Today is the Fourth of July, and since it is an American holiday, I would like to take this time to remind Canadians how great our neighbour to the south is.
God Bless America.
I'm serious. Hating the USA and making fun of Americans seems to be Canada's national pastime, and I am sick of it. Canadians forget which side their bread is buttered on, or who we have to thank for our continued freedom. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson from "A Few Good Men", Canadians go to sleep every night under the blanket of freedom that America provides, and then they use that freedom to criticize the manner in which it is provided. Few countries in the world have been so helped by the United States, and few countries are less grateful for it. America buys more than 70% of our stuff, provides us with countless jobs, patrols our coastline, and sticks up for us when the rest of the world hangs us out to dry, and how do we thank them? By making fun of them and treating them like crap.
Too many Canadians think we have it so bad living next to America. Think again. We share the longest undefended border in the world. Our government and citizens can criticize America, but Americans don't respond by bombing our cities or rolling the tanks in. Ask the people of Tibet how much fun it is living next to Communist China. People around the world wear "Free Tibet" shirts, in the hope that one day, the Chinese might stop their brutal repression of Tibet. Nobody has to wear "Free Canada" shirts, do they? Ask the people of Chechnya or Ukraine how much fun it is living next to Russia. Chechnya elected a president who was openly critical of Russia, and the Russians responded by invading Chechnya and ousting the democratically elected government in favour of one that was prepared to kneel before their Russian masters. The Ukraine elected a government that wanted more independence from Russia, and Russia responded last winter by cutting off all natural gas shipments to the Ukraine. Meanwhile, Canada regularly gives the USA the finger, and the worst we have to endure in retaliation is strong words.
I'm not saying America is perfect, or that they've never done anything wrong. Certainly they deserve their share of criticism. We've had trade disputes with them, and they've been guilty of unfair protectionist rules. But let me tell you what the good ol' USA is like when the fucking chips are down. Too few Canadians remember, or even know, these stories.
Last year, our government decided that in order to continue our mission in Afghanistan, we would need some of our allies to provide some troops to back up our guys. Don't give me the argument that "Canada shouldn't be there". The argument is irrelevent. Whether we "should" be in Afghanistan or not does not matter. The cold, hard fact is that we ARE there, and we need to deal with the fact that our troops need help. Our government asked our European allies for help, and they all came up with excuses as to why they could not commit any combat troops. We asked the USA, and what did they do? They sent us 12,000 marines immediately, with another 10,000 to be deployed over the next year. They sent us helicopters, unmanned flying drones and night vision equipment to make patrolling the countryside more efficient and less dangerous. They did this without hesitation, conditions, or demands for compensation. The rest of the world sat in the dugout, and America went to bat for us. Candians forget this, don't they?
In 1994, the 50th Anniversary of D-Day, some rat bastard French hotel gave away the rooms our veterans had reserved to Swedish tourists. When our government complained, the French government said they couldn't interfere in the business of a privately owned hotel. Fortunately, America stood up for us, threatening to cancel the whole ceremony if something wasn't done. Under pressure from America, the French government forced the hotel to give the rooms back to the men who fought to liberate their ungrateful asses from the Nazis. Once again, America stands up for her friend Canada, and once again, Canada forgets the whole thing five minutes later, and goes back to taking pot shots at the country that may be her only friend in the world.
It's true that Americans don't know much about Canada. I understand that it annoys Canadians when America doesn't pay much attention to us. They have said and done things we didn't like over the years. Well, so fucking what? In the big scheme of things, America has been a pretty good neighbour. We don't live in fear of an American invasion, the way Chechnya lives in fear of Russia. Canadians don't live under brutal oppression, the way Tibet lives under the Chinese jackboot. When MP Carolyn Parish said "damned Americans, I hate those bastards", America didn't respond by massing tanks on our border and threatening us with violence. America buys our goods and raw materials, and overall is pretty good to us. A lot of Canadians have jobs because America is our biggest trading partner. So I, for one, say "God Bless America". I love them.
The bottom line for me is this: when the shit hits the fan, America has our backs. Maybe it's time we had theirs, too.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Glimmer Of Hope
It's been a bad couple of months. I just finished paying off a loan, only to find that I may have to apply for another one. Things keep happening to suck all the money out of my bank account. I dream of getting my own car, but sadly, I am no closer than I was 18 months ago. On it goes.
There is a glimmer of hope, though. I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on. I stopped partly because it wasn't doing much for my mood, but mostly because I was sick of the side effects. The drug seemed to be affecting my memory, concentration, and worst of all, my creativity. My brain felt numb, and I felt as if I were walking around in a perpetual fog.
I've been off my antidepressant for only four days, and already my brain seems to have come back to life. I feel more alert. My memory has improved. My appetite has decreased, so maybe I'll lose a little weight, too. It's too early to say if my ability to write creatively will return, but for the first time in nearly two years, I have hope that it will.
In spite of my never-ending financial problems, I have a little bit of spring in my step. Now that I'm free of that prescription drug, maybe, just maybe, my ability to write will come back. It will probably take time, and may not return all at once, but I have hope that it will. The rest of my life sucks, but if I can write again, then I can put up with all the rest of the crap.
I want everyone to know that I made the decision to stop the medication with the help of my psychiatrist. After talking about it at length, he agreed that it was okay for me to stop, and we're both going to keep monitoring my mood, in case it craters. If you are taking an antidepressant, please DON'T stop taking it without consulting the doctor who prescribed it. If the side effects are intolerable, your doctor may want to switch medications rather than have you stop taking them altogether. What to do about your medication is a decision that requires the advice of a professional. Please keep that in mind.
I don't have a lot in my life, but I do have a few things, and now I have a wee bit of hope. In dark times like these, that feels pretty good. I'm going to keep plugging away. I hope you do, too.
There is a glimmer of hope, though. I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on. I stopped partly because it wasn't doing much for my mood, but mostly because I was sick of the side effects. The drug seemed to be affecting my memory, concentration, and worst of all, my creativity. My brain felt numb, and I felt as if I were walking around in a perpetual fog.
I've been off my antidepressant for only four days, and already my brain seems to have come back to life. I feel more alert. My memory has improved. My appetite has decreased, so maybe I'll lose a little weight, too. It's too early to say if my ability to write creatively will return, but for the first time in nearly two years, I have hope that it will.
In spite of my never-ending financial problems, I have a little bit of spring in my step. Now that I'm free of that prescription drug, maybe, just maybe, my ability to write will come back. It will probably take time, and may not return all at once, but I have hope that it will. The rest of my life sucks, but if I can write again, then I can put up with all the rest of the crap.
I want everyone to know that I made the decision to stop the medication with the help of my psychiatrist. After talking about it at length, he agreed that it was okay for me to stop, and we're both going to keep monitoring my mood, in case it craters. If you are taking an antidepressant, please DON'T stop taking it without consulting the doctor who prescribed it. If the side effects are intolerable, your doctor may want to switch medications rather than have you stop taking them altogether. What to do about your medication is a decision that requires the advice of a professional. Please keep that in mind.
I don't have a lot in my life, but I do have a few things, and now I have a wee bit of hope. In dark times like these, that feels pretty good. I'm going to keep plugging away. I hope you do, too.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Things As They Are, Part 2
Buddhists say that suffering is caused by desire. Wanting things, whatever they are, and not getting them, leads to suffering. That is certainly true for a lot of my suffering.
We often get upset at circumstances, events or situations because we feel they shouldn't be happening. I have often asked myself "why must I put up with this?" Have you? I'm fairly certain you have. And yet one path to inner peace and less suffering is accepting things as they are. I have been trying my best to do that.
An enlightened man (whose name eludes me) once got hit by a taxi, and broke his leg. He said this about the accident: "My first thought was 'why me?' But the answer came to me immediately. 'Why not?' Who am I that I should not suffer? Am I so special that nothing bad should happen to me? Of course not."
Part of my unhappiness about my current situation - menial job, minimal pay - was my belief that I shouldn't be in this situation. I should have done this or that in the past. I should have gone back to school, taken training, etc. I made myself miserable by blaming myself and my mistakes for ending up where I am now. As I struggled to accept my situation, I realized something monumental: I may actually be where I am supposed to be. My choices in life did lead me here, but who is to say they were the wrong ones? I have opened myself to the possibility that, at least for now, I am where I belong. I may have only chose my path unconsciously, but I did choose it. This may even be where I want to be.
Realizing this was very liberating. Right now, at least, I don't feel like I'm in the "wrong" place. My reasons for choosing my path may have been weird (I know that being a "failure", at least financially, is a way to get back at my father. After all, it does piss him off), but the choice was mine. I don't know, but I'm open to the possibility.
I don't know where I'm headed yet in this life. I don't know what path I "should" take in the future. But I have accepted Things As They Are, and I have managed to take an honest look at what I really want and don't want. Instead of trying to force my square self into a round hole, I accept my real desires, and no longer judge them as "wrong". For example, I used to feel depressed because I don't own a house like most of my friends. I felt, at my age, I "should" be a home owner. I realized recently that I actually like renting. I don't want to own a home. I just thought I should. Being honest with myself, and accepting my real wants has made me feel a lot better.
I still suffer, but I when I get down, when I ask myself "why me?", I reply immediately "why not?" We all suffer to varying degrees. I am no different than any other person. Accepting that I will suffer, as we all suffer, makes it easier to deal with. It's like M. Scott Peck said in his book, "The Road Less Travelled". Life is hard. When you accept that, you can transcend it. That's what I'm trying to do. It's not easy, but I keep going. I hope you do, too.
We often get upset at circumstances, events or situations because we feel they shouldn't be happening. I have often asked myself "why must I put up with this?" Have you? I'm fairly certain you have. And yet one path to inner peace and less suffering is accepting things as they are. I have been trying my best to do that.
An enlightened man (whose name eludes me) once got hit by a taxi, and broke his leg. He said this about the accident: "My first thought was 'why me?' But the answer came to me immediately. 'Why not?' Who am I that I should not suffer? Am I so special that nothing bad should happen to me? Of course not."
Part of my unhappiness about my current situation - menial job, minimal pay - was my belief that I shouldn't be in this situation. I should have done this or that in the past. I should have gone back to school, taken training, etc. I made myself miserable by blaming myself and my mistakes for ending up where I am now. As I struggled to accept my situation, I realized something monumental: I may actually be where I am supposed to be. My choices in life did lead me here, but who is to say they were the wrong ones? I have opened myself to the possibility that, at least for now, I am where I belong. I may have only chose my path unconsciously, but I did choose it. This may even be where I want to be.
Realizing this was very liberating. Right now, at least, I don't feel like I'm in the "wrong" place. My reasons for choosing my path may have been weird (I know that being a "failure", at least financially, is a way to get back at my father. After all, it does piss him off), but the choice was mine. I don't know, but I'm open to the possibility.
I don't know where I'm headed yet in this life. I don't know what path I "should" take in the future. But I have accepted Things As They Are, and I have managed to take an honest look at what I really want and don't want. Instead of trying to force my square self into a round hole, I accept my real desires, and no longer judge them as "wrong". For example, I used to feel depressed because I don't own a house like most of my friends. I felt, at my age, I "should" be a home owner. I realized recently that I actually like renting. I don't want to own a home. I just thought I should. Being honest with myself, and accepting my real wants has made me feel a lot better.
I still suffer, but I when I get down, when I ask myself "why me?", I reply immediately "why not?" We all suffer to varying degrees. I am no different than any other person. Accepting that I will suffer, as we all suffer, makes it easier to deal with. It's like M. Scott Peck said in his book, "The Road Less Travelled". Life is hard. When you accept that, you can transcend it. That's what I'm trying to do. It's not easy, but I keep going. I hope you do, too.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Things As They Are
August was a pretty good month for me, all things considered. My finances are still a mess, I still have no car of my own, and unexpected expenses keep preventing me from reducing my debt. There are a lot of things I could be stressed out about, and yet, for the most part, I'm not.
I've been trying to do the Buddhist thing and accept things as they are. After all, much of our unhappiness comes from the feeling that, whatever bad thing happens, it shouldn't be happening. But why shouldn't it? After all, Buddhism teaches that life is suffering. When you rail against the injustice of suffering, you make yourself unhappy. But when you accept that suffering exists, you can transcend it. When misfortune and pain arrive, the ordinary person says "why me?". The wise person replies "why not?". Everyone suffers, to some degree. Some suffer more than others, it's true, but no-one cruises through life without some kind of pain. So why am I (or you) any different? Of course I suffer, and so do you. So does everyone. Acceptance doesn't mean not doing anything about it, it just means not getting angry or depressed because it's happening.
It hasn't been easy accepting the idea that I am where I am supposed to be, but for the most part, I've managed it. Misfortune comes my way a lot, and much of it is self-inflicted, but I'll get through it. Maybe not well. I may make mistakes, or realize I could have done things differently, but I will get through it, whether it's another long bout of writer's block, another episode of depression, or another self-inflicted cash shortfall due to overspending. I'll survive.
I'd like to share a quote from an enlightened woman whose name eludes me. Her purse was stolen, but she didn't get upset. Instead she said: "Whoever stole it must have needed it more than I did, but that doesn't mean I didn't cancel my credit cards."
My life's kind of a mess, and I'm still single, and yet I'm reasonably content, because I try to accept things as they are. I urge you do try, too. And look into some sort of spirituality. Buddhism seems to be a good fit for me, but something else may suit you better. But do search. We all must find our own path.
I've been trying to do the Buddhist thing and accept things as they are. After all, much of our unhappiness comes from the feeling that, whatever bad thing happens, it shouldn't be happening. But why shouldn't it? After all, Buddhism teaches that life is suffering. When you rail against the injustice of suffering, you make yourself unhappy. But when you accept that suffering exists, you can transcend it. When misfortune and pain arrive, the ordinary person says "why me?". The wise person replies "why not?". Everyone suffers, to some degree. Some suffer more than others, it's true, but no-one cruises through life without some kind of pain. So why am I (or you) any different? Of course I suffer, and so do you. So does everyone. Acceptance doesn't mean not doing anything about it, it just means not getting angry or depressed because it's happening.
It hasn't been easy accepting the idea that I am where I am supposed to be, but for the most part, I've managed it. Misfortune comes my way a lot, and much of it is self-inflicted, but I'll get through it. Maybe not well. I may make mistakes, or realize I could have done things differently, but I will get through it, whether it's another long bout of writer's block, another episode of depression, or another self-inflicted cash shortfall due to overspending. I'll survive.
I'd like to share a quote from an enlightened woman whose name eludes me. Her purse was stolen, but she didn't get upset. Instead she said: "Whoever stole it must have needed it more than I did, but that doesn't mean I didn't cancel my credit cards."
My life's kind of a mess, and I'm still single, and yet I'm reasonably content, because I try to accept things as they are. I urge you do try, too. And look into some sort of spirituality. Buddhism seems to be a good fit for me, but something else may suit you better. But do search. We all must find our own path.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Real Wealth
I have realized over the last few weeks that, even though I have no money, I am by one measure a rich man. If one were to measure wealth by the quality of one's friends, then I am one of the richest men in the world.
Most of my friends I have known since high school. Many of them I have known since grade school. My high school crew are all like brothers to me. When things went badly, when everyone else - my parents, my family, my teachers - abandoned or betrayed me, my friends were there for me. My friends have stuck by me through thick and thin, through some bad times and some apalling behaviour on my part. My parents cut me loose, the rest of my family turned their backs on me, but my friends stayed true for more than 20 years now.
I have very little money. I work a loser job for mediocre pay. I own nothing of value - no house, no car, no investments. I live paycheque to paycheque. Yet I have marvellous, wonderful friends who inexplicably love me in spite of my flaws. I am truly lucky.
Money comes and goes. Owning stuff does not buy happiness. But great friends are real wealth, and I have many great friends. By that measure, I am one of the luckiest and richest men on the face of the earth, and for that I am truly thankful.
I guess what I'm saying is that even if I have nothing else, I have great friends, and they're worth sticking around for. I sincerely hope that you have at least one friend like that. If you do, stick around for their sake, even if you feel your own life seems hopeless sometimes.
Most of my friends I have known since high school. Many of them I have known since grade school. My high school crew are all like brothers to me. When things went badly, when everyone else - my parents, my family, my teachers - abandoned or betrayed me, my friends were there for me. My friends have stuck by me through thick and thin, through some bad times and some apalling behaviour on my part. My parents cut me loose, the rest of my family turned their backs on me, but my friends stayed true for more than 20 years now.
I have very little money. I work a loser job for mediocre pay. I own nothing of value - no house, no car, no investments. I live paycheque to paycheque. Yet I have marvellous, wonderful friends who inexplicably love me in spite of my flaws. I am truly lucky.
Money comes and goes. Owning stuff does not buy happiness. But great friends are real wealth, and I have many great friends. By that measure, I am one of the luckiest and richest men on the face of the earth, and for that I am truly thankful.
I guess what I'm saying is that even if I have nothing else, I have great friends, and they're worth sticking around for. I sincerely hope that you have at least one friend like that. If you do, stick around for their sake, even if you feel your own life seems hopeless sometimes.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
I Keep Getting Up
May was a horrible month for me. On top of the regular stupid crap that I do, and the ongoing challenges of my life, I discovered something unpleasant about myself.
I am worse than I thought. I am evil.
I will not relate the details of my transgression. I will only say that I did something unspeakably bad, and worse, I knew it was wrong and wanted to do it anyway. For hours after the event, I sat and stared in horror at the abyss in my soul. Recalling my apalling and outrageous behaviour, I remember knowing what I was doing was wrong and wanting desperately to do it in spite of myself. All I could say for hours afterwards, over and over, were four words:
"I am a monster".
I tell you this only because I was very close to killing myself. I didn't, and I don't know why. I have many reasons to die and very few to keep living. In the end, I decided to keep going merely for the sake of going on. Call it hope, call it survival instinct, call it what you will, but I decided to stay alive, if only for the sake of staying alive.
I keep falling. I keep getting knocked down. I keep tripping myself and landing face down in life's muck. I keep thinking of giving up and ending it all. But for some reason, I keep getting up. I tell myself "give it one more day". Sometimes, I inch forward, concentrating not on getting through the day, but on getting through the hour, the minute, the moment. I don't know why. I am a wretched fiend, a diabolical slave to my selfish, desperate, grasping desires. I have wronged so many people that care about me that I feel that I deserve to die. But God (for lack of a better term for whatever higher power there is) refuses to help me out by giving me a massive heart attack or an inoperable tumour, so He must want me to stick around for some reason. So I do. I keep getting up. I don't know if that's a good enough reason to go on, but it will have to do.
I keep getting up. It's all I have.
I am worse than I thought. I am evil.
I will not relate the details of my transgression. I will only say that I did something unspeakably bad, and worse, I knew it was wrong and wanted to do it anyway. For hours after the event, I sat and stared in horror at the abyss in my soul. Recalling my apalling and outrageous behaviour, I remember knowing what I was doing was wrong and wanting desperately to do it in spite of myself. All I could say for hours afterwards, over and over, were four words:
"I am a monster".
I tell you this only because I was very close to killing myself. I didn't, and I don't know why. I have many reasons to die and very few to keep living. In the end, I decided to keep going merely for the sake of going on. Call it hope, call it survival instinct, call it what you will, but I decided to stay alive, if only for the sake of staying alive.
I keep falling. I keep getting knocked down. I keep tripping myself and landing face down in life's muck. I keep thinking of giving up and ending it all. But for some reason, I keep getting up. I tell myself "give it one more day". Sometimes, I inch forward, concentrating not on getting through the day, but on getting through the hour, the minute, the moment. I don't know why. I am a wretched fiend, a diabolical slave to my selfish, desperate, grasping desires. I have wronged so many people that care about me that I feel that I deserve to die. But God (for lack of a better term for whatever higher power there is) refuses to help me out by giving me a massive heart attack or an inoperable tumour, so He must want me to stick around for some reason. So I do. I keep getting up. I don't know if that's a good enough reason to go on, but it will have to do.
I keep getting up. It's all I have.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I Promise To Fight
March has been a bad month. There are lots of reasons. Some are external (my car died), and some are internal (negative thought patterns), but they're not important. What's important is that I keep trying.
I've been feeling suicidal for three weeks or so. I think about killing myself many times, every single day. I've lost faith in myself at times, there's still lots about myself I dislike, and there are plenty of times that I lose hope for my future. I ask myself "why do I bother?", and I have no compelling answer for that. All I can do is make a promise to myself that I'm going to keep fighting. I have thought about that, and I think that maybe the promise means more if I make it to you, too.
So, to anyone reading this blog, I promise to fight. I promise that no matter how tempting suicide is, I won't do it. I promise I won't give up. I promise to fight.
If you feel suicidal, I hope that my struggle might inspire you to keep fighting, too. I write this blog to remind you that you're not alone in your struggle, and to remind myself that I'm not alone, either. So fight. Give it one more day. Get back in the ring and go one more round. And if you're serious about killing yourself, GO TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW. I promise to do the same.
I wish this post were more inspirational, that I could talk about all the progress I've made and how much better I feel, but maybe the inspiration here is that I really, really want to die, but I'm not going to give up. I promise to fight. I hope that you do, too.
I've been feeling suicidal for three weeks or so. I think about killing myself many times, every single day. I've lost faith in myself at times, there's still lots about myself I dislike, and there are plenty of times that I lose hope for my future. I ask myself "why do I bother?", and I have no compelling answer for that. All I can do is make a promise to myself that I'm going to keep fighting. I have thought about that, and I think that maybe the promise means more if I make it to you, too.
So, to anyone reading this blog, I promise to fight. I promise that no matter how tempting suicide is, I won't do it. I promise I won't give up. I promise to fight.
If you feel suicidal, I hope that my struggle might inspire you to keep fighting, too. I write this blog to remind you that you're not alone in your struggle, and to remind myself that I'm not alone, either. So fight. Give it one more day. Get back in the ring and go one more round. And if you're serious about killing yourself, GO TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW. I promise to do the same.
I wish this post were more inspirational, that I could talk about all the progress I've made and how much better I feel, but maybe the inspiration here is that I really, really want to die, but I'm not going to give up. I promise to fight. I hope that you do, too.
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