The Lesbian and The 10,000 Maniacs

It’s 8.33 pm and there is still light…and that freaks me out.

More light, more hours, more people outside doing activities, I haven’t see so many dogs outside, where were they all Winter? Kids playing, cars playing electronic or rap music on their sub-woofers making vibrate my windows. While Winter was quiet and cold, and as I said before, there is no Spring or Fall season in Canada, you jump one to another.

Last weekend I met my gay friends, the 2 Jeffreys. We had breakfast worshiping bagels at the Bagel Shop. Jeff, as usual, ate his lumberjack breakfast, and Jeffrey just a bagel like me. Her mother and sister were there, they are nice people, simple and were and will live all their lives at Hintonburg, the fancy neighborhood were an old house can cost half a million easily. When Jeff’s mother said how fast a house was sold in her block I was thinking, dreaming, crying for the possibility to buy a house. I thought of my father that at my age had me (I’m his 3rd child), got his 5th car, got a permanent job and was owner of a house. Me? Not even a permanent job or security in that area. We went after to other places for eating. I drove Jeffrey to his apartment in downtown. He were listening music of the 80’s, singing like maniacs. He moved not long time ago and his place was a real mess, full of boxes and in total disorder. He has 2 cats, the mess was that bad the cats were invisible and the litter box was just another litter box.

With both Jeffreys I went to a second hand fair at the Parkadale Church, that evening there was a concert, I really enjoyed despite they didn’t play exclusively classical music, but it was pleasant. Sunday I did some things at home and I had a nap.When I woke up around 5pm I was having anxiety. I got scared and a rush of ideas came to my mind: my birthday, getting old, being alone, no expectations at work with the jerk of my boss, and the worst, Summer was coming. I tried to call people (let’s face it at least 2) and of course nobody answered. On Monday again, the sun came out earlier…I was freaking out, my chest was pressing me too much and I tried to call down but that just happened when I went to my yoga class. Driving my way home ideas of how many hours I have to wait until to go to bed without any fear, without thinking…tomorrow I got things to do until 4 pm. After, I couldn’t concentrate myself to study for my French exam of tomorrow. In fact, I’ve been very distracted by the sun, the light, the people outside my window and nothing else to do.

On top of that I registered to my second Accounting course. Accounting II freaks me out again. A friend told me to quit and do something else but I don’t want to. It reminds me when I broke up with my ex bitch my mother was calling me and telling me to come back to Peru…no way, I can’t go back to live with another crazy woman. Now that I’m writing those line I’m scared. In my Finance course I got D – , and I thought I studied hard. My friend from another course told a Chinese teacher was excellent but I realized she wouldn’t teach this semester I panicked. And when I panic I cannot talk. That reminds me than in 1 week I got my English oral exam. Everybody says I speak well (bloody Canadians) they will never say they don’t understand me. At least at work when I ask something nobody understands me and I have to repeat again and again the same phrase. I don’t even understand myself. When I speak to my Swedish friend she doesn’t listen to me and I had to repeat several times my phrase. Awful.

Because of my classes will be Mondays and Wednesdays I will miss my yoga lessons. Why am I studying? Because I like finance and I don’t want to be a clerk the rest of my life.I know I can do more important tasks than filing and labeling. I hate myself now, I hate not being able to control things like work, where I spent 7.5 and where is no other opening job available right now.

Monday will be my birthday. Ummmm, I was trying to remember what I wanted the most in that day when I was kid. I remember now, not to have born. I got a friend in Peru who didn’t or skipped his birthday, cut his phone, avoid that day university, didn’t accept any birthday wish, nothing. I was like him. But now, near my .39 years of tribulations, full of defeats, full of fear and totally alone…with a miserable job and with a chest that crash my lungs.

The boss I work now told I will back to my other group next Monday. I wasn’t happy, I don’t want to go back with them. I know when the boss arrives, he sighs every time, his breath has 800 decibels, jerk, jerk with degree.

I went to a second hand store looking for new obsessions, I mean, music. I found 10,000 Maniacs unplugged. Beautiful compilation…what I remember the most about Natalie Merchant, the vocalist, was an interview where she said the most beautiful love story she knew was her grandparents’ love. Her granny passed away her granddad was so sad that he died 5 months later. Those love declarations and ritual don’t exist anymore.

Tomorrow, I got 2 French exams…am I panicking? What do you think?

Ice Cream Reasoning

I just came home…I didn’t kiss my cat, I didn’t eat…I had a really bad day at work…and I opened my mail box and beside my junk mail….a letter from my mother…that was too much for just a day….but if you don’t understand what I’m trying to said…do as I’m doing right now, eating ice cream and writing at the same time…as Jack the Ripper said “let’s go by parts”.

Last week was record store day, that means, you go to buy some vinyls (LP or acetate Long Plays), those big flat blakc circles with lines line channels on it. Those LP’s that the 80’s generation enjoyed that much. I had a couple when I was a kid but at the same time the tapes showed up and was its death sentence. I had like 2 or 3, my brother had tons. Now in 2013 I went to do some shopping. As the marketing in this country works “marketing: the art of selling things you don’t need with the money you don’t have” I bought some. The thing is not buying things I didn’t need but who was my accomplices in this adventure. I met Jeff when the little restaurant Mitla opened. I wrote about it. It was the first time I gave my Facebook to somebody just met. He was super nice, very sensitive with a hard life. That was like 3 months ago. I never thought we could meet again despite I wrote him some lines. Then he finally set up a meeting at the Bagel Shop. He explained me that shop before was a charismatic church, then we were there, worshiping bagels. I asked for a Lamberjack breakfast…huge, extra pancakes and 3 bottles of juices…he was really hungry at 10 am. He is tall, probably 1.80mt and of course, over weighted. We were talking about music, old records, 80’s and parties, parties and more gay parties.Then, the other Jeff arrived. This Jeff is Mitla’s friend owner, and he is a cheff in a downtown restaurant. With them, I went to records stores at Hintonburg in Ottawa. Being with them, making jokes, walking together and talking was just amazing, it reminded me my old days in Peru with my male (effeminate) friends. It was like transportation  to the 80’s 90’s. I didn’t feel freak at all, in fact, I felt totally normal because I love music, the only material/non material thing I love the most (well, I love bags too). But anyways, let’s face it, it’s 2013, MP3 killed the tapes and cd’s, and, in 2013, me, shopping vinyls? Do I need vinyls…of course not. Do I have a turntable? Defentibly not…so, why the hell I bought Pet Shop Boys and The Beatles? By the way, the LP’s were “Actually” and “St Peppers” in that order.Jeff pushed to by a 45 of David Bowie but I had to turned down. For those antiquities I paid like 30$. Jeff spent 72$. Why did I do that? I don’t know, was it fun? Yes, but I always wanted to buy that Pet Shop Boys album as a decoration for my future house…assuming one day I’ll be able to buy one….

Last Sunday I had my second girls night out (me, the camouflage dyke). In fact it was more like afternoon. When the boss told me I had to move to another section to do the most boring thing on earth, database, I went to see my friend Suzanne, leader of the girls night out committee. She encouraged me to go and then she dropped the bomb. She is getting divorce of his husband. That afternoon we went out with her second hand car. We went to a little restaurant and then more news were announced.(Intermezzo Ice cream) Suzanne said her husband cheated on her time ago and she forgave him because she took seriously (too much) married. I was staring at her as she had an infectious disease  “how could you that?”. And then Fatima said…”when you announce to your husband you’re leaving him be with your father or brother” She added “remember what happened to your cousin”. Of course, at this point, I was eating my French fries totally clueless. Anne, added “my cousin was murdered when she announced she was getting divorced 3 years ago and another cousin too, like 5 years ago”. (more ice cream). I stopped eating the fries and I started inquiring Anne about it….one was shot and the other literally chopped off. Suzanne’s husband goes hunting, he has guns…and I don’t know why but when she told me days before she was getting divorced I got scared for her. We supported her and we told her to call us anytime if she needed help for the moving or other things. She’ll move in July, Denis, her husband doesn’t know about it (ice cream break). The girls decided to watch a movie. In the commercial cinemas the options are brainless and quasi insulting to my intelligence. The only thing appealed to me was a funny title “My awkward sexual life” or something like that. Fatima and Suzanne decided for “The Host”. So boring, what a valium, 2 hours with that predictable plot and end. Then I went home…thinking…Geeezz “but they already read the book was based on….” Not happy with that Suzanne, who appears to like me a lot gave a Bollywood DVD to watch….(more ice cream). What have I done in my past life to be punished in this way, eh?

And today….today….I should I took a plane to go Abu Dhabi. I worked in another group in a different location. I received an email from the boss asking me about 3 invoices I processed, each of 15,000$. I said “I left it on Cindy’s desk but that day she was sick”. He asked me again about the docs and I wrote “I swear I put the documents on Cindy’s desk”. Since I cannot release payments just posting them, Cindy can do the release and final verification (ice cream break). Again, he said to find out about the purchasing orders. I was…”what? what are you talking about?” I said I didn’t have much experience about it and I asked for help to find the supporting documents of those payments. He asked me to find duplicates for those invoices….how? I was totally petrified (ice cream). I sent an email to the responsible for those purchases and she didn’t want to help me, so I asked help to the boss because at this moment I wasn’t sure what my name was. Cindy helped me with some duplicates and information. We made a duplicate of 2 invoices but 1 is still missing and I guess I have to face that tomorrow. The boss said “I’m not blaming you those things happen”. It that would have happened at Price Water House I should have beheaded and thrown my body parts at the crows.

When the day was almost over, I saw the big boss, I wanted to complain, to be aggressive about my situation, to kill verbally to my boss about this unfair decision to be changed to another group…and I couldn’t, I just tried to change the topic saying I’d like to do more payments and experience (ice cream on my table). She told me not to be discourage, that this will help me in my career…blah blah blah…she seemed sincere and she added that I won’t be there for so long, she said to continue my studies and blah blah blah…I reminded her my contract will finish next March and I needed experience knowing more cuts will be applied to my office, more people will be fired…and bye bye money for buying useless things like vinyls. She said “don’t get discouraged”, she said that like 3 times…but I decided   I don’t want to be with that group, if there is an opportunity I’ll take in another place.

Just when I arrived home, dreaming of my Vanilla ice cream, I opened the mail box…a letter from Peru. Tiny little letters were written on the envelope…it was my mother…I haven’t spoke to her in years, I always destroy her letters and I keep the stamps but I collect them. She wrote something like “I love you, I will never forget you while I’m alive, you’ll always on my mind, I will always cry you for being so far, I look for you when I walk down the streets” She said “you’re my thoughts and my suffering”….she wrote I was her princess (I’m really dyke and nobody notices…I feel like a loser) and she hoped the birds sing for me because of my birthday.

This year, I read that letter, usually I put it directly on the recycling bin…this time I read it more than twice…and still that sensation of “I love you but under my conditions”, that “I love you, I want you for me” the toxicity was still there…I don’t hate her but if I were there I know how our dynamic will be…and I feel safe been far away from her. Again, I got nobody to talk about this…it’s better that way I guess, I cannot concentrate, I feel like a pitbull on a cage, I want to talk but I feel speechless. I want to breath through my nostrils and I’m dreaming of vodka. That game, I want you closer, I want you to love me this way, I want you forget all the past, that past that push me to repeat our relationship with my own ex girlfriend…

Not a good day for talking but writing, not a good day for reading but eating ice cream, probably a perfect day for alcohol.

Fighting For Equalities and Inequalities

It’s strange, the word Equality is a noun, has no plural when grammar corrector makes the orthographic verification in my blog, in fact, shows equalities as a grammar mistake. But its antonymous, Inequality can have plural. This omission or mistake  with the capability of the corrector is a reality in a workplace. I never wanted to write about my job, or the place I work, or my dreams about a good job. But today was the worst day ever in all the places I worked before.

But let’s make some analysis about where I work. In theory, what my contract says, I’m a financial transaction specialist. Ah? what? In simple English is…I’m a clerk in a finance office. Transactions means just you do payments or reverse payments. I work in that place for 3 year….and so far…I have done just 100 transactions. If you do the maths that means 33 per year. But the truth is I did 100 just last year in ….3 months. While my colleagues do more than 10000. When I arrived the first day, my boss, a handsome guy with blue eyes and fat ass told me that my duties will be to do the input of invoices that we receive in the database “in the future you will do payments and eventually you’ll have a letter to pay” (letter means all company name’s that starts let’s say with letter A or B or C). I said “it’s ok”, I applied to that job so hard…I wanted to leave the other place where I was working before where a BB (beautiful bitch) was bullying me all the time, I  never knew she did that because I’m gay, immigrant or just because I wasn’t impressed for her beauty. I learnt at 6 years old, when I had a crush with a little classmate that beauty doesn’t mean kindness or love. It’s not a rule that a physically speaking beautiful woman will be a wonderful person. It can be all the contrary, the BB had big breasts that it looked like she was pregnant of her thorax. And everybody liked her but she was evil, really evil. Well, that situation put me to my limits…I couldn’t stand anymore, she was selling cosmetics products and everybody even the big bosses let her do her business. It was hell on earth. My last salvation was to apply to this job I got now. And I made it.

I changed the job and I stated to do database, filing and labels. Those were my transactions for my first year. I never paid anything. In my annual evaluation the boss told me I would do payments. Some other employees came to our office and they got formal training for do payments. I asked him why were paying invoices when me, I was before them. He said it was their managers asked for formal training. So, I said it was ok, but then, 3 more other employees came under the same policy. In my last evaluation my boss wrote and I quote “Hopefully, she will pay invoices”. Hopefully? I was shock when I read that and I encircled the word with my green pen. I put also I made like 100 transactions like 50 travel claims and 50 invoices. I asked I needed more experience because I got a contract that will expire next year. He said “ok, I will ask the supervisor to give you travel claims and Michael will give you some invoices, at the end of April you’ll have authority to release payments”. I told him “I don’t believe you”, he said “you got the right to be skeptical” .The truth is the group I work most of them are men, those guy do activities outside like playing soccer, BB, they call on the phone etc. Ok, I’m excluded of all that which is ok. The supervisor who had to give more more travel claim to process, never did it. Never gave me one since last year when the boss said to do it. This year the boss “reminded” it to give me claims and until 2 days ago, he didn’t. That’s why I said I didn’t believe it.

Suddenly, last week I had some invoices to pay because another supervisor game work to do which I really appreciated but last Thursday the boss called me to a meeting and he said” You’ll go to another section to replace a person who’s retiring”. I had to pick up my jaw from the floor. I said “they don’t do payments, I need experience to do payments, what if I loose my job?”. He had blood in his face to reply me “you asked for more experience”, I raised my voice like a tenor “I said payments no more database”. “I thought you were tired to do the mailing”. I said “I told you I don’t mind to do the data base or mailing as long as I can do payments”. He said “I don’t understand why are you upset, don’t take it personally, it seems you’re taking personally”. At that moment I wanted to grab my car, run over my boss back and forward, back and forward for at least 17 times. I was so furious, I was stamping the invoices violently, I was crying of anger. 3 years waiting for some payment experience…3 years doing label, filing, believing what the boss said about his promises…3 years for nothing… He said “you’ll start next Monday”.

Why me? I knew and you know, men and women are different. Even if the law says the contrary, we are different, even if in some parts of the world, gay marriage is legal, in the real world, when a gay partner is at the hospital the gay boyfriend or girlfriend despite to have the legal right to be there, will be kick out, the marriage certificate is a paper, just that, a paper. I got a contract to do finance and payments…I haven’t done anything much since then. What I didn’t know about inequalities is there is another difference: being permanent and being under contract. I got a contract, I’m just a little employee with, despite the union says I got rights, I don’t have them. I don’t have the privilege other have…I won’t pay invoices because of that difference. Because some employees feel scared I could steal work? I don’t know, maybe. I shouldn’t say I hate my boss but I hate the fact he doesn’t see or doesn’t want to see things in the office like some employees who doesn’t work, that the fact the supervisor who should give me work didn’t do anything and my boss will never ask him why because they’re friends. I know you have to keep distance between employees and he doesn’t.

What is my new job? Data entry of banking information. I mean, you want to be reimbursed directly, I have your banking info and I put it in a big database…that’s it. Great experience eh?. How long will I be there? Unknown…but I guess long time. Why am I that upset? You didn’t read it or what?. Being in this new position will be very difficult to get out of there. It’s in a open office, no privacy at all, my new colleague speaks too much and the new boss there is a control freak. I’m still thinking is a good idea to grab the car and run him over back and forward for minimum 1 hour.

Promises and promises…when a promise is a lie? does the time proves was it a lie? In which situation are really “equal”? under what circumstances we have “equal opportunities”? I worked in 4 tribunals and I never saw somebody with a reasonable case winning. In fact, nobody won any case. We are not equals, we must fight to reach that paper-equality, not even a contract warrants you’ll do what the paper says you will do.

What to do now…fight…more and more…after all, I’m in immigrant…born to fight endlessly.

The Writers Group

There are some ironies in life so cruel that you prefer just keep your mouth shut. But I won’t, not because I shouldn’t but because I’m not politically correct like the rest of Ottawa.

I was going to the Grieving Group at Church. It was leaded by my American friend and Ellen, both lesbians. The American girl has a transsexual boyfriend FTM. Ellen had a special girlfriend….had? Yes; had, past time. What I remember the most of the meetings was me asking Ellen what to do, what to say, always in the Canadian standards, to somebody who lost a dear one. She was explaining me basically to say “my deepest condolences or if you’re closer to that person offering help”. I spoke to her several times. It was always pleasant to talk and exchanges ideas about this society that I never finish to understand, of course, in my Peruvian totally politically incorrect way of thinking. When I marched at the gay pride in Ottawa I saw her beside the curb with her girlfriend. Ellen is short, shorter than me, short white hair and a problem with her back but very active. She is chaplain in a hospital. I remember I sat beside her girlfriend in one of the LGBT welcoming parties. She seemed out of this world, avoiding eye contact with almost everybody, silent, non talkative. I thought she was autistic but that picture of her was smashed when I saw her in the parade. There, she was waiving her hands, shouting, moving North to South, East to West the gay flag hugging Ellen.  In one of the grieving meetings she told openly her girlfriend was under medication, apparently she had panic attacks or anxiety or both. Also, she said last year during the week of mental health awareness that many people looked or treated not very well the patients who said to the nurse in the front desk they were under medication, but her, because she was the chaplain at that particular hospital, her girlfriend had “fast and special attention”. Just last November, before Christmas, she said in the famous email for the bloody potluck I didn’t want to go, that Marlene, her girlfriend, had a mini stroke. Just in February I asked Ellen if  Marlene was ok. She said “her doctor told her not to do so much physical activity but she’s skiing, walking all the time, living her life”. I was glad to hear that. The day I decided to quit the group I sent emails to Ellen and the American girl saying I was not going, no reason in particular, that was a Friday. On Saturday at noon I received an email from the American girl that Ellen’s girlfriend, Marlene, died in her sleep. I was surprised and in shock. Also, was this the greatest bitchy irony of destiny? I mean, she was the leader of the grieving group and there she was. Like everybody else, with a dead on her shoulders. I saw her Facebook, just 3 weeks later, it was Ellen’s birthday. And just in April, it would have been Marlene’s 56 birthday. I hope their wedding anniversary won’t be in May…I found until now too heavy with all those dates and memories to remember and trying to forget them all at the same time.

We are still waiting for the funeral service. As she told me once, I sent her an email giving her my condolences and offering my help if needed, which it was really weird. Isn’t ironic? And as a chaplain, she knows literature to read about it that she suggested us for grieving. And I always complained that what people need when they grieve is not a paper with authors and titles, but good friends and people to talk to. She has 3 children…will she grieve like the others? will she grieve reading books or over reading books? Will she talk to anybody? Once I told her, talking about death or grieving was taboo in this society. Even crying. She agreed…but I don’t know if their own children will want to listen about loneliness, abandon, fear when they want just this thing goes fast without disturbing their lives.

I went to another group at Church, the writing group. It was really nice. The leader is a woman from Jamaica. At this time, there were 6 people including me. Chuck, in his 80’s, who writes interesting poems, Jocelyne, the leader, who brings books or prompts, to read and after we write freely about the text, a woman with a German background, a guy who works with inmates and an old woman from Church. What Jocelyn read was so hard, heavy, sad, and I don’t know how many adjectives can describe the text about a woman dying of cancer and her friend who was taking care of her for a couple of days when those days became endless. Just when she was reading those depressing lines I felt a wall of emotions and Ellen’s recent experience lived in a different way. The exercise was to write no matter what about the prompt. The book’s title is The Spare Room by Helen Garner And this is what I wrote:

“Is this a real spare room? Just a room and then suddenly can become an universe of pain an agony. Probably more blindness than sadness will fill the empty space in this room.

In the mornings can be expansive and stretches with every sunbeam that crashes the windows and at nights shrinks in slow motion..in the rhythm of pain, of denial . The time is measured by drops of sweating, no tear drops. Are they useful or just useless?

I just saw her eyes….with that look that wants to catch, to grab, to memorize the space in that spare room universe. There were nights, there were mornings, there pain, there were last minute hope and undeniable hopeless.

Even between friends you can develop a false mother-daughter relationship. And not necessarily being the most supportive but toxic. Like taking care of the careless, like taking care of an agony”.

Girls Night Out (With a Camouflaged Dyke)

There many things that happens in the most unexpected way. Just out of the blue, I went to renew my security card at the office. I know the security girl who always smiled at me with a big wide open smile like a mouse so happy to see a big chunk of cheese. Her name is Suzanne, not that taller than me, chubby, married with 2 kids….that’s right, a perfect desperate housewife. When I went to see her for my security pass, I told her I was feeling down, that it was difficult to meet new people or friends and only people I know are over 60’s. Her working partner said loudly “what’s the problem with people over 60?” of course, the guy was over 60. She said to me, once per month she has a girls night out and she invited me for next Saturday….I said yes, we exchanged phone numbers and that was it!!!

Saturday came and I didn’t know how to dress….I just grab standard office clothes…and I drove to downtown. There, she phoned me and told me to meet her at Hard Rock Cafe. Well, I went inside the Hard Rock Cafe when I noticed she wasn’t there I called her and she said “outside there”. And when I look through the window, she was there with 4 other girls. I barely recognized. As a security member, she has a pony tail, no make up and wears an uniform. That night, I discovered she had long curly black hair and she looked just gorgeous. I met her friends there, Fatima, a nice chubby woman, family related to Suzanne, Anne, who looked like that character Alice, in the L Word tv show and a short chubby pseudo vegan girl named…I don’t remember her name, but is not important.

We were at downtown at 7pm looking for restaurant…all places were full and we had no reservation whatsoever. Of course, since nobody decided where to eat in advance or where to go, we didn’t have any reservation. So, after verifying the menu in one restaurant because the vegan was not picky but vegan, I suggested going to a “all you can eat” restaurant, I went once at lunch time like 2 years ago. What I wasn’t expecting is these girls were really into spend money as if they were business women. Also, they were the  kind of people who like eating and do all kind of activities around food. Anne told me after this buffet they were planning to go to another restaurant for dessert and coffee. At the restaurant the waiter explained us how this buffet worked. The price was like 22$ plus taxes and tips. As pseudo vegetarian I am, the only thing I could eat was salad, pasta salad, French fries and fish. You see, vegetarians can be fat too. I just asked for water while the girls asked for margarita or juice or something funny. The drinks were over 6$. My mind was trying to calculate her invoices. I was nervous because the night was just starting and my hypothetical invoice was getting bigger. At the table I was in front of Anne, she was very nice and I interviewed her. She wasn’t married and didn’t believe on marriage as all good Quebecquer woman, she had a son of 17, she works as teacher for special kids and is 39 just like me. Fatima told me she was married with one young kid and she worked as cleaner with Suzanne. Yes, they were cleaners. I was surprised and they weren’t ashamed. The chubby vegan…I don’t remember what she does for living…it doesn’t matter.

I ate so much cold pasta and so much warm fries that my body was shaking …I was feeling cold, I had to ask for tea. The girls asked for coffee, after they complained the coffee was too strong, black as petrol.I was too full that I thought I would bounce and not walking. Another girl was supposed to join us, her name was Sarah. Anyways, we finished our meal…my final invoice was 27.66$ plus 3$ of tip, the tea wasn’t included in the buffet price. So the other girls I calculated with taxes and tips almost 40$.

Now, the girls wanted to dance…and I wanted to go home to sleep. It was not even 9.30pm and I asked Suzanne where we should go. She said Sarah told her the Velvet Room was a good discotheque…but…where’s Sarah? I asked to call her about the venue, after all, it was planned she would join us there. Suzanne phoned her and she discovered due to renovations she was doing at her place, she wouldn’t come. It was -6C, cold and windy, we were like penguins, in a circle trying to keep us warm. I was kind of furious that Sarah suggests a place and after to find out she wouldn’t come, plus, she never called to tell us that. So we decided to go to Velvet Room, and there was a line up, so, the bouncer said the disco will open in 20 minutes. We stayed there for at least 10 min, we couldn’t resist the cold and we went to another cafe for drinking something hot and wait those 20 min. I bought a tea…2.5$. After those 20 min, we went to the disco again…and the bouncer again said “open in another 10 min”. So we went again to that little cafe where Obama once bought some cookies.The tv’s inside were playing (because they recorded) when Obama arrived and all the incidents outside Parliament Hill over and over again. After the 10 min we went again to the disco. This time people who arrived later than us, were getting inside…apparently there was a list…were people could enter before anybody else. Fatima said “come on, this is Ottawa”. I don’t know what she meant with that. that Ottawa is boring and isn’t New York? or we were just a bunch of multicultural group not beautiful dreaming to go to an ordinary disco where Sarah was supposed to go with us (after all it was her idea and recommendation and never showed up). So Fatima was upset and they decided to go to….Caliente…a latino disco, that to be honest, I didn’t know that existed.

So, when we went inside, the bouncer looked Anne and said “you can go”, he looked at me and said “ID please”. What? Me? ID? Do I have baby face or what? I’m almost 39, I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or insulted. Anyways, we paid for the entrance 8$, inside I didn’t buy any drink, later I discovered a bottle of water was 4$.

You know my music taste, I like alternative, rock, punk, metal….and there I was. The DJ was playing, salsa, reggeaton, merengue etc etc. And even if I hated that music when I was in Peru, where it was so popular, I was happy too hear those melodies. My friends at the university told me I used to dance my own style…salsa punk. Anyway, there I was dancing or moving, the girls were moving too, it was cool, just the vegan chubby was kind of bored…but who cares, at this point of the night nobody cared. There were some orgies at the dance floor, couple kissing and robbing her legs against each other, no shame at all, as good latinos. Latino cougars in her 50’s trying to get somebody hot and younger and old men trying to look cool wearing their bluetooth on their ears. There was one Canadian guy who danced like a butterfly having a seizure. Later on, that guy asked to dance with him…no way, another guy who also tried to dance with Fatima without success asked me to dance….what? Doesn’t look like I’m gay? Well, for latino men, there are no lesbians, they’re so closed minded they can’t imagine that. The Vegan was getting more and more annoyed, I was tired and the dance floor smelled sweat. We left around 1 am, the girls drove to my parking spot and the night was over around 2am at my place.

I was glad to go out…but I think in a latino disco, I won’t find the love of my life….it was a bit discouraging that latino patterns repeat and repeat everywhere…I feel outsider inside my own community….but definitely I’m not and I don’t want to be like them…and all that conclusion for the price of 41.16$, my phone invoice is 34$ and my internet 47$.

How to Be Fashion Victim And Be Ugly Trying To

I had such a bad luck with my beloved black pants. The zipper broke and since I live in this part of Ottawa I didn’t know where to do some alterations. Before, when I was living in Gatineau, my landlord was a tailor, so no problems with legged pants or little holes in my clothes. But I can’t go that far for a zipper. So, near my apart there is a laundry and a Chinese tailor fixed my problem for 12$. Usually I paid like 7$ for a second hand pants, you can see it was kind of expensive.

So I decided to do some shopping this morning…in Ottawa there is a big shopping center Rideau Center, which is not like going to Sunset Boulevard or going to Montreal, it’s more third world with little stores in order…with nothing really extraordinary. I went to Le Château, very fashion if you weight like 50kg but is good for people working in big business companies, nobody at the government wear those clothes.I went to Aldo looking for some bracelets…nothing like Catholic accessories that now are fashionable since the Pope was elected. I went to Lacoste. Nothing for me, I mean, I was looking for black pants remember that. What I like about Lacoste are their bags…but this time, not even a Kindergarden student would agree to have one of them. The colors are like Fisher Price toys and for 1 ordinary bag the price was like 200$ no way.I went to other little stores without luck. I went to Old Navy, looking for some t-shirts…geeez…high school style with flashy fluorescent colors like in the 80’s. There wasn’t much left after those stores. I went to Giant Tiger, a cheap store and there I found a good pair of pants but not black, too small for me but really classy, I mean it, classy office style. And when I thought everything was lost, I went to an Italian grocery store and I found Olive extra virgin oil 3 litres for 12$, that was the deal for going to downtown.

So, I decided to go to College Square, a shopping center near my place. I went to Dynamo, I remember I bought a pair of pants from the second hand store and I really loved it. When I arrived people were able to help me but…the sizes were from 0 to 7. When I wear jeans I’m 28 or 30 but apparently I’m to fat for those sizes. There wasn’t 9 and the models had no pockets (how come??!!). I went to Guess, well, that’s more for teenager and I decided I needed some jeans…there was a special of 40% off….of jeans of 200$ and ugly. But when I looked in the men’s section the same, 40% off and jeans of 40$…something is wrong here, can you see it? I went to another Aldo, nothing, nothing, nothing nice, only shoes so colorful that a drag queen would be tempted to wear them. I went to Tommy Hilfiger…geeez….even clothes for kids and toddler are over 60$….and for women the quality is so bad. Prices are over rated. I know you pay for the brand but come on…at least if clothes were beautiful or more..I don’t know, more … more….something. I bought a blouse in the second hand store, the colors were ok but I bought it because it was brand new and I paid 6$. I went to Jacob, the pants were so stretch and 80$, the tissue very bad quality, after one wash your pants are done….I bought 5 years ago a beautiful one and after his torture in the washing machine…was useless…

And then…it happens the worst. My hair was a bit longer, so I decided just to cut some centimeters my fringe with scissors …wrong, wrong…I looked like a dyke of the 80’s, short hair in the front, long everywhere….horrible, I needed an urgent solution…the clipper. Well, I got a clipper for my cat’s hair but I tried to cut my hair (like before) just this time probabilities to make more damage were over 200%. I just cut some little hair and I decided to go out and look for a hairdresser…on Sunday…almost 4 pm…good luck. I went to where I  did my haircut,a  Russian woman did a regular job. When I arrived it was 4.22pm, I saw her through the windows cleaning and closing down the store…I jumped in to the car and I remember Walmart has a hairdresser. I arrived and parked in front to another hairdresser in the same complex where Walmart is…..it was closed….with panic I went inside Walmart expecting the worse…and not….it was open, the hairdresser was open. 2 Chinese or Asian women were there and I was the last customer because they close at 5pm. So, she asked me what I wanted, so, layers I guess and she did….a regular job. At least she didn’t ask me question and didn’t try to be social….I just didn’t want to look ugly. In fact, my face is round, so, no matter what I do with my hair, will be ugly, I think is the part of my body I hate the most….I really hate, I can’t shave it because I’ll look I got a big head….well, after taking a short shower her job looks not that bad, a bit better than the Russian did. I put some gel and it really doesn’t look that bad…

Really, to be fashion in Ottawa is another challenge…I will tell you later what happened when I tried to put another add for meeting people…more anthropology coming soon.

Women International Day (Or How to Choose Your Next Girlfriend)

I’ve been very tired…so tired, half slept at work, no motivation at all and plus…I had to be witness of the most scariest request from myself….I never sat on a bench and wrote what I wanted from a woman…not until last week.

But before telling you my surrealistic concerns and requests that I wish I could find in a woman, in 2013, in this planet, at this moment of my life …let me tell you what happened at the Women International Day here in Ottawa. I went to Church for that service. I was expecting a x-ray of the women around the world, not only lesbians but every single woman and girl. I guess I shouldn’t been shock of the Canadian-Ottawa way to say things, here’s the formula:

Positive facts+non mentioning sad or dramatic issues/beautiful testimonies= happy end.

The service was basically testimonies of how women were important in their lives, how some of them had to fight for education, or I don’t know, asking people among the crowd positives facts about women (specially their own mothers). I was upset, nobody said anything about the rape of that poor woman in India, the riots because of that, the same week of this important day, a girl also from India of 7 years old was raped, the women’s condition around the world, abuse, arrangement marriages, lack of education, restrictions at workplaces etc etc etc….things we see or we lived or will see again and again on tv or in our streets. One of the testimonies given from a black woman dared shyly and touched a super underestimated subject. She said: “history is written by the winners”…it was ironic, very ironic…they were writing oral history at the service…they were avoiding issues, not mentioning facts, just showing the nice and positives things…enough, I have enough, did you hear me? ENOUGH. I left in that moment, super upset…mad, I see things on online newspapers, it seems nobody sees the same things or are they consciously blind? or worst…since they winner writes the history, they educate how to express and learn to new generation this silence-blind consciousness and  this create a self-censorship…in all spheres. I don’t remember been that furious….and it’s not only in my congregation…it’s in all Ottawa.

I decided to change my ideas and I went to my 3rd play in a small theater about 3 families in 3 different Christmas….again, a comedy. I didn’t like it at all. Then I checked all the plays available in town online …all comedies I’d say 90% are comedies…not even a single drama, not a classic of Shakespeare…nothing…people want to laugh, the market’s rule: Ottawa want’s to close its eyes…and not to see the ugly true…And I got the impression to have my eyes too open for its standards…too wide open it

Back at home, with anger in my heart and tears in my eyes, I decided to write what I need, or the person should be able to heal and provide those needs I request: she should be intelligent, intellectual, responsible, open minded, spiritual, take care of herself, independent, grounded, artistic, easy going, not picky, with initiative, supportive and with social consciousness…ok, ok, ok., that woman doesn’t exist or probably hasn’t born yet…and I didn’t mention beauty…so …when I finished to do this list, I thought of my American lesbian friend who’s boyfriend, a transsexual FTM and I asked to myself how can they be together despite, the boyfriend, I should say more a butch is not precisely the model of beauty or intelligence. The question that popped up was: Why ugly butches got pretty and nice women? How can they find girlfriends relatively easy. Is it sex? self-confidence? personality? charisma? strong personality? activities? what? but WHAT!!! My few friends at church say I’m social but I always leave the places with empty hands.Then I remember “The L Word” when Alice made a web of ex girlfriends…and then I thought of the friendship algorithm of Sheldon at “The Big Bang Theory” and its endless loop. Two different realities, too similar too dichotomous.

At the same time, when I imagine to have a girlfriend I got scared. First I think I’m going to lose myself in that famous fusion lesbo destruction known in lesbian couples. I don’t know how to have space and leave the other her space. I’m scared to invade and to be invaded. Scared to be dependent, to wait at night until she comes back from work…to be with her in an oasis of happiness that 5 minutes on a couch can offer…not avoiding topics like who’s responsible of groceries, who’s going to pay this or that bill, health issues. Or worse than that, avoiding that your couple doesn’t help you to grow up as a person, not able to listen to you or nor able to talk to her as adult…talking about future, buying a house, how to pay the mortgage, or sleeping beside her not able to reach her….thinking you’re losing her…because of work or differences….what about future? children? what happens when one pushes the other to adoption or pregnancy when she doesn’t want to or feels she’s not ready for that step. How you deal with your insecurities? frustrations? indecision inside the couple? What if you stay with her because you believe there’s nobody else for you….what if you stay just because you don’t want to be alone or because dating again at your age is discouraging…what if you’re avoiding the reality she is not for you. Where is love after all those questions? It sounds is more an ideal than a reality. You see, the couple seems more a ideological battle camp.

Two nights ago I had my 4 erotic dream in my life. I was having sex with a very beautiful woman…I just remember some details, her hair color, her smile, her lips and her breast…instead of waking up with a huge smile I just felt totally crashed…like in the cartoons, a little person walking on the street and suddenly a big piano falls over him. I woke up almost with a drown cry, like my heart was hearth beating for nothing…like there was not essence anywhere, like oxygen wasn’t enough for breading…with a war cry wanting to leave my chest but then…..just silence…just nobody to hear, nobody to talk…no even tears were able to leave my eyes….just another zombie in the building…heading work again…earning money…paying bills, doing some activities, some groceries…the living dead…you can’t imagine how painful can be the silence, how painful can be when you see things while the others ignore them and I cannot imagine all the silence and blindness living in a couple.