Nobody reads blogs anymore...

And that's okay, I never maintained this blog for readership. But I just don't need to express myself this way anymore.

I'm finally over what started it all...

Thanks.

Until the next existential crisis, time to live, and die...

Holiday Spirits

Some people hate Christmas and the holidays. To their credit, there’s probably as many reasons to hate them as there are humans celebrating the same damn fucking holidays!

Despite the previous line, trust me when I say I don’t hate the holidays. I’m just at the level where I won’t care one way or the other. Sure, I like to gather with family and friends, or the girlfriend’s family (if applicable), but I wouldn’t mind just doing nothing, sleeping, maybe drinking, watching a movie or fucking. You know, stuff like that, ending with “ing”... without me looking too stupid!

And believe me, I’m not one of these guys complaining about Christmas being too commercial and shit. Sure it is, and listening to my roommate almost breaking off with her boyfriend over presents prices did bother me when I was trying to handle my hangover without having to stand up and run to the toilet (It’s probably been the theme of my last weekend, thankfully, and happily, in various settings, from trains to Chinese restaurants, passing by friend’s places and buses), but I still think presents are indeed in the spirit of the holidays. It’s just that most people don’t have any clue of what spirit means...

But, thanks to all that, an amazing brain and another crazy Christmas story, I think I have a decent theory as to why some people hate Christmas that much, even if in the end, it's only the celebration of a hero’s birth...legend or not.

And here I am, going back in time. Back to when I was too young to be cynical, but too old to be naive, or to believe in a Santa Claus hanging out at the local mall for a month, asking us if we've been naughty or nice (as it turned out, every kid has been a little of both)...

One Christmas eve, at my maternal grand-parents very hospitable, welcoming home (as only grand-parents homes can be), not able to sleep for that weird nap French-Canadians (Following Catholic traditions they don’t believe in anymore) adults force their kids to have until midnight’s mass, Christmas dinner and all, I was just waiting for my mom to come wake me up. I’d pretend to wake up, get my nice clothes on, go to church, read the little prayers booklet out of boredom, then finally come back home to...what? Eat?!? At, like, one in the morning?

Granted, the food was always amazing, but I just couldn’t wait to unwrap those presents, with my uncle playing Santa, always joking about getting a kiss on the cheek from awkward teens, just to make them feel uncomfortable (Years later, in adulthood, offering to kiss him would be way more hilarious).

I’d unwrap my presents, thank everybody, start to play with them until I’d fall asleep. Next morning, while English-speaking kids all over North-America would discover what they’ve got, I’d be waking up earlier than any adult in the house to play with all these goodies.

My brother, much younger, and at this moment in life when you think you should stop believing, heard bells outside that convinced him Santa Claus might actually be real. It took him two more years to stop believing, probably becoming the equivalent of that ridiculous girl in my 4th grade class that still believed in Santa, reincarnation and magic, but knew how her parents conceived her by fucking like animals...


And back then, we'd even celebrate Epiphany!

Then my parents got divorced.

“More presents for us!” Said the lil’ brother. He was right. It also started to fuck Christmas up for all of us.

As the idea of a parents’ union went down the shitters, so did the idea that Christmas was a family holiday. Separating everything, but doubling the obligations, things got worse when we got girlfriends with their own set of separated parents. What used to be a simple, enjoyable, gratifying party became a logistical mess with ramifications transcending the traditional holiday season, or, god forbids if the relationship lasted long enough, years!

Years of telling bad jokes in the middle of a bunch of people wondering what you’re actually doing there, unless they realized you could be a good hockey coach to their son, that suddenly became your nephew.

So, the gratification was obtained through other means: A stressful job with a shitload of money, and therefore, a shitload of debts. What was the job? Dealing with other people’s debts. The result: Thinking I’d die from a heart attack on my first holiday day off, drinking way too much cola in a crowded theatre, watching a fucked up movie. I woke up on Christmas Eve’s eve at the hospital, a worried girlfriend asleep in that uncomfortable chair beside my regularly beeping bed. I spent Christmas Eve at mom’s looking for my pulse, and the next day looking for an opened restaurant as my mother was enjoying Christmas day at her then-boyfriend’s parent’s home.


Thinking I'd die on Christmas Eve...

Fast forward through mom’s tears and dad’s disappointments, spending many Christmas mornings unwrapping protestant presents in Southern Ontario, getting upset at the girlfriend when she told me her orthopaedist father could help me with my flat feet and some very shitty Boxing Day shopping, to us coming back to our downtown Montreal apartment for New Year’s Eve. That trendy holiday that became more about friends than family. Us, a trendy multicultural couple, center of many people’s social life(mostly her though, I was merely an accessory), shitting alternatively because we've got sick beyond belief, exchanging each other New Year’s wishes through a washroom door, asking the other if he/she was about done...

Usually, we were not, and in the end, it was a great night!

Later, I traveled through the holidays, as far away as possible. Trying to forget the ex-girlfriend, but only upsetting my mother for not being around. I had good times, things were different, but it contributed to make Christmas less family-friendly.





Years later, I made it back home, enjoying Christmas with mom and her very nice boyfriend, and his daughters that, well, at least looked like they despised me, their respective boyfriends (one very pretentious geek and the other being the “boyfriend of the week”), and a brother with a new eager girlfriend.

Me? Happily single!

This year, the story is quite simple, I went to Toronto for my tree-planting employer’s Christmas party, got wasted with friends, then with more friends over the weekend. Good times and train rides.


And here I go again with the silly hats and amazing sweaters!

Then, I came back home for a simple, dual Christmas dinner over a few days with my two sets of parents. Two days before Christmas, I was having lunner (a lunch-dinner mix) with a tree-planting friend who was stuck in Montreal for a few days after her Toronto-Halifax flight was cancelled midway (Blame Air Canada) when I got the shitty call:

My mother was in the hospital.

So, here I was, calling my brother to plan a visit, getting updates from my mom’s fiancé (they are set to get married, and I fucking hope they will). As we visited the crowded suburban hospital, the whole idea of Québec’s (Or Canada’s) healthcare system being similar to third world countries went down the drain. I could witness first-hand how well my mother was treated, despite the late hour and the busy time of the year. It looked like a Scrubs episode; Competent, relatively good-looking staff all-around, funny and sad, lots of losers. Plus, I'd hit a few of the girls working there if it wasn't that creepy and innapropriate!

The good news was that my mother would get out on Christmas Eve. The bad news was that, just like Scrubs, it doesn’t always have a nice ending. My mother will indeed stay at the hospital for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and, thankfully, Boxing Day, but at least it will allow the very competent staff to run every test they can to make sure my mom’s condition will improve or will be completely resolved.

With such a background, you'd understand it could be easy to hate the holidays. Instead, here I am, alone in my apartment on a shitty Christmas morning, writing that story, and feeling happy about the current outcome.

Why?

Well, strangely, it’s all about being thankful, for you see, all of these Christmases could have been much worse. I never asked why all this shit happens to me because, ultimately, I know I’ve been bad. Quite bad, this year included, still the asshole, still the occasional liar.

Yet, I’ve never lost a family member, never experienced death and always been smiling though the worst times. I always knew it’d get better and I still believe so.

You know why?

Because Christmas isn’t about Santa punishing bad kids, it’s about faith, no matter what you make out of it.

Because if there’s something I’ve learned, it’s that if you believe in the power of prayer, it shouldn’t be wasted on your own little person, winning more money or keeping the traffic lights green while you’re passing through. Instead, pray for these poor dudes in real deep shit, in third world countries, the sick kids, all the lonely people you don’t know. That’s sharing, that’s giving, that’s being generous.

So, I don’t really know if it’s because someone actually died for my sins thousands of years ago, or out of plain, sheer luck, but I’m thankful for all that stuff I didn’t enjoy enough.

And I’m glad I didn’t pray for my sole purposes...

Get well soon mom. Je t'aime.

And Merry Christmas!

56%

We should be ashamed...Yes it was a boring, uninteresting, not exciting, opportunistic election. It was cold outside, the same altogether...

But a 56% participation rate?

Bande de losers!

And congrats to Amir Khadir for his historic victory!

All This Has Happened Before, and This Will Happen Again

So, I went voting today...again!

This time it was a provincial election. Despite an uneventful campaign with uninteresting candidates, I was looking forward, as always, to go cast my vote. As I went out of the third age residence where I had to vote, I couldn't refrain a proud smile. No matter the lack of excitement for an election, there's always a huge feeling of achievement that comes with voting.

And no it's not lame, despite its flaws and sometimes being disappointing, democracy, remains the greatest system that was ever applied. And for once, a simple pencil mark on a piece of paper, what you have to say, will be read.

Piece them together, it makes for a great story.

Challenges

Ever heard someone saying that life sucks?

I'd rather say it's challenging. Of course, some challenges suck. And sometimes, these fucking challenges last quite a while (examples: Your whole childhood, teenagehood, marriage, life), but I do believe that it's a question of attitude and how you act and react to life's blows.

Recently, I've been procrastinating my fare share and I actually became apathetic and satisfied with the nothingness of my life. I was filled with contentment over simple pleasures and a stress and worry-free life.

So much that I became bland.

No, wait, not bland. FUCKING BORING!

A life wasted doing the same routine, repeating the same useless actions, a brain amorph, without virtually any stimulations despite hopes and ideas waiting to be developped.

I did hurt others, not intentionally of course, and felt basically nothing. But then it happened to me. My ego was bruised, my contentment with my little existence ceased as one of the few exciting moments of my trouble-free life, one of the few activities I would do outside the cocoon I've settled into, was suddenly cut down.

I was somewhat expecting it: The stress I had in the afternoon prior to this change was palpable. I knew something was going to happen and that I had to act accordingly. I made a small effort getting ready. That was a good start.

Then my actions realized before my brain that it was too late. So I stopped caring and had a political discussion over a few drinks with a friend I haven't seen in months.

Then I went back home and took the expected blow. Stayed on the ground for a day or two.

And now I'm standing on my two feet. I learned something, I've felt something. That's good, I was getting a little worried about that part.

I've got a kick in the butt, again. That's the way I live, that's the way I need to live. It's been written in this blog's title for years, because I always wait for one to get me to the next step. I need a motivational jumpstart to learn, adapt, grow, improve.

Therefore, I think I would need more challenges, more often.

Donc, merci pour le coup de pied au cul. Ce n'est jamais agréable, mais ça empêche de s'asseoir dessus, pendant un temps...

Bloggin' Nothin'

You know, there's an upcoming election for me...again! Québec's Premier, Jean Charest just threw us a provincial election. Nothing too interesting on this front for now.

So I figured I'd talk a little about my personal life, since it's been a while.

The problem is that it might have been a while, but there hasn't been a lot...

So, just got out of between a rock and a hard place. Or actually, I've kept people there with me. I basically held other people's feeling in hostage.

Now I feel like my life's all over the place, with no clear focus...and no, I don't want to be clearer, for now.

But I think I owe apologies to my past and present. As for the future, let's wait and see...But fingers crossed, there's a bright and shiny one there. Just hope I didn't affect such a future already with the consequences of recent past choices.

Wouldn't be a first, I just hope I already have seen the last...

Cryptic, eh?

Nah, people will read what they need there...

Life...Na-Na-Nanana!

Hey reader, did I tell you about my life, nowadays?

No?

Weird, I'm sure I did...Oh well, it's probably because I have none. It consists mostly of sleeping at really weird hours, doing nothing, procrastinating, getting to bed at even weirder hours because I'm doing nothing, but I don't want to go to bed yet as I have been procrastinating and unproductive. Then, I read on politics, visit the same 5 websites, revisit the same 5 websites to see if there's anything new (turns out, there's nothing new, the world seems to stop moving when you stop moving...Or maybe it's just that visiting the same website every 20 minutes doesn't give quite a lot of time for the webmasters to update their content, mostly when the subjects treated are limited or heavily specialized)

Huh... where was I? Right, in my room, doing nothing.



I do things though. Saturday, I went to see the Montreal Canadiens' last pre-season game. They lost 3-0, they didn't push it to avoid injuries, quite boring.

I also go for a few drinks once in a while, but my favourite neighbourhood bar, La Promenade just closed down as it has been bought by a trendy bar owner from the Plateau Mont-Royal to get it a little hipper. I hate how they are slowly "gentryfying" my neighbourhood. I fled the Plateau for that exact reason 7 years ago and now, just like a bad Zombie movie (where the Zombies would wear stylish thickly-rimmed glasses and palestinian scarves, thinking they reached the ultimate of cool despite not being able to sustain a conversation for more than 5 minutes, spending their school loans on expensive beers and hit the food bank to save a few bucks), it keeps coming back to kill me, slowly, softly, fashionably. (Yep, I'm judging...)

Granted, Chez Baptiste is not the most bourgeois of establishments, but it does have that "Plateau" feel (nothing against the Plateau itself, it's just that some people made it a parody of itself), with foosball tables instead of pool tables, slightly more expensive beers and cluttering the place with a shitload of busy tables. I do appreciate high quality beers, but I already have a pub for such drinks, with the best terrasse(patio) in town and I don't like my next door tavern to be full of people full of themselves screaming while holding metal rods...

But hey, back on doin' nothin'.

So, there's actually a few things I ought to be doing. First, I should write back to my treeplanting regional manager to send him my non-production day hours, as it's basically worth $2,500 and it should have been paid a month ago by now. But the fact it hasn't is completely my fault (And Microsoft's fault, as my new computer didn't come with Office and I couldn't open my boss' Word document. Also, I love to blame Microsoft for random stuff, I mean, they kind of replaced God, right? Oh, no, wrong, that's Apple that does the religious sect stuff...My bad!)

Funny story. This morning I was too lazy to get out of bed but I wanted to visit the 5 websites, so I extended my arm to my table and dragged the laptop in bed, forgetting that my iPod and my camera were attached to it. Both fell off the table, which stands higher than the usual table. I was quite disappointed to see that my iPod was not broken and my camera was slightly broken. In the iPod's case, because I can't wait to dump this fucking Apple product in the recycling bin and get another company's mp3 player, but I was still relieved I wouldn't have to spend money just yet, and in the camera's case because it's such a solid and efficient camera, despite getting slightly outdated, that I'd never expected I'd break the little battery cap thingy. Nothing some scotch tape wouldn't repair, but I really did expect the expensive, disposable, unreliable and fragile piece of crap that is an iPod to break first.

Did I ever tell you how much those things cost to replace batteries, hard drives and earphone jacks? Oh, I hear you, "might as well buy a new one!"

Sure, that's what they actually say and do, they'd rather replace than repair. But aside from the fact that a battery or earphone jack should be cheaper than a brand new iPod, they know that their shit is so cheaply built that it costs nothing to replace it, and the only reason they can overprice such pesky things is because they market them very, very well to naive young kids with money to waste since they can't drink yet. I was caught too...

If objects could be douchebags, they'd be iPods.

Funny how I'm actually not pissed, but reading this post, it looks like I am. Actually, I'm in a really good mood (Doing nothing remains awesome, mostly when you can rub it in your friend's faces) and I have great people around. Won't say much on that side though. Besides, shitty stuff makes for funnier stories!

Oh well, back to bed, it's noon soon.

RE: I Will Tell You...yeah...

Oops

Well, I always disliked fans who would be too confident, selling the skin of the bear before killing it. I have been arrogant, and I look somewhat dumb today, mostly since it's coupled with bitter disappointment.

But I don't care, I spent the afternoon in a park, hungover, enjoying snacks and sun with a amazing girl.

So yeah, fuck it, life is good!

And we'll win the next one!

мир

мир: Mir is the russian word for peace, also the modern russian word for society (The alphabet was "simplified" after 1917's Bolshevik revolution).

Here's an interesting news item, not so much for the political celebrity gossip, but what it tells about Vladimir Putin's strong grip on power in Russia:

Russia’s Putin denies he plans to marry gymnast.

"So what?", some would say. After French President Nicolas Sarkozy (who recently got divorced, to then quickly wed supermodel-turned-singer-composer Carla Bruni. She's great at both by the way), it might just be Putin's turn in being struck by some midlife-crisis demons.

Maybe, maybe not.

The thing is, the Moskovsky Korrespondent, the small newspaper that originally published the story suddenly doesn't exist anymore!

I always had an interest for Russia, from my younger days of fright at their potential (and highly devilized by anti-communist propaganda) capacity for doom, to their space program, passing by their incredibly rich culture, architecture and land. I am still learning Russian, and I am by no mean functionnal, as it is both simple and complicated to learn.

Just like its language, I love and fear the country, and this is another example of what frightens in regards to Putin's reign; A return to Russia's worst, yet most efficient habits: A small elite becoming extremely wealthy and/or powerful while the country's head of state holds to (extreme) power, by now becoming his political party's leader and Russia's prime minister after being forced by law to stand down at the end of his second term as president. A presidential reign where he kept the press under leash, gagged dissidents and opponents and succesfully reasserted Russia's place as a political, but also as an economical power. With Putin, Russia has firmly set its foot on the arena's ground, in preparation for the 21st century upcoming challenges, from the fight for natural and human ressources to religious and nationalist tensions, passing by alimentary needs and climate changes.

A Tzar is born? A dictatorship? No, but there's again a class system in Russia, the rich gets richer, sometimes in the shadows and protection of a powerful government that can close any business working against the Kremlin's interests. The real question is, does Putin acts in what he thinks is his people interests, fighting corruption and terrorism, maintaining social order and peace as he claims, or at their expenses, while improving his friends' finances and his place at the top? Is modern Russia a turbulent society longing for peace or the setting for a slowly burgeoning revolution?

Only time will answer these questions.

Tupperfan's Guide to Useless Knowledge: The Red Army Choir once performed american southern rock classic "Sweet Home Alabama" with a Finnish rock band, the Leningrad Cowboys.

время есть китайский...

Images Server Down

Kinda sucks...Been faithful to maj.com for years, even though it's far from being the best picture uploader nowadays, but it might be the time to change...As soon as I get my pictures back (a lot of them are not on my computer anymore!)

Strangely, maj's sister website, brickshelf.com, is still working well...

Time to go get my pics!

EDIT: Maj.com works properly again. Backups done.

Stop the Fucking Bullshit.

Ok, I must admit I'm a little pissed. I needed to get it off, somewhat. Granted, it's not the most elegant piece of writing. But it never was the goal and besides, really, fuck off!

-Stop telling me I'll get laid if I smell better by using a certain spray deodorant or breath strips toothpaste. I'm ugly as shit, I'll still look like shit. I'll just smell like mint-perfumed shit.

-And, stop letting me think whiter teeth will get me a promotion. Same goes with any other gadget, basically new needs created to rip me off my money.

-Hey, Obama, I really like you. Just a little head's up though; Canada's president is not a president. A tip: it's two words and it rhymes with "Crime" and "Sinister".

-Don't tell me you decided to support the minority government so that "the will of the people is respected. Besides, the budget sounds not bad at all". We all know your election fund is in the red and that the polls are pretty shitty for you right now.

-No, your network's french version of "Deal or No Deal" is not newsworthy, please don't interview tonight's winner during evening news. Why won't you tell us about that thing known as "The World" instead? Same thing applies for the first non-celebrity to appear on that little improv show you have on Sunday. Got it TVA? NOT NEWS!!!

-"I'm not racist but..." Yes, you are, stop lying to yourself, but mostly, stop talking to me.

-You're a big shot at my job? Working at the corporate HQ and visiting our center once every six months? Dont' give me that little "overconfident, in control, condescending smile" (you're fat and ugly after all), offering to address any question to you when a guy comes to listen to my calls to see if we're worthy to get his company as a client. First, you never took a damn call in your life. Second, I'm among the best guys you have, I'll never have questions for you, just complaints and suggestions.

-You're the other boss, the one directing my call center? You have enough power over me already, even if you don't know my name. Did you ever speak to me? So do you need to get as low as to tell me not to leave my jacket in the reception wardrobe when I just want to run to my desk to get something I forgot (You told us we couldnt wear our jackets in the center in the first place), instead of making a huge detour to leave it in the locker room? I mean, what kind of chickenshit, anal, power-hungry stunt is this? No caps? No chocolate bars? No newspaper? Fuck you, what about improving our conditions and our salary and resolving the huge quality discrepancies instead of sitting at the reception waiting area speaking italian with your friend during work hours? Eh? ANSWER!

-Seven agents told you you couldn't get Pac-Man on your damn cheap phone! Do you need to keep bugging every agent, shouting personal attacks because the game doesn't download? Here's your fucking credit, is there anything else we can do for you, apart from being yelled at? Of course not, don't call back. Yes go with the competition. Oh you didn't know? This specific competitor is actually the same company, the incompetent technical support you talked to before, those are the guys from that "better" company! (And yes, they are indeed incompetent, and no, that company is not better. Want to know which company I'm talking about? It's rhymes with tell, starts with a "b" and ends up with either Canada or Mobility...) See you around, no-life bitch!

For christ sake's, Pac-Man...

-"Hi, I want to activate my phone." "Sure I can do that for you, congratulations on the purchase of the phone!" No, I don't really believe it, and if I sound cheerful while licking your balls for a cheap phone (Hey, good job on buying this lettuce!), I'm also throwing as many middle-fingers as I can at my computer screen right now.

-You can't give me the manager job. Just tell me. Don't tell me I've got it, tell the same thing to my friend, let us wait three months because "there's an employee shortage right now" to then realize that another department's manager got the job when his department was laid off...

-You don't pay me when I don't show to work, therefore don't ask me for a doctor's note! I'd need to pay 10 bucks for it, and I'm not planning to go to the doctor. Why? Because gastro requires sleep and lots of water. Don't need to be a doctor and jam an emergency room to know that! Besides, I wasn't really sick, if only of this job. Also, it's illegal if I'm not getting paid to request such a note, so piss off!

-You want to emulate 1984 with the bureaucratic, paranoid, obsessive, life-controlling shit? Dude, you're 24 years too late!

-Yeah, my "I Hate YOUR life T-Shirt" is really funny. The thing you're trying to ignore is that it's true. And you hate your life too!

-"Woah, what are you reading? War And Peace, what a brick! And the captions are small! Have you read Harry Potter? It's really good!" Have you read other books? Probably won't find better than Potter, but hey, let's try! Oh, no, you don't want to? Yeah, books are frightening...

-When you say "your company sucks" and I say "I wholeheartly agree, sir", you must stop yelling.

-Yes, treeplanting is hard. No, no matter how ready you are and what you did in your life, you won't be ready for what is to come until you've been there. Yeah, it is somewhat condescending. But hey, I did it, did you? Don't try to convince me, convince yourself!

-For fuck sake's, B-C tree-planters are not better than other provinces' planters, they are just usually better paid. Period. You still need to bust your ass, to work under shitty condtions and the terrain is sometimes a little tougher, steeper. Doesn't mean it's always flat or "easy" out East. I know plenty of planters who sucked out east and made decent money in B-C. Might say something about other provinces' planters intelligence though(me included), but not necessarily...

-Yeah, you can show me how to play pool, but if I kick your ass, don't be pissed, dude, you crossed the line.

-No, I don't want to join your Facebook "Fire Bob Gainey" club. Bob Gainey is the general manager for the NHL's Montreal Canadiens, they are second in the Eastern conference right now, fighting for the first place. Didn't happen in 15 years. So if someone should be fired, it's you, from whatever job you hold, for being a total fucktard that can't face reality.

-Oh and by the way, the only Facebook application I'd join is one that'd allow me to shoot or burn every other one, for anyone, forever. Yes, some might call such a thing a "virus" or a "crime", I'd say the thousands invitations I get is plain simple harrasment, so we're even. I keep Facebook for one reason only: To keep some basic, non-commiting, casual communication with long -distance friends, high school pals, my mom and my friend when we lost each others in a bar. If you know my friends, you're not necessarily my friend(it'd help we saw each other at least, like, once), and if you're my boss, I'll definitely not accept you.

-Okay, you want me to piss in a bottle so I can be part of management in a treeplanter camp, you have to expect me to get pissed drunk the night before. It'll help me piss more, and it's legal, so you're fucked. Besides, in Canada, you can't refuse a job on the basics of an urine test. Also, I'll be in Edmonton, also known as EdMONOTON, so what else can I do if you stop me from doing crystal meth?

-"Well at least he died doing something he loved". True, every soldier strives to die in a pool of oil and blood on a desert road because his "armored vehicle" was struck by a RPG...

Aaaahhhhhhhh, feels way better!

Time to go see a movie. Oh yeah, reminds me! France citizens need to learn to pronounce the english "th" sound properly, instead of that damn "z"! Yesterday, while talking movies with an expatriate, in french, he told me how good "Zerwyl Bebluud" is. After thinking it was an Egyptian movie, and confirming the name for a third time, I came to agree that "There Will Be Blood" sounds like a great movie.

So yeah, movie-time with a no-bullshit girl. She only fakes orgasms. But hey, can't lie to myself. With me, who wouldn't?

Who's the Boss of Me?

Been a while I posted about personal stuff.

Not that there was nothing to blog about, just that I really don't have much time. Strange how it's always when you don't have time to write that you have plenty of things to talk about. Then you wish you had tie to take a break to write everything down, and then...nothing. Because nothing's happening anymore.

That's why sometimes you have to call in sick at work.

And then blog about your job.

Allright, I'll probably quit this job in a few months, when it will be time to pack my planting gear and head up west to deliver some trees in Alberta, but I don't want to bash it senseless, so let's call this international call center company "Planetary" and it's Canadian branch would be called, hum, "Polar".

So I work for Polar since November, taking customer service calls for cell phone sold by a major grocery chain. Basically, they selected a phone company to sell their cell phone service using that comm company's network, who, in turn outsourced it to one of their subsidiaries so it would be way cheaper. And here we are!

Interestingly, I was contacted for an interview at the communication company two days after starting to work at Polar, but they couldn't hire me as they have an agreement not to steal their subsidiary's employees, which would be easy since the pay is better.

The job is not hard, and I worked in plenty of call centers, including in the cell phone industry so I quickly became a "floor walker", helping agents with answering questions, solving problems and issue, taking supervisor calls or approving credits. Decent work, pays a little better. A little later, about a month and a half into the job, my team manager suggested to apply for the opening team manager position, which I did. And I got the job!

Yay!

But I'm still an agent! Why? Because our workforce is thinning so fast, due mostly to inflexible hours and low wages that it's somewhat useless to lose a good agent and have an additional TM when there's less agents taking calls than ever before, so they told me to wait until we get more employees.

So here's the funny part: Our call centre has three different contracts. Our grocery store cheap cell phone customer service, relay services for deaf people in a major, sunny, populated, celebrity-governed American state and a third contract, also for relay services for a major telecommunications company in the US. Let's call them "Hori-Zon", a service we'll call "GoUSA". Hori-Zon decided it was costly to operate its relay services in North America so they closed all the GoUSA call centers on the continent, operated by Planetary, and moved them to Planetary's Philippine centers, which are, let's agree, way cheaper to operate! So the GoUSA agents here in our Montreal center will find themselves soon without a job. Contrary to the US where the agents are simply laid-off, GoUSA agents will be transferred to new operations, including our cell phone customer service. Most of those agents are not billingual like our current staff, but 80% of our customers being anlglophones, it shouldn't be a major issue.

The issue is personal, as the TM job I've been promised, which will be necessary when all those new agents will make the move, will probably be given to one of the current GoUSA team managers. Basically, the job I've been promised by Human Ressources will be taken from me.

Not that I care, as I was thinking of going back to the bush even if I'd get the job...But let's admit it was easier to take the decision.

So, here's my situation: I have a team manager. I'm supposed to be one of them, but I'm equally bossed by the three managers in my department, as they share duties, and soon I'll be bossed by other TMs who dont know shit about the job they are being dumped into and that I would be supposed to be doing. I work for a service which is being outsourced by an outsourcer, making sure we don't have only one client to report to, but two, not counting our own hierarchy of people who never took a customer call in a call center before. I'm also being bossed by Service Assurance, who puts me back as an available agent, making sure I receive an unwanted called at the wrong time while I'm doing some follow-up for a major problem, as requested by one of my managers. And if I'm floorwalking, I'm being bossed by the same Service Assurance people to make sure my agents don't stay to long on "not ready" or taking too much time to take a call. Also, customers have a tendancy to try to get as much as they can from you, even when they know their requests are completely unreasonable.

So that makes about 8 different bosses.

Then I started getting ready for the planting season, so I first contacted last year's camp supervicor and regional manager, two bosses, to ask if they needed help. They referred me to Alberta's regional manager, as the camp superisor I went to help last summer wanted to have me. That's two more bosses. I talked to Alberta's regional manager who offered me the job, and then I got a email from one of the company's administrators to fill a bunch of online forms and training documents and send proofs of my various licenses and certification, and then report for training in Toronto at the end of april with the company's owners. That's three more bosses.

So I currently have about 15 bosses. Isn't it great? And then they wonder why everybody is stressed and pissed!

At least that girl I've met doesn't boss me...yet!

In the end though, I have the luck to be able to make choices, as I'm not bound by slavery or a mortgage, so I'm still somewhat in control of my life. But I admit I would love if I didn't have to report to that many people in my professional life. At least in planting, I might have a few bosses during pre-season, but as soon as we'll be in camp, I'll have one, a smooth dude who knows his shit, so everything should be okay.



Tupperfan's Guide To Useless Knowledge: Did you know that phone center agents never hold their headsets in real life? But you'll often see beautiful, professional-looking people do so in ads. Do they think readers/viewers are dumb enough to not realize they are talking on the phone?!?

Time to go boss my cat. And time for her to not listen to me...at all!

Waking Up...

You want to leave, because you'd really love to stay.
In her eyes, bright lights are reflected and you can't see any further.
You get out, you need to, so tired of trying to be interesting.
She runs down the stairs asking for a hug.

You'd like to say no, because you're so hard to get, distant and cool,
You almost say no, trying to be funny, being only silly,
You want to say no, because you really don't know what to do,
You're afraid to do too much.

Later, when the embrace ends and you rush out, while thinking of rushing in,
You're afraid you didn't do enough.

Sporting a dumb grin, you fly back home.
You're exhausted, but you won't find solace in sleep,
Nor in cheap words written thousands of times.
All those feelings, good and bad, you thought you lost a while ago.
It pisses you off to be so human,
But she's not a goddess, just a woman at the gates of heaven.

Good things are happening...

A Letter I'll Never Send to a Girl I Never Called Back

Hey Kat,

Tonight, while browsing my usual websites and generally wasting my time, I thought of the short time while we did so together.

And in life, there's productive waste of time, and then, there's the "I'd rather be doing anything else, even nothing at all as long as it doesn't involve the other one" waste of time!

It's mean. But that's a thing I understood: There's times in your life when anything you'll do will result in you being an asshole.

One of those moments when nothing worked. While still in the heart of the moment, everything is allright, it'll get better, it's just a rough time. But when it's over, these same things will be the other one's fault.

I'm older than you, I had more experience than you. In the end, it was obvious. I understood the situation a tad earlier...

I was honest when I told you I'd never do that, when you were afraid I'd never call back.

But it freaked me out!

And I called you back.

I really wanted to reassure you when you freaked out because the pot was too strong, getting afraid of basically everything, including my brother!

And you calmed down.

But it freaked me out!

I was really excited when I got in bed with you. It was a little robotic, there was no vibe, no instincts. We were thinking too much.

I calmed down...

And it freaked me out!

I really wanted to get a nice breakfast to take it easy and chat about anything that morning. But I reached the bottom of your well too quickly.

There was no water there.

It really freaked me out!

Then, you called me when I was sick. Really sick! I told you it wasn't the best time to talk. It was completely honest. A few days later, coming back from my Christmas party in Toronto, I got a message from my brother. You called. I didn't call back. I figured I'd call later.

I reported the call until now. Until it wasn't necessary.

You probably thought and told your friends I was one of those jerks who said beautiful things, got what he wanted and dumped the girl.

Besides, you laughed, I was impotent half the time!

And you were completely right.

We didn't fit. To every level. It simply didn't work. So many hints, yet it took me time to realize it. I decided not to call you anymore. It wasn't worth it.

It was so obvious that you didn't call back. I wasn't worth it.

We were right, just not for each other.

I'm Lovin' It!

My upstairs neighbours are pissing me off: They listen to fucking techno music (I sometimes love to imagine them dancing in underwear to the rythms with lightsticks in their hands...) and they always leave their outside light open (our doors are on the same level), reflecting in my bedroom, through my shitty bamboo blinds (I had a big bamboo phase when I moved, as the girl working at the asian-themed store was cute as hell!) and right in my unsleeping face. It means I'll get upset, then enraged and won't end up sleeping until it's so sunny outside the light is not annoying me anymore.

But I'm also pissed for a lot of other reasons: My friend J-S is moving to a new appartment and he asked me to help him move on Saturday. He also asked me to bring my powertools and help him take down his bed and massive desk, as manual tasks, if it doesn't involve a video game console, are unknown to him. I don't have a powertool, so I went to my dad's house to steal his. While I was there, I dropped a my brother's tax documents and a few other items, and I forgot to bring the fucking drill I already forgot last weekend.

But of course, I had to realize this when I got back home, while my bro's laughing his ass off...

So I got back, another 50 minutes back and forth, this time with the damn power tool, a new speed record for a 1994 Pontiac Sunbird and a new appreciation for high gas prices...

Keeping on with the "good times" topic: In December, I wrote a post about my ambivalent feelings towards a resurgescent friendship with my ex-girlfriend. I decided, despite the tone of the post, to try it out and it went pretty well. We even chatted on the phone and it was fun, there was no awkwardness or heavy, past-related shit.

But tonight, she ended up reading my blog, digging quite far and finding some pretty nasty stuff (I'm still amazed at how quickly she found everything relevant to her, browsing through plenty of unrelated posts). Some of it I didn't even remember writing (A July 2005 post!), most stuff I don't even believe anymore(like that same July 2005 post...) or that I kept despite not being to fond of (like my doubtful comments on her wedding).

Here's the obvious: This blog is highly emotional, at least to my standards. I'm getting rid of bad vibes, talking about useless or very important things from my perspective, and it makes me feel better. But she made me realize it sometimes was at the expanses of others. Despite expressing myself and engaging nobody else than me in what remains highly subjective posts, I did go too far!

I have been quite irresponsible, as I used full names and described quite intimate moments and very biased assumptions. I just realized how shitty it could be if a friend or family of hers would have landed here after "googling" her name...

So, I did something I never did, I erased two posts and I edited others.

A blog is not a personal journal. If you want to expose your personal life, so be it, but you have to be cautious when it involves other people. I told her I didn't think she'd ever read my blog (she told me years ago she wouldn't never do so again), but it's not an excuse.

I still won't censor myself, I never did. But yes, I'll make sure I don't get others in my troubles.

At least, after a night of being my old self, making others sad and apologizing profusely, I can say I learned something, and that's the sole great part (That and apparently thriving in shit)!

Ironic how I keep doing stuff that will, years later, end up hurting the same person, no matter how I manage to do so. I don't find any comfort in realizing some things never change!

A proof I was not the right one for her. But I'll be happy to remain friends, if it's possible.

Time to get over it!

P.S: It's 3:23 AM, one of the neighbours just knocked on his damn door for what felt like an unreasonable amount of time, lit the light and ran through the stairs, hitting their 25 pairs of shoes, echoing in my room like the cardboard walls weren't even there! Fuming, images of my fist through their wall or floor makes me feel better while I sip my brother's table wine...Good times!