Canadian Fun

2002-04-28 - 3:11 p.m.

So, as you may or may not already know, I have a really, really difficult time with people, especially strangers, especially large groups of strangers (such as, say, crowds, or protest marchers). I'm okay with them in -theory- but when it comes to actually, you know, being -with- them, I have issues.

It is a constant struggle with me. I have completely bailed on commitments because they were held at a place that I didn't know, and while I managed to get there, I have actually walked right past the door, OR actually gone inside, looked for three seconds, turned around, gotten into a cab or a bus, and gone home, hiding underneath a blanket trying to find some excuse as to why I could show up (I am good at excuses. Two pointers: keep them simple, and use the environment around you: ie, in grade 8 I had a project due that I had not finished, but, lucky for me, some kids threw eggs at me on my way to school. At this point I was cynical enough to see the opportunity this presented instead of only feeling further isolated from my peers, and was able to tell the teacher that my project had been finished, but -look-! Egg all over my school bag! I was even able to present a page of my half-finished assignment, dripping with egg. A triumph of my pseudo-creative psyche!).

So, this habit of struggling with myself frustrates my boyfriend to no ends. He looks at me, puzzled and a little upset, when I avoid simple tasks (getting a health card, meeting him downtown, going to parties) for no good reason. But, he's determined to help me overcome this insecurity, somehow, even though I don't think he completely understands it.

Which brings us to yesterday, the protest.

He came with me, and I hate the fact that I sniped at him -SO- much, but I was able to be a bit of a manly-man and actually walk the whole thing. We chatted with some complete strangers, mugged for artsy-types as they filmed for a school project, gathered leaflets like politically-aware packrats...

Victory!

Even though there were a few problems I had with the thing...there was (I think I mentioned this) a strong pro-palestine contingent present, and that's okay...but it was supposed to be an anti-war protest, not an anti-Israel protest. Sharon (the Israeli guy, not some lady named Sharon) is an awful man with no sense of proportion, and is possibly a modern-day monster (but then, we make our own monsters, don't we?), but while I feel okay chanting "Free, free Palestine!", I don't enjoy shouting "Down, Down Israel!"

But, I'm a little bit prepared for the G8 protests now...which will be held on my birthday in June! (I cannot describe my happy-shivers about this. I simply cannot.)

Anyway, after all of that, there are two spin offs.

The first is that I've begun writing again. It isn't fiction, alas, but I churned out a two-page article for the Independent Media Centre (www.indymedia.org for those who care to check out an alternative media source every now and then) about my experiences as a war-protest-virgin. Since one career possibility for me is following in my mom's footsteps as a reporter (she still, STILL hopes I'll be a doctor one day), this is acceptable.

The second is that I am emotionally drained. I am insecure, I am unable to show affection without making it seem like a chore. I am huddled in a blanket, instead of walking around or cleaning the house. My boyfriend has gone to work on an essay and I am so, so, so glad he's gone...simply because I'm by myself. And I could stay like this for -days-.

I like time alone, I like just "being with myself," but when I hibernate like this, I tend towards not liking myself so much. I twist everything into a sign that I'm not as good as people say I am.

I'm still waiting for the day when I will be able to just -deal- with people, to walk up effortlessly and say hi and start a conversation without seeming mumbly or crazy or needy or stupid.

Do you know what I said on film when the guys asked why we were there?

"Uh, because...because I think war is bad."

Cheers,

the magus

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