Find Me a Culprit!

As an old Psych student, I’m a firm believer in the environment dictates our development theory.  Furthermore, as an adopted child, I’ve noticed that I’ve got a lot in common with my father (sarcastic sense of humour, blatant disrespect for most formalities, a knack for photography, a stubborn streak and fiery temper, among others).  And so…whatever in my childhood is to blame for my… weird messy albeit very entertaining life? 

Let’s start with childhood heroes.  Mine ranged from the Princess Astronaut to Alice in Wonderland, which might explain the somewhat bipolar-like persona I’ve so carefully crafted over the years. 

One of the first book I remember reading is Mary Poppins.  The best nanny of all of London is actually to blame for my first brush (but unfortunately not last) with death.  Soon after watching the movie, my mother found me on the edge of the balcony with an umbrella and before she could do anything, I jumped.  Of course, the fall wasn’t that high, but for an unnaturally small 7-year-old, it was quite the ordeal.  And now… while I do get the fascination for that iconic character, if I had been Mary Poppins, those kids would have been duct-taped in the closet faster than you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

But to be honest, and I don’t know what child psychiatrists will make of that, the one book I remember reading over and over and over again is probably Robin Hood.  I had (and still have) an unhealthy obsession with the outlawed crusader.  Of course I don’t rob the rich to give to the poor, but there is something in me that snaps whenever I’m witness to some blatant injustice.  While I might not be a efficient with a bow and arrows, to be fair, I’m pretty sure I wear the tights a lot better than he ever did.    

Another unhealthy obsession is Alice in Wonderland.  Alice is no good role models and I don’t think she strived to be.  I’m quite sure she would have been horrified to be seen as such, actually.  But nonetheless, she’s one of my childhood heroine, for the best, less and the rest.  I suppose it can account for my insatiable curiosity and weirdly spacy interrogation skills and my being unfazed in the face of insanity.  Oh and the infatuation with white rabbit and pocket watch.  Although I’m proud to say I’ve outgrown the blue-dress-white-apron-mary-jane look.   

As I grew up, it started to become a little more complex to find role models in the medias, which is completely normal, I hope.  I’m trying to distance myself of fictionally constructed characters to find my own mess of a character.  And as most of my childhood models are better fitted for children, it was time to let go of them.  But to replace them hasn’t really been an option, seeing as age-appropriate models aren’t that easy or obvious to find.  I went through the chick flicks phase, and while Cher Horowitz is an adorable ditz of a sweetheart, it’s a bit hard to conciliate my ever-the-feminist-crusader temper with damsel-in-distress persona so often displayed in movies.  No luck either in action movies.  Jean Grey is all for female empowerment but for those of us without mutants abilities, it’s not easy to channel her.  Not to mention all that control/Phoenix issue. 

I shall be a modern Emma, doomed by a lack of proper matchmaking skills and a bit too much vehement in my opinions, or a Marianne, destined to realize that to be right in the end, I had to be irresistibly wrong before, or even a Natasha, poor creature of fickle tastes but passionately resolute even in the worst of decisions.  I reckon it means I’ll ultimately get my every heart’s desires, but only after being terribly wickedly foolish and much sufferings.  Don’t quite know what the proper emotional response to that prospect.   

I’ll never be a Mother Theresa or a Marie Curie but I’ll always aspire to be a tiny bit like them.  Which is a very good thing.   

Isn't Life a Hoot?

There are many many things that make me want to rip my hair off.  

1. My mother being sick

2. Med school interviews coming up.

3. The Love Issue

4. Well three is enough at the moment, right? 

Well I now have the physical proof that this whole messy-love/med-school-admission/sick-mother situation is taking a toll on me.  I found my first grey hair.  And I’m pretty sure it’s stress-related because it started growing black and then suddenly turned grey.  How awesome is this?  I’m one heartbreak away from becoming Rogue.  And unlike her, I don’t have totally hot Wolverine to save me (or to drool over).   

         I’ve got to stop stressing.  Great.  Now I’m stressing about not stressing.  Isn’t it some sort of paradox?  And given my life-long quest for paradoxical irony, you can only imagine how thrilled I am. 

            Anyway…  I don’t want to seem like some sort of girly slip of a girl, so I went to the last hockey game before the playoffs.  We lost and I’m seriously thinking I’m some sort of bad luck charm.  Oh and here’s my only girly indulgence about the game: Evgeni Malkin is hot.  And the sweetest guy ever.  Too bad he’s like four feet taller than me.      

A Day at the Movie

This is for G, who issued the following challenge: an entire day without mentionning the words 'failed relationship', 'stupid git', 'boys suck' and 'mixed signals'. So here's a totally un-complicated report of an un-complicated day with un-complicated people.  (Ok I'm lying with the un-complicated people, but two out of three is still pretty good).  So here it is G, shame on you for doubting me. 

I went to the movies today.  Last time I went, it was an incontestably girly outing, both in the choice of movie (Confessions of a Shopaholic) and in the choice of my entourage (aka Mariame), but this time, it was all boy territory, on both parts: Watchmen and K.P.. 

 The initial awkward moment that inevitably occur when you haven’t seen someone for a while (although I’m known to be awkward no matter what so maybe I’m just making excuses) was quickly discarded as K.P. made yet another appropriate comment about me being...  how shall I put this? … vertically challenged, to which I promptly answered with a probably inappropriate and unthreatening physical threat.  Note to self: when on a moving staircase, don’t place yourself lower than the people you’re with.   

 K.P. also discovered something Caro knows very well (and my parents but they’ve known me for 20 years so…): I’m highly, very, extremely indecisive.  I’m pretty sure at one point he wanted to shake me like a banana tree (I know, my metaphors suck) and scream : MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND WOMAN!  So for further references, NO I don’t know where I want to sit (and I don’t really mind), and NO, I don’t know what I want to eat.  As long as it’s not healthy.       

 K.P. enjoyed the movie and even if he hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I was entertainment enough to cover the price of admission.  And I don’t mean entertaining in the traditional meaning i.e. witty comments and hilarious jokes, no, I mean sheer embarrassing antics.  I don’t know how you watch your movies, but I really, really, but really, get into it.  I jumped, I startled, I hissed and I, in an unfortunate childlike move, had to cover my eyes with my hands when it got too intense.  This is also why I shall never see a horror movie with a tierce person.  And I tried (tried being the key word here) to not show how sugar-addicted I am, but K.P. kept offering me candies.  It would have been rude to always say no and my mommy taught me to never be rude.  So really, if I think about it, K.P. and my mom are to blame.  Not me.  And I kept saying thank you every time he offered me one, which isn’t really necessary and kind of redundant I guess, seeing as I probably said thank you a gazillion times.  He laughed every time.                

 My biggest achievement is probably not choking to death when a stray gummy bear found its way into my oesophagus during one really awkward sex scene.  Sliding down in my seat, I ignored my first instinct which was to cough it out in an undeniably unladylike manner and I swallowed it whole, hurting my throat in the process but keeping my pride intact, and gulped down a four dollars bottle of water.

 I somehow suppressed the urge to reveal this unfortunate gummy-bear-attempt-on-my-life and along with it, my clumsy nature.  It will certainly be revealed soon enough.  Or if K.P. hasn’t figured it out in the three years we’ve known each other, he’s either not as smart as I thought or I somehow was able to fool a lot more people than I thought into thinking that I’m a normal, graceful person.  I like to think it’s the latter.

 I have to come back to the subject of that one awkward sex scene.  I don’t see myself as a sexpert (I’m sorry, I just had to use that horrible pun of a word) but here are four reasons it was so awkward (or maybe I’m just a prude):

Reason #1: They’re doing in on some sort of flying vehicle shaped like what seems to be a balloon-fish.

Reason #2: Aforementioned flying-balloon-fish-vehicle spits fire.

Reason #3 : Hallelujah is playing in the background.

Reason #4: She’s doing it with a loser.  A poetic loser, but a loser nonetheless.

 There was a bit of an argument when K.P. couldn’t find another word to describe me than ‘cute’ which prompted him to present me with a myriad of synonyms later in the evening, all of which were a bit suspicious.  Looks like Le nouveau dictionnaire de synonymes doesn’t hold all the answers.  But I think he settled on the word “mignon”.  And anyway, I don’t really mind K.P. using that term to describe me because there are worst things to be called than ‘cute’.  Like Magflumsyglucosaurus (right, Paul?) or some highly offensives words (coughmeanTimothycough).  Now I need to find a word to describe him.  Because Self-proclaimed-Nerboy-#1 is a bit long to use.         

 And I guess I should have let K.P. escort me back home because I seem to have a big WEIRDOS BAIT written all over me.  Maybe I’m a bit shy or downright prudish (as mentioned before), but I don’t think staring and stalking someone in the subway is proper social etiquette.  I’m sure it’s because I’m too unthreatening and weak-looking but there’s nothing I can do about it, short of biting everyone’s head off when they approach me.  And that’s not in my nature.  But the next one to follow me everywhere I go in the subway will find my wrath.  So beware crazy-weirdo-stalkers.  The warning is issued.                 

And So, Thank You

As every self-respecting human being, I blame everything and anything but the real culprit.  But tonight, I am at loss because I believe there is no one, nothing to blame but a matter of circumstances.  Or really, really, bad karma.  How else could I explain (beside my scholar upbringing in sciences) the fact that I find myself with more experience in drawing perfectly accurate heart diagrams than having healthy relationships?  When it comes to my love life, only one thing is sure: it’s certainly uncertain.     

But that’s all old news, and tonight we shall focus on something a little more up-to-date.  Love relationships are fun to brag/lament/torture yourself about, but there will be plenty of time for that later.  Right now friendship is what is on my mind.  I’m split between complete and utter elation and ill-placed guilt at the moment.  A dichotomy which only serves to emphasize the chaos my life has become lately.  Is it possible to be completely happy when your friends aren’t?  Since when has happy begun to mean selfish?

I can’t help but feel guilty because I got something I didn’t even really want while someone I care about didn’t, when he certainly wanted it more than I did.  I know it’s not as if I took it away from him but I find it hard to be happy about it.  The worse thing is, my friend is such a sweetheart about it, never ever trying to make me feel guilty or never resenting me.  No bitterness, only sheer, unwavering support.  Genuine support.  And I know this will make me sound like such a bitch, but here’s the awful truth: I kind of envy him.  I envy his ability to be such a great person.  He doesn’t even seem to be trying, he just is.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an awful person (at least I don’t think so but maybe I’m just delusional and people around me are all ‘what a bitch she is’) but there are times when my internal thoughts make me worry about my decency as a human being.  Maybe it’s the case for everybody and the only thing that separates us from awful jerks is whether or not we act on those terrible thoughts. 

Anyway, I guess I should fight my natural instincts and not overthink this issue.  Why do I always try to find something to torture myself over?  I mean, it’s completely natural to find me sputtering dramatic quotes that are spurred on by what is obviously sugar-induced insanity.  Really, I shouldn’t even bother to pretend to try to attempt to demonstrate normal behaviour.   I’ve got amazing friends and let’s leave it at that.  So, thank you. 

Thank you Caro, for being the maturity to my insanity.  For always being such a comforting force, and for never giving up on me, even though you’ve seen me at my worse.  Your friendship has been a safety haven for me and thanks for all the pre-anthropology donuts.  Your door is always open for me, both figuratively and literally, and I can’t believe you’re still my friend after everything you’ve seen and heard from me.  I hope you’ve realized the insanity will only get worse and… you know you can do better, right? :P  I’ll miss you.    

Thank you Mariame, for being willing to join me on my silliest quests and for listening to my every (stupid) worries and (many) love troubles.  Your insight on the most complicated stories has helped me deal with my chaotic life and the many faces you make are the most entertaining thing ever.  I love that we can talk about a lot of things, whether they’re deep, serious issues, or completely random and pointless stupidities.       

Thank you Manue, for being my friend, even after all those years: 19 years is a long time.  You’ve got such a big heart and I feel blessed to be your friend because I know you’ll always be there for me.  You’re always worrying about the people you care about and despite your heartbreaking losses, you’re still able to open your heart, which is something I really admire.  Love you, can’t wait to see you soon. 

 Thank you Nathie, for being the closest thing to a shrink I’ve ever had.  You’ve seen me at my worse, and you’ve seen me at my craziest.  You were there for my insane midnight speeches, for my “délires de française” and you’re the one person I’ve told all my darkest secrets.  I’m never afraid to tell you everything because you’re too kind to mock me, even though I deserve it most of the time.  I miss you and I’ve got one thing to tell you: MARACASSSSSSSSS. You know what that means.

 Thank you Paul for inspiring this post and for being… there.  I can always count on you to listen to my stupid problems and I’ve come to rely on you a great deal.  You’re braver than I could ever be and yet you never seem to judge me or all the stupid things I tell you.  You always know how to make me laugh and you don’t seem to mind the out-of-nowhere-things I tell you and if you had a dollar every time I say ‘I’m hungry’, you’d be rich by now.  You’re the P to our PSMM and so, thank you, dad.     

Thank you Shu, for being such a close friend.  I can tell you everything and you’ve never betrayed the secrets I’ve shared with you.  Especially that one secret I’d die if some people found out about.  I never have to censure myself with you and you’re probably the only person I let call me Maga.  You’re not always sweet with me, and you don’t always sugarcoat it and I mean it in the best of way.  You’re the S in our PSMM. 

Thank you Minh for being such a sweet person.  You always think of others before yourself and it’s something very rare nowadays.  I can’t believe how quickly we’ve bonded and that you’re such a sensitive soul.  I know you don’t always like to hear this, but you’re like this amazing big brother I never got to have.  You’re the M in our PSMM.   

Thank you Stefannie for being … simply amazing lol.  I don’t get to see you as often as I’d like, but every time I see you makes it all worthwhile.  You’re such a mature and strong presence in my life and yet you never make me feel bad about myself.  Whenever I feel bad/sad/upset/worried/happy/excited, I know I can call you and you’ll tell me what I need to hear.  That’s a priceless thing and so, thank you.  I guess you’re one reason my physics class with WILSON was worth it.  I don’t know if I told you, but I really admire your inner strength. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I really hope we'll stay friend for a very, very long time.    

Thank you Evelyne, for being THAT amazing.  You’re fun, funny, smart, an amazing musician, TALL, pretty AND you’re a great friend.  You’re too cool, I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much lol.  You’re my favorite person to take pictures of (what can I say, my camera loves you) and to buy shoes with.  You’re part of the Sisterhood of Easter Converse, after all, and my profile pics would suck without you :P    

Thank you Timo, for being a great friend, although you do call me bitch more often than you call me Mag.  I do the same, so I guess it’s no problem.  We’ll probably duel each other someday, for the amazing Kovalev, but you’re always willing to hear my problems and you’re there for me when I need to talk about sad things.  I would not have survived physics and maths without you, so thank you.  Kovy is mine, bitch.                                 

Thank you Giao, for being there for me when I need MCDOOOO.  You truly understand the importance of Mcflurry to a balanced and happy life and that’s reason enough to keep you in my life.  You’re also an amazing friend, always willing to help me and give me advices.  We’ve suffered from a Organic-chemistry-induced depression together, and we pulled though, thank God.  Thanks for being Monkey G and Golden Arch gathering soon. 

Thank you Stephanie, for being such a cutie pie.  You’re a bit intense, and that’s great.  You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to go for it.  I have to admit, I’m a big fan of yours: how can you be so smart?  Despite how serious you are about school, it’s nice to have a girly chat with you, where we talk about boys, what else?  I’m really happy I got to know you more this year, because you’re a really great friend. 

 Thank you K.P., for being… you I guess.  And for always answering my longer-than-long messages.  And for guessing the answer to my silly little riddles.  And for always calling me cute and making inappropriate comments about my height (or lack of it, whatever).  Ok, that one I could do without.  Thank you for wasting a bit of your time to reassure me on my possible psychological disorders or “troubles de somatisation”, whatever that is.  So… I’ve pretty much been stroking everyone’s ego and I don’t want you to feel left out so here it is: you’re funny, you’re super smart, you’re sweet and a bit crazy, which is always good and you’re a great friend. 

 Thank you Maxime-FRANÇOIS, for having such awesome blond hair.  And for living in ganster Outremont.  I guess I can overlook the fact that you use a NIKON (just kidding, I love Nikon) but seriously, you’re such a Canon snubber.  Maybe one day I’ll let you touch my Hasselblad.  Right after my father allows me to touch it myself lol.  Anyway, you’re a great friend, even though you’re a bit too tall for my tastes.       

  It’s pretty clear what my problem is: I’ve been spoilt for life.  My friends are too great, too amazing.  Life is a hassle, isn’t it?  

P.S. No your rank in that list does NOT reflect on your rank in my life and I've forgotten a lot of people, I know.  Sorry, love you all.