IB M

- not meaning to complain, just I'm so very exhausted...

It feels like I've spent

A majority of my life

Hoping for it to come

To an end for some relief

And as things stand now

It looks pretty clear that'll

Never go away, it'll grow

Stronger along as this

Inevitable deterioration

Only worsens in time and my

Energy completely disappears

All this suffering will get me

In the end, no doubt about it

It's wearing me out fiercely

And with no remedy possible

This hope only intensifies

I'm ok, but not entirely, as

Now it's my body that's failing

I'm not in a state of despair, but

Can feel it close to settling in

I try to ward it off as best I can

Realistically, though, I have

Serious doubts I'll be successful

I'm physically so very tired now

Everything is so difficult to do

Simple to less simple it's the same

Every movement is like undertaking

The challenge of climbing mountains

So much energy is required

That I just don't have anymore

And solutions are inexistent, feels 

All I have left is this morbid hope

- remembering my brother's head... oh, it was stunningly awful... 

I couldn't believe it, yet

At the same time, I could...

Talking about that time Mom

Cut my brother's hair, it was

A disaster.  The woman had

Absolutely no talent for it, I

Mean she even badly botched

It using a hair clipper, that takes

Some doing, if you ask me...

I really tried my best not to

Burst out in tears of laughter

On seeing my brother's head,

But oh did it ever stand out!

There were very visible, very

Uneven white patches all around

His skull, it was totally awful.

And of course to make matters

Better, my brother arrived in

Class pretty late, getting himself

Noticed by all of our classmates

Who, you can probably guess,

Outright laughed hard at him.

I felt bad for my brother, I'd've

Been mortified had it been me.

After this last disaster, I can say

My brother and I never let our

Mother cut our hair ever again.

The woman was terrible at it,

Even after completing a course.

Sure, cutting hair requires skills,

But a modicum of talent helps...

She obviously possessed none.

We knew better than to let that happen

Again, so it was the last time she ever did.

- I'm not a great Facebook user, but it's pretty frequent to see a post from someone relaying a good deed they did for a homeless person... however, there are often qualifiers as to why they accepted to help that person... 

My preference is for good deeds

To be done in private between

The one giving and the one receiving.

What we see too much of is good

Deeds being publicly exhibited, but only

So the one giving looks good to others.

But often, those who choose to exhibit

Their good deeds in this manner usually

Ruin it with their closed-minded attitude.

Adding qualifiers such as the person they

Helped was not a drug addict or alcoholic, so

Their help would not be used 'inappropriately'.

If you're going to help someone, that

Doesn't mean you get to place conditions

Or decide how your help gets used.

You either help them, or you don't.

Just because you decide to help doesn't

Mean you know what's best for them.

Making a point to advertise the person

Was not a drug addict or an alcoholic, as if

If they were, they weren't worthy of help,

Completely annuls any feeling of admiration

I might have felt for your good deed toward

Another in need, true help excludes judgements.

Your public display of this awesome deed

You want everyone to know you did is just

So others see how good of a person you are.

But that is simply not the vibe I get from it.

Deciding and justifying that one is more worthy

Than another to receive your help isn't kind at all.

Very far from the spirit of wanting to help.

So yeah, sorry, I'm really not impressed.

- I grew up in the French community and the English community of Québec city... obviously, the English community is very small... and must abide by many, many provincial language laws to restrict public usage of English (ex.: in English institutions, all signs must have French in prominence and English in smaller letters)...

these laws are mainly targeted at the English language... even though the 'English' problem was 400 years ago...

Indépendantiste... a person who believes Québec is a distinct nation / culture from the rest of Canada and strives to make Québec its own country, separate from Canada... usually a very intolerant group to others who don't speak French in their province, they are a driving force behind our Office québécois de la langue française (we affectionately dub them the language police, they emit the fines). 

these talks come about not because I start up on the subject, but from an outsider's point of view, it's pretty extreme and hard to follow (from my insider's view as well)... so I guess they want to know where I stand on the issue... 

I am not a political person in the least... but I have thoughts about what's going on...

Whenever I have conversations

With other Canadians who do

Not live in Québec, talks inevitably

Turn to my province's politics.

You know, the whole Québec

Separating from Canada and all

Those language laws put in place

For the 'protection' of our culture.

I've grown up with all of this

Hogwash, and the level of

Embarrassment it brings is very

High, 'cause all of it is just dense.

The English threat is just ridiculous.

Making a whole population unilingual

And presenting it as a duty to protect the

Existence of our culture is disingenuous.

Knowing more than one language

Is not a slippery slope for any culture.

Knowing the universal language English

Is not a betrayal of our French culture.

The whole thing doesn't make sense,

And it's always embarrassing to be

Associated with it since I live here.

In no uncertain terms, I reject this BS.

I've lived first-hand the deluded hate

A lot of Indépendantistes mete out

When they hear English being spoken

In their surrounding, get very aggressive.

In reality, though, I'm one of their own,

Fully French from birth, but I know

English and use it on a regular basis,

Since half of my people are anglophone.

But that I dare to speak English in public

Is an offensive affront to these people.

It's mind blowing to be attacked like that,

'Cause they believe if you live in Québec,

Then you should be speaking French.

As if the fact I'm speaking English means

I don't know French, awfully presumptuous,

But even if that was the case, so what?

Someone doesn't know their language,

Big deal.  They don't know any other

Language than their own, so what's the

Difference?  Deux poids, deux mesures, ici.

Having gone through those attacks,

I guess it shaped my perspective in seeing

All of this as absolutely ridiculous and

Lacking proper rational reasoning.

These people have been sold a lie

And they've bought die-hard

Into the non existent fear that their

Culture will be obliterated, otherwise.

Shaking my head. 

I struggle to understand

What the feeling is about.

Referring to national pride,

Why would I feel proud

To have been born

In Québec, Canada?

It's not an achievement,

It's just a fact of the matter.

This time of year is fun,

It's when I can finally

Take my e-scooter out

And get myself places

So much easier, quicker.

I can't begin to describe

How much I love to go

Around on this thing!

It's an actual joy, and I

Always look forward

To when it can be taken

Out on the roads again.

The snow is gone, the

Weather getting milder,

Freedom of movement at last!

- with rough translation...

plus de mots n'ayant été utilisés

plus d'émotions n'ayant été partagées

tout ce qui se disait a été dit

there are no more words that have not been used

no more emotions that have not been shared

all that could be said has been said

et tout ce qui reste

n'est manifestemment

pas très intéressant

and all that is left

is clearly

not very interesting

ce serait bête de continuer

it'd be silly to carry on

To be honest, there are moments

When I wonder why I even bother,

Considering where it will all lead... 

There's absolutely nothing I

Can do to change the outcome,

So it gets hard to find the point...

If you knew what was done to me,

A few family members, one forced

To do what the sickos wanted, etc.

The penny might drop your way.

Do you want more details,

You asshole, or are you getting it?

That's the childhood I had,

What do you want me to say?

So excuse me, if I don't

Appreciate your sexual jokes

And innuendos, it's a topic

That puts me highly ill at ease.

Call me uppity or frigid,

Whatever makes you feel

Better in this ridiculous

Situation you're creating.

That you had a wet dream about me is

Really not anything I want to know about. 

And announcing it to all in the break room,

I can't begin to suss out what prompted you.

Seriously.

WTF's the matter with you.

The one thing I can't figure out

And I think it will remain a mystery.

How come for some who have been abused

They don't become an abuser later on in life?

And for others, even though they know

Exactly how it feels, become abusers anyway.

What makes a person be one or the other,

There doesn't appear to be any answers.

You'd think the experience of having lived it

Would be a definitive guiding aspect in their life

As to what one should and should not do,

But clearly, that's not the case for everyone.

Is it a choice?  Is it something that just happens?

What does it depend on to determine which is to be?