Pierrot The Clown

Do you know Pierrot The Clown? I met him on my mirror years ago. In Montreal, just when I arrived…at the bathroom in the airport with another immigrant women. I think one of the most saddest place in the world apart of cemeteries are airports. You arrived with your baggage…leaving behind all your past, home, friends and family, in other words, your comfort zone. Your life, 30 years in a big bag with wheels…as all those years were so heavy and your experiences and background were handicapped and you push them in order to move on. You say good-bye to few people, nobody cries for you…You arrive to another airport, nobody smiles at you, probably the custom officer…in my case, she was beautiful…and the person you are expecting to be happy to see you again is not.

That story repeated several times, the hardest was when my ex bitch and I broke up. It was sad but the worst sensation you can feel is rejection. I was feeling like a monster, but in fact I was Frankenstein created by her, also I got a past, I admit it. I haven’t been the best person in the world. But when violence installed itself in my relationship everything changed…for worst. nobody can understand that cycle, vicious circle, only who suffered and lived in can explain it, not even totally, I can’t explain it either.

When I dream I dream of your lips
When I dream I dream of your kiss
When I dream I dream of your fists
Your fists… Your fists

I talked this afternoon with a good friend of mine, she told me it wasn’t intelligent to move to the same city she lives in. I replied I did for the job, I didn’t or want or will to meet her again, or talk to her, but I’m conscious when sometimes I walk around Ottawa I feel scared to see her and she could react in a violent way.

“Remember all the things you’d say
How your promises rang hollow
As you threw me to the ground

There were many promises, there was even eternal love…when I remember that I just think of me telling to my friend I was feeling 75% ready to start a new relationship…she asked me if I had a formula, how can you calculate how much you’re ready to start something new with somebody unknown. The funny thing is my ex therapist was surprised how I calculate in percentage my evolution in my therapy. % is a funny measure, there are always error marge, usually 30%, which it means 75% is not a real accurate number. So, I’m not totally ready to have a relationship despite Summer is already here…and I hate Summer. People hanging out together, parents with kids, young couples with dogs, students with friends and…me.

Tha sad clown, Pierrot, sometimes shows up in my mirror, now more than ever because I’m not happy in my new job. I want to move but I’m feeling so tired to fight.

I think happiness is about short period of time, and it’s so fast that I never notice when it’s around.

Cards, please, let me known if this woman is coming soon.

Confidential Waste

It’s been almost a week I’ve been working at the Tribunal. It was the most shocking thing I have ever experienced in my life. I must admit I had lot of expectations, well, not much, because I knew it would be shitty…but not so shitty.

It was like going back to the past when I started in Montreal in the other tribunal. First, the first. The manager told me to come at 9 am. which I did. It was nervous, very nervous, and when I took the elevator, I went to 15th floor…a nice tall guy saw coming and obviously saw me lost. He opened the door and I told him I was the new employee. He showed me the entrance of the registrar. It was just weird, the moment I always I was waiting for was already disappointing. I saw a plate with my name written on in, in a silver surface with the others employees name’s. The guy I met was from the mailroom. He just swiped his card to open the door….to the office.

What a slap in the face!!! I looked more than a printing section of a small factory. Paper, boxes, an industrial photocopies machine, files, big files…. a mess. Looking around I found my office, it’s in an open space, not much privacy because it’s for a clerk, support, they make you feel real support. I girl who is  on of the officers I will work with it, a bit fatty, smiling every time was explaining me and showing me the area. The guy from IT also came to set up my computer. What a surprise, I’ve already have an email account. Usually can take 2 days an account be created. After being working 2 years as a contractor for the government it was the first time I saw a different telephone.

After that first shock, the girl showed the other 3 floors the Tribunal has. Where I work was the registrar office, the other floor is the research section, a fancy place, elegant, very lawyer style. She was introducing me all staff, till now I don’t remember any name but Reagan, a lawyer who speaks (or crash) Spanish, a very nice guy, with a funny sense of humour.

But I don’t know why I feel I don’t fit there. I was totally lost, moving in every floor. I went to the Inhuman Resources floor, there was the fat and nice woman, the assistant who I had to pass the test. At the point I wanted to leave, maybe, not to go to my cubicle. I didn’t want to see the hearing rooms…I did, well, I don’t know, I don’t feel the same love I felt when I was in Montreal.

My first day, I asked to another girl when will be my training….and she said, “this is your training” …I had to make photocopiers, I mean, tons, like 10 kits, of around 2oo papers, plus to make holes and put them in files. Also, I’m responsible to place water bottles in the hearing room.

There were absent people and I met my neighbour, a nice girl that described herself as a “happy person who wanted to make happy to anyone”. At that point I just contacted my ex college and I was crying. I wanted to quit, I wanted to leave and go home.  She phoned me cheering me up, what a fantastic friend I have now. Minutes later she send me the internal website to apply internally. But I need an ID that only Inhuman Resources can give you. Also I needed it to send my cheque for my direct deposit…I wanted my money and my ID federal number. After sending a couple of emails the right person sent my a message to meet her. This office is so small that the payroll will be done next week, so, this is so weird…but I feel so miserable.

I was the assistant of an important director, now I just make copies, tons of copies. I’m reading my cards, my ex college tells me I will leave very soon that place, my friend in Germany, who reads the cards says the same.

I just want to cry.

Sad Post Departure Day

Since this morning I’m feeling confusing sad. Yesterday was my last day, I’m feeling so tired, I’m not able to cook, I’m just eating what I cooked this week, I made some groceries in the morning, in a rainy day, I chatted with a good friend this morning, and after all that I had a nap. My cat slept more hours than me this afternoon.

When I woke up I was feeling like amnesic, I opened my eyes with a sensation of being lost, not able to remember anything, like being hangover without the party of the day before. My head was killing me, a headache that born of my neck muscles. I just turned 36, yes, I’m older, more white hair is appearing….that’s scary…36 and alone.

Looking back again to my last crazy week at the library, the mixed feelings I had for the new job starting next Monday, not having the need to celebrate, not totally happy about the new position…I just remember Blue Eyes’ sentence:”why are you upset?” I don’t know, I won’t touch my beloved invoices, I won’t do finances…since I go ahead, instead of feeling the sensation to go to the right direction I feel I’m going to a labyrinth, I know where I want to go…just I feel so tired…so tired to look, to apply, to find the right place…Am I going to the right direction? I’m starting to having doubts.

I feel my body is bloated, there’re tears in my right eye, I looked into the mirror and I got my post-mortem look, racoon eyes, hate-comb, sick, tired, bored, old, and again tired, as if I were stopping my body the right to sleep correctly or properly, pushing it to train, to walk, to lay down and walk up again…thinking of my weekly budget, thinking on Monday I will receive 450$ for my last rendered services…thinking I have to pay my credit card, a propane cylinder for my BBQ (and start officially my first BBQ season), that my first cheque from the Tribunal will arrive in…5 weeks? Reading my cards and not being sure what they’re trying to tell me…feeling miserably alone, dreaming of biking outside without fearing to have an accident…dreaming to meet a nice woman…dreaming to love and being loved. Not feeling comfortable to not to say openly I’m gay…feeling so claustrophobically uncomfortable but protected…protected? From what or who? Will somebody hurt me? I’m scared of Monday.

The good-bye card is in front of me, behind a glass, protected, it’s the only card from the 3 I received that it’s in exhibition, the red rose…why a rose?  why red? I don’t know, I shouldn’t ask, I shouldn’t look for answers.

I’m so tired to move, from job to job, place to place, town to town, province to province…I’m so tired I feel my eyes like balloons, I’m not crying but tears are already there for being so awake unable to close them since more than 1 week. I guess they’re red blood, tears must be purified blood…I got my earphones plugged into my ears…keeping and forcing me to stay awake, pushing my brain to send orders to my fingers for typing what I’m thinking, not looking at the bottoms but at the screen…

I was thinking of my father…thinking of my first cheque that I should send him…asking him to do more medical tests forcing him to come to see me since I cannot move anywhere because my brand new job…will he come? will he have enough time to heal and be able to take the plane? do we have enough time before he dies?

Questions, pain, oh my eyes! Oh my heart…don’t suffer please, don’t ask me more questions, please brain, let me sleep tonight, please…I want to find at least one answer…Oh! I know one answer, a very important one…I’m alone.

Déjà Vu, Another Last Day

Today, as I predicted in another past posting, was my last day. But today isn’t an ordinary “last day”. There’s no coincidences in life. I remember when I finished my first job in Canada, at the National Library of Quebec, I changed radically and I went to work at Relations Board Tribunal. Now, I worked at Justice Library and I’m going to International Trade Tribunal. Everything in life is linked in someway, somehow to teach us something apparently hidden.

I helped as much as I could to the girl who’s replacing me, giving her instructions about invoices, procedures, stupid forms etc. etc. etc. I feel sorry for her, she will work very hard, and won’t have time to breath…she’s ex student, I hope the director will be patient with her.

I made the last preparations, adjusting last numbers on the financial system, I paid invoices, I went to say goodbye to the financial officer who I gave more than a headache when I started this job, I just told her I was feeling guilty to leave her, I explained I used to work with other system, Oracle, which it’s more friendly…she told me for someone who had no training I did it pretty well. I don’t know, I just went to see her to apologize, I didn’t want to bother anyone. The funny thing is before leaving I had to fill out an exit form…what’s funny about it? I had to make sign like 8 people, I have to go to every single building, mailroom, file room, finance, IT, communications…my God, the director also had to sign it…what a nightmare!

This Friday it seemed hard for the director, I heard she was making some phone calls, shutting the door, shutting the printer cover, going up and down. When I had my last mini meeting with my replacing, she just left her office in a very rough way. The ex student asked me “is she mad?” I don’t know I replied, probably.

At 3 pm she appeared with a card, with a rose picture on it…she said “something to make you cry more” I just made a face as saying…you little devil. After that I sent my last update and finally the email I was keeping since the morning:

Chère directrice;
 C’est avec tristesse que je quitte la bibliothèque. C’est bizarre mais je savais que serait mon dernier contract avec une agence … maintenant le tribunal, maintenat je sens que, pour une fois dans ma vie je peux décider quoi faire avec MA vie.
J’ai du traverser trop d’épreuves, c’est toujours difficile faire tout toute seule (ou avec une chatte de Montréal) mais  …pas de choix.
 I  just have words of gratitude for you, as I told you this morning, I worked with registrars, several managers, commissioners, directors, language evaluators, lawyers, librarians etc, until now, your performance as a director, has been outstanding, I never saw somebody like you in these years. You work a lot, you don’t eat a lot, you say you can take care of yourself, not sure, but I’m convinced you do that with your beloved library. It has been more than honour working with you, all apologies I wish I could helped you more with IFMS, PO and etc. I don’t like leaving this way and you know it.
 Also, finally I know what happened to LexisNexis document, that day Rachelle left the paper on my chair, I was on my RDIMS training in the morning and in the afternoon we met for our update priorities meeting. I remember asking you what to do with the signed paper … you said “I don’t know, ask Marcelle” which I did, so before giving her the original I asked she wanted a copy, she said yes, so I made the copy and asked her where I should send it, I think she said Finance, but I thought the copy was for her not for my files, well, at the time I didn’t know I had the file in my office, but finally after weeks of desperation Marcelle found it in her office. What did I learn from this? Never give a copy to Marcelle!!!
 I will miss your blue eyes at 9.30 am, chapeau pour tout votre travail.
Take care, good luck, and … try to eat.”

 It surprised me her answer:

“You put (happy) tears in my eyes on a tough Friday of a verrrrry long week.
 May you keep those stars twinkling forever in your heart.
 Good luck!!”

That woman gives and will give a lot to her life to that library, I’m scared of her boss will stab her…I don’t believe she can take care of that, or even noticed, her colleges the same. At least she protects her back looking every single paper she signs, but that’s not enough. The day I told her about my contract at the Tribunal she gave a mini speech “you should do the best for you and your career”…I was wondering if she was making projection of herself on me. She deserves better, I added in my last reply.

I will miss her, I will miss those beautiful deep blue eyes,  those eyes that show a fortress, with tall walls, protecting herself, doubting to trust, inquiring, examining, watching, penetrating…I can see her fragility and fear…

A Real Government Contract

A couple of weeks ago I received a phone for International Tribunal Trade, I applied for a position, they called several times asking for my availability…at first they asked for another security level, which I did, I was feeling I was closed to that job but after the process began slow again…so, when they asked me for my availability I felt like time has come.

I work with an agency. They find me a contract, they charge to the government like 18$ but I receive like 13.5$. Yes, they’re like pimps and I’m the whore on the road. After working for rates between 11.5$ and 13.5$ I got finally a real offer, a contract of 42 000$ per year.

When they called me they asked me for a document, driving license for being photocopied and added to my personal file and I heard something like letter offer. I was a bit…how can I say…surprised? upset? nobody told me about this, how come everything is so slow and suddenly can come so fast? When I arrived to the building, that curiously is just in front of Correctional Services where I used to work months ago, I went to Human Resources office, I gave my papers, and a woman asked me to follow her, we went to a small office, she made read an oath but before she asked me if I needed a bible, that she could look for one, can you imagine at this moment my level of shock? So, I read the paragraph that basically said not to reveal anything from my future work, to be loyal to the Queen and more crap. When room was spinning fast, my legs were shaking, I was sweating more and more, my brain wasn’t working, my ears weren’t hearing anything. The woman told me to fill up some other optional papers, I said I knew those papers and she asked me if I worked for the government, I just told her I had experience with agencies. She gave me her card and asked to call her for a confirmation.

Next step, blue eyes…well, who to talk first, her or the agency? When I came back to the office, still in shock, not able to react, reading emails like a zombie, answering some other questions, waiting…I sent an email to the agency saying they were offering me a position, the contact person congratulated me and she proposed her to talk to blue eyes, which I denied and I prefer to talk to her. I sent her just a line on the subject box saying “urgent, I need to talk to you”. She came to my office, asking me my urgency “I don’t know how to say it” I replied, just say it she said. And I explained the proposition and she smiled and she said “this is good news, why are you upset” I was crying, some tears were rolling down in front of the director, I just added, I wanted to finish my contract, that isn’t my style to leave in that way, I said “I,ll give you some intercultural information…I’m not Canadian, I’m latino, I’m loyal, I don’t want to leave you with all that stuff like that”, she was smiling at me, saying she knew people move all the time, that I should choose the best for me, she told me she worked at that Tribunal time ago, she said my trilingualism will help me with the NAFTA stuff. she seemed very happy for me, she admitted she pushed me a lot and the student that I work with will take my place…and I said “poor girl”, the director looked at me moving her head “yes” she said. I explained that I wanted to do finance, she said there were lots of jobs in that domain, now I can apply to internal positions.

I’m still hoping to get in the Agriculture pool, I applied, but I must wait. Soon I finished to talk to her I sent an email to my neighbour saying I had the job and I needed a cigarette. When I met him I cried…so much that somebody came with a Kleenex box saying “boys don’t have that”, my friend said “it’s joy” and I said yes.

We went outside for smoking, I said that I needed a car, a 4X4, I was just laughing “you’re such a boy”…he said he could help me because he knows a place where I can buy a car for 5 000$, but now my priority is my father. My birthday is just around the corner…I will give a big surprise to my father. 

Mirrors and Reflections

Once I wrote in my blog info I’m fashion or office fashion, which is true…but I never said before I was scared of mirrors and what I saw on it.

It was something that my ex bitch could understand and we shared as perfect secret or pact to ourselves, to avoid mirrors. When we went to shopping centers, always at women sections there’re mirrors and mirrors. I always felt inconfortable, silly, like naked with clothes on. When I was in my early twenties, my mother put a big mirror in my room saying “don’t you know why I put that mirror there? It’s because I want you to see how ugly you dress”. My mom always had the capability to make feel miserable, cheap, complexed and several times she used to say “you have a poor selfestem”…and she never realized she was one of the major reasons I felt that way.

My mom used to drag me to stores to choose clothes. Of course, girls clothes that I hated. I never worn a pink thing on my life…just when I was 35 my best friend bought me for Christmas a hockey t-shirt, just because I felt a kind of reconciliation with that colour. I remember going to those shops, totally upset, mom choosing everything for me and me trying totally enraged what she chose. In the 80’s I don’t know why, girls fashion designers used to make blouses with kind of frawns…like clowns’ clothes…horrible. The worst, my mom had a sewing machine and she made some experiments on me…yuck!!! I was feeling like a little man dressed in the most humilliating feminine way….the worst…it looked horrible on me, everything, just pants and square shirts were ok, sometimes t-shirts not showing my waist, plus, I don’t have big breast, dyke style, small ones but firms.

When I was going out with my ex bitch she used to find clothes for me…me doing that for myself? No, I was scared to try. The curious thing is when I was a kid my mother used to buy me  green clothes….how much I hated that colour, she bought it dark, cacky, cactus, olive etc. I didn’t know she was washing my brain at that time. She did it well because my favourite colour now is green. I remember while a kid my obsession was blue, electric, ocean, light blue…at the 90’s I was addict to blue jeans…I got some blue blouses, office style, nothing feminine…dyke kind androginous…my weight is about 54 kg and 1.61 mt, which makes me slim…slim? I found myself fat as a bulimic pork.

That’s why I avoid mirrors, what I see is my past …a chubby teenager, who hated her body, that never accepted her puber changes…her face, her big head and big teeth…her thick black hair…I don’t find myself attractive…or beauty…just average or ordinary…but I want to be different when I dress…after my separation, my desintoxication therapy started with my own image…or maybe my own perception of myself…like…painting…I’m a frustrated artist.

When I don’t want to think what to dress I dress on black, I hate that colour because of public servants wear it…like an uniform…why everybody should dress in the same way? I mean, you can be fashion without wear that colour, Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter! But no, they wear it especially on Winter…the most depressing time of year. And after, they complain. I got just a kind of black pants…dark grey, that matches with everything…The other reason I bought that black suit was my father…he was sick and I thought he would die, I would need something for a future funeral.

I avoid brown, difficult for me because I got dark skin. I know everybody at the office check my clothes…they like it but nobody says it aloud…Ontarians are too politically correct…too much. Sometimes I dress the clothes my ex said they were horrible…and everybody says the contrary…my ex bitch told me once “if they say to you it’s beautiful is because is the contrary”…now I’m sure she said that to wash my brain and fabricate a little ugly ducking…for years her work was good…but not anymore.

Sure, sometimes I feel insecure, but after I feel confident looking and thinking how many combinations I can do with one piece of clothes…lately I was trying some boys stuff…I was scared…nervous but after…who cares? This is Ottawa, nobody cares…I care.

Since that traumatic mother-fashion and post ex-bitch fashion era…I decided to buy a mirror…and I feel good, I feel as I would have been reconcilated with myself…or my past…or that I’m confortable with myself, my sexuality, I, me, myself…