December 2015

January 2016

December 31
last words

four years and a complete transition: the fog is lifting:

December 30

i don't spend too much time worrying about many peoples feelings and i have
not a great deal of recollection for anyone paying great regard for mine.

F versus T:
F's pick out other F's and find T's insensitive not because other F's pay regard to other F's emotions
but because F's validate F emotions. so other F's feed into their securities and T's feed into their insecurities.

feelers don't necessarily pay any more attention to my feelings than anyone else's
but they need others to validate their emotions and they hate that i am not as dependent on others
because it reflects their insecurities back to them.


also maybe i have more energy for others because i have less issues with me?

December 29
morning is winter.

so much sleep, even my plane dreams were in a bed, late in line, lisette,
and planning a church procession made from apples?
that was a whole lotta dreaming.
all good til the plane took off.

December 28
nearing the end.

eleanor duffey's birthday comes every year. marking the passage of christmas
and another year. once it does, christmas, only 2 days old, is wrapped up again
in the history of everything and gone once again for another year.

a beautiful round cake sits squarely in the middle of the small table around which we eat nightly,
i'm marking the passage of time by learning to not care; this hardening of my shell surprises only me, i think,
as the middle of the night is used to wrestle with fixing the gap between my life and hers; as though mine were over;
which i must keep reminding myself it is not. that is one of the oddest but most natural truths i've ever known.

and carving words into the shape of a thought is such a perfect thing to do
because it spells accomplishment, no matter how small, and i can leave something here
to bask in the glow of electron beams and dots which is unchanging and permanent
in a world where nothing wants to stay put.

December 27
it's been that long.

i water the Poinsettia atop the espresso machine, we've been here that long.
people ask us if that white cabinet is new, we've been here that long.
i've lost track of the cookbooks above the microwave, we've been here that long.
the cement table he was going to build for me is covered in busy kitchen things
like tomatoes both pickled in India and non pickeled, Swiss cookies and a scale,
bananas for bread, biscotti for bob, a hair band, a half-smoked cigar, and a bottle
of Spanish wine. we've been here that long.

and as a thirteeen year old's lamenting tone evolves, i am free to recall a bit of history,
not the history that brought us here but the history that is this place, this big old
gray-stone that i sink into; that becomes home for these adults, and home for
the children who pass through it. and in late december of 2011, its 6 empty rooms
were big and scary for a small child as we slept on the floor, in the chilling shadow
of brightly burning love.

but that was a million years ago.

we've been here that long.

December 26

those INFPs don't know me:
i'm a sheep hiding in wool;
being kind wherever i can;
and i like it.

friday night with spanish wine: the Swiss man reads Sci Fi;
pages and pages and pages of Sci Fi; they can't be ripped out of the book;
since there is no book.

December 22

stealing time, my coffee and i,
one shoe on, one shoe off,
it's an annual scene which i connected to alone,
this tree of mine, nine feet tall,
as i was hanging red balls on it's drying needles

something snapped into place, like a lego block from 1948
and the importance of ritual focused in the fore of my mind
that ritual brings meaning to this life, and the meaning may
be only in doing the ritual, our hands all busy in a similar dance
and watching others on facebook, that this is the only true gift
we can pass along to our children, this business of ritual,
this repetitive meaning we attempt to string up.

December 21
infp in ENTJ clothing

many thoughts are crytsal-clearing
i joined an ENTJ group to talk about my emotions but what i should have done was join an INFP group to talk about ideas.

December 20
intermittant mEp

Otis Redding sings about Christmas and john oh thinks about thoughts;
it's just another sunday morning in the orange room.
i made it awake before the day is half gone, harsh java in one hand,
three times i've added more sugar.
it's an intermittent mEp in the last days of 2015, watching shiny trees appear on my feed,
people are so comforted in the mundane, drawing them towards their similarities and not divisible.

the grass is greener on this side of the fence, although there is no fence, el nino packs a wallop,
the year we forked out an expensive coat and new winter tires.
the mom awakes
and waits

how being grounded into a stake makes me spin;
and spinning makes me grounded.

December 17

i used to see only joy and hope but as i fade slowly into the twilight, i see only the end of the road
and the realization that hope is merely an illusion to which we cling and that everyone who came before you
knew this and so the only choice left is to assist in the perpetuation of this myth until the myth becomes reality.

December 13
weekend over

i never wanted a diamond ring; nor a perfect kiss; well, not in real life; until i knew they could be real.
you can love a piece of rock when the time comes. lucky he for whom the time comes young.

December 12

i made it. we made it.
through these weeks which are great marathons of nothing,
to a silent Saturday, silent and warm, with a hoverboard, no less.
if thoughts are words, they are processed here.
last night in the dark, i ran trough a park as it only exists in my mind
not the park the running - trying to recall which time space continuum i was trying to break through
in july of 2011
being on the other side now, i can only recall the transition as painful
in spite of all it's beauty.

i knead the possibilities which will lead to a different future for her
then conclude they won't
and i tell her stories of choosing a man who is raw enough to see his limitations
lament them
and accept that they need changing.

everyone who likes me is not from here.
am i a stranger in my own land?
i perambulate around a theory of not belonging in a world of people who belong.

oh how the mEp was easier when it was only about me.

December 10

i lie in bed at night thinking what they say i cannot;
i fit into a questionnaire which isn't large enough to hold me;
i have no to-do lists; create no enemies;
i wonder what you say in your houses, behind your doors,
while my back is turned.
i wonder which fears you harbour and how you teach your children ill will;
for ill is learned
not earned.

i am not here to correct your ways, to fix your feels,
i will not mold to your failings, your battered soul nor your slipshod ways.
my perspective is fluid yet perfect as it flows

through the crevices of introspection,
around the banal observations ,

and atop world which isn't beautiful enough for me.


December 9

the coffee perks in the last fleeting moments that my dreams disappear.
it's a grey world which will greet the Swiss man as he leaves to write the exam; a warmish, grey, December morn.
the machine asks me in plain english when i would like to schedule an update,
i seek, but never find, the answer of 'never', thank you very much.

did i dream of the INFP people; like a species they are all insecure; hesitant; wishy-washy; they scare me.
yet being around them makes me feel grown up. very grown up indeed.

December 6

i had two lovely houses.

  • Geneviève Bergeron (born 1968), civil engineering student
  • Hélène Colgan (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
  • Nathalie Croteau (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
  • Barbara Daigneault (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
  • Anne-Marie Edward (born 1968), chemical engineering student
  • Maud Haviernick (born 1960), materials engineering student
  • Maryse Laganière (born 1964), budget clerk in the École Polytechnique's finance department
  • Maryse Leclair (born 1966), materials engineering student
  • Anne-Marie Lemay (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
  • Sonia Pelletier (born 1961), mechanical engineering student
  • Michèle Richard (born 1968), materials engineering student
  • Annie St-Arneault (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
  • Annie Turcotte (born 1969), materials engineering student
  • Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz (born 1958), nursing student

December 5th.

Dear Internet:
if one asks why, the answer might be 'because i can'.
then i come up empty every time, as the machine whirrs uncontrollably under my fingers;
and i watch the battery life slowing slip away;
i've got eyeglasses which are shit,
a laptop which takes 6 percent battery life to open a file,
and a Swiss man heading out the door.
not a Kleenex in site;
lyrics from the eighties in my head;
and other bits and pieces which cannot be mentioned.
most of what i would really like to say here, cannot be mentioned -
which is what makes the answer to the first question
completely moot and relevant at the same time.
could i build a file listing everything i cannot say
could everyone build a file listing what they cannot say
am i the only person on the planet who desperately more than anything, wants to say what they cannot actually say.
i know you think i'm making this up but i'm not.

one beautiful thing i CAN say
is re-visiting music from a beautiful time while the music is still beautiful and everything else about
that time doesn't matter anymore.

that i don't remember a time of not living with someone who would get me a charger when my battery situation was dire
even when he needed to run out the door.

December 4

no amount of java;
came make me come alive;
time distorts itself around me;
i sneeze, i scratch, i wheeze.

the ENTJs are split;
amongst the gooders and the bad;
some have lives to attend to
and some are just too good at what they do.

too smart for my own good, indeed,
dueling laptops of privilege
which doesn't appear to be what it is.

December 2

pigs squeak, nothing new, scurry, swiss man sleeps, poots, her elderself, types, in an attempt to kick start.
there's not much to admit here, while no one admits anything, and others have little to admit.
there are situations such as these, fixed consciousness such as those, and the general treadmills of life.
i like to walk out on branches however virtual, with strangers, and find layers of connection,
it's what i have always done here, it indeed brings me hope. mr Oh knows this as well.