Monday, May 19, 2008

Those Little Slices of Death

Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
~William Shakespeare, Macbeth

I find myself more and more frequently retreating to my beautiful haven of sleep. In sleep I go to find escape. Escape from thinking. Escape from planning. Escape from feeling.

I have all the leisure time in the world now. Time to exercise. Time to see friends and family. Time to cook and clean and do all of those little things that I could never seem to find a spare moment to do before.

And yet, I sleep.

Sleep is the ultimate time killer. I lay down only to open my eyes and find that three hours have disappeared. Slipped away never to be found again, not matter how much I might regret their passing. And yet, what have I really missed?

Am I sleeping to heal? Sleeping to find answers? Or simply sleeping as a means to not have to live the life that I find myself in?

Sleep is my reward for each task accomplished. One job applied for? Why don’t you take a nap? Dishwasher emptied? Why don’t you go lay down after all that hard work? A few phone calls returned? I think you deserve some rest now.

Sleep is not really an escape. I find myself dreaming about everything I’ve been doing. Everything I should be doing. Everything I’ve already done, I keep doing over and over again, night after night in some sort of cruel somnambulistic ritual.

I tell myself to view this time of freedom, this era of release with anticipation, delight even. And yet, I can’t help but feel the judgement that I’m most likely only truly receiving from myself.

I view sleep as a release from the torture that I’m putting myself through; a sanctuary from the almost militant plan that I’ve laid out for myself. I can’t allow myself to believe that I’ve truly been through a terrible time, and that I deserve, nay, needed to escape from where I was being held prisoner- both by my manager, and myself.

I don’t wake up feeling refreshed and revitalized. I wake up cursing myself for having wasted precious moments that I could have been doing…what? I don’t know. Something.

Meditating? Applying for more jobs? Scheduling therapy?

Sleep. How I loathe those little slices of death, and yet I long for them as well.


Sunday, May 11, 2008

How Many Posts Have You Read Today about Mother's Day?

Today is Mother's Day.

My step-sister had a garage sale the day before Mother's Day once, and after I left a found a card in my purse from my Step-Mom. I still have it.

It says:

"On this day for remembering mothers, your loss must be especially painful.
Hopefully Mother's Day can be a day for you to celebrate your memories...
...and your friends and family can celebrate that part of your mother that lives on in you."

It still makes me kind of choked up. (A significant improvement over the immediate bursting into tears that it used to result in).

I have to say that I don't find Mother's Day to be as painful as I would have thought- especially knowing how sentimental and emotional I tend to be. Perhaps it's because I don't have any particular memories of any Mother's Days that I spent with my Mom. I don't remember anything specific that I did for her. I know I must have, but nothing really comes to mind.

If anything, I can just bring up the happy memories that I have of my mother, and wistfully wish that things could have been different.

  • I remember her buying me make-up in grade 5, long before me and my other friends had really even considered it.
  • I remember her learning how to read cards (not tarot, but regular playing cards) and practicing on me all the time.
  • I remember her having me wrap my own Christmas presents, and having perfect trust that I wouldn't peek inside the boxes to see what I was getting. (I didn't - I always was a little goody-goody).
  • I remember her reading stacks and stacks of Harlequin or Silhouette romance novels.
  • I remember her speaking French to me a lot, so I would learn it quicker, and so she wouldn't lose it.
  • I remember her talking about her dream to go to the Orient, and how her and I would go there together someday.
  • I remember her love of science fiction movies, and her taking me to a double-feature of Star Wars and the Empire Strikes Back.

She was a good Mom who had a lot of problems. Now looking back I suspect she was suffering from depression- or perhaps even bi-polar disorder. However, I never once doubted that she absolutely adored and cherished me.

Happy Mother's Day Mom, I hope you know that I'm thinking of you.


Thursday, May 08, 2008

The Apple* Doesn't Fall Too Far...

So in the past few years I've found a new hobby- geneaology. Like most people, a lot of my family came over on a boat from Europe, so I figure there's gotta be some royalty in there somewhere. I don't necessarily need any monarchs- but even a duke or a countess or an earl would be kinda cool. I'd settle for a knight even!

I've managed to get myself back to the 1700's in some branches, but the nobility aspect is sorely lacking. Here are the cool things that I have found though:
  • My Great-Great Grandmother was M├ętis.

  • My Grandfather was once arrested for bootlegging.

  • My Great Grandfather supposedly came to Canada from the US because he opposed guns & the war etc, but apparently it was really because of some family feud.

  • I am part: English, Scottish, & Norwegian for sure. Potentially I am also Irish & Welsh

  • My Great Grandfather was killed by being gored by a bull. I have my my grandmother's (his daughter) diaries from that time - it is so heartwrenching to read.

  • My Grandfather lost his eye in WWI at Vimy Ridge.

  • My Great Uncle also lost his eye (not sure how though)

  • My bootlegging Grandfather left home when he was very young, got his wallet stolen, and it was found on the thief's dead body. Everyone thought it was my grandfather was dead and his parents moved away. It took him a while to find them, and it was quite a shock to them when he arrived at their doorstep!

  • My Great Great Grandfather was recruited by the Hudson's Bay Company from Scotland to come over here and work.

So what have you got? Any interesting family facts? How far back do you know? It's a super interesting (and expensive) hobby to have. It almost makes me regret not having children (never say never I suppose) so I would have someone to pass this all on to...

* Or is it acorn??


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