keep this photo in mind while reading this short, random post. Also, I would like to point out my pointed toes - it's all in the pointed toes.

This was taken just over a year ago in St. Petersburgh, Russia.

Thomas:
Dear diary,

Xav sucks.

Love Thomas.

PS: See you tomorrow!

Xav: I always knew you were a big girl.

5 Minutes to Midnight

What do you think is worse: To have your life is come to a drastic and immediate end or to have your life slowly seep out from you over time, as you lose control of your body and mind? This is the question I've been mulling over today.

After finishing an online meeting this morning, I walked downstairs to find my Mum in tears while talking on the phone. I sat down next to her without interrupting, awaiting the bad news that was going to be explained to me once she was done with the call. She soon hung up the phone and let it out: Oldest Brother was in Toronto for a conference. He had decided to randomly stop by my Grandmother's house to visit. He rang the doorbell and knocked a few times, without an answer. He found the door unlocked, so he let himself inside. He ended up finding Grandma lying on the ground in an overwhelming pool of blood, without the ability to speak coherently. A 911 call later, phone calls back and forth between himself and us in Montreal, and about 10 hours of time, my Grandma is now in the hospital with a broken nose, probably broken pelvis, what seems like a stroke, and in a quasi-coma. To add onto that she hooked up to a respirator and has yet to speak to anyone. She may have been lying on the kitchen floor for a full day, unable to help herself, before Oldest Brother walked in.

She only briefly appeared once in my blog, but that shouldn't make you think I don't care a lot about my Grandmother. Independent, quick, witty and always interesting & entertaining, she's the only grandparent I have really known well.

In this situation, like I said to my Mum, we should only focus on the immediate since there's no point in thinking about the repercussions of everything to come. Still, as my Dad verbalized what we all separately thought, there are only two outcomes right now: in the next few days, Grandma's precarious condition will deteriorate and she will die, or she will recover but be forced into some sort of home or assisted care due to her injuries and stroke, where she will stay for the rest of her days.

Obviously you should understand why I began the post as I did.

The truth is that it took me only a few minutes to make my decision: I'm hoping for a quick, sudden death for my Grandma.

Worse than the current predicament, I'd be a lot sadder if we had to keep her in some sort of old folks' home. One of the things she values the most is her liberty and self-sufficiency. Given up her current home of 50+ years, the garden, her car and all her activities would be devastating to her. When the doctors as my Mum, over the phone, if they could hook her up to the breathing device, my Mum answered: "I know she would fight it but I am going to say yes for my own selfish reasons."

To add onto that, Grandma was always one of the most eloquent and pertinent conversationalists; when she has something to say, it sounded important, beautiful and intelligent. The doctor's don't know the intensity or damage of the stroke, but I've been others get wrapped up in frustration from not being able to express themselves when their words were once their closest friends. I don't think I could bare to stand that.

Oddly enough though, my feelings for my Mum are trumping those for my Grandmother. Since they are mother and daughter, I know my Mum will take/is taking this situation worse than the rest of the family. All I can do eight now is comfort her (which I personally think I am quite good at). The sad truth is that if Grandma does survive the next few days, a long, drawn out half-life for my Grandmother would just sap the strength out of my Mum. I know it would exhaust her and rip the well-placed heart off of her sleeve. She would be by my Grandmother's side day and night, which is wonderful, all the while the circumstances would depress her more and more.

So here's to taking each day once at a time, coming together as a family, watching and waiting.

Gay Ol' Time

We found our perfect spot in the sun at Tamtams, surrounded by the other few thousand people whom decided to make the park their relaxing sport for the afternoon. I had convinced my friends to pass by this amazing Portuguese chicken place I had been craving for a few days. Apparently only two of us were even going to order some takeout. The other two were vegan, vegetarian or something close to that. Ah yes, I should have know. You are queer women so stereotypes say you must be anti-meat. I apologize, I had forgotten.



We chatted about anything and everything while I ate my greasy chicken with my hands. My excitement for salty, spiced chicken had overruled the common sense of actually getting utensils, so this was my punishment. My friend, who also had ordered the chicken with me, even decided to forgo his unnecessary diet. Portuguese chicken can apparently also make a young, skinny, attractive-by-the-accounts-of-everyone gay male forget about his irrational need for the most cut abs ever. It's good stuff.

And so this was the first day in years I actually spent comfortably hanging out with a group of gay/lesbian/queer only friends

Unlike my other experiences with making or having gay friends (one recap here) everything felt normal and right with them. They talked about things I knew and liked. We joked around; they laughed at my rude & deprecating humor. I didn't feel awkward around my gay guy friend, as I do with others. I didn't feel like I was walking on eggshells with the two queer ladies. It was just so new and better than a few years back when I had a fay group of friends.

In hindsight it feels like a testament to how much I've changed. I actually felt normal around a group of gay friends.

After relaxing at the park, we just walked around Montreal, showing one of the girls the city that has only been her home for 1 week.

It was good.

I TALK LIKE THIS

Friend: You know, it's always really easy to tell when you're drunk.

Me: Oh really? How so?

Friend: You get really loud.
Me: Haha, ya... I tend to lose my volume control.

Friend: Oh definitely, you are the worst offender for that. If neighbors ever make a noise complaint, I like to think it's because of you.

Me: Ohhh....well, uh...thanks, I guess...

On conduit dans les Catons-de-l'Est

Ever wondered what the classic French-Canadian/Québécois sounds like? Perhaps you already speak Molière's French (a.k.a. France-French) and have never ventured into the wondrous region of Quebec? Well let my blog give you a brief glimpse into the language.

I stumbled onto this great video of some Quebecois family letting their 7 year old drive the car in the country.Ah, so irresponsible and so much fun. Most (all?) of you probably can't understand what's being said. If some of you even speak French, you might not be able to get any of the words. But that's okay, just enjoy.

Let me provide you with some translation of what's being said:

Father: Here is my wonderful son, Samuel, who is only 7 years old and driving the car! I'm not even looking to make sure he's driving well! He's so confident. Smile for the camera my beautiful son!

Mother: No no, stop he's going to give me nightmares! Slow down!

Father: Ahaha, you can hear Mom screaming in the back like a chicken! Oh look, and here's our daughter and ..

Mother: Sylvain! SYLVAIN! SAYLVAIN! LOOK WHERE HE'S DRIVING! HE'S TOO CLOSE TO THE SIDE!

Father: Hahaha, see now we've recorded your Mom's nervous temperament, to re-watch for years and years...

[expressions I don't quite hear and/or understand]

Father: And look, my son has sped up to 70km/h (43miles/h). He's crazy! Hahaha, He's going fast - he's going fast! Fast - fast - fast -fast... I love you my little driver!


Just so you know, that is a pretty accurate translation. Maybe slightly too literal, but that was done on purpose to make it more awkward & funny.

The full length video may or may not have ended with them hitting a moose. We will just never know...

Socializing at Work

Although I'm great with clients and co-workers in work meetings, I tend to become awkward with those same people when they try to bridge from the work aspect of our relationship to a more personal one. What I mean is: talking with some co-workers about changing the software to better assess a client for ADHD is fine, but when someone makes a joke about their girlfriend, I reply with a fake laugh and pull their focus back onto the meeting topic. In a similar form, if they try to chat me up about my weekend or my personal life, I tend to kind of deflect the question away with "Oh, I'm doing fine", "nothing much", "ya, pretty good" without bothering to reciprocate the question back to them.

Some of the reasons for reacting like that would be my tendency to keep my work life and personal life separate. It's not that I believe they should be non-overlapping, but I just tend to not want to share details about myself with people whom I might not consider a friend - this is undoubtedly layover from my intensely closeted, self-preservation days. Most people like to ask the generic, general bonding questions of "How are you with the ladies?" or "Do you have a girlfriend?". My answers tend to involve unelaborate lies of "I do alright for myself" or "Not right now", without any interest in reciprocating the investigative and kind-natured queries.

On a separate level though, I've always had trouble considering clients, co-workers or even professors and teaching-assistants (TAs) to be people like myself, with personal lives and interests beyond the same company or university class. Back in university, I easily imagined Profs and TAs as people who attended a class for the day, then returned to their offices where they waited there patiently for the next day's class to arrive. Yes, I thought of them as robots.

Exceptions for these rules do of course exist: I work with Kieran and we talk about anything. That is of course because I knew him before work. My boss is, oddly enough, also an exception to this rule. He's just way too cool not to talk to.

As a change from my normal work routine last week, my boss asked me to head to a downtown office for the full week. A special, big-name clinician/trainer was in town so he wanted me to handle her in-person and hangout in the background in case she needed help while at the office.

The first two days were both stressful and boring. My normal day consists of on-and-off work-and-play: when I want a break, I go watch TV, or cook, or bike to a cafe. But in an office, when I needed a break I didn't know what to do. Go talk to the many co-workers/office people, all zooming around and talking to one-another? Ya right, that violates my modus operandi. So I'd pretty much go get a glass of water from the kitchen, smile, nod, deflect personal questions and then sit back down in my chair and force myself to work more.

As the end of the week arrived though, I wasn't going to stand being bored out of my mind anymore: I decided to try considering my co-workers as human beings *cringes* and actually enjoy talking with them. After strategically placing myself at a new desk, next to a very friendly guy I had previous shared lots of online meetings with, I just waited for the social opportunity to show itself.

My first chance eventually materialized: my neighbor swiveled his chair around and threw out a comment.

Guy: Oh jeez, that damn school-parents association is giving my wife a hard time...

Me: I would LOVE to hear about it.

He gives me a quick awkward look, since my voice had way too much eagerness and very little of my standard indifference. I took a mental note to be less excited by his mundane chatter. I then immediately took a second mental note, to avoid thinking of people's conversations as mundane chatter.

Turns out my social pounce was the perfect springboard for actually enjoying myself at the office. We got to talking more throughout the day and I really started enjoying speaking with him. It probably helped as well that I spent half an hour on a Skype call with drunk Alicia (in Australia), who was seeking advice on what to do about having a long distance boyfriend and having "accidentally" spent two hours making out with a lesbian, whom she then invited over to sleep with her. My co-worker seemed quite captured by my exclamations of "well if you want to sleep with a girl, go ahead just remember your boyfriend will probably be pissed" and "I'm not too sure what to say to get out of this...I'm only good at getting out of 3-somes".

From that first guy, I got the confidence and the state-of-mind to see the others around me as non-robotic, normal people too. Next, I began chatting with the front-desk assistant and some other account woman. Some engineers seemed to respond to my friendliness and come over to me. By then end of the day, I was having an awesome end of day with some 50 year old woman make sexual innuendos as she tried to teach me to use the automatic coffee machine.

Lady: Remember, just jam the rod into the hole. You should know how to do that!

Me: *Laughter*

Lady: Now take that flat piece - remember, flat like my chest - and place it on top of the rod. To review, the thing's flat like what?

Me: Like your chest!

Lady: Exactly!

Maybe my co-workers and I even looked excited like this!

Impromptu Boston/Provincetown

The best kind of trips are randomly proposed and immediately executed:

Oldest Brother's Girlfriend, at 1am: Hey Thomas, want to come to Boston with me tomorrow?
Me: YES!

And to Boston I went! My work wouldn't mind the sudden disappearance, especially since I left a note in the company calendar:
Thomas is in Boston - I ain't coming to work, bitches!


I was essentially on my own for the 4 days. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend was there for a conference all day long, each day, so I spent my time wandering and seeing the sites alone. As with my previous trip to New York & Washington DC, I think it would be a lot more fun to write about the random and stereotypical things that I have learnt on this holiday.

On an unrelated note, I don't like saying "I was on vacation" or "I'm going on a holiday" because I feel like my normal life pretty much one giant vacation in itself, but anyway...

Here we go!

- Boston is filled with the crazies. So many wacky homeless (?) people.

- I should smile more, as one crazy person pointed. Especially with my hair, as he also pointed out.

- The only single guy buying entrance to an aquarium, whilst surrounded by families with young kids, makes me wonder if people think I'm a pedophile.

- Boston has an excess of uggoes, also known as ugly people. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend also really noticed that.

- An exception to the above rule is most people running in the parks along the river. All beautiful men run along the river, shirtless.

- I could live in the downtown Boston Public Library. It's like a castle.

- Provincetown (CapeCod) is possibly the gayest town ever. If the world would be reversed so that gays were 90-95% of the population and straights were 5-10%, all places would look like Provincetown.

- I'm in love with the sand dune landscape of Provincetown.


- Only in a super ultra gay town beach would you ever hear a 35 year old man exclaim loudly in the bitchiest voice:
"Argh, I have sand in my foreskin"

- Awkward looks were shared by all strangers, after the above comment was heard.

- There's something really cute about seeing two 50 year old women walk down the beach together, and one slides her hand in the other's so casually, and it remaining so normal.

- It's surprisingly easy to fall asleep behind a wooden crate, on the top floor of the hydrofoil boat, on the way back to Boston from Provincetown.

- It's fun to visit Harvard, whilst mocking it at the same time. This is accomplished by taking stupid photos of yourself with Harvard as a backdrop. Saying "OOOoohhh, Look at meee! I go to HAAAAAARVVAAAAAAAARD" also helps.

Too bad you can't see my eyes. It completes the photos.

- "Pffft, you're just jealous you didn't go there!" Yes. Yes I am a bit.

Dentures, or lack there-of

Craigslist amazes again! I feel liek this has to be made up, but I kind of hope it isn't:

Click on the picture to enlarge!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Gumjobs!

Oh man!

Thank you!..... Thank you!..... Thank you!

One of the odd traits that is included on my resume of qualities is sleepwalking. Yep, I'm a sleepwalker.

Although it's common for young kids and teenagers to sleepwalk, no one seems to have informed my body about that fact because I still do. It doesn't occur often (or, at least not in a way that I or people around me have noticed or pointed out) , but I have been on a bunch of sleepwalking adventures.


When I'm in a sleepwalking episode, my body and face clearly look awake (my eyes are open, I walk around normally - no stumbling) but it's clear that "Thomas isn't home". "I", used in loose terms because it's not complete my personality in the driver's seat, am very single-minded and frankly stupid when sleepwalking. I may or may not have glazed-over eyes. I don't react normally to people around me. Based on other peoples' descriptions of my behavior, it's as if I'm acting/reacting like I exist in a dream world: some dreams have wacky logic that you adamantly know is true, but when you wake up you realize that reality was just so dumb and illogical.

I don't remember any of my sleepwalks, unless I wake up in the middle of them. The few times that happens, it takes me a very confusing 20 minutes to figure out the difference between my sleepwalking, dream-like world and reality. I have sat in the bathroom for 30 minutes before, trying to decide if I was in my house or if I should still be trying to run away from the first mate on a 15th century navy boat. I'm not joking at all.

The most recently amusing sleepwalking episode occurred 2 or 3 years ago, when I slept over at Liz's family home. See had made a huge special dinner (as I recall it was a "Hey Jesus died this weekend so I want to invite 12 of my favorite people over to dine with me!") and I decided to sleep over. Long after I had fallen asleep, Liz and Tim (who was also staying the night) were still quietly talking in the same room. They watched me get up off the couch, walk over to the tv-cabinet and start looking through all the drawers. They asked me what I was doing but I completely ignored them; I was much too interested in rummaging through the drawers.

Next I made my way to the kitchen, where I was looking through all the cabinets as well. Liz and Tim were right behind me. They caught on to the fact I was sleepwalking, since I had previously told them stories about my episodes. Eventually, I recognized their presence by saying "I'm trying to find the bathroom", as I kept rummaging under the sink. Liz told me where the bathroom was, even though I already knew where it was since I had visited her house plenty of times. I ignored her, and the bathroom on the main floor, as I walked toward her sleeping parents' and siblings' bedrooms, intent on finding this mysterious bathroom in some drawer.

After some more coaxing and before I the chance to freak out the sleeping [Liz's Last Name] family, they convinced me to check out the bathroom in the basement. Apparently I didn't want to ignore that one. It seemed to work - I walked in, closed the bathroom door. Liz and Tim went back upstairs.

20 minutes passed without me reappearing.

Liz told her brother, who had just appeared, to go check on me downstairs. He apparently came to the bathroom, called out my name, and waited for a response. I didn't answer. He cautiously opened the unlocked bathroom door to find me standing directly against the door, facing him. He described the situation as one of those horror movies where the killer is as close as possible to the victim before the scary jump moment. Naturally, I was playing the killer's role. I freaked the shit out of him.

Without taking any notice of Liz's brother's reaction of terror, I went upstairs to lie back down on the same couch, where I was sleeping before my grand bathroom search began. Liz and Tim were sitting back in their chairs talking. It seemed like I was back asleep...

... but I got up again. I walked over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered with the utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
I then went back to the couch to sleep.
Then I got up again. I went back over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder again and whispered, again, with utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
Then, I, again, went back to the couch.

Nope it wasn't done yet. Once more, with feeling, I got up, went to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered "Thank you!", before returning to the couch.

After being stuck in a short loop, I finally stayed asleep. I woke up next morning to Liz and Tim's big grins and my own embarrassment. That was the second time that I slept-walk outside of my own home and in front of non-family members.

In all honesty, that specific event made me a bit apprehensive about my sleepwalking. I have no memories of the majority of these events so it feels like my conscious or personality is not in control of the things I could potentially do. What if I had decided to just whip out my dick and start waking off!? Imagine the story they'd tell me the next day! Or maybe they'd hit me to wake me up and then I would be incredibly confused, with my dick in my hand, feeling like a huge pervert! Uuuhhh...

But oh well, I can't control it...so I might as well enjoy the good stories.