Ugh.
Friday night was Suj's 30th birthday, and somehow I decided that it was a good idea to forego my rules of drinking, which are:
This is the happiest entry I have read in quite a while. I think everyone should read it. Maybe life is about capturing moments like these. I have already sent it out to several of my friends, the ones that would "get" it, anyway.
Yesterday there were protests held all over the province (because Quebeckers love a good protest), most notably in downtown Montreal, where Rose works. She wrote me this yesterday in an email titled "Umbrellas of Rebellion":
The sky is grey, the buildings are dark, and Mr. Di Vita is not in his office overlooking de Maisonneuve and Sherbrooke. The union has been occupying the streets all day and now, everybody has met on de Maisonneuve to listen to a speech from their leaders. All the colored umbrellas got together to offer us, looking from above, a dazzling show. I wish I had a camera to immortalize this view."
This is why I fell for her.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you were the creator of something that you considered small, but that countless beings considered huge? Huge as in everything? Consider this scenario:
A 12-year-old boy receives a chemistry set for his birthday. Not just any set, but something super-ridiculous and awesome with endless possibilities. Something that we can't even comprehend because these people are so advanced. It's like a Sea Monkeys kit, but 10 billion times more. Among other things, you could make things blow up, create continents, chemicals, whatever.
One day, the boy creates something pretty neat, but things start happening of their own accord. Cool! He takes a very active interest in what happens, from the creation of new mountains to single-celled organisms to trees and birds and so on. He fixes what he doens't like and nurtures what he does like. What an imagination he has! And he takes care of his creation for a whole two years. It's his best creation yet, and the one thing to which he has ever voluntarily committed himself.
But, as all young boys will do at that age, things happen to his body and his feelings. There are girls that he likes. Puberty starts. His interests change, and he veers away from his childish pursuits. In effect, he abandons it, but returns to it briefly from time to time, for kicks.
The Bible, or the Catholics, say that we are God's favourites. How do you know this? Maybe God has other favourites that he still plays with. Maybe his favourite toy is some asteroid somewhere that is perfectly shaped, has a perfect orbit and doesn't hurt anyone, which is more than what can be said for us.
If God is some kid bored with his toy, we should realize that there is no real way for him to communicate directly with us, nor is there any compelling reason for him to care for us any more than the average person gives a damn about sea monkeys or ants. Sure there's a God, and maybe God could care for "us", but not for "me" or "you". By the same token, saying that "God hates fags" or "You hurt God when you do that" is ridiculous. Even if God knew that you spank four times a day, or killed three people for that matter, God wouldn't care. God has to impress the girl in science class.
If God knew that he was being used to perpetrate bullshit agendas, I wonder how much he would smite the wrongdoers. Chances are, he wouldn't care about that either.
God: "Dood, they're like, using me to blow shit up."
God's friend: "Cool, dood."
God's other friend: "Whatever, man. Puff, puff, pass. That's the rule."
That's another thing: What if God were on drugs? One trip would last for a thousand years. Or ten thousand. That could explain the Spanish Inquisition, the Crusades and George W. Bush.
Paul Martin has a blog! I'd vote for him for that alone, that is, if I had any say in him being PM.
I hate it when people simply cannot spell the word "heel", but instead spell it "heal".
It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood. Rose seems to be doing well today. We had a serious dicussion Monday night that ended abruptly after 90 minutes. We are seeing each other tonight and will likely try to resolve (or at least temporarily resolve) certain things, things that are too broad (yet too specific) to get into here.
I am tempted to take on the smoking debate here, but I don't quite have the time. Maybe I'll do it at lunch. She said she wouldn't write about smoking anymore, but she lied. She lied!
Whore of the Rings opens up in one week. Exciting.
And why are so many women in marketing? Is it because they like to "communicate"?
There seems to be something about my ass that makes women (that is, the ones that would sleep with me) want to fuck it.
One of Rose's biggest fantasies is to do the strap-on thing with me. And since I am so cool, she felt comfortable asking me. That's huge, I think. She hasn't felt comfortable asking anyone else. That means something.
On the other hand, she wants to fuck me up the ass.
But she isn't the first to express this sentiment. A little more than half of my sample group has expressed a very measurable degree of desire to do that to me. I wonder why that is. Is there something about the shape of it that is appealing? Gay men haven't hit on me (but maybe they're thinking about it, peering from their closet). This could say a lot about me, or rather, how I treat women in bed.
Maybe they feel empowered with me to express their real desires. Maybe they feel disempowered by me and want to reclaim some kind of power by turning the tables. I have heard about the power trip that they want. Personally, I don't really think that the power all rests in the hands of the man unless you say that sex ends when the man comes, or can't perform. In that case, how powerful can a man really feel? He can't do it (again). He has to leave the party early. That sucks.
It seems to me that if (and that's a big if) there is a real imbalance in sexual power, then it lies in favour of women. They often decide whether or not it will happen (but of course, this depends on your point of view), and the final judgement of the whole experience seems to be theirs. I mean, most men are pretty happy if they come, and write off the woman's orgasm as some kind of impossible dream (I can hear some women saying, "But the problem with men is..." and I won't argue this, but I believe there are understandable, if not fair reasons). I get the feeling that women write off their own orgasms as some kind of impossible dream, and the man's as a necessary and obvious stopping rule, like computer program kill switches (men do this, too, obviously, I mean, look at porn).
But I am getting off track. My ass seems to attract an undue amount of unusual attention, and I don't know what to make of it. I have always just taken it as being rather normal until now. I think it must have to do with the request. Rose was really very sincere and sweet when she asked. I have reservations about it. But now it's an joke. If I deny her anything, she threatens me with it. For example:
R: "Will you come to China with me if I make a lot of money?"
JP: "I'd rather go somewhere else."
R: "Strap-on!"
She kills me sometimes.
How often do you fantasize about having everything you want in life, or having things work out for once?
Every few months I take about 30 minutes and really live inside my head, imagining that I have come into a huge amount of money (like, millions and millions of dollars).
First, there's the psycho-euphoria of actually having all of that money. If it were me, I wouldn't even be able to see straight during those minutes. My head would almost be spinning off my shoulders. I'd shamelessly scream and laugh like a madman, then quickly try to be quiet (if in public). I wouldn't be able to contain the excitement, though; I'd have a Joker grin on my face until my face muscles were sore. I'd stifle back mad laughter.
Afterwards, after I actually receive the money, I would start spending and giving. I once promised an ex of mine (a friend, really) that if I were to ever come into a huge amount of money, that she would automatically get $20000. I would, of course, quit my job, assuming I had one, and start travelling. I'd visit Alexandra, and Vic, and Victoria in London, and Arianna, and all kinds of places. Then I would consider buying real estate (although I doubt I would anytime soon) and a car (although I'd rather carpool).
I recently let myself think that I was that close to a large (though not huge) chunk of change. And I started to plan. I thought about how I would factor Rose into things. $25000 for her education and living expenses for the next few months should take care of that. Where would we go first? Maybe some little trips in the vicinity and then overseas. St Vincent would definitely have to happen. But what if I want to travel alone and do things like that for a spell? Perhaps I wouldn't finance her immediately. Or maybe she'd be in school full time anyway, so she wouldn't be able to travel that much rightg away.
The very first thing I would do is erase my student debt and credit card debts. Done. I might move right away, but that might be a pain in the ass. And the car thing, well, because of certain difficulties, I might have to hold off on that. And I would still rather have more than one adult use the car anyway (I doubt Rose would drive, she has said that she wouldn't really like to drive in the city). Maybe I'd buy a cell phone with a camera built in, so that I could be a moblogger.
With money, I could possibly be the Real Man I've wanted to be. An Adult, and not some loser kid. Don't get me wrong; I am not full of self-esteem issues and so on. I feel quite fine, normally. But I thought I was so close to changing everything, and now I feel...disappointed in myself, stupid, naive and...like a bit of a loser. And I know damn well I shouldn't. I know this, but this isn't helping at the moment.
This would have brought brought a whole new set of problems anyway. I would have to learn about money, and making it grow. Because when you have nothing, there is nothing to grow, but when you do have it, you have to make sure it doesn't run out. You have to invest in stocks, start a business, be a venture capitalist or something. And you worry that it will disappear. But that isn't the real problem.
The real problem is one of integrity, namely mine. Just having this kind of money handed to you is somewhat emasculating. When I was eight years old, life was so simple. My job was to go to school and get the highest marks possible. The one with the highest marks gets the best treatment, and sometimes the best of everything. And high marks are insanely easy to get. Surely it must be as easy to get "high marks" as an adult and make lots of money. Right? I actually thought that I would have somewhere on the order of $108 in the bank (not TOO much money, you know, just enough to be comfortable), a wife and four kids (because one, just sucks, two and three are just so typical, and five would definitely be too much). But then I grew up. My work ethic went south, and I started to realize that things aren't as simple as all that.
So I finished university and went through a series of bad experiences, living from check to check. That continued throughout most of my working life, and of course because I didn't feel that I had the choice to do anything I wanted, I stayed at positions I hated. So where am I now? Life isn't bad, but it should be so much more.
Anytime I would use that money I would have to think to myself that I was simply a charity case, just a lucky fuck who couldn't hack it on his own. But still I think that I could deal with that shame, as long as I didn't have to deal with having (being?) nothing, at least for a while. I could have experiences that part of me doesn't believe will ever be realized, if only because I am not smart enough or motivated enough.
I woke up this morning not feeling too great about myself. I feel much better now being distracted by work. (Work...hmmm...) But I don't think I want to fantasize like that again for a long time. I won't ask to see the carrot, and I hope the carrot isn't dangled in front of me any time soon.
As relationships progress, there is often a point where you get to Meet the Fam, and yesterday was my time.
Not sure if I mentioned this, but Rose's parents aren't exactly the kind of people I would choose to be around. The reason is that I was told that one is ignorant and the other is a bigot. Her father once said that if either of his daughters ever brought a Black Man home that he wouldn't let them in the house and wouldn't speak to them until the Black Man was gone. Her mother just says and thinks a bunch of things that are so ridiculous that I can't even repeat them here (mainly because I have a tendency to block out such things).
Her father is also dying of kidney cancer. Rose used to talk about how much she didn't like her parents, but then one night about six weeks ago she started crying and saying how much she wished I could meet her father (formally). About two weeks ago she got a call from her mother saying that her little sister wanted to meet me.
Her 14-year-old sister??
Apparently, she found out that I like and am very knowledgeable about Chrono Trigger, a simply excellent game. Rose's brother is also a big fan, so the mother used her kids to sate her curiosity about the Black Man. Rose was flabbergasted, but ecstatic.
Yesterday was the day. We went out to Ste-Hyacinthe on one of the crappiest days of the past week or so. It was depressingly grey yesterday, and I wasn't looking forward to this anyway, but I was well-prepped:
Her mother bought four pies. Four pies! There were spring rolls, imperial rolls, fried rice, a whole meatless Chinese buffet, really. And I ended up sitting there in that chair for two hours talking and talking and listening and playing chess. It was quite fun.
Afterwards we went sightseeeing and ended up at the mall to shop.
When we got home, I took a short nap, then we talked about all manner of things, including the realness of my hair, and the differences between my hair and "normal" hair. It was fine, really; I ended up cutting off one of my more annoying locks and passing it around. They really got a kick out of that.
Basically, I went there and killed. I was described as "perfect". That's both good and bad; the bad is that I have nowhere to grow. Which is perfectly fine for the moment.
