i feel like such a grown up. i just put money away in a retirement plan (the deadline is, apparently, tomorrow way to go jacinthe!) i'm not the smartest one when it comes to investing, which of course means i keep everything in a checking account... with the obvious consequence of upseting dad-the-retired-accountant.

so, anyways, it turns out i just had to fill out an online form, not much more complicated that posting on blogger and that was that. who knew being a grown up could be so easy?

of course, i don't know anything aside from that online form. i'm not sure where the money ends up, what the interest rate is and when i can eventually claim it, but whatever. it makes dad happy and it makes me feel like i've done something socially acceptable.

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i remember having this interesting discussion about social reproduction, pertaining mostly to how people are taught or not to invest money. access to simple sources of information about how to make your capital grow are scarce and the banking-lingo is inaccessible to the less educated.

quite frankly, had it not been for the advice my dad gave me over the phone earlier (after my frantic phone call) i would probably have shrugged it off and just abandoned the idea of trying to make more from less. i'm sure a lot of people do the same. you see, i'm lucky enough not to have to be smart or even care about this. i can just phone someone up who will tell me what to do and i don't have to worry about whether that person has vested interests in the questions.

gosh, i never thought i would write a capitalist rant but, hey, there is a first to everything.

i remember writing about authenticity a little while ago and i feel like a fraud because i'm coming to realize that i am not exactly authentic in my everyday interactions. i often avoid situations that would cause too much of a stirrup when, in the end, it probably just builds up.

i've also come to realize that i am most often torn between doing and being. i have this desire, it seems, of appearing competent and capable, of looking like i am on top of things. there is something that i need to prove, but what? and to whom? i chose the savoir-faire (knowing to do) over the savoir-etre (knowing to be). and that seems to be the source of many little internal conflicts.

it reminds me of a excerpt from the little prince where he talks about how people define themselves by their jobs, their income or the kind of home they live in. of course, it probably simplifies things to categorize people that way.

but where does one stops doing and starts being in a society that mostly definites people by the income they generate and the type of work they do? and why do i so quickly fall into these types of dynamics without even being concious of it?

it's funny how fairly grown up men spend their night in the basement playing a video game where they have to save the princess while their girlfriends are upstairs preparing dinner and doing laundry.

i know, though, that this princess no longer needs to be saved.

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i saw s. yesterday for the first time in ages. we circled around for parking - we were going for coffee - and i could tell she was just about to burst. every spot available required a resident permit. i sat there, looking out the window and joking experiencing a little sense of deja vu.

it is odd meeting someone you were once completely infatuated with but no longer feel connected to. it's easier to be authentic, to feel composed.

anyways, we were circling around for parking and come every red light she'd turn to me and looked with the intense stare that she is capable of. as if the lines on my face might tell her of the journey i was on before our paths collided again.

over and out.

it's striking to realize, after knowing someone for quite a few years, how little you actually know about them. i mean, seriously, i've just come back from hanging out with this girl that i've known (or not known actually!) for several years and i would not even be able to tell you her family name, how many siblings she has or what her parents' did for a living. i could tell you, however, about the time she went to the fair and watched a movie about roller coasters on a 180 degree screen.

it's really all quite random.

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on a completely different note, i think it is due time that i come out at work. today's discussion at the lunch table: 'i think homosexuals are only in it for the sex.' thank god i only caught the end of my colleague's argument because there seemed to be quite a bit to disagree on and i mostly see it wise to stay out of it. so, yeah, i should put that in my to do list. (i wonder if that will good in my billable time. ah!)

drove down to ikea yesterday with m. she needed a couple of things for her new place and we had not hung out in forever.

we were standing in this random kitchen space where colors ranged from a light beige to dark brown. the tiles were a mismatch of sand and beige. the dark wooden finish of the cupboards give it a slightly oppressive tone.

m. enthused: doesn't this feel like a place you'd want to have a family in ?

it struck me that her notion of home seemed to include well stocked-cupboards, shades of beige with a hint of pastel. it stuck me even more that her conception of home included kids running around, the smell of a lasagna baking in the oven, dishes pilled up to dry.

i remember a couple of years ago, a friend of mine was envisioning her future with her current belle. they were talking about a home on the countryside, the kind of dogs they'd have, the number of kids and joint bank accounts. we're talking twenty year olds, here. not people in their mid-thirties or anything.

i was quite simply awestruck. bouche bée. i don't personally think i've ever met anyone i'd want to discuss sharing a bank account with, let alone arguing over the pedigree our unborn pooch. sometimes, though, when seeing how friends my age - and those slightly over and wiser - are gradually easing into these kinds of relationships, i wonder whether i'm not the odd one in the batch.

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funny note. m. was looking for a bed yesterday and i was more than happy to volunteer at trying them out. we were randomly commenting on the advantages and disadvantages of different models and colors until we narrowed the choice down between two of them. one had a headboard that looked a bit like a park bench. as a result we pictured that you'd probably feel like a hobo waking up avec la gueule de bois after partying just a tad too much the night before. the other one was made of massive wood and had several poles. it definitely looked like a mommy and daddy type of bed.

we were sitting across from each other, me on the hobo bed and m. on the nid d'amour bed. i grinned and said: 'now, the question is, which one works better with handcuffs?' of course, with my usual sense of timing this girl passed by and turned around giving me this i-cant-belive-you-just-said-that look. it was awesome.

it is interesting to walk down the greeting card isle of a random drugstore on the day following valentine's day. you'd swear, really, that masses of people have stormed the place leaving the occasional 'from your aunt on your fortieth birthday' greeting.

a random clerk is busy removing those discarded notes and colored envelopes replacing them with whatever else will be in season soon.

i wonder sometimes if there really ought to be such holidays, because it seems that they allow us to 'forget' to let others know how we feel in our every day lives. how lucky we are to be surrounded with people that we care about.

so there. maybe, i'm 2 days late (or 363 days early?) but i'm still thankful to have you guys in my life. whoever you may be.

caricatures & embassies

maybe the wise thing to do would be not to write about this topic, it seems the more you say, the more can be held against you. still i think that lively debates further our understanding.

you have to keep in mind, throughout all of this, that nothing justifies violence in my book. you also have to keep in mind that i've seen the caricatures, found them distastedful and insulting if only for their lack of intelligent content. you have to know that the muslims oppose to the protrayal of their prophet and that as non-muslims i'm not sure we should take the liberty to contravene to that rule. but, there is also freedom of speech.

there was a peaceful protest yesterday in downtown montreal. the logistics of which have been debated largely in the media because quite a few imams were afraid of the possibility of confrontation. there was also a protest organized, on the margins of this larger event, for freedom of speech.

the media has reported quite a lot more about the violent, extremist point of view recently, evacuating the moderate muslims from most of the public discourse. yet no one questions freedom of speech, in this case. there seems to be a gap between freedom of speech and freedom to report, almost, giving place to uncontrolled emotions and confusion on both sides (and i, myself, am guilty of this) rather than a debate that makes your conception of the question evolve.

just a few weeks ago, the media was plastered with random news about the 4 political parties and their campaign. the momentum as surely died down, but i would have appreciated seeing the heads of the major parties asking for tolerance, getting involved in activities that further their understanding of an important group in the canadian society. but, alas, it's ok to visit mosques when campaigning. once the results are in, who really cares about the muslims and the discrimination quite a few of them have to face?

i originally intended to go to the protest but eventually chickened out. i was afraid, to some extend, to be confused with someone who was there just to create trouble. some imams, instead of participating in the protest, decided to open up the doors of their mosques to non-muslims... which is definitely something to report about.

what we need, though, is to collectively come together. we need to see the offence on muslim people and on all minority people as something we should all individually denounce. we don't need a protest of offended muslims and offended westerners on opposite sides of the street. we need peace and respect for each other.

and i would, personally, walk down the street with a sign that reads: 'caricature this'.

i just had the best brother-sister bonding time in a while.

it goes to confirm my theory of if he has something to say, he'll just come up and say it when he feels comfortable enough.

actually, i think the previous sentence applies to most people. or, anyways, that tends to mostly be my approach to people and things.

but, please do correct me if i'm wrong.

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it's is beautiful out. i'm off today. lovely.

i started thinking yesterday - and yes, this is the irrefutable proof that i quite often tend to overthink - anyhow, i started thinking about the people that make the things i use on a daily basis. ok, bear with me for a sec.

this computer for instance, was probably assembled by a middle aged somewhat educated somewhat decently paid worker. now, think of the person who puts the microchips - and all those other tiny components that are part of the machine but not the machine itself - together. well, maybe they share a similar faith as well.

but, wait a sec, think of the miners extracting the copper used to mold the tiny little ant-like legs of those microchips. think of their crooked bodies, their tired lungs, their squinty eyes that never quite get used to the sun.

think about all of these things and realize how lucky you are.

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i met a man yesterday who spent 30 years of his life making turbines used in hydroelectric powerplants throughout the world. he is not an engineer, a draftman or even a quality control tech. he's a random peon. he's the guy who has literally been shipped all over the world when the turbine broke and they needed someone to climb up, down and across to go fix it. he'd spend hours bent down, his back against the cold surfaces of the turbine with little light and awkward tools to operate. he had 4 or 5 work-related accidents in 30 years and, when you think of it, it's quite fortunate that he can still go about his daily routine without too much hassle. he's not even 60 years old and looks way way older. though his company says he's still too young for retirement.

when he left my office, stretching his legs and back that now get numb when he sits for too long, i reminded myself to think of him next time i feel like complaining about life in my little cubicule.

things could be, oh, so much worse.

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