The Opposite of Fortunate

To copy others is necessary, but to copy oneself is pathetic. ~ Pablo Picasso 

Everybody has that one person in their life who's only song they sing are The Blues. Who's optimism is limited to feeling lucky only when they did NOT find themselves in yet another clusterfu*k.  Whose very existence is so pathos evoking that you go through a box of Kleenex just mustering up the strength to answer the phone when you see their number on your caller ID.  Yes, I'm talking about your pathetic friend.  

You know them well, EVERY day is another fire to extinguish, a crisis to avert, another so-called  injustice of life thrust on them yet again, and as a friend it is your job to listen, console, and  rescue.  Some days you don't understand why you remain friends with such an energy-sucking entity, except that when you are having a rough day, their ability to relate is so comforting.  Ever made a really bad choice in your life, and it threw you so far off the path you wanted to be on, you didn't even recognize your own surroundings?  Ever had a good thing going on in your love life, and you sabotaged it for no good reason?  Ever felt like you were hanging off a cliff, but when you looked down, your pathetic friend was already a step ahead of you free-falling to their fate quicker than  a bunji-jumper who's cord snapped? OK...maybe those are some extreme examples but, just wanted to give you a little more time to identify YOUR pathetic friend.  Shouldn't be hard, we all have one. 

Pathetic friends are the ones who eat all day, but complain about being fat.  They watch soap operas all afternoon, but complain about being broke.  They get excited, only when the Star Trek conference comes to town and they are quite comfortable letting life happen to them.   Pathetic friends aren't incompetent in any way, they are caring, sometimes funny (in a self-deprecating kind of way), they might know a lot of random stuff that you mistake as intelligence (from sitting on the couch all day) and they make you feel better about whatever mess you've gotten yourself into because by and large, they're in worse shape than you.  

Pathetic friends get mad at you for suggesting they do something different.  In their sick, twisted way, they are comfortable with their feebleness.  Being in a state of constant despair gives them purpose.  Not feeling that they are worthy of anything great, they poison possibilities with inevitabilities.  Pathetic people act like they don't care what people think about them, but in truth, it consumes them.  The truly successful people of this world are loners, as they care little about "popularity" and more about "efficacy".  

I once had this absolutely pathetic friend who was a beautiful, talented, aspiring ballet dancer.  Her dancing was entrancing.  There was no question in my mind that she would one day be part of  The National Ballet of Canada.  Yeah, she came from the school of hard knocks, but who didn't?  Opportunity was knocking on her door! And you know what?  She sabotaged herself.  It didn't matter that she had made a slight misstep at 14 and gotten pregnant in Grade 9.  Her baby's father and his family were super supportive, so much so that she end up moving in with her baby father's grandparents much of her adult life.  They loved her, and they loved their great-grandson.  It was 13 years later  when she decided to have another baby, for a guy that already had 4 children, and whom had been keeping her a secret because he was her boss that it all went downhill.  Last I heard, she was in Scarborough somewhere collecting welfare. 

People make mistakes, and move on from them.  Only the pathetic allow their mistakes to dictate the rest of their lives.  

Final Thoughts:

There is a difference between people who are down on their luck, and those who don't even give luck a chance.  Pathetic used to mean someone or something that invoked feelings of pity or sympathy, but now it is something closer to being beyond repair.  These people have a place in your life (even if it is just to make you feel a little better about yourself), but don't let your bleeding heart be led astray by the compelling sob stories of your pathetic friend.  Nobody held a gun to their head and said, "Continually do the wrong thing.  Allow yourself to be consumed by your mistakes and rid yourself of all the positive influences in your life."  But each person has to choose their own "path" in life.  They just happened to choose one that intersects with "etic".   

The Power of a Pawn

"Pawns not only create the sketch for the whole painting, they are also the soil, the foundation, of any position."  -  Anatoly Karpov

"Every pawn is a potential queen."  -  James Mason

Ever been in a situation where your participation is inherent to a desired outcome, that without you things just would not work out the way they're supposed to, but for some reason no one wants to give you the credit you deserve for what you have contributed?  Anybody who has ever had a job can probably relate to this scenario. How many times have you been assigned to a project with others, and some dumb f*ck wants to take credit for ideas you came up with, research you did, or deals that were brokered?  It's such a kick-in-the-teeth feeling because although you know perfectly well what you brought to the table, and you feel stupid piping up to say "Um..hello Slimeball, that was my idea, not yours Buddy!", you don't because on the one hand you're so flabbergasted that you were disregarded in that way and also, you don't want to seem petty among people you respect. 

Work isn't the only place that sh*t happens. It happens a lot in relationships too. 

I have a friend who (like me) has been having a very rough couple of years.  Life happened, and the next thing you know, my friend's life was tailspinning in a direction it had never gone in before, and that can be really scary.  I was able to relate. That feeling when everything you knew your life to be changes overnight, and you are forced to adjust or succumb.  It's frightening.  It's lonely.  

My approach to friendships and relationships is quite simple: "If you ride for me, I would die for you".  That's a pretty bold statement of committment I know, but combined with my fierce Scorpio conviction, I truly believe that loyalty and trustworthiness are the two most admirable qualities in the human species, and if we are connected, we should expect nothing less from one another.  So off we went, on parallel journeys to healing, each of us playing our position of support to the other when needed or when called upon (and I say it like that because there are times when pride would get in the way, and we, like many of you, don't always ask for the help we need for fear of appearing TOO needy).  Over time, I found myself in the odd position of being more inherent to the overall well-being of my friend, I would admit it was mutual, because I too, could not have healed without their strength and support also.  But there was a key difference.  And here is where I realized that perhaps I was just a pawn in twisted game of chess. 

My friend went through some of the most emotionally and physically challenging hurdles a person could face.  Job loss, legal troubles, relationship breakdown.  Everything that was stable and secure was gone.  But my friend has a really big family, with parents, siblings, Aunts and Uncles, cousins, you name it - a giant network of people that could make up a really strong support system.  But over time, it seemed that anytime a situation would come up that required inconveniencing themselves to help or show support of my friend (which by all means IS a part of family and friendship, it sho'nuff ain't always gonna be roses), I was the only one who didn't waiver in my conviction.  There were times where I had to go without sleep, had to stretch myself financially, had to face personal fears in order to help fight their battle.  The army that should have been many, often times was just two.  Me and my friend. 

Some of you may be thinking, well why the heck would I go through all that?  Because....let me say this tactfully...I am not responsible for anybody else's actions (or lack thereof).  I am responsible for mine, and I do for others what I would want/expect them to do for me if the tables were turned.  Friendships and relationships are investments.  Not passive experiences that you have until the next set of experiences comes along. A solid friendship or relationship is like a safety deposit box that you may have to contribute to for years before you tap into the full value, but when you need it, it's there because you took care of it.  So recently, when this friend of mine that I have stood by tirelessly, hit me below my belt and sent me the clear message that I am likely just a means to an end, I was destroyed.  That feeling when you realize you are just a pawn in their chess game.  It hurts.  Deeply. 

It makes you want to call their bluff and say, "Mother Fcuker, do you realize that you wouldn't be where you are right now because of me you piece of sh*t?!" "Who exactly is responsible for this [insert obvious benefit] or [insert desired outcome]? Then look around and hear the crickets chirping. EXACTLY!! Nobody else you dumb son of a b*tch!  Nobody else. 

Maybe my problem is I care too much, love too much, expect too much. Maybe I give too much, tolerate too much, share too much.  There is nothing more painful then having someone you value, devalue you.  I'm a fool for letting it happen. Why would I have been so stupid to think that others are as loyal as I am? Must be all those sleepless nights...

Final Thoughts: 

I know a lot of people who govern their relationships like me.  Guarded at first because we've been burned in the past, but once we let you in, it is not a position to be abused.  It is a special place, with special privileges, and just like a club with no re-entry, once you leave, you are not welcome here anymore.  In your life, you can't let anyone else think they are calling the shots.   You may be a pawn in their game, but I am the Queen of my entire kingdom.  Check mate!

February Sucked Like a Two Dollar Heaux

It's been a minute since I've blogged.  February was not the kindest of months.  I guess I wanted to survive it to write about it.   Ready to laugh, cry and grow?  I hope so, because I sure did.

Remember my previous posts, some 2 years ago, about my son, who succumbed to the pressures of adolescence and had some experiences with everybody's favourite girl, Mary Jane, when his grandmother found evidence that he was using his gym bag to store a whole lot more than just his smelly socks and basketball shoes?  Weed, marijuana, ganja, whatever you want to call it.  It's just one of those things that no matter how much you want to keep it away from your child, it's like it doesn't matter.  It finds them.  And much like us grown-ups when we got our first taste of alcohol or something else that's not good for us in our childhood, it never REALLY goes away.  We just moderate differently than youths do.  Or deal with the consequences differently.  Who knows, maybe we're just as messed up.

February 2012 marked one of the most challenging months of my life.  My son, my beloved son, who at one time was such a conscientious, well-mannered child, turned into something of a terror, at least toward me.  I came to find out a number of things he was keeping secret from me, typical I guess of a teenager, but this most recent round of action and consequence played out like a horrible nightmare.  Not so much in the sense that what was wrong couldn't be fixed, but more in the sense that I had a rude awakening of just how different his generation is from mine (even though I am less than 20 years older).

To spare him the embarrassment of detailing you the specifics of his wrong-doings, I just want to share the sad reality that his actions has had on our family (much like the actions that your future teenagers will have on your families) .  My little nucleus of a family has always been me, my son and my daughter.  At times, the grandparents have played larger roles, lesser roles, and sometimes no role at all (like when we lived in another country).  But at the root of what has been the only family that I've ever had, and really the only one that matters to me, it's been me and my kids.  And that has positioned the relationship between my son and my daughter as siblings, to be a very important bond.  They are ride or die for each other.  And have obviously at times, teamed up to keep things from me, and even more importantly, covered for one another if either screwed up.

So, when I came to learn how much my daughter was impacted by some choices my son was making behind my back, not only did I feel my own pain as a mother, but I felt it for her, as she lost faith in the brother she loves and looked up to.  It is quite a juggling act tending to the parental duties of a rebellious teenager, where no matter what you do, you are being met with a fight, an armour of inexplicable self-righteousness, and a breach of trust. On the other side, the desire to be supportive toward the other child, not letting them think that the situation is going to rob them of your individual attention and that even though they may want to see their brother or sister punished, they still hate to see them sad.  I beat myself up wondering what (if anything) I could have done differently to prevent my son from going down a path that he would regret, but as the days turned into weeks, I started to realize that at 16, he is very much making choices on his own regardless of what examples I have set, good, bad, or otherwise. 

There is NOTHING more humbling than seeing the sh*t you put your parents through (whether it takes on the same form or not) come full circle and land in your lap.  This saga continues, but know that when it is your turn to contend with the challenges of raising teens, like me, many tears will be shed, many sleepless nights will be had, and many grey hairs will abound.  (You have any idea how many of those suckers I've had to pluck out in the last 4 weeks??!!) 

Another reality check was my father's heart attack.  I don't speak of him often, although this blog is probably the place where I've shared the most.  We are estranged (not a secret), but upon hearing about his heart trouble, that moment we all dread when you contemplate whether you've said everything you want to say to someone before death takes one person out of the equation did indeed come over me.   If there was one thing I could say to my father before he died, it would be, "You hurt me Dad, you hurt me really badly.  But I hope that you see despite the pain you caused me, I went on to be a dynamic human being who only used your contempt as a propellant to be the kind of human being you could never be."  

The final nail in the coffin that was MY February (and please pardon the pun, I'm a writer and it's my job to use a little wordplay), was the very sad, and sudden death of my friend, a friend to the Toronto Entertainment Industry, Ricky "Skinny" Sonny-Singh, co-owner of Island Sounds.  Skinny, as we affectionately called him, was someone I met through a professional collaboration, but whom I became good friends with very quickly, and who in a very short period of time came to mean a great deal to me.  We'd worked a little together, we hung out together, we partied together (in fact, we celebrated our birthdays together the last couple of years, as his was just 2 days before mine).  So just 6 months ago, when he was diagnosed with cancer, it was inconceivable that in just a matter of weeks he would be hospitalized, and even more inconceivable that just 6 months later, in February, he would be gone. 

It was really devastating for me, and many other close, close friends of his, some who had known him their whole lives.  I had gone to visit him in the hospital 2 weeks to the day before he passed away, and he was standing up, and eating, and coherent, and knew that we were there.  Sure he not the same robust man we all knew, but we got it, he was recovering from a great ordeal, surgeries, and treatment, and it would take a little while to get back to normal.  I never saw it coming.  Or maybe I didn't want to.  

Skinny was just 38 years old.  And I am so incredibly grateful to have had him in my life for 3 of those. 

So, as this blog post title would suggest, FEBRUARY SUCKS!  Or at least this one did, but guess what - I lived to write about. 

Final Thoughts:

The world we live in is getting more and more judgmental by the minute.  Where we can pass opinion on others in the amount of time it takes to type 140 characters. But know that you NEVER really know what someone's truths are, unless you ask them.  Just be prepared to hear the truth.  If you can't handle the truth, then don't keep it as an expectation.  I'm pretty sure you'l not have any troubles finding someone that would be happy to lie to you.