So, for the past few weeks I haven't bothered to come on here and blog. Shoot me if you're all really so pissed off about it, but since no one actually reads this, I didn't think anyone would actually give a flying fuck. I met a boy at GAB early in March, or I guess it was late February if I want to not be a liar about the whole thing. In case you're new here, GAB is the gay youth group I attend Friday nights with Aysia. He's... I guess he's a lot like me actually. He's smart and witty and in general he's quick with his mind, and better yet he likes curling and can talk politics with me without making it sound stupid and ridiculous. We spent a few nights together. Nothing serious of course; we did fireworks for the last day of the Olympics, and we see each other at GAB every week. He even drove me home one night after everyone else was gone...I don't think I'm going to forget that for a long time, the walk to his car, the drive home, the cuddling in my bed.
As usual though, this isn't meant to be, so you readers (whoever you may be, save for my commenters who reveal themselves) will have to deal with me once again bemoaning my fate, or what appears to be my fate at the current stretch of my life. At least this time, he knows and understands how I feel and hasn't pushed me away. We talked about it, because like me, he's mature enough to have that kind of conversation, so we talked about him, about me, about us, even about relationships and why he didn't think it would work out. And I accepted it. I didn't like his reasons, I even pushed back against the ones I felt weren't true, but I didn't do anything that I normally would; I actually tried to make this work in a mature way.
That was a few weeks ago. We both decided to just stay friends of course, and we're even actually doing just that, we still go to social events together and have fun in social settings together.
He's now trying, with much success, to get back together with his old ex boyfriend. I stood by him when he didn't think it would work out and I told him that he would get the boy back. Now that its happened, I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel. I honestly do want to feel happy for him, because he does deserve to be happy. I just...is it selfish to wish that he'd fail at love so that he'd finally notice me and the fact that I do like him, even with his supposed failings? I hate it. He tells me everything about what they're doing, and right this minute he's getting ready to ditch me to be with this guy. Its a last minute thing, he says to me. I want to understand, I even *should* understand, considering my own past and my ability to drop everything at the beck and call of a boy I like. I want that boy to be me. I think, deep down, I know it won't ever be, and I can't stand it because I have to see him all the time and wonder why not me, and he makes us spend time together and does the stupid little things to make me want to be with him. I just want him to see me the way I see him, is that really so bad, considering that ever since we met, I've done everything I can to make things right for him...?
Friday, April 2, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
philosophizing on love
So I've been thinking. And my thinking has lead me to a single, possibly insane conclusion. I try too damn hard to get people to like me. The new plan here is to be completely laizssez-faire about the whole thing; no more going out of my way to talk to people I like, no more forced, awkward interactions. Il sera sera. Whatever will be, will be. Doesn't need me to interfere.
I can absolutely see how some of y'all are going to think that I'm being bitter an angsty here. It does actually read that way, somewhat. In my defence, my mindset in writing this and coming to that conclusion wasn't coloured by any kind of conscious emotion, and was purely driven by logic, or what passes for logic these days.
In all seriousness, this is probably a wiser decision anyways. I barely have time to sleep with my current schedule; forcing yet another item onto the schedule is just asking for my grades to take yet another hit, and I desperately cannot afford such a thing. So here we are, time for absolute laissez-faire taken to its most remarkable and teabbagery extreme. WEEEE!
I can absolutely see how some of y'all are going to think that I'm being bitter an angsty here. It does actually read that way, somewhat. In my defence, my mindset in writing this and coming to that conclusion wasn't coloured by any kind of conscious emotion, and was purely driven by logic, or what passes for logic these days.
In all seriousness, this is probably a wiser decision anyways. I barely have time to sleep with my current schedule; forcing yet another item onto the schedule is just asking for my grades to take yet another hit, and I desperately cannot afford such a thing. So here we are, time for absolute laissez-faire taken to its most remarkable and teabbagery extreme. WEEEE!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sex on the beach...with cacti?
So, I wanna write about Desert Dropping, quite possibly my favourite gay fiction novel thing of all time. I started re-reading it last week just on a whim. Its amazing how in a piece of literature, you can infuse so much of yourself into the characters, that it actually makes you feel the the other characters as though you know them personally, and you empathize with how they go through their lives.
I guess I mostly identify with Seth. Really, its not just the obsession with baseball caps. Okay fine, that's a bit of a net positive with me, ballcaps are part of my look and y'all really just have to learn to deal with it. There's more to it than that obviously. I don't really feel like getting deeply involved in how I see myself as Seth. Any of y'all that have read Desert Dropping probably have enough firing neurons to figure it out on your own, so I won't insult your intellect by doing the work for you. The rest of you who HAVEN'T read it. Ummm, GO READ IT NOW, MY BLOG CAN WAIT.
I guess, if you can call me Seth, I'm kind of stuck in a reality where I'm forever waiting for my Rory to arrive, which is actually kind of awkward. I don't mean Rory in the sense that I want a virgin to despoil, I mean more that I'm looking for someone who wants to take things slow, who's simply happy with my company instead of my cock. There's not enough of that in the world, you know? And maybe I'm guilty of going way too fast too, sometimes I act out of character, to extend the metaphor a bit. I don't really have an Aaron to play off of though, I'm just kind of there, and that's a harder position to come from instead of being someone who's had some dating experience, I have to be the new guy to it all, and that makes it harder for me to be the person I want to be, the protector who makes sure everything's alright in the world for the people I love. So I guess not as much like Seth as I thought, but still mainly like him.
Anyways, read the story, its deliciously well done.
http://domluka.gayauthors.org/desert/index.html
There, I even gave y'all a link. GOGOGO!
I guess I mostly identify with Seth. Really, its not just the obsession with baseball caps. Okay fine, that's a bit of a net positive with me, ballcaps are part of my look and y'all really just have to learn to deal with it. There's more to it than that obviously. I don't really feel like getting deeply involved in how I see myself as Seth. Any of y'all that have read Desert Dropping probably have enough firing neurons to figure it out on your own, so I won't insult your intellect by doing the work for you. The rest of you who HAVEN'T read it. Ummm, GO READ IT NOW, MY BLOG CAN WAIT.
I guess, if you can call me Seth, I'm kind of stuck in a reality where I'm forever waiting for my Rory to arrive, which is actually kind of awkward. I don't mean Rory in the sense that I want a virgin to despoil, I mean more that I'm looking for someone who wants to take things slow, who's simply happy with my company instead of my cock. There's not enough of that in the world, you know? And maybe I'm guilty of going way too fast too, sometimes I act out of character, to extend the metaphor a bit. I don't really have an Aaron to play off of though, I'm just kind of there, and that's a harder position to come from instead of being someone who's had some dating experience, I have to be the new guy to it all, and that makes it harder for me to be the person I want to be, the protector who makes sure everything's alright in the world for the people I love. So I guess not as much like Seth as I thought, but still mainly like him.
Anyways, read the story, its deliciously well done.
http://domluka.gayauthors.org/desert/index.html
There, I even gave y'all a link. GOGOGO!
who I am
I get the feeling that for some of the people on my friends list on facebook, you guys haven't really gotten to see the parts of me I wish you had, and instead got to see me at my very worst. If that's true and you're still on my friends list, that's very commendable of you and I hope that you'll read this and maybe change your opinion of me.
I have no idea how this note's actually going to work, it might be some stories, maybe a few actual things describing me. Mostly, its going to be words and thoughts flowing out of me, so bear with me if it wanders around in a rather drunken fashion.
Well, I guess that kind of segways nicely into my beginning; I'm clearly not as organized and sure of myself as I like to project to everyone. I bet it would shock lots of folks, but I'm actually pretty insecure about myself, especially when in groups. So yeah, that's kind of why I'm always quiet if you catch me in public; its not that I'm an arrogant bitch, its just that really, I don't know what to say without looking like an asshole or worse, and I don't want to be an asshole, I just want to be me. So I stay quiet, because its easier to be quiet and not noticed instead of putting myself out there and maybe being rejected.
I guess this is because of the past (yes there's a story coming, shoot me for it). Way back in elementary school, I still thought I kinda liked girls (to anyone new reading this, I'm GAY, SURPRISE!), so I spent forever trying to work up the courage to talk to one of my girl classmates, who shall obviously remain nameless in this story. I never talked to her, she always seemed to have lots of people around her, and she was both pretty and smart, a deadly combination. The whole year was spent like this, right up until the graduation dance.
Back in elementary school, if someone asked you to dance, you HAD to dance with them for that song, unless you were already with someone. Even so, that rule was more on paper than actually enforced in reality, so I was justifiably nervous when I got to asking her to dance a slow dance with me. To my utter surprise, she said yes to me and we had a wonderful song together (I couldn't tell you what it was though, probably Don't Speak by No Doubt). After the dance, we were all packing up our clothes and books, since class was out for the day, and she surprised me again by pulling me into the coatroom and telling me that she always, always had time for me and that i didn't have to be shy in asking her things like if she wanted to dance.
In hindsight, its pretty funny, since I probably should have known that, but I didn't because it could have gone the other way. And that scares me, rejection scares the shit out of me, just like it probably scares the shit out of whoever's actually killing time enough to read this. But anyways, that's why I'm quiet. Its not that I hate you or that I think you're beneath me, its just that really, I kind of don't want you to think I'm insane or anything like that, and most importantly, I don't want you to push me away because of anything I say or do, so I do nothing and thus hopefully anger nobody.
Mind you, when I do talk its very often about politics, and for that I make no apologies. Well, I do, but not because I have passion for what I believe in. I'm sorry for making you all endure it, but there's a root and reasoning for that too. Politics to me is the vehicle from which society can begin to solve its problems. Maybe that's a naive view, considering the dysfunction of our national and provincial governing bodies, but its a view I choose to relate to, particularly since I do cherish the ambition to join the ranks of those august legislators.
Elementary school was my first initiation into politics, and at the time I'm sure I didn't even know it. For those of you old enough to remember, this was the salad days of Svend Robinson, and the federal candidates came to my school for a debate. Why they were debating in front of kids who couldn't even vote for at least seven years is beyond me, but they came and answered our questions. I can't remember the exact promises and platitudes they made, but I remember how it balanced against the lessons of my youth; how we were supposed to share and work together to get things done, and it made me realize that this was something that was interesting to me.
My real awakening into politics has actually been only recently. In high school, as I was beginning to come out of the closet, I started to take notice of how things really were in the world, how there was so much injustice and how little was being done about it by ordinary people. You have to remember, up until then, I'd been a horribly sheltered child and I'd very rarely seen a homeless person as anything other than someone I didn't want to touch me - schoolyard rumours about how they ended up that way tainted my mind and convinced me that they were a lower caste in society and should be ignored. I got to meet a homeless person when doing my work experience trip in high school. I mean really meet them, see them as a human being with dreams and fears and a family that loves them. It made me ache, knowing there was so little being done to help people who had made a bad decision in life.
From there, I just started to get into as many issues as I could, trying to find ways to make things better for those who already face too much hardship. I guess at this point you guys are wondering why I'd bother, its not like they can ever reward me, and its very likely that no one I advocate on behalf of will ever know my name. On both counts, they don't have to.
Back in my last year of high school, there was a boy who I knew and he was being bullied a bit. I won't say how I found out, simply that I did, and that very little was being done for him. I remember looking out for him a little bit, a bit of a challenge considering my school schedule. I was lucky enough to see him just between classes one day, and it looked like he was a little unhappy to be going to his next class. I remember that I walked over to him and said hello, asked him how his day was, and reminded him that we had a game together later that night, and not to be late. At this point I was going to be late for my class, but it was worth it knowing that he wouldn't be as sad in that class, because someone was being his friend. He never thanked me, but that's okay. I knew how much it meant to him, and knowing that I made him smile for a few seconds longer than he would have was all the thanks I needed.
The year before that, a classmate of mine died. I was never actually that close to the person, and in fact he kind of bothered me whenever we had class together. When he died, the school administration told us that we weren't going to be allowed to have any kind of way to grieve for him, that we just had to move on because his family didn't wish for it to happen. I knew he was popular, and that everyone who would miss him would never get to go to his actual funeral, so myself and a couple of his closer friends went to the principal of the school, and we begged him to allow us one lunch hour to remember our classmate. As it turned out, the brother of the deceased was going on a field trip later in the week, and once it was known he was gone, there was a PA announcement explaining where and when it would be held. I went to that memorial for a few minutes. I have to admit, it was pretty fucking awkward; I barely knew the kid. Didn't matter, not for a second. When I got there, the library was absolutely filled with people, including some of his teachers, all of them sharing fond memories of a friend, classmate and student. I didn't stay long, I didn't think I'd be welcome and even if I was, I wouldn't know what to say at all. I was glad that I fought to allow it though, THEY needed that day, and nobody except for my teacher knew who arranged the event, but it was still worth it.
I mention this because I want you to know that I am genuine when I say that I want to help. If I make a gesture of trying to help you or support you, its because I really want to, not for any other reason than to make things a little better for you. I...I come on strong sometimes, offering help even when its not solicited. I guess that makes me a bit of a creeper doesn't it? I mean the whole part where I come out of nowhere offering to help or comfort you, without you having ever wanted me to get involved. Its just who I am, or at least who I try to be, that if I see someone who's feeling low or in trouble, I want to be there to help and make it all better. Because really, as corny as it sounds, I do feel better knowing that all my friends, and I do count you all as friends, are feeling happy and are well. You are my friends, I can't always help you, but I always want to be able to try because you guys make me who I am, and I don't want you to hurt because it hurts me too.
Many of you who end up reading this, you're probably also wondering why I do some of the stupid, awkward things that I do. I don't really have an answer for you, except to say that if I were a better person, a less awkward person, I'd probably come up with a less brutal method of expressing myself. I'm weird that way, in that I don't believe in beating around the bush, especially when I like someone or think they like me. I don't think its wasting time to flirt and take things slow, but I don't want to wait forever to know if you feel the way I feel, so I try to express my feelings as quickly as I can. Sometimes, its by saying it. Sometimes its by doing something incredibly stupid and tacky, hoping that my message is being made without an error in translation. And sometimes, it makes me do godawful stupid thiings that make you hate me instead of getting the effect I want. I just want to say that embarrassing you or causing you all pain isn't what I'm trying to do. Its just...if I go forward as bluntly as I do right in the beginning, then at least I'll know right away whether there's any interest, and I can save myself the pain and self-hate of being led along. So I guess I'm sorry for being so forward at times. But at the same time, I'm not sorry at all, I just want to say that its me, its who I am and how I do things, and whether its the best way or the worst way, it is THE way that I choose to conduct myself. Doesn't excuse it, doesn't make it right, just makes it me.
Its 3am now, and I'm beginning to lose what little coherance I began with, so I think I might call it quits on this one now. I...I wanted to write this, in the hopes that some of you who I might have offended would at least have an understanding that offence wasn't intended, and that by knowing me a little further there'd be a chance that you'd talk with me more, or at least acknowledge that we are different people with completely different ways of thinking and acting. Maybe tomorrow I'll write a more uplifting version of this, going through my hobbies and whatnot.
I have no idea how this note's actually going to work, it might be some stories, maybe a few actual things describing me. Mostly, its going to be words and thoughts flowing out of me, so bear with me if it wanders around in a rather drunken fashion.
Well, I guess that kind of segways nicely into my beginning; I'm clearly not as organized and sure of myself as I like to project to everyone. I bet it would shock lots of folks, but I'm actually pretty insecure about myself, especially when in groups. So yeah, that's kind of why I'm always quiet if you catch me in public; its not that I'm an arrogant bitch, its just that really, I don't know what to say without looking like an asshole or worse, and I don't want to be an asshole, I just want to be me. So I stay quiet, because its easier to be quiet and not noticed instead of putting myself out there and maybe being rejected.
I guess this is because of the past (yes there's a story coming, shoot me for it). Way back in elementary school, I still thought I kinda liked girls (to anyone new reading this, I'm GAY, SURPRISE!), so I spent forever trying to work up the courage to talk to one of my girl classmates, who shall obviously remain nameless in this story. I never talked to her, she always seemed to have lots of people around her, and she was both pretty and smart, a deadly combination. The whole year was spent like this, right up until the graduation dance.
Back in elementary school, if someone asked you to dance, you HAD to dance with them for that song, unless you were already with someone. Even so, that rule was more on paper than actually enforced in reality, so I was justifiably nervous when I got to asking her to dance a slow dance with me. To my utter surprise, she said yes to me and we had a wonderful song together (I couldn't tell you what it was though, probably Don't Speak by No Doubt). After the dance, we were all packing up our clothes and books, since class was out for the day, and she surprised me again by pulling me into the coatroom and telling me that she always, always had time for me and that i didn't have to be shy in asking her things like if she wanted to dance.
In hindsight, its pretty funny, since I probably should have known that, but I didn't because it could have gone the other way. And that scares me, rejection scares the shit out of me, just like it probably scares the shit out of whoever's actually killing time enough to read this. But anyways, that's why I'm quiet. Its not that I hate you or that I think you're beneath me, its just that really, I kind of don't want you to think I'm insane or anything like that, and most importantly, I don't want you to push me away because of anything I say or do, so I do nothing and thus hopefully anger nobody.
Mind you, when I do talk its very often about politics, and for that I make no apologies. Well, I do, but not because I have passion for what I believe in. I'm sorry for making you all endure it, but there's a root and reasoning for that too. Politics to me is the vehicle from which society can begin to solve its problems. Maybe that's a naive view, considering the dysfunction of our national and provincial governing bodies, but its a view I choose to relate to, particularly since I do cherish the ambition to join the ranks of those august legislators.
Elementary school was my first initiation into politics, and at the time I'm sure I didn't even know it. For those of you old enough to remember, this was the salad days of Svend Robinson, and the federal candidates came to my school for a debate. Why they were debating in front of kids who couldn't even vote for at least seven years is beyond me, but they came and answered our questions. I can't remember the exact promises and platitudes they made, but I remember how it balanced against the lessons of my youth; how we were supposed to share and work together to get things done, and it made me realize that this was something that was interesting to me.
My real awakening into politics has actually been only recently. In high school, as I was beginning to come out of the closet, I started to take notice of how things really were in the world, how there was so much injustice and how little was being done about it by ordinary people. You have to remember, up until then, I'd been a horribly sheltered child and I'd very rarely seen a homeless person as anything other than someone I didn't want to touch me - schoolyard rumours about how they ended up that way tainted my mind and convinced me that they were a lower caste in society and should be ignored. I got to meet a homeless person when doing my work experience trip in high school. I mean really meet them, see them as a human being with dreams and fears and a family that loves them. It made me ache, knowing there was so little being done to help people who had made a bad decision in life.
From there, I just started to get into as many issues as I could, trying to find ways to make things better for those who already face too much hardship. I guess at this point you guys are wondering why I'd bother, its not like they can ever reward me, and its very likely that no one I advocate on behalf of will ever know my name. On both counts, they don't have to.
Back in my last year of high school, there was a boy who I knew and he was being bullied a bit. I won't say how I found out, simply that I did, and that very little was being done for him. I remember looking out for him a little bit, a bit of a challenge considering my school schedule. I was lucky enough to see him just between classes one day, and it looked like he was a little unhappy to be going to his next class. I remember that I walked over to him and said hello, asked him how his day was, and reminded him that we had a game together later that night, and not to be late. At this point I was going to be late for my class, but it was worth it knowing that he wouldn't be as sad in that class, because someone was being his friend. He never thanked me, but that's okay. I knew how much it meant to him, and knowing that I made him smile for a few seconds longer than he would have was all the thanks I needed.
The year before that, a classmate of mine died. I was never actually that close to the person, and in fact he kind of bothered me whenever we had class together. When he died, the school administration told us that we weren't going to be allowed to have any kind of way to grieve for him, that we just had to move on because his family didn't wish for it to happen. I knew he was popular, and that everyone who would miss him would never get to go to his actual funeral, so myself and a couple of his closer friends went to the principal of the school, and we begged him to allow us one lunch hour to remember our classmate. As it turned out, the brother of the deceased was going on a field trip later in the week, and once it was known he was gone, there was a PA announcement explaining where and when it would be held. I went to that memorial for a few minutes. I have to admit, it was pretty fucking awkward; I barely knew the kid. Didn't matter, not for a second. When I got there, the library was absolutely filled with people, including some of his teachers, all of them sharing fond memories of a friend, classmate and student. I didn't stay long, I didn't think I'd be welcome and even if I was, I wouldn't know what to say at all. I was glad that I fought to allow it though, THEY needed that day, and nobody except for my teacher knew who arranged the event, but it was still worth it.
I mention this because I want you to know that I am genuine when I say that I want to help. If I make a gesture of trying to help you or support you, its because I really want to, not for any other reason than to make things a little better for you. I...I come on strong sometimes, offering help even when its not solicited. I guess that makes me a bit of a creeper doesn't it? I mean the whole part where I come out of nowhere offering to help or comfort you, without you having ever wanted me to get involved. Its just who I am, or at least who I try to be, that if I see someone who's feeling low or in trouble, I want to be there to help and make it all better. Because really, as corny as it sounds, I do feel better knowing that all my friends, and I do count you all as friends, are feeling happy and are well. You are my friends, I can't always help you, but I always want to be able to try because you guys make me who I am, and I don't want you to hurt because it hurts me too.
Many of you who end up reading this, you're probably also wondering why I do some of the stupid, awkward things that I do. I don't really have an answer for you, except to say that if I were a better person, a less awkward person, I'd probably come up with a less brutal method of expressing myself. I'm weird that way, in that I don't believe in beating around the bush, especially when I like someone or think they like me. I don't think its wasting time to flirt and take things slow, but I don't want to wait forever to know if you feel the way I feel, so I try to express my feelings as quickly as I can. Sometimes, its by saying it. Sometimes its by doing something incredibly stupid and tacky, hoping that my message is being made without an error in translation. And sometimes, it makes me do godawful stupid thiings that make you hate me instead of getting the effect I want. I just want to say that embarrassing you or causing you all pain isn't what I'm trying to do. Its just...if I go forward as bluntly as I do right in the beginning, then at least I'll know right away whether there's any interest, and I can save myself the pain and self-hate of being led along. So I guess I'm sorry for being so forward at times. But at the same time, I'm not sorry at all, I just want to say that its me, its who I am and how I do things, and whether its the best way or the worst way, it is THE way that I choose to conduct myself. Doesn't excuse it, doesn't make it right, just makes it me.
Its 3am now, and I'm beginning to lose what little coherance I began with, so I think I might call it quits on this one now. I...I wanted to write this, in the hopes that some of you who I might have offended would at least have an understanding that offence wasn't intended, and that by knowing me a little further there'd be a chance that you'd talk with me more, or at least acknowledge that we are different people with completely different ways of thinking and acting. Maybe tomorrow I'll write a more uplifting version of this, going through my hobbies and whatnot.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Lament of the priviliged
I wonder if anyone notices the things I notice anymore. Look around you, middle class of the West. We're having a whole dialogue without even seeing each other, sometimes without even having met each other. We live in such exciting times, where technology continues to make our lives so much simpler than they were, so much better than they were.
Except for the people we've left behind, the people who don't have what we have, who can't have what we have because the money simply isn't there. Things haven't gotten better for them, things haven't even stayed the same for the poor. This is our shame as a society, or it should be our shame. These people, they are no different from you or I, save for the circumstances of their lives. But to see how we treat them as a society and as individuals how we react to them, you would think there was something wrong with them. Its wrong. Its not the Canadian way. Its not what my grandfather fought and died for. We have, and without cause, forsaken them in our quest for a simpler life.
Earlier this week, I encountered someone who exemplefies my point exactly. I say encounter since we never got to talk, never got to understand and introduce ourselves to the other. He simply passed through my life, without knowing the impact he made that night. He was a panhandler, you've seen them everywhere and he was no different from any other. He wanted to wash the car I was in, my partner and driver suggested that he move on and that she wasn't interested. What struck me was how he responded. There wasn't a mean or selfish thought to him, all he said was God bless us, and he moved along without asking for a single thing from either of us. Here was this person, a person with far less than either occupants of the car, and rather than begging or demanding something, he simply accepted his fate without protest. It shocked me. I got to really look at the person before he left my field of vision, and for the first time in many years, I knew fear. Not fear that he would cause me harm, I could see he wasn't that kind of person. No, this was a more basic fear, this was a fear that I could have been that person. He looked like me, and it made me realize that it could have been me, and that maybe in another life it was me. Here was someone who was not even in the prime of his life, forced to curtail any possible potential he may have had simply so that he could find food and shelter for a cold winter's night. I tried to find him not even half an hour later; it breaks my heart to know that the person in question was gone, and so was the police vehicle I had spotted in that same area in my initial passage through the area. I can never know what actually happened, but it breaks my heart to think that this person, a child in reality and no older than myself, could have been taken away for doing what was necessary in order to survive.
How can we, as a society, accept such things as a reality? We have so much, and the homeless and destitute have so little. How can we accept a society and a reality that has children grifting in order to survive through the night. What does it say about us as a culture where, instead of offering aid to these people, we treat them as though they were beneath our contempt. As young children, we were taught simple lessons by our parents and by our schools; be kind to others. Share what you have. See the best in people, instead of the worst. But somewhere, we all in society have forgotten those simple, classic messages. I look to you, my readers, to help change this. You are the future, we all remember those lectures and lessons in some fashion or another, now is the time that we have to start acting on them instead of betraying the promises we made to our families. Because these people are our family too, we are all family in this world and what we have done is to let down those members of our family who aren't as lucky as we are. We need to start being kind to these people instead of fearing them. We need to start sharing what we have with them instead of hoarding what we can spare to people in true need. we need to see the homeless as people, not as things to be avoided. In this way, we can form a more perfect world, one where no one need fear being left alone, left without a means of reaching their potential.
I call on you all, my readers and my friends; stand up and look around. Look at what we have wrought in this world, what we claim is an equitable society but in reality leaves more and more of our most vulnerable behind. Change a life. All it takes is one person to change a life and save our poor from the worst of life. Help me, help them, help our society reach its potential.
Except for the people we've left behind, the people who don't have what we have, who can't have what we have because the money simply isn't there. Things haven't gotten better for them, things haven't even stayed the same for the poor. This is our shame as a society, or it should be our shame. These people, they are no different from you or I, save for the circumstances of their lives. But to see how we treat them as a society and as individuals how we react to them, you would think there was something wrong with them. Its wrong. Its not the Canadian way. Its not what my grandfather fought and died for. We have, and without cause, forsaken them in our quest for a simpler life.
Earlier this week, I encountered someone who exemplefies my point exactly. I say encounter since we never got to talk, never got to understand and introduce ourselves to the other. He simply passed through my life, without knowing the impact he made that night. He was a panhandler, you've seen them everywhere and he was no different from any other. He wanted to wash the car I was in, my partner and driver suggested that he move on and that she wasn't interested. What struck me was how he responded. There wasn't a mean or selfish thought to him, all he said was God bless us, and he moved along without asking for a single thing from either of us. Here was this person, a person with far less than either occupants of the car, and rather than begging or demanding something, he simply accepted his fate without protest. It shocked me. I got to really look at the person before he left my field of vision, and for the first time in many years, I knew fear. Not fear that he would cause me harm, I could see he wasn't that kind of person. No, this was a more basic fear, this was a fear that I could have been that person. He looked like me, and it made me realize that it could have been me, and that maybe in another life it was me. Here was someone who was not even in the prime of his life, forced to curtail any possible potential he may have had simply so that he could find food and shelter for a cold winter's night. I tried to find him not even half an hour later; it breaks my heart to know that the person in question was gone, and so was the police vehicle I had spotted in that same area in my initial passage through the area. I can never know what actually happened, but it breaks my heart to think that this person, a child in reality and no older than myself, could have been taken away for doing what was necessary in order to survive.
How can we, as a society, accept such things as a reality? We have so much, and the homeless and destitute have so little. How can we accept a society and a reality that has children grifting in order to survive through the night. What does it say about us as a culture where, instead of offering aid to these people, we treat them as though they were beneath our contempt. As young children, we were taught simple lessons by our parents and by our schools; be kind to others. Share what you have. See the best in people, instead of the worst. But somewhere, we all in society have forgotten those simple, classic messages. I look to you, my readers, to help change this. You are the future, we all remember those lectures and lessons in some fashion or another, now is the time that we have to start acting on them instead of betraying the promises we made to our families. Because these people are our family too, we are all family in this world and what we have done is to let down those members of our family who aren't as lucky as we are. We need to start being kind to these people instead of fearing them. We need to start sharing what we have with them instead of hoarding what we can spare to people in true need. we need to see the homeless as people, not as things to be avoided. In this way, we can form a more perfect world, one where no one need fear being left alone, left without a means of reaching their potential.
I call on you all, my readers and my friends; stand up and look around. Look at what we have wrought in this world, what we claim is an equitable society but in reality leaves more and more of our most vulnerable behind. Change a life. All it takes is one person to change a life and save our poor from the worst of life. Help me, help them, help our society reach its potential.
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