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.
Friday, September 25, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
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's 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 that
s going to follow over the long term. Still, just 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. Giving up her current home of 50+ years, the garden, her car and all her activities would be devastating to her. When the doctors asked 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 seen 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 right 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.
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's 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 that
s going to follow over the long term. Still, just 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. Giving up her current home of 50+ years, the garden, her car and all her activities would be devastating to her. When the doctors asked 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 seen 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 right 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.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
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...
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...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
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...
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...
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