F.i.in.e Moods

- thoughts of the day 'cause I went out... and it happened again... bien sûr... 

The thing is this :  I love people a lot.

But there're these things I deal with:

I'm horribly shy, and very anxious,

Unconfident about being around others.

I actually feel a lot of fear mostly.

These problems of mine, around so long,

Have acquired a little list of titles:

Traumas, social phobias, panic disorder, GAD,

And agoraphobia (aside depression et al.).

My progress isn't fully completed yet.

Those previous lines are only to place

The context of what comes next...

When I have to step outside, it's a

Long process of mental preparation,

Usually starting the day before going out.

I'm getting much better at it (less tears,

Less failures), and it's very encouraging,

But there's another part which adds

To my already stressed state of going.

It's that when I do, this inevitably happens:

Perfect strangers take to talking to me,

At the bus stop, for example, it never fails.

For some reason, people just start

Telling me all kinds, but most of the time,

Very personal stuff.  I don't know why...

I'm not making a complaint about it.

It's just that it seems like I attract this

When inside I'm in a state of utter panic,

And I try my very best to not let it show

So as to not make the moment awkward.

It requires so much concentration

To keep my anxiety and my fears in check,

And just get on and do 'normal' daily stuff.

Why all of these strangers start opening up

To me out of the blue like that baffles me.

These people don't know me at all.

I don't know them at all either.

All ages, men and women, when we're

Standing there waiting, they'll turn to

Me, and start confiding in me after hellos.

As if I didn't already find it hard enough

To go out, this closeness by strangers is a

Bit much.  My douce moitié says it's 'cause

I have a kind smile, and kind eyes, and

Not many people cross that in their day.

I don't know, it's most unusual, I think.

As I said, I don't mind 'cause I care

About people very much.  But still,

What a strange thing to go through.

Why I get attention when I'd feel more

At ease not being seen is something that

Strikes me as very funny.  Even though

It's a hell of a ride for my nerves when

I have to ignore all of my alarms inside,

And try to remain as attentive as possible,

I can seriously laugh about this one.

Maybe not during, but definitely later.

« J'suis pas raciste, mais...»  ("I'm not a racist, but...") ... never starts a conversation on the right foot... there are young tenants in my building, and this summer, they took to camping out on chairs right in front of my patio for their little get-togethers... these thoughts are in reference to one of their conversations I very unfortunately had to overhear as they were sitting in front of my face... the new neighbor in question is truly pleasant, so nothing of their gripes added up to me... 

Misplaced righteousness, as a disguise for racism,

Doesn't it take your breath away?  It does mine.

You know when you're thrust into overhearing

Some shocking arguments, and you can't for the

Life of you comprehend them, 'cause reason's

Clearly become a mere concept at this point... ?

And, then, you listen further - only 'cause

You're stuck in the same space as them - and the

Basis for their complaints is so questionable:

You know without a single doubt that if a

Quebecker approached them in the manner

They're getting so hot about, they wouldn't have

For a second any trouble with it.  But this large,

Vibrantly joyous, and friendly new neighbor, with a

Dark skin as dark can be, an accent from a sunny

Island from another land, is rubbing them the

Wrong way?  His manner is rude and impolite,

They scoff, insulted.  And a brewing intensity carried

On for quite a while. And with each passing minute, I'm

Thinking to myself:  Really?  Do they hear themselves? 

How utterly mind-boggling to be able to so easily distort

Reality, and lull their senses into missing the obvious source

For this less than appealing discourse they're engaged in…

In all reality, I couldn't begin

To pinpoint what made it

Happen, or when.  It seems

Like the result materialized

On its own, and I've only

Recently caught up with it.

What was once impossible

To even imagine, is here.

It's now.  I've made it out

Of the abyss where I was

Chucked in too early.  I even

Conquered the insidious lures.

I was killed; I bled; by others'

Hands, and my very own, too.

I poisoned myself for years,

Day in and day out - the goal

Was to make it stop, somehow.

My destruction only soared...

And one day, I realized it was over. 

But don't ask how it came to be.

I really don't know, as I'm trying to

Process every bit.  And as I move

Further away from all I knew about

Existing, feel I'm finding my footing.

- « Cher adulte, calme-toi ? » is "Dear adult, calm down?"... 

Pousse, mais pousse égal.

Il y a une grosse nuance entre

une insouciance de jeunesse,

sans malice, et son contraire.

Alors, prends un respir,

il y a beaucoup pire.

rough translation...

« Pousse, mais pousse égal » literally translated is "Push, but push equally"... it wouldn't make much sense in English... so the close equivalent (paraphrasing it, really) I came up with is the following first line...

Put effort into it, but do it reasonably.

There's a huge contrast between

a youthful act of unawareness,

without malice, and its opposite.

So, take a breath,

there's a lot worse.

- he had laser eye surgery many years ago ;) 

When my British douce moitié

holds me, and says, in his accent:

"You're so goddamn sexy, woman!"

I can't help quip back that his

laser surgery needs a refresh.

But inside, I'm fanning my heart,

to help it recover its breath...

- mixed messages... 

This girl?  Eh là là.

She can't, for her life,

even if it depended

on it, use makeup.  

Her nails? O-M-G. 

It's a sad state of

affairs, mildly put.

And her hair?  Ayoye.

Medusa's is infinitely

More manageable!

Her styling it?  Ha.

No, no.  Not an idea. 

I'm telling you, the girl's

an absolute disaster as

concerns anything about

women's things.  She'll

say that we're disguising

her as a woman when

we convince her to let us

have fun fixing her up

to show the stunning

beauty that she is.  She's

embarrassed, poor dear. 

Sigh, how so very pretty

she truly is, but of course,

she doesn't see it at all. 

Wonder why, how, 

she's so blind to it?

- but what do I know?

Here's another random thought :

As a democracy, should there not be

a choice on the ballot list to allow the

voters to clearly indicate that NONE

of the choices which are available

meet any standards of satisfaction,

or more importantly, trust ?

It seems to me that'd be giving

a true choice, a true voice,

a true power of decision.

I hazard a guess it'd reveal 

that most vote for the least worse

than actual belief it's best for them.

So those 'main' politic groups are

probably only still around for

that very unhelpful reason.

Some would ask, "What if everyone,

or the majority chose NONE?"

Well, if that should happen, I'd say

it's time to rethink our model, then?

"He's a liar, a cheat, and a thief!", he shot out without any clear reason.  A moment ago, we were just sitting quietly, looking at the gentle waves on the lake.

He carried on grumbling.  I didn't say anything, I just looked at him, and listened.  Teeth clenched - (I'll exclude the expletives) - he followed on, "I really don't like that guy!  I swear, if I had my way... !"  

Remaining silent for a moment longer, I asked, "Want to talk about it?", in the hopes it'd prompt him to provide me a little bit more of a context for this mood shift.  

I had a feeling that I knew already.  Lately, his irritations were directed at Joey, his sister's recently-arrived-on-the-scene boyfriend.  In the last few months, it'd become a pretty common occurrence that whenever the guy was around, a lot of unpleasant, if not downright concerning, things tended to happen.

My feeling was more along the lines of "What now?" than "What's going on?".  To a certain extent, a part of me kind of wished I wouldn't find out, even though I'd just invited Roger to tell me.

Looking at my face, I think my expression might have betrayed to him that I didn't really want to know what Joey had done this time.  He understood that I was enquiring only out of concern for how he's feeling since he was clearly upset.

So, slapping his thighs in response, he smiled, "You know what?  He's not worth it.  Your face says it all!"  He'd said that last part bursting out in laughter. 

Reaching for a beer in the cooler, he handed me one, and we got on with our beautiful day at the lake.  Best buds on a break, the rest could take a hike.

- dropping French expressions or lines in conversation for a bilingual person in Québec is usual...

Ayoye, I don't know, man.

One day I think I found it,

The right footing to have

With this particular guy.

But then, on another day,

It's like the North Pole...

Still, and as cold as you like.

Makes my footing stumble.

J'sais tellement pas, man.

Figuring it out takes some doing,

'Cause we really don't know

One another in the strict sense of it.

We're basically passersby

With frequent crossings.

Nothing much deeper, really.

But still, it throws me off.

One minute,

Seemingly warm.

Another minute,

Complete opposite.

So...

Qui sait ?

Difficult to know

Without being told.

People... I guess.

This moment's mood?

An urge to disappear

Retreat back quietly

Away from all eyes

The thought's formed

Calling for me to listen

'Cause my mind knows

It's where it's the 'safest'

The heart disagrees though

Yearning to not isolate away

However, here we are again

No doubt dark days're ahead