There is Candy for Everyone

It has been like 2 weeks since I had my first hypnosis. I’m training at the gym too for almost 3 weeks. Also, there has been like 3 weeks since I spoke with the Medium woman about my future. Just after meeting her I went to the gym and I started to run on the treadmill thinking and thinking and rethinking in several ways, up and down, right to left, North to South… thinking about she said “you’re attracted to violent relationships”, “you got a problem of dependency” …all those ideas were on my mind when I was running and walking. I tried to do 2 km almost every day (I don’t go to the gym when I got my night classes at college). It’s already June and her words are still resounding on my ears…

Just 2 weeks I had my second “girls night out with a camouflaged dyke”. It was awesome. I went with Suzanne, Fatima 1, Fatima 2 (Suz’s cousin) and Anne to the Beer Festival in Gatineau, the weather was crappy as hell, we bought our tickets and then somebody decided to go to a restaurant for dinner….yes, dinner at 5pm, not hungry at all and after a workout at the gym…I wasn’t that happy about it but well, no choice. We went to The Green Papaya, in front of Civilization Museum. The decoration was…like going to a meditation gastronomic spa. Relaxing music, Buddhas everywhere in all the position available, Nirvana, Lotus, stand up, golden, silver, small, big, even in the bathroom there was a Buddha too, with other Indian deities. It was fancy and the food….I wasn’t expecting that much but I must say food was outstanding, service too  The new person in the group was Fatima 2. When I asked what she does for living she said “I’m a pole dancer”. I knew she was kidding but I just  followed the flow. At some point Fatima 2 was worried because I seemed to believe what she said. We had a nice chat, talking about Portuguese drama (that looks like Greek drama), about parents and of course, about my session with the Medium. Fatima 1 is still scare to call her and set up an appointment.

We left the restaurant heading the beer festival. They were selling little  glasses at $2 each. Somebody invited me a glass…awful, I don’t like beer but those are the social thing you must do it in order to fit in a group and not to be excluded.  I was taking pictures as a Chinese tourist. I took a picture even of Fatima 1 and Suz’s butties, well, they asked me to! We stayed there for 1 hour and the girls decided after this small digestion to have dessert, so we went to St Hubert. In our way we were talking non sense, making jokes and Ann was laughing about Portuguese prejudice, since most of them were married with Portuguese guys and now they’re separated or divorced (Suz is taking that path too), and Ann added “ok Diana, hold my hand and we’ll say we’re lesbians”. Suzanne didn’t say anything and I was feeling totally uncomfortable, first, because I’m gay and second because I didn’t say to anybody else about this thing…I felt bad and I don’t know when I should do my coming out with them. Then, for killing time, we went to the casino. Fatima 2 played and won like $200, she paid us our drinks. I had more time to talk to her at the bar there. She told me about her ex boyfriend, a control freak, abusive and all the profile of my ex had. She said “when you think you should be dead, you’re in position to take a decision”. So, she left him, Portuguese drama came with it. She told me about her daughter, a teenager with hyperactivity and cognitive problems. I felt sorry at this point, but she seems living her life at least for her, nothing stops her to do that. Her new boyfriend, a Quebecquer guy is a nice man, apparently, well, must be, if that man buys a Celine Dion’s concert ticket to her…it should be a nice man!.

After we went to a disco…Forum, in Gatineau to dance Salsa. Then I realized the Fatima 2’s joke about being pole dancer wasn’t exactly far from reality. Damn, she knows how to dance. Also, she knew so many people in that place. It was a delightful experience to watch her dancing….she was flying… at almost 1 am we were exhausted and decided to leave. I was very happy and almost broke, I spent like $70 that night….too much and Fatima 1 birthday’s is coming soon. Suz told me later that both Fatimas love me!

I went to see Ed, they guy who performed the first hypnosis. I told him, I just felt a kind of anxiety after my quiz at school. He explained me it was kind of normal and he performed again hypnosis on me. This time I was more relaxed….and there were some words that he pronounced that had impact on me like…love and being happy. I told him after about that. He said to not questioning being happy or feel fine, just to live it. Also, he said in a politely way to accept myself as gay. Yes, I’m almost 40 and I don’t feel comfortable or accepting myself as gay. That idea was always present even when I’m training …all those thoughts run with me on the treadmill…all the time. Ed also said “don’t be afraid to be happy,don’t be afraid to lose things,  there will be always candy for everyone”. He was talking metaphorically, he knows, he feels I’m afraid to open myself, to talk to people and of course, to love…and why not, to be loved.

I went to second hand store and I bought the Dead Cab for Cutie cd “Plans”…I’ve always heard that band was a good one…and they were right. I mean, when you drive alone, when sun is just going down, when you want to slow down your pace…that is the soundtrack of your life…I felt numb and calm when I listen to them…beautiful jewel…

I don’t remember if I said I was accepted to the Forensic Accounting and Fraud Investigations program at Algonquin. I was so happy that I called my therapist..well, ex therapist, she is like a mom to me. She was more excited than me and I said “well, they just asked for a recommendation letter from my boss and my diploma from Peru..they want my money after all”, which is true, college doesn’t care about those things, they do the paper work procedure and then…money is there for them. I’ll start this Fall, I’ll take 2 courses, this program is online only. I feel things are moving in slow motion.

I’m not going to the gym today…but even if I’m not in the treadmill those ideas will following me…I’m not running away from them, I run with them….I don’t know what direction I’m taking…I know I want to be happy and I shouldn’t be afraid of.

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The Day I Became A Father

I’ve been having my lunch with Suzanne for almost a week. As a commissioner she’s not allow to leave her building. I walk a couple of minutes to join her since our building are farm from each other and last week she wasn’t feeling that well.

In one of our conversations she was shaking, showing her hand, with shy tears in her eyes  she was telling me all the fights she was having with her husband. I didn’t know she was paying for a big truck, another little car, the mortgage, food and clothes for her 2 kids. The situation at home became a bit dramatic the day one teacher of her boys call her asking if there were any problems at home. Matthew was throwing things to her teacher and some classmates. Suzanne told me children have been watching all the fights between them. Every moment at lunch time there is a new little history how his “idiot” as she refers to her own husband has been treating her. The idiot said she needed to find another job as a cleaner (her old job) in order to pay the invoices. She was telling me he was more than furious when she heard that, she was almost crying. Sometimes she cleans all the house main floor, basement and second floor alone and the idiot will show up with dirty boots in the kitchen, a sacred zone for every mother in the world. Or when she asked him to pass the dirty clothes bag he answered “I’m tired” but he was playing video games and then he said “do you want the bag? here is your freaking bag” and he threw all the clothes from one floor to another (just for the record he didn’t say “freaking” but another word). I was trying to comfort her but for somebody who also suffered from an abusive relationship words don’t help. What helps? leaving that hell called house. So far, she has packed her and kids’ stuff. Suzanne told the idiot she’s planning to leave him. The idiot responded “ha, ha, ha, you won’t do that, you said that all the time and you never leave”. This time is different, she already signed a lease, she’ll move in July.

The girl’s night out (camouflage dyke included) is organizing a escape plan. The plan Suzanne will call us that day, Fatima, Anne and me with our respective cars, will wait outside the house. A big fight is expected and since the idiot has a guns (hunting toys) we fear the worst, then Suzanne’s father or brother will intervene. We repeat that idea over and over every time we meet. So far, fights continuing and sometimes is too much for her than now she’s questioning herself as a mother. “I explained to the kids is wrong to throw things to people. What mom and dad is just between us, you shouldn’t repeat that. You shouldn’t hurt each other.” and one of her kids said “so to who we can throw things?” , “to the person who’s throwing you things”, the kid replied “so do I throw things to dad?” and Suzanne said “yes”. After telling me that she asked me “am I a good mother?” . I just laughed and I said “of course you’re!”. She is very calm, loving and caring person, always with a big smile but I never saw her that bad emotionally and physically. She lost weight because of stress. I told her my violence relationship and how far this went. So, I’m just trying to be supportive as much as I can that’s why I told her to contact me if she needs anything for her or the kids…and then I received a call.

Nobody calls me, that’s why my monthly invoice is just $35 tax included. That’s not true, my doctor calls, spams call from a company telling me a won a cruise to Jamaica and…sometimes my physiotherapist ..and that’s it, the phone never rings and I got troubles to remind my voice mail password because since nobody calls I don’t use it and keeping forgetting it all the time. Rarely people text  me, well, again, I have no friends, nobody tries to reach me. But last Friday Suzanne phoned. She seemed a bit “electrical” that means hyperactive, frantic and speedy. We agreed to meet at the office at 8pm. I was in a farewell reception at church, my buddy Scott is moving to California. He thought of me when he realized he had to leave his home, family and friends, everything to the unknown. He was scared and nervous. Everybody was hugging him telling him “this is exciting”. He didn’t look quite convinced about it. I didn’t say that stupid phrase. People told me the same when I moved to Gatineau. Excitement? adventure? Are you retards or what? Moving to another country is very hard. There are people in Ottawa that told me they’re alone despite they have family or they can feel alone having family. Listen mentally challenged, listen idiot, realize one thing retard. The day you leave a country, you try to communicate with somebody, you got fooled or screwed, you try to be polite and the other understands the opposite, you try to get closer and you got rejected, when you try to go to point A to point B, when you need to do paper work, tell me blind genius…is that excitement? is that an adventure?. You, you got a mother or father or siblings or children, you think with all that you’re alone…go to another country and write me back about it!!!! You won’t have anybody to turn to talk or cry or just ask for explanation, nobody will take care of you when you’ll be sick, no phone calls or messages on your phone, yu feel alone eh? wait….adventure? You have to be totally crazy or in an urgent need to change your life for good to do that move.I wanted to tell to Scott that the experience would be very very and absolutely hard even if US speak English like him but I couldn’t and the reception/party wasn’t the place either. He already sold his house and his wife will stay here in town…I wouldn’t like to walk on his shoes. With that happening in his life…I’d feel my life is tearing apart. At that moment my phone rang….what? my phone rang? yes, it was Suzanne, she arrived to work early and she asked me when I’d leave. Well, she was early but I didn’t feel quite well leaving her at the parking with Daniel, his son of 5 years old. I had time to talk to Ellen, her partner passed away 2 months ago. She’s doing fine, the funeral service will be tomorrow, I don’t know if I’ll be able to go. Anyways, everybody was eating, chatting and so I left to meet her.

I met her at the parking and I met Daniel. He was my first encounter with a human being with a biological small brain. So, that means, a real kid. I don’t like kids, I got a smartphone, I don’t need more. I had some friends in Peru with kids and they were pests. So, leaving in Montreal were nobody has kids because they’re afraid to commit or to get married was a child baby-free experience. Here in Ottawa/Gatineau all conversations end with diapers or “what kid did this or that”…aghhhh, that’s my Spring allergy!!! But I didn’t know how could it be with Daniel and Suzanne. So I went into her car and I said hi to him, he was a bit shy and quiet. (Yes, I said quiet, apparently this phenomena is not common among brats). Suzanne was super happy to see me and still electrical, she drove to the ice cream shop…I forgot to tell she bought this car for her, it’s the first time in her slave relationship she bought something for her…but she is still learning how to drive…with my crashed English I was trying to explain her where the shop was and what road to take…we seemed like multicultural drama queens…her background is Portuguese. If communication is a hard task in every couple, a young driver, a dyke instructor and a kid in the back seat is not the best picture or frame for that.

I said hi to Daniel and we shake hands at the ice cream shop. I told him I’d invite him a chocolate one. (I hate chocolate) and I bought another to Suzanne. In the line up she was talking to me the idiot stayed home with the other kid, despite he wanted to come with us. The idiot is real control freak. They ate the ice cream and I realize Daniel was a real pro to make a mess of himself with a little ice cream. I put a napkin around his cup and I put him in his special chair. I attached the belt seat and I sat with Suzanne and we chat…Daniel was in ecstasy with his ice cream and Iron Man in silence. I talked and I was surprised Daniel was that quiet …probably he was starving. After that we went to a play ground near the office.

There, I released his seat belt, cleaned his mess in his jacket and hold his dirty hand to lead him to the playground There were swingers, slides and pirate boat. Daniel jump into the boat saying “I’m the captain of the pirate boat”. He was in total abstraction in his universe. I was there contemplating and still doing anthropology. He was the most interesting object of study in these 2 years I’ve been in this region. He was laughing, smiling, talking to other kids of his edge. I was surprised of that experience with a kid. Me and Suzanne we were to slides…geeez…has been decades I haven’t tried one. We tried all the toys at the playground. I told Suzanne, this is my first time experience as a father, she said “is this your first experience as a mother?” Suzanne doesn’t realize I’m gay, and to be honest  I haven’t told her yet. Her Portuguese Catholic background scares me, but I can’t believe how people can be that blind or see only what they want to see. I can wear a tuxedo and she will never think I’m gay. Just like my father when I was younger, he taught I was a crazy radical feminist…and let’s be honest, the polite way to call a lesbian in those days were to call her feminist.

We ended the day drinking some water at Starbucks when her phone rang….it was the idiot checking. Suzanne only said “I’m on my way” with a very resigned voice. We had such a great time but this had to end…not her decision but idiot’s one.

Days later Suzanne told me Daniel likes me, that he said to his little brother they had fun and he wanted to see me again. Suzanne was laughing at me because apparently when I was trying to take care of him I had a funny face. She said “you were in front of Daniel saying OMG, OMG, OMG, not knowing what to do…” she was laughing and laughing. She added “you asked me if I had a bottle of water to clean the kid…and you said <you should have one all the time at your car>”. That was hilarious…yeah…first time with a kid, and I didn’t know how to approach, how to hold him or hold hands….a real antisocial.

I was thinking of that all weekend…on Monday was my birthday and I called home in Peru, I wanted to skip this year but I knew my dad wanted to talk to me. I called him…he was so happy…I talked about little things, he was asking for my health and work. I didn’t say that much. I said “I love you” and he said that twice, with a broken voice…me, in silent tears…unable to reach him…physically or just in memory…his losing his memory that fast but he didn’t forget it was my birthday. After I hang up I was still in tears…even now that I’m typing that…there are evasive tears…

I became a father of my own father…trying to take care of him, to make things work in the distance…impossible since my brother is not that smart and my mother is that tyrannic with everybody. I had nice experience with Daniel….I gave up to meet a woman, I gave up that a lesbian relationship could work…not many women with brains available in the market. My kid experience it was fine…for 3 hours…I don’t think I’d like to be full time as my father did…and he stills does…I know he loves more than anything in the world…I keep him alive…I miss him…damn it, I miss him…I miss love in general…I gave up that too.

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.

Dr. Marko vs The Evil Toochache

I was absent for so long for a painful reason. Dr. Savescu screw my teeth last time. I went to see her twice and last time she made some correction to the high filling she put and she only said to chew with the other side of my mouth. At the beginning, like 2 hours later, I felt not that bad but not that good either. All last week I wasn’t able to eat, I just ate avocados morning, afternoon and night with white eggs. That’s it. The pain was so big that I woke up several times at night. I felt my gums were like balloons and even without chewing, the gums touched themselves producing pain, I felt also kind of salty taste which it means I was bleeding. My Swedish friend minimized the incident telling me to use a toothpaste for sensitive gums, well, she recommended Dr Savescu for the procedure. I had to explained all that happened to me, that was like 5 days in pain and I gave her all details and she hasn’t call me or email me yet.

At the same time, the LGBT group at church was organizing a potluck. To be totally brutally honest, I hate potlucks for just one reason….they start eating at 5pm. As you may know, as an immigrant, I lost my name, I lost my language, I spoke fluently the 2 official Canadian languages, I was victim of racism, I had to sleep on the floor when I moved to Ottawa, I was for some months surviving with pennies, I paid huge taxes, I never had a family doctor just after 8 years, I gave to much to this country….and this country won’t tell me what time to have dinner or whom I go to bed with. NEVER EVER. And there are people who tells one should adapt oneself to the country, I did. Too much maybe, I’m respectful of law, I learned a lot…why they don’t want to learn from me? Well, maybe the law is just one sense, from the hosting country…so I lost, but I have my dinners after 7pm, no question about it.

So, as I was saying, this  LGBT friend from church invited me to potluck, she sent the same email like 4 times, I said no, and she was almost harassing me, but why? why was so important this potluck? A new member from church is lesbian too and her partner, a transexual was coming to visit her, so the potluck was a welcoming. It’s ok, seems nice, but with a toothache, biting or chewing wasn’t in my mind, also, with that kind of pain like that you just want to kill somebody, and I really wanted to kill the dentist. She continued to sending me emails asking “what’s up” “why aren’t you coming?” Damn!! Do I have to explain and give a justification for not assisting to a potluck? Give me a bloody break!!! And as I said, I gave too much to this country and learnt not to inquire that much when somebody says no to something, and there I was, harassed and giving explanations after saying no to a stupid potluck. I was so furious and even when I gave my reasons, she continued saying “give me your phone number!” and in my Facebook I wrote like 3 days ago “Thanks Lima for being such a supportive cat in these toothache painful days”, she sent me another message asking for me, how I was going, it doesn’t look like I want o be alone and in PEACE….OMG, OMG, OMG, if you already heard that lesbians can be stalkers…yes, they are, and they’re PRO’s.

Anyway, at work I spoke with my Nisei colleague and I spoke about my situation, she suggested me her dentist Dr Marko. I wasn’t that sure of the suggestion but I’ve already spent 600$, 2 visits withtou success and well I needed another alternative. Meanwhile, Dr Savescu assistant called me telling me the Dr had room to see me and I said “I’m changing the Dr and also cancel the cleaning teeth in February, I’m not doing business with you guys anymore!”.  I had time that day to talk to Dr. Marko’s assistant, I explained everything, no able to eat, to chew, no sleep, vomiting, pain for 1 week. At some point she said…” I can’t understand you very well” and I said “it’s because I’m swollen” , it’s true, pronouncing was even  impossible. She said “ok, I’m booking you with Dr. Marko as an emergency” , “Is this an emergency?” I said surprised…she replied…”it seems so” and she laughed.

I went that afternoon to her office. What a different atmosphere. Full of people,  technicians everywhere and finally Dr Marko’s assistant came to take my pressure (!!!!) asking me what happened. Minutes later I was laying in the dentist chair, another girl super pregnant came to tell me ” so your friend Joan recommend you here!” Well, my colleague is famous among them. And finally, Dr Marko arrived, tall women, slim and with strange glasses. I spoke everything and I was in pain and she was holding my hand (yes she was!) and was very compassionate about me. She took some x rays, I did some chewing test and she saw the pain was muscular, she determinate the filling was high and did some corrections, gave some Ibuprofen to take for 2 days and antibiotics for a week (apparently there was in infection). She did several tests and made me do some other things to be sure it everything was fine. I noticed after the corrections she did much better. We shook hand and when I went to pay I said to the receptionist….”She is a PRO”. I paid like 200$ but it was worth it. The day after Dr Marko called me!!! Asking if everything was alright. I said yes, and then we’ll see next Tuesday. And just yesterday I received a letter from her giving me all explanations and telling me all that happened in my mouth and in our very first visit…wooow. The only Dr who called me was my veterinarian after my cat was neutered…like 8 years ago….what a service Dr Marko gave.

In all these days I was thinking of my beloved Peruvian dentist…he was awesome, he cured all my teeth, in fact, all my teeth have fillings, all of them. And I’m a person who doesn’t like sweet things, he told me there’re more people sensitive to cavities and the fact I used too much antibiotics when I was a kind made my teeth weak. I was very scary when I went to see Dr Marko not because of the diagnosis, I was scared to need a root canal, thing here in Canada can cost easily like 3000$, while in Peru is like 200$ and my dentist is so good, he did like 3, like 5 years ago.

It’s Sunday, the swollen is almost gone, I was able to chew just yesterday, muscles in my jaw are more relaxed and comfortable…I was able to eat…to smile, to be more positive and of course, happy pain is almost gone. Still, I got my final exam December 10, I was discouraged because I wasn’t able to concentrate in my studies…let’s see what happens next.