Shattered
I was excited when I moved into my apartment here in Nowheresville and saw that it actually had a garbage disposal. True enough to form, though, as I'm cooking up some ribs at two in the morning and go to turn on the disposal, it makes that lovely grinding noise.
Not the grinding noise of old food being conveniently whisked away, but the grinding noise of a double-shot sized shotglass that you got seven years ago in Quebec being brutally mangled.
As I stand there fishing glass out of the drain, I have to acknowledge that my Canadian shotglass is in about the same state as my Canadian dream - useless, shattered, and going from gutter to trashcan.
I don't want to give up yet, but I'm starting to come to my senses and realize that what it will change is not exactly what I want it to change. I've long stopped being a political activist and thus the point of becoming part of a socialism is all but moot. As far as personal changes go, I'd practically convinced myself that they were impossible here. I know they aren't, but at the same time, there is a place for change as much as a time. I still feel that that place is far from here, in the Northland.
On the academic front, my attempts to continue reading daily as I had been when I didn't have the internet have failed miserably. Schoolwise, well...there's the toughy.
I've busted my hump to get everything ready for the police academy that starts on August first. I've done about 20 times more work than most people would have to for the simple fact that I have a record. I've been planning my future around this, and when I'm finally in, finally have both feet firmly in the door, I drown.
Sitting in the orientation, looking at the posters showing various parts of druggies' bodies, listening to the apathetic teacher, I realized it wasn't where I wanted to be. I felt absolutely no sense of desire, no sense of belonging, no passion...I got up fifteen minutes into the two hour long speech and left.
I didn't get far, as I went directly downstairs to the counsellor's office to ask them about their English education programs. Come to find out, I'm only about a semester away from having a degree. Of course there's a catch, though, and that is that with the school in this town, I'd have to go for a year due to credit requirements.
References in hand, I'll go to another college in the town I was trying to leave in the first place to see what can't be done. It may have taken me the past two years of being in total absence of pen and paper to realize it, but this love of mine that I so carelessly cast aside has found me yet.
If you love it set it free, they say. And now it has come back to set me free once again.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do about a place to live or money or food or any of that. But I'm happy enough to know that my first calling, my true calling, is the one which I will ultimately fulfil.
Not the grinding noise of old food being conveniently whisked away, but the grinding noise of a double-shot sized shotglass that you got seven years ago in Quebec being brutally mangled.
As I stand there fishing glass out of the drain, I have to acknowledge that my Canadian shotglass is in about the same state as my Canadian dream - useless, shattered, and going from gutter to trashcan.
I don't want to give up yet, but I'm starting to come to my senses and realize that what it will change is not exactly what I want it to change. I've long stopped being a political activist and thus the point of becoming part of a socialism is all but moot. As far as personal changes go, I'd practically convinced myself that they were impossible here. I know they aren't, but at the same time, there is a place for change as much as a time. I still feel that that place is far from here, in the Northland.
On the academic front, my attempts to continue reading daily as I had been when I didn't have the internet have failed miserably. Schoolwise, well...there's the toughy.
I've busted my hump to get everything ready for the police academy that starts on August first. I've done about 20 times more work than most people would have to for the simple fact that I have a record. I've been planning my future around this, and when I'm finally in, finally have both feet firmly in the door, I drown.
Sitting in the orientation, looking at the posters showing various parts of druggies' bodies, listening to the apathetic teacher, I realized it wasn't where I wanted to be. I felt absolutely no sense of desire, no sense of belonging, no passion...I got up fifteen minutes into the two hour long speech and left.
I didn't get far, as I went directly downstairs to the counsellor's office to ask them about their English education programs. Come to find out, I'm only about a semester away from having a degree. Of course there's a catch, though, and that is that with the school in this town, I'd have to go for a year due to credit requirements.
References in hand, I'll go to another college in the town I was trying to leave in the first place to see what can't be done. It may have taken me the past two years of being in total absence of pen and paper to realize it, but this love of mine that I so carelessly cast aside has found me yet.
If you love it set it free, they say. And now it has come back to set me free once again.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do about a place to live or money or food or any of that. But I'm happy enough to know that my first calling, my true calling, is the one which I will ultimately fulfil.
posted by red at 23:43
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