Help Writing A New Baby Card

The Twilight Zone

What happened the last three months, here and elsewhere?

I have the impression of having been caught by a powerful vortex metro-boulot-dodo which also tangled stress, conflict resolution, personal search for self and / or housing, and tutti quanti. Like a Rambo of the storm, I was brought missing in action. Which leaves me a strange feeling to have deserted the country in recent times, of being aware of anything. Total nothingness.

I usually so eager for political news, nyet. I know nothing of what is happening now in high government circles. Stephen Harper could have said loud and clear his homosexuality and then marry a beautiful stallion conservative than I should have had little wind. Stephane Dion could have done a course in Leadership 101 with great distinction that I would not have known (and perhaps not vintage). And Pauline Marois, she gets hit a coin with his image of Empress modestly dignified and proud? Jean Charest may be recycled into a Buddhist monk and is preparing to climb a snowy mountain in the East, by donkey or silver-tailed lemur hairy pheasant (You never know, TODAY 'Today, with scientific progress and genetic manipulation "I mean the lemur, not by Jean Charest. ...). Although Who knows, Mario Dumont was possibly converted to Islam while Amir Khadir Françoise David and his classmate had meanwhile opted for humor, duo course. Jean Chretien has suffered Quadrule bypass, despite his apparent fitness (Oops, you say? Is the sad reality?). And I know that Jack Layton has become a crooner on a cruise ship for retirees in search of thrills and Gilles Duceppe a hit in piper proudly wearing the skirt Scotland. As for Andre Boisclair, he would simply withdrew from political life (Ah, how? That is also indeed true?).

Niet. Nada. Niente. Nothing. I know damn nothing.

No more respect for the cultural scene. I'm terribly sorry culturally speaking. My last visit back to the exhibition the first weekend of June. This is also where I met baby for the first time .. But that is another story ... that does not concern you (not yet, at least!). ;-)

I can not even extract from my memory any recollection of a movie I'd watch on the big screen went during the summer. O cruel human misery. I who languished until that longed to see the new episode of the exciting life of Harry Potter ... Poof! summer has vanished and no trace of Harry Potter on my retina. I obviously could not tell you about the current exhibitions or what is currently in vogue in the artistic sphere. The total black hole. My escapes cultural these days, shamefully limited to the tips of lashes zieuter few minutes Banker, a * ahem * * ahem * transcendent game show that my lovely mom looks hard, but that does not move me. At least not before having ingested a massive dose of bad alcohol.

Also, my primary source of information is the Internet (or is it geek is not), and this source is reduced state of scarcity of the most catastrophic in these days ( World Vision, come rescue me), I felt like I was back on a raft in the middle of the ocean, sailing without knowing the the hour or day, lost, forgotten, half-conscious.

The homes prefabricated housing the concurrently so exciting to have little Double occupancy have been the target of a huge meteorite, killing them all instantly, and I do not know anything. Ah, false alarm. Damage. Such an event would have provided some juicy headlines in newspapers and magazines in search of gossip bottom floor (the third basement it goes without saying).

Bah, anyway, in a fit of madness almost lethal, caused by the profound cultural deprivation, I am eager to visit the cultural section of the website of Radio-Canada last week at work, listening only to my m'édictait courage to extend a few unfortunate second three minutes from my dinner. Made me much good. That day it was announced with great fanfare the arrival of the band Bon Jovi in Montreal in November.

Ohhhhh. JE. DO. OBTAIN. DES. TICKETS.

My sister and I absolutely want to repeat the experience in July 2006. So this Saturday at noon do not look for me. I will probably now implore the Admission Network site not crash while on the phone with (an) officer (s) may be a bit jaded (e) of that network.

This charming dose of insanity should convince you that I am better. Or that I'm under the influence of a delectable liquid garnet, depending.

Best Rc Crawler For The Money

No, I'm not referring to superbissime song written by the illustrious poet Jacques Prevert. Although ...

Autumn, my favorite season. I always enjoyed walk in the leaves, hear their squealing under my feet, piaffe in an amount of indecipherable fall foliage. Small, sometimes I even jump feet first into a huge pile colored, at the risk of collapsing hard on land and skin me knees.

Even today, this activity gives me an almost childish joy. Nothing better than to tread ground covered with colorful patches to chase the gloom. Yesterday as I walked towards the subway Angrignon, I decided to cross the park of the same name, just to immerse myself in a breath of fresh air and chase a shot of blues. I left the trail (But I'm out of the box?) To direct me to where the lawn was covered with leaves. Crac crac. After this short walk, I was almost Zen. Almost.

Last week, as I walked distractedly, looking out toward the ground littered with leaves lack any sap, a girl with the smiling faces crossed my path. She had taken the same approach nonchalant me, flicking an invisible sidewalk toes, listening carefully to the rustling of the leafy carpet that hid the city of cold asphalt. She looked up at me, puzzled. Me, the great, adults, who trampled loudly that mass dried, like her, the child of 8 or 9 years. Sometimes even great appreciate the undeniable charm of the simple pleasures!

Ah. And yours. I'm happy. Yves Montand, one of my favorite actors who sing my favorite poet.





lyrics are here.

Differences Between Shyness And Aspergers

Only leaves without being

At first I was apprehensive that cohabitation with my mother. On the one hand because at my eyes, blinded by the glow of perfection too perfect to be true, a large part of the house girl who can not, that should not come back by this burden of failure that bears this homecoming, the square, but also for fear of falling mode controlled freedom, overprotected, monitored, I afraid that daily life with that gave me birth.

In fact, he did not. Hosted

not without being questioned, but welcomed nonetheless. Do you know the full extent of your decision? Yes. Definitely yes. Irreparably. It's hard, it's heavy to carry, it is a challenging task, but I'll survive. It's my life. It's my choice. This is the path I needed to borrow. And who knows, this might be the slap in the face I needed.

Hosted, physical and family, if I may say so. Honey, padded, supported. I did not ask for much. I am no longer accustomed, I no longer feel able to be housed and fed, without giving anything in return. reason why this turn momentary to the place that saw me grow not drag on point.

Around me, you do not understand. It stares at me, I'm transfixed by the question mark that the answer lies elsewhere. Why do you not Enjoy it? You do not have to pay rent, make yourself a little cushion, think, think about you, what you want. You need not hurry. Rest a little home .

But I do not like this phrase, enjoy . I sense, it is a verb too pejorative to be used in such a context. I do not want to take advantage of this cotton wool forever, I stand on my own. Stop living off of a person, despite all the moral support, emotional, financial and material that gives me. Comfort eventually destroy me.

Stay a bit at home. What is it, my house?

I seem to live without real address for two months. Here is not with me ...

***

While there are good sides to cohabitation with a person who cares about my well-being.

Wednesday evening, I had to accompany cherished in buying a new mattress, but apparently my body decided otherwise. I came relatively early in the evening, with nausea very unpleasant and a persistent stomach ache. Malaise had uninterrupted possession of my body since the end of the afternoon. When I arrived, my mother thought I had green complexion, livid. In the literal sense as figuratively. She made me drink a little soda and made me take a Gravol. I went to bed early, rest easy. I knew she was not very far and if I felt bad again, I could knock on his door to seek solace.

Soon it will be different. I live alone for the first time in more than 27 years of existence.

Yet I am a loner. I've always been. I need silence, I being alone, I have this urgent need moments of solitude. Moments that keep me away from healthy human whirlwind in which I'm drowning sometimes. This is one that pushed me to leave alone for fifteen rewarding weeks when I did an internship on Belgian soil in 2005. To conquer a je ne sais quoi that I find in myself.

But this kind of solitude is more complete, more whole, I will have to tame a wild animal who is not accustomed to human contact. How will I live, this loneliness? I know independent and strong in my own way despite all my faults and my weaknesses. However, and I confess to a hint, this adventure plunges me into something new that scares me somewhat. I do not fear change, I fear failure, mistakes, mistakes.

I do not, however, a glimmer of failure ahead. I see difficult times in the distance, but good days too. Especially. The sun rises on a darkened night excessively by the uncertainties of a life suddenly futile. This life is now hoping to pick up, walk, go ahead.