I Feel Like My Words Have Only Given Way To Brief Intentions But No Intent For Action

So house #1. The original one that I liked? The pending deal fell through and so it was back in the market on Thursday night. My boss and the real estate agent both texted me within minutes of each other, albeit both to say very different things. My boss A had been gone all week on a hunting trip so he was just doing a quick relay of information since his phone had been out of service most of the week while he was in the bush. By this point though, I already knew that the offer we had put in on house #2 was a no go and so I has asked the real estate agent to keep an eye on the original house #1… the one I ACTUALLY wanted lol. So since the condo docs on house #2 looked awful, and we pulled out of the deal (you know the one where my company was buying the place for me, and I would buy it from them once I sold my house here…) I just wanted to keep tabs on house #1, just in case.

As luck would have it, whatever deal that was pending on my fav house #1 went sour and so I got the text. Which I was ecstatic about. That is, until A started changing the plans.

While we were in Kelowna, he discussed with his dad and confirmed my raise. So no official problem there. I’m not going to complain about being under 30 years old and making $60,000+ a year. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I’m going to enjoy all that I’ve earned. What I’m not really impressed with though, is all this back and forth on A’s part. When I mentioned how house #1 was back on the market, and could we consider the same arrangement that we had with house #2, but with a house I actually really wanted this time, he basically, without outright saying it (which is even more annoying) said I’m on my own now.

Because of the increase to my salary, the company is basically like C you’re on  your own now. You’ll look slightly better on paper, and “hopefully” you’ll qualify for something more (I won’t) and good luck with it all. But nope, they are no longer willing to buy the property and sell it to me later down the road. Of course all this I had to extract from a very long drown out conversation that could’ve just been explained in… well, 30 seconds like I just did.

I wouldn’t be so frustrated if this wasn’t something that A had originally offered in the first place. It’s not like I went begging to him asking him to do this favor for me. This was something that he brought to the table, suggesting we do to try to make the transition as smooth as possible. But now he’s reneging on the offer. Instead he’s throwing out “suggestions” like I just go ahead and sell my place and move all my stuff out there in store pods, and rent a place for a while. Then when/if something comes up, move into it at that point, if I qualify at that time. A lot of maybe’s and variables in that sentence hey. Not how I like to do things.

I basically told him flat-out that no, for me, that’s not an option.

I don’t want to have to move my kids twice. If I’m moving them cross province, I want to move them straight into the home that they will be able to start settling into right away. Not a place where most of our stuff is in storage for who knows how long. Then try to get them comfortable with a new city, new school, new friends, and then in a few weeks, or months or who knows how long, have to move them again? If I can even find a place at that point? Not at all interested.

A was like well think about it, because it might be our only option. I”m like dude if that’s my “only option” then I’m not going. I’m not forcing this on my kids, or myself just to make it convenient for you. This company isn’t the end all be all for me. And if worst comes to worst then I just don’t go.

I know I’d have no issue finding another job if necessary. I’ve gotten every job I’ve ever interviewed for. But I know that won’t be an issue in this case. A wants J (my co-worker) and I working for him. Because between the 3 of us, we do the amount of work that used to take 4 people, so I know I save him a ton of money salary wise, with him not having to pay a fourth employee. J also doesn’t want to move to Kelowna if I don’t go, because she says I keep the office steady, organized, funny, and keep A a little more grounded. She’s a very smart woman, but has trouble standing up to A, whereas I’ll tell him when he’s wrong or even when he’s making a dumb move, and they both appreciate me for that, since I do it tastefully.

So I know in the end it will work out, but A just tends to be overly dramatic in his decision-making. One day he’s up and the next day he’s down, and just when you think you have him figured out, on the third day he’ll show up with a thought way out in left field. So like I told J, I’m going to stick to my own plan, and have my own ideas in my head of how this move should work out, and plod along at my own steady pace. A can continue with his sporadic ups/downs lefts/rights, and in the end, hopefully our paths meet up. Preferably in Kelowna lol

As far as my plan? I’m not looking at any houses now, and probably not until the new year. Once January comes, I’ll work on getting my financing in order (on my own, maybe with my parents co-signing, nothing with the company) then when I have that, I’ll start-up the house hunt again, along with listing my place. To me that seems like plenty of time to have things prepare for a June move.

I explained this to A, at least the whole part about thinking it was premature to be looking at more houses now, especially if I’m not planing on buying until the new year anyways, and he was all in agreement on that…. But then turns around THE NEXT DAY and sends me links to 3 different houses “for reference.” Like common buddy. Drop it already.

You’ve told me I’m on my own. You told me to handle it.

Let me handle it.


-We Came As Romans/I Can’t Make Your Decisions For You-

You’ve Got To Know When To Hold ‘Em Know When To Fold ‘Em Know When To Walk Away And Know When To Run

So the house deal fell through. Which for me, isn’t the worst thing. Once we got our hands on the Condo documents, we noticed that there was no reserve fund AT ALL. So instead of the board planning in advance for things that will eventually need to be replaced, and accruing the money for it through strata/condo fees, apparently if for example all the roofs in the complex needed to be replaced (like they did 2 years ago) they would in essence do a big cash call at that time. Making all the owners cough up an additional however much per month to “raise’ the money and then make the repairs. We talked to one owner who said in the last 4 years they’ve paid close to an additional $60,000.00 on extra fees to cover renovation expenses,on top of the monthly strata/condo fees.

No thanks. I’m not moving into a place that has no idea how to plan in advance. Plus who knows how much else could go wrong in the next however many years that I could potentially have to contribute towards. I’m not interested.

Which is fine with me. Because I didn’t have my heart set on this house in the first place. Would it have been doable? Of course. A few coats of paint and some updated lights and it would’ve been fine. But now that it’s out of the picture I feel no sense of loss. In fact I even emailed my real estate agent this morning after I heard the news to see how the original one that I DO love is doing. He says the offer is still pending and it looks strong so that sucks, but he said he would keep an eye on it for me.

I guess the age-old saying still stands.

It ain’t over til it’s over. But man I just want it to be over.


-Kenny Rogers/The Gambler-

I Wish Somebody Would Have Told Me That Some Day, These Will Be The Good Old Days

So I’m going to Kelowna this Thursday.

My boss paid for flights and handled our overnight accommodations, and it’s happening.

We all just decided that we needed to get a better sense of the city and maybe view a couple different houses, see the schools, and just get a better feel of the different neighbourhoods etc before we move further with this. Although at this point it’s pretty much green lights all around.

Like guys. I’m moving to Kelowna. For real. Soon. By this time next year I’ll most likely be in a custom-built home. That I’ve designed from scratch. Every tap and door handle. Each tile and window will have been chosen by me. For me.

And I don’t know how I feel. My boss finally let himself get excited today when we finally made the decision that this was happening. That it was going to work for everyone and be a good move, the right move all around. You could totally tell he was happy, well my coworker, J, too for that matter. But A verbalized it a few times, point-blank saying, I’m getting excited now. And it’s not that I’m not excited. It’s just that I don’t normally show it. I legitimately have googled, on more than one occasion, and read multiple studies on the traits of psychopaths, just to make sure I’m not one, just because of how emotionless I am sometimes. Don’t worry. I’m not a psychopath… I’m pretty sure 🙂 But I definitely wasn’t as excited about the move as either one of them.

Do I want to move? Yes.

Would I be okay to stay? Yes.

Am I happy about moving? Yes.

Is it stressing me out? Yes.

Do I think it would be good to move? Yes.

Do I think it would be easier to stay? Yes.

Soooo, you can see my newest issue.


-Macklemore Ft. Kesha/Good Old Days-

 

She Needs Wide Open Spaces Room To Make Her Big Mistakes She Needs New Faces She Knows The High Stakes

I know it’s been a week+ since I posted. I’ve been going back and working on editing my previous posts like I mentioned before.

But I had to write about today because again, I’ve been seriously asked by an employer if I would consider moving to Kelowna.

The first time was when I was 20, and I was working as a Nanny for this wonderful family. At this point I’d been their Nanny for around two years. They were good bosses and we got along well. Because of a new direction in the dads job, they were planning on moving to Kelowna. The mom would often show me houses they were looking at, and when they finally decided on a beautiful house, she explained in great detail all the fantastic stuff it came with. Starting with it being in a gated community, steps away from the lake… and it had a pool house in the back. And then she paused. I’m there waiting for more… like yeah ok?? Then she explained how they had taken into consideration me possibly moving with them when they were buying the house and if I were to come I would have my own little house in the back. So would I like to move to a new province with them?

Wow. I know I’m a good employee, but I did not see this coming. Up until that point, since I was working two jobs, I had just figured I would pick up more shifts at the restaurant for now until I figured out my next move. I asked her if I could have some time to think about it, and she said for sure and that was that.

I went home and thought about my life here and how at the time I was dating E, and I actually 100% truth, used him as my reason to stay. Well that and deep down I felt that if I moved with them now, I would feel obligated to be their Nanny forever. And I did not want to be a 40 year old Nanny. So after a couple days I told my boss that I was truly grateful for the offer, but I didn’t feel like I was ready to leave my life here, and that E and I were getting really serious so I didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Fast forward to today, and my current boss A asks me to step outside and brings up the possibility of us relocating to Kelowna if we are all on board with the idea. Like I said before, I work in a small office, where there are currently just the 3 of us actually in the office. We recruit people from all over Canada to work in remote areas up north, and most of the work is done over the phone/email. We don’t really have the guys we hire in office for anything so we can pretty much be based out of whatever city we want. And weather wise, Kelowna would be MUCH better than where I currently am, as well as so many other positives.

As far as attachments to my current city… I don’t have many. I’m easy going and as you know I’ve moved country’s before so a relocation to another province seems like a drop in the bucket to me. I mean at least we’d still be in Canada.

I mentioned it to my parents, and my mom felt like it would be good, although she told me she cried after the phone call, which I totally get. It was hard on them when I upped and moved to Africa with their grandkids. My dad straight up told me that he didn’t like it and I shouldn’t do it. Unless I was 30 years invested into the job and my pension was hinged on it, I should just get another job here in the city.

But the thing is, I really have no attachment to where I live. I hate the winters. I don’t like the big city feel. Among so many other factors.

So to be given the opportunity to move to a warmer, smaller town, where I have family already, AND have a job there? Why wouldn’t I jump at that?

Plus at this point having been asked by 3 different people (two bosses and also when K asked if I would consider living there) to move to the same city, kinda seems like maybe I should start listening to the hints the world is trying to send my way.

So for now, it’s just an idea that’s floating around the office, but maybe this is the big move number 3 that the psychic/palm reader was talking about lol.


-Dixie Chicks/Wide Open Spaces-

Am I Dead? Or Is This One Of Those Dreams? Those Horrible Dreams That Seem Like They Last Forever?

So as promised, well not even promised but told to E yesterday, the kids and I called him last night to video chat. During which he proceeded to inform me that his Dad’s burial is on the same day as my Grandma’s. 365 days in a year, and yep, it’ll be the same day, Aug 26th for both of them. So I asked if he was actually going to attend which will require him travelling back to Kenya. To which he replied with “well that’s a tricky question” Yeah. Same phrase he used when I asked him why we should stay together lol.

Anyways I could tell already what was coming but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. So I just let him continue talking… but he didn’t, he just let the statement hang.  So I said E, if you need something, you have to use your words and ask for it. You can’t assume I just know what you’re talking about. Exact phrase I say to my kids. Use your words. You can’t assume people know what you’re trying to get across unless you expressly say it. WITH WORDS. So he did…Kinda. He explained that yes, he has the money, but he doesn’t have a credit card to pay for the flight so can he send me the money and I purchase his flight for him.

I truly and honestly don’t want to be a part of this, but I won’t be a bitch and deny the man the chance to attend his fathers funeral. I explained that he would have to do all the research and find the flights himself, to which he responded ‘How?’  OMG. I told him to Google it. I even explained to him exactly what to type into Google so I wasn’t leaving him completely high and dry. I want him to put a little effort into this on his own and try to become a little more independent, albeit I’m sure that’s just pure fantasy on my part at this point. I also told him I’m not paying for anything until he fronts me the money FIRST. Cold hard cash upfront or it’s a no go. He made a comment about how I was being ‘harsh’ and I could only think that beggars can’t be choosers but instead replied that last time I paid for him to fly home from Kenya in the midst of our divorce, and he said he would “pay me back” I never saw a dime. His response? ‘Wow’.  Damn right wow. $1,700.00 worth of wow. So front me the money or you can watch the burial from a grainy Facebook live video or by some other means.

I know in the end because of his lack of ability, that by agreeing to do this, I’ll most likely end up having to do the research to find the flights for him. If I don’t, E will just go with whatever pops up first on Google which will be a crazy expensive flight with a million stopovers. But that’s his issue/choice.

OH and then he didn’t know if he could get a few days off work for this. Now I know E. I know that since he’s started this job, he’s never asked for time off and they always make him take all his days near Christmas because he’s never used a single day off the whole year. I told him to just ASK. USE HIS WORDS!!! Explain to his Boss/Supervisor that his Dad had passed away and he would like to extend his 10 days off to perhaps 14 or even 20 to make the trip worth it. He normally works 20 days on and gets 10 days off, but this rotation, he would need to be back at work on the 27th, the day after the burial, making flights from Kenya to Canada… Well pretty much impossible. So again, I had to tell him, if he wants something, he needs to just ask. And that there’s a 99% chance they will give him the time off. Especially with his vacation track record.

So we’ll see if E can pull this off. I was a little relieved to see him talking on the phone yesterday. To be honest I was concerned about how he was going to handle this whole situation, but yesterday he seemed no worse off than normal (yeah this behavior is his new normal). I am worried that once he gets to Kakamega and visits with his family it might disturb things a little. Plus I’m not sure when he plans on going for his monthly injection for his medication if he’s out of the country, something I’ll ask him next time we talk, but it is what it is.

I’m not sure if this whole trip will be for better or worse. But for now I’ll just take things one day at a time.


-Kesha/Praying-

Cause In The Night I Hear Him Talk The Coldest Story Ever Told Somewhere Far Along This Road He Lost His Soul

I received a message from E letting me know that his dad had passed away last night, as well as one from my brother-in-law (because according to the law we are still married (so in laws it is).

I can honestly say… I didn’t really care. This man for all intents and purposes tried to kill me once (check it out here: Tell the World I’m Coming… Home ) in one of my most stressful days ever.  So to say I feel a great loss would be a huge lie. I did message E to express my condolences and to make sure he was doing OK, because I’m a (half)decent human being.

E replied that yes, he was doing ok, but now as the day has evolved I’ve realized that he is far from that. He’s so far called me EIGHT times at work. Today. Already. It’s not even 2 o’clock. I made the mistake of asking if he was going to fly back to Kenya for the funeral or if there was going to be one, and now he got the idea in his head that the kids should go with him.

Uhhhh, that’s gonna be a hard no. I officially have sole custody of both the kids and there is no way in Hell (Heaven or Earth or anywhere else you can think of) that my kids are going to with E back to Kenya. ESPECIALLY at this age. EXTRA ESPECIALLY (I know that’s very grammatically incorrect but work with me) without our divorce finalized. SUPERDUPERLY ESPECIALLY without me.

So now he’s calling me constantly asking again and again “just in case” I changed my mind. But more so because I don’t think he knows how else to handle his emotions right now. Since I’ve known E, he’s never lost anyone close to him, and now his dad has died. I understand it must be beyond difficult. I get that. But unfortunately, past behaviours have dictated that the kids are not safe to travel with him. So it is what it is. I told him that the kids and I would call him tonight to talk and maybe that would help ground him, but I made it clear that they would not be going back with him. If he wants to press it further he will have to contact his lawyer, but there’s not much else he can do, and calling me every 15 minutes won’t help. Even in the case that he does try to call his lawyer, I’m quite confident that nothing will happen, and they kids will be staying with me.

Part of me wonders how this will affect his mental stability. Can he make it through this without having another break down and ending up in the hospital for months again? Are his medications strong enough to keep the voices/paranoia away during this stressful time? Are the kids safe to spend their 2-3 hours with him when he comes back to town again? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, and there’s nothing to worry about, but as a mother, you always want to protect your kids first. And for myself, I’ve seen danger with E too many times to not see this as a massive source of stress for E that might act as a huge potential trigger for relapse.

All I can do now is stand firm in my position that the kids are staying with me, and be decent to E, so I don’t cause any more stress to him then already present.


-Kanye West/Heartless-

 

Do You Like The Taste, Stuff It In Your Face, It’s Not Nice To Waste.

Tuna Casserole is THEEE most disgusting meal known to mankind. I’ve eaten a lot of “different” foods in my life, but still to this day I have a huge hatred towards tuna casserole… or what was passed off as casserole while I was living in Namibia.

Since the orphanage operated off donations and volunteers, funds were tight and meals were far from glamorous to say the least. The meal schedule was repeated on a weekly basis and every Wednesday for lunch was supposed to be tuna casserole, but what was served in those well used metal bowls was so far from anything recognizable its pathetic. The volunteer who was “cooking” while I was there (bless her heart) sucked at her job. She was a wonderful girl from the Netherlands and honestly tried her best, but the slop she produced on Wednesday at lunch led me to a weekly fast. Like for real, how is it possible to destroy something so hard it was no longer recognizable? The noodles were way overcooked and mashed to a pulp, and I didn’t know that much salt existed in the world. Also, who in the world puts a whole jar of MUSTARD in tuna casserole? Like for real? Needless to say, I have avoided anything that might remotely resemble tuna casserole since.

While there, I also ate Boa Constrictor for the first time. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t the first time, it was the only time. My good Aussie friend F, took me out to a fancy meal in downtown Windhoek one of my last nights there, and we did it up Namibian style. Ordered all the best local cuisine, which of course consisted of Boa. Delicious. OK you know how people relate most new foods to chicken? Legit. Boa tastes like chicken, but even better if possible. Think pure tender meat, no fat, mouth-watering amazingness. Like chicken on steroids….Or chicken unaffected by steroids, your choice.

Not delicious though? Chicken in Kenya. Now hear me out, sometimes it was pretty standard, everyday chicken right. But, sometimes, I was invited into someone’s house for tea or a visit, and they would insist I stay to eat. Then, unbeknownst to me, they would slaughter a hen fresh from the yard, and cook it on the spot for me. This was to show how much they appreciated me being a visitor in their home, and how much they respect me. OK, I totally value that, and I’m 100% thankful for their act of appreciation. What I wasn’t so thankful for? The fact that when they cook the chicken, they normally boil it complete with head/feet as well, then when they serve it up, they would insist that I get those two pieces. Wow, thanks? Here I am just wanting a good ol fashioned chicken breast please. Give me the dry chewy chicken with ugali and sukuma wiki and I’ll be fine. But nope, they want to serve me “most desirable” head and feet. And I don’t even know where to start. Seriously? Is there even actual edible meat on the feet? And don’t get me started on the head. There’s two damn eyes and a beak on that thing! Nope. I couldn’t do it. No matter how many times I was served that “fresh chicken” I couldn’t bring myself to put those portions in my mouth. I would end up slipping it to a kid standing nearby, waiting with bated breath. They were always so excited to get the coveted item they would quickly sneak it outside and I knew they wouldn’t rat me out, since they got to enjoy it. So at least it was off my plate, I didn’t have to eat it, yet someone enjoyed it, I figured it was a win win situation right?

Another disgusting Kenyan cuisine? Goat. I just gagged a little in my mouth. Every time goat was served I just wanted a simple plain old piece of bread instead. But NOOOOO. I was apparently super lucky to be having goat, and I should savour every bite. My first time trying it was Christmas 2010. E, little E and I took the 12 hour bus ride on the literal worst roads in history of roads and arrived at my in-laws to celebrate the holiday. It was also my first time meeting many of my in-laws so that was stressful in and of itself, but focusing on the food… E’s family and friends came from all over the country to celebrate with us since many wanted to meet myself and little E. It was decided they would slaughter the goat the morning of the 25th. The WHOLE day, it smelled like goat you couldn’t escape it. First, they roasted some of it. Fine. Then they boiled most of the rest. For hours upon hours, until it didn’t even resemble food any more. Lets just say Kenyans are not really known for their amazing cooking. Like when was the last time you heard anyone say let’s go check out that amazing Kenyan restaurant, I heard its great? Never. Because they don’t exist. But their coffee/tea? Off the charts!

Another thing I tried there was locusts. They were ok I guess. It was mainly about me getting over my fear of sticking a living breathing bug in my mouth and chewing it up, but I did! Yeah me! The kids convinced me they were so delicious, and it was hard not to believe them, since they were running around like crazy trying to catch as many as they could to shove them in their mouths. So I joined in the fun. I caught one of my own and shoved it in live and wiggling, amidst the squeals of delight from all the children. It was so bizarre, how it fluttered around inside my mouth a couple of times before I had the courage to bite down and swallow quickly.

But, at least now I can say I did it. Can say? Is that an achievement? Oh well, I did it. And it tasted a million times better than tuna casserole.


-Alice Cooper/Eat Some More-

I Just Started To See The Light Of Day, I Just Started Hating Some People Today

I met my “Dad” again at around 15 years old.  It had been like 10 years since he gave up his visitation rights to R and I, and stopped showing up every so often to drive us down to his house in the next city for the weekend. He also stopped paying child support for the two of us after my mom got remarried. Apparently him also getting remarried and having two other kids meant for some reason he didn’t have to pay any more. Lame, I know. But in any case, after reconnecting with my sister K, my fathers side of the family also reached out and wanted to build a relationship with R and I. I didn’t have strong feelings either way, and I was willing to give them a chance. My Aunt (my Dad’s sister) was the first to reach out. First by adding me on Facebook, and then emails every once in a while, until finally we started chatting (very rarely) on the phone. As the relationship grew (ever so slightly), and I got to know more about a family I knew existed, but didn’t know anything about. I began to feel more comfortable with the idea of spending more time with them, so my mom and I made a trip out to BC (again, while I’m stuck living in crappy Alberta) to meet more of my long-lost family.

When I initially saw my Aunty A, I’ll be real for the first time, I honestly felt like I belonged in a family. Both R and N are much shorter and smaller in general than myself. At 5’9, I’m also at least a solid 2-3 inches taller than my mom/sisters and I’m the only one in my family with curly hair. I mean not just a little wave if I don’t straighten it in the morning, I mean full-out curl, while everyone else, yep you guessed it, straight. Well maybe a slight wave. But also personality wise, my family is way out there, and while I’m not necessarily a stick in the mud, I do think everything through and weigh all my options instead of running around like a bull in a china shop like they tend to do. I’d rather make the calculated decision instead of fly by the seat of my pants… but that’s just me. When I saw my Aunty A at the airport in Victoria, it was like a lightbulb went off. I felt like this is where I came from. This is where my roots belonged. I felt like I was no longer a misfit, but I had connections and to be honest, I felt for the first time like I was the right “fit” for the family. I was no longer the black sheep as far as looks go. It was like hugging myself in a mirror. Sitting with them in their living room was so peaceful, compared to my home growing up where life was so chaotic, with constant yelling and arguments. Yeah the decor was outdated but the pace of life was just so me. I felt like I had missed out on a huge opportunity in life. Growing up how I did, was stressful but, sitting in my newly discovered grandparents house with my new Aunt, I felt calm, and like I belonged.

My mom and I spent a few days in Victoria touring around and enjoying the sights. My Grandparents house literally shared a backyard fence with the Craigdarroch Castle, which we of course toured, but I also had the amazing view of it every night before bed. Once we had done all the touristy things, like visit the harbour and take horse-drawn carriage rides through the parks, we finished up our visit with grand promises to keep in touch.

Which we did, some what (again, this is not my strong point at all). I went back one summer for a week alone and my Aunt arranged a few day camp type things to keep me busy. Kayaking in the bay (SO MUCH FUN!) and rock climbing (eh) among other things. The trip was a success, and I had a chance to learn a lot more about my heritage and how that side of my family also thinks my biological dad is a douche, so that was a bonding moment lol. But the moment when I actually got to meet him, came soon after, when my Grandpa passed away and I made the conscious decision to go to his funeral, knowing my ‘Dad” would be there.

My Grandpa and I shared a special bond and even though I had really just been getting to know him, we had instantly connected. He was a very kind, thoughtful smart man. When you looked at him you could see wisdom in his eyes. He had been through so much in his life, but had not let it get him down. He is 100% Japanese, making me 1/4, and his calm demeanour is something I aspire to. Nothing rattled him, and that’s how I try to live.

Anyways, when he passed, I wanted to be there for the funeral, so my parents agreed to send me to Victoria on my own (R wasn’t interested in getting involved, and my mom didn’t want to “intrude” on this family gathering). It was a little overwhelming at first, meeting a bunch of Great Aunt’s and Uncle’s for the first time…No cousins though… since my dads kids didn’t feel the need to attend the funeral of the granddad they’d known their whole life. Whatever. But I went, and I’m glad I did because I met my Great Aunt Yayeko whom I was named after (middle name) and everyone got to see me after so many years.

But when it finally came down to “meeting” my dad… that was so pathetic. He avoided me the whole afternoon, until the memorial was winding down and I knew my time was running out so I made an effort to go and talk to him.

Our entire conversation lasted less than 20 minutes and was pretty boring. He spent most of the time talking about his other wife and two kids. Turns out I have ANOTHER younger sister and a brother. And the worst part? My sisters name is sooooo damn close to mine it’s like common. All the names in the world and you had to name her something that the substitute teacher would call me because it’s so similar? Annoying. But the worst part… at the end of our “bonding” he suggested that we stay in touch. Sure I thought at first, that would be nice. Until he pulled out his business card and handed it to me and said “My numbers on here”… Umm pardon me? You’re a grown man, and you can’t even be bothered to ask me for my info? You don’t care enough to want to know how to get in touch with your daughter? Your going to leave the future of our relationship in my teenage hands? Fine. Do that. But I’m gonna throw it in the trash, because apparently that’s how much you value it.
Needless to say, I was so pissed off. And that business card is in some garbage can where it belongs. Along with all my feelings for my sperm donor.


-Beck/I Just Started Hating Some People Today-

There’s Such a Difference Between us, and a Million Miles 

This morning I remembered about a time I was “in love” before W. Do I think you can love more than one person in your life? Yes, we are human and feel emotions for people. But, what I felt for J should probably be classified more as an infatuation or a fling, and because I was so young, I didn’t know any better so I definitely thought I was in love. Although I definitely doodled my name with his last name for a solid month… ah young “love”

After I graduated high school, I decided it was time to get away from life here and start exploring the world. Travel is a big deal to me. Expanding my mind and discovering other cultures and just having new experiences was important. I never wanted to be someone who stayed in the province I grew up in, never giving myself a chance to learn about the world. I had chosen that I would not be an ignorant person. So straight after I bought my car I started saving up for my “trip”.

I had decided I was going to go, by myself, to Africa for three months. I found an organization who needed support and would host me, and after saving another 6-7 grand (flights/shopping/safari/souvenirs) I set off to Namibia in January of 2006 to volunteer in an AIDS orphanage.

It changed my life. It was my first glimpse of poverty and people in real need. This was the true definition of Ghetto. We commuted into the small community of Katatura in the capital of Windhoek daily and it was terrible and beautiful at the same time. But the children…. the children were captivating. They loved life despite what they were going through, yes they didn’t know any different, but they found joy in the day-to-day regardless. My first tattoo was a line from a poem I wrote when I got home to commemorate my time there and the children I fell in love with. It’s written in Afrikaans and translated says “who my love dares”… and to me it means if you love something or someone you should do whatever it takes to boldly show it.

Anyways, J was one of the long term workers at the organization that hosted me. He had grown up in the community and had overcome all that life had thrown at him, only to return and help those in similar situations. Hot right? Right.

We didn’t really connect until a month into my trip, but then it was like a whirlwind. He was writing me love notes and throwing rocks at my window late at night so we could talk. Then sometimes at night we would sneak out to the field and spend hours talking  under the stars. It was actually really romantic thinking back. He was older then me and very convincing, and even though I wasn’t technically on vacation, I wasn’t at home in my regular environment either, so I figured I should let loose and went with it.

By the time April rolled around, J had convinced me that we were meant to be together, and that he would find a way to join me in Canada. My innocent 18 year old self totally hung on to each word he said. This man wrote me poems and songs for me which he serenaded me with on the front porch while strumming a guitar (dreamy hey) How could I possibly think any else?

Well, after I returned home, the emails and even a few international phone calls went back and forth for probably 6-8 months… pretty good for a long distance “relationship” at 18. But then…. things just petered out I guess? I’m not even sure what happened to be honest. Over 10 years has past and well… J never made it here. I never went back, although I never said I would. But we both moved on with our lives. At least I did, I never found out what happened to J. And I’m realizing that although I’m sure I was heartbroken at the time, possibly even cried once or twice, it’s basically been inconsequential in the long-term of my life.

I barely even remember that it happened let alone how it ended.

And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be at a point in my life one day where I look back and see E that way. Where I barely remember that he happened. And hopefully I’ll also forget how it ended.


-Adele/Hello-

I’ll Choose To Survive, Whatever It Takes 

Yesterday I took my kids to the zoo, where I got my first mosquito bite of the year. I’m sure no one’s a fan of mosquitoes, but I have a particular hatred towards them. When I lived in Kenya they took an extreme liking to me. I could stand in a group  of people, didn’t matter how many, and the stupid insects would choose me to bite, and ultimately infect me with Malaria. I’ve officially been diagnosed with the deadly disease on 5 different occasions, and I can tell you first hand, it is not fun, but one time in particular was much worse than the rest.

It was the first time we had moved to Kenya, and we were living in Nakuru when I began to feel ill. I’d never had Malaria before so I wasn’t sure what the symptoms were or what to do about it. Yes, I had all my immunization before I traveled, but there are many different strains of the virus and the shots cannot protect from them all. Sorry to burst your bubble.

Anyways, I became weak. So weak, because I couldn’t keep anything down (or in or up or however you want to put it). I lived in the bathroom with a bucket because for the first 4-5 days it was coming out everywhere, all the time. I tried my best to stay hydrated, knowing how important that was, for myself and because I was nursing little E, but it got to the point that I couldn’t even keep water down. I tried drinking pineapple Fanta (in place of ginger ale) one tiny capful at a time to settle my stomach every six hours or so, and I couldn’t even keep half a grape down. I easily lost 15-20 pounds over the course of the maybe 10 days total that I was sick.

Finally, about a week into me lying in bed/sitting on the toilet, E suggested we go for a walk, and that all I needed was some “fresh air”. What I didn’t know at the time was that we were out of groceries and he wanted me to help him do the shopping. And, in his romantic fashion, he offered to carry little E, ohhh thanks 😒. So after about a week of being literally the sickest I’ve ever been, I got dressed (barely) and started out on what was normally a 45 minute walk to the Tusky’s Supermarket. Well this time… it took almost 2 hours. I had to stop every 5 steps or so to prevent myself from passing out or throwing up (throwing up what, I don’t know since I hadn’t eaten in days, but my stomach was churning). When we finally got to the store I made E go inside and do the shopping alone, because I didn’t want to throw up inside.

Then, because I was so exhausted, I insisted E find us a tuktuk to drive us home because there was no way I would make it back without dropping dead plus E had also expected me to carry half the groceries?!?! Seriously? Nope I wasn’t moving. I literally sat down in the middle of the parking lot until he found a tuktuk to take us home. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, and for me that was staging a “sit in’ in the parking lot.

Once home, it took me two days to “recover” from the walk before I finally told E I needed a Doctor. I realized this wasn’t just your standard Kenyan food poisoning and it wasn’t getting better on its own. So instead of calling a piki piki for me to ride on to the hospital, E suggested we start walking and we would just hail one on the way. Again, I’m past sick. Past exhausted, or the point of arguing. I’m just wanting to get better. So, I struggled to get dressed, puke up nothing a couple more times, and we start off on the very slow walk to the clinic.

Of course, with my luck, not one piki piki drives past us the entire time. And E just watches me struggle for an hour trying to get to the clinic instead of call any of the drivers he knows. But finally, we arrive.

The nurse or doctor or whomever takes my blood to go figure out what’s wrong and as I’m waiting I have to go. Like GO. NOW! So I rush across the hall to the “bathroom” which is a literal hole in the floor. Ok, fine. Since living in Kenya I’ve gotten used to the whole squatting thing, but as I frantically look around I noticed there’s no toilet paper. That’s where I draw the line. I’ll squat fine. But I have to wipe! Especially in a “hospital”? How unsanitary! So I run back to the Dr’s office where I remember seeing some Kleenex on the counter and the tech is in there so I quickly ask if I can use the tissue and grab it without even waiting for a response. I RUN back to the “toilet” and barely make it in time.

Then, I have to casually walk back to the office and discreetly place the tissue box back on the counter like no one knew what was happening, while totally worn out by the sheer effort of the running. Meanwhile the tech is politely pretending he didn’t notice anything, how kind right?

About half hour later, my blood work had been analyzed and the results were in.

Turns out, I had BOTH Malaria AND Typhoid! WTF! Not one but TWO deadly diseases at the same time! No wonder a walk for some fresh air didn’t do anything lol. I was actually dying. Literally DYING!

Anyways, the Doctor said he’d never seen anything like it before (story of my life) and gave me a whole bunch of different medications for the various diseases and dehydration. Then sent me on my way. I refused to leave (again) until E called me a ride, for which he obliged right away. Saying things like “Oh C, you’re so strong” and “Wow, you actually were sick”. He’s lucky I was sick and tired, because I just didn’t have the energy to tell him how I felt.

Needless to say, I’ve obviously recovered, just don’t ask me to donate blood 😏.


-Muse/Survival-