La paternité

En lisant le blogue de ma femme, je me suis dit qu’il serait peut-être temps pour moi aussi d’aborder un certain sujet difficile : le fait que je n’ai pas d’enfant et que j’en n’aurai peut-être jamais.

Au fil du temps, j’ai vécu toute cette affaire plus intérieurement. Ma femme, de par sa nature plus volubile que la mienne, a beaucoup verbalisé ses émotions par rapport à tout cela. Son approche était probablement la meilleure à bien y penser. De mon bord, j’ai beaucoup ruminé des sentiments divers, pas toujours très jolis.

Pendant tellement longtemps, je n’ai pas voulu d’enfant. Je craignais toujours l’idée de voir ma progéniture en face. Voir un enfant qui me ressemble vivre ce que j’ai vécu, voilà une idée qui ne me plaisant pas du tout. De plus, je ne me pensais pas tellement apte à devenir père. Je ne suis pas un leader, je ne voulais pas manquer mon coup.

Quand Chantal est entrée dans ma vie, elle a tôt fait de me parler de son désir d’adopter un enfant. C’était clair dans sa tête, elle ne voulait pas être enceinte. Je n’y voyais pas de problème et je n’en vois pas encore aujourd’hui. L’idée de l’adoption était donc semée dans mon esprit, il ne me restait qu’à me faire une idée plus finale sur le sujet. Un jour, il m’est apparu clair que je voulais être papa : je voulais donner le meilleur de moi-même, aux côtés de ma femme, pour élever un enfant dans l’amour.

J’ai annoncé ma décision à ma femme lors d’un souper au resto. Elle a été emballée et le projet d’adoption en Ukraine a pris son envol au cours des mois qui ont suivi. Ma femme a parlé de ce processus sur un autre blogue, donc je ne reviendrai pas sur le sujet.

Quand notre projet d’adoption en Ukraine est mort, nous l’avons pris très dur. Ma femme l’a vécu très extérieurement. Moi, c’était le contraire. Je n’ai rien dit. J’ai tenté d’être là pour ma femme, du mieux que j’ai pu. J’espère avoir été à la hauteur, et j’essaie encore de l’être. Ma femme est réellement ce que j’ai de plus précieux, et je partage sa peine à part entière. Cet ange d’Ukraine était notre rêve commun, ce sur quoi on avait mis toutes nos énergies.

Je l’ai vraiment vécu comme une grossesse qui se termine en fausse couche. Dans ces cas-là, on oublie souvent le papa. Bien souvent, celui-ci n’extériorise peut-être pas assez. C’était le cas avec moi. J’ai pleuré mon ange perdu en silence. Le soir, après que ma femme trouvait le sommeil, je me voyais souvent incapable de dormir, pris dans mes pensées. Les fins de semaine, j’en venais à m’engourdir avec la bouffe et l’alcool pour oublier tout cela. Je m’étais tellement dit que la paternité ferait de moi un meilleur homme. Ce serait terminé cette vie d’excès. Devant ce rêve brisé, c’est comme si je prenais ma revanche en fonçant à toute vitesse vers le pôle opposé à mes bonnes intentions.

Je n’en suis pas fier, ce n’est franchement pas la solution. Mais, à très court terme, l’ivresse engourdissait la douleur. Pourtant, ma vie était loin d’être vide. J’ai une femme qui m’aime et que j’aime plus que tout. J’ai des amis et une famille élargie qui sont là pour moi. Cela dit, cet ange envolé que je ne prendrais jamais dans mes bras ne sortait pas de ma tête et de mon cœur. Un vide avait été créé en moi, et je me demandais comment le combler.

Il y avait un autre sentiment que je ressentais, et je me sentais coupable de me sentir ainsi. Plusieurs personnes dans mon entourage devenaient parents. Malgré le fait que j’étais content pour eux, j’étais aussi envieux. Je trouve ça tellement laid comme sentiment, mais je ne pouvais pas le retenir pleinement. Je les jalousais en silence.

Maintenant, il y a le dossier d’adoption au Nouveau-Brunswick, mais il est fort probable que cela ne mènera à rien, compte tenu des circonstances. Suis-je en paix avec tout cela? Non. Tout comme ma femme, plein de questions et de commentaires d’autrui me ramènent à ces pensées qui me font mal. J’essaie de mon mieux de combler ce vide en moi, de la façon la plus constructive possible. J’ai ma femme à mes côtés, l’amour de ma vie. Cet amour est fort et solide. On s’épaule l’un et l’autre de notre mieux dans nos combats respectifs et commun. On gâte les enfants des autres. Ce n’est pas la même chose, mais la présence de n’importe quel enfant enrichit une vie. Pour le reste, j’essaie de faire mon deuil. Qui vivra verra…

Favorite comics, part 1

In the previous message, I was talking about my particular sense of humour. I love to joke around and I have always loved doing that. Where does it come from? I’m not sure. My father does love a good joke, my mom too. Sure, their sensibilities are different than mine. Some of the stuff I find hilarious, they think it is just plain disgusting and wrong. Well, different generations, different ideas.

Today, I thought I would talk about the comedians I have come to admire or appreciate over the years. Here are just a few of those who shaped my wit and my humour. This is a very brief list. So many names could also be added. But, here is a few of them, with some quotes from their material that I particularly like.

George Carlin - Without a doubt, the king of stand-up comedy for me. The guy was pure genius. He left us a few years ago, but he will be forever remembered:
"Atheism is a non-prophet organization."
"Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time."
"Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity."
"Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist."

Bill Hicks - This is another comic genius that I discovered, unfortunately, much too late. He died very young, but he left us a great deal of funny material:
"You never see a positive drug story on the news. They always have the same LSD story. You've all seen it: "Today a young man on acid...thought he could fly...jumped out of a building...what a tragedy!" What a dick. He's an idiot. If he thought he could fly why didn't he take off from the ground first? Check it out? You don't see geese lined up to catch elevators to fly south; they fly from the fucking ground. He's an idiot. He's dead. Good! We lost a moron? Fucking celebrate. There's one less moron in the world."
"Keith Richards outlived Jim Fixx, the runner and health nut. The plot thickens. You remember Jim Fixx? This human cipher used to write books on jogging. Now, what do you fucking write about jogging? "Right foot, left foot, faster, faster, oh hell, I dunno, go home, shower." Pretty much covers the jogging experience, I do believe. Then this doofus goes out and has a heart attack and dies … while jogging. There is a God. "Right foot, left foot, hemorrhage.""
"… We live in a world where John Lennon was murdered, yet Barry Manilow continues to put out fucking albums. Goddammit! If you're gonna kill somebody, have some fucking taste. I'll drive you to Kenny Rogers' house."

Sam Kinison - Ah, the wild man of comedy. Also left us way too early:
"This man had to be Captain Kangaroo for over thirty FUCKING YEARS! No scandal, no controversy, drank a lot. You would too. I don't think he knew the show was going to go thirty fucking years. "Goddamn it, I'm fucking Captain Kangaroo. Thought the fucking gig would last two or three years, I didn't think I'd spend my whole fucking life as Captain Kangaroo! I was an actor, I was in the Actor's Studio, I wanted to do Death of a Salesman, I wanted to play Willy. My God, I'm Captain KANGAROO!" "
"You want to help world hunger? Stop sending them food. Don't send them another bite, send them U-Hauls. Send them a guy that says, "You know, we've been coming here giving you food for about 35 years now and we were driving through the desert, and we realized there wouldn't BE world hunger if you people would live where the FOOD IS! YOU LIVE IN A DESERT!! UNDERSTAND THAT? YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT!! NOTHING GROWS HERE! NOTHING'S GONNA GROW HERE! Come here, you see this? This is sand. You know what it's gonna be 100 years from now? IT'S GONNA BE SAND!! YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT! We have deserts in America, we just don't live in them, assholes!""
"There's always 30 or 40 Christians standing around, saying, "It's a shame that he has to die." And Jesus is saying, "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if somebody would get a ladder and pair of pliers!!""

Dave Attell - Someone I just discovered, he’s very funny:
"People are so defensive, especially women, ya know. C’mon ladies. I offered a girl a tic-tac one time. Ya know what she says to me "Oh do I need one? Is it my breath? Do you think I need one?" I’m like, I’m just trying to be nice. If I was going to give you something you needed I would give you mustache wax and a t-shirt that says ‘One Cock at a Time.’""
"Sex is not that important; it's the afterward part when you're naked and it's warm. Watching the sun come up through the windshield you look in her good eye and you help strap on her leg and you know: you fucked a pirate."
"Pre-mature ejaculation. Let’s talk about it. Pre-mature ejaculation. That’s a pretty fancy term for, "Ooooooh Oh no. This has never happened before.""
"Some people are against porno movies. And I say hey, Ohio, Kentucky, and Iran: I say, hey - whatever a man, and a woman, and another woman with a penis and a midget do to a donkey, that's their garsh-darn business."

Doug Stanhope - Not necessarily one of the greats, but I give him kudos for surprising me. I don’t shock easily. I won’t share his most shocking stuff here, just my faves from his material:
"I hate when your friends quit drinking on you, don't you? It's sad. I've lost more friends to AA than Liberace did to the HIV. It's sad to see 'em go. You see a thirty day chip on your buddy's key ring, it's like seeing a toe tag on his cold, stiff corpse."
"Complaining that a comic is drunk is like going to a titty bar and complaining because your lapdancer is a communist."
"Jesus died for your sins. I'm doing it for your mere entertainment dollar."
"If I die soon, don't ever say I died too young. [...] Everytime an artist dies young- Kurt Cobain, or whatever, there's always the people "It's so sad, he had so much more to give." — How do you know? Maybe he was out of shit. How do you know? He's done. He got all the money, he did all the drugs, he fucked all your holes. And that's the American Dream, and when you're done with that you go "Oh, that's why they call it a dream. — It's bullshit, I'm still empty." And he cashed out. How do you what any artist had left? How do you know if Jimi Hendrix hadn't had died he wouldn't have wound up doing Superbowl half-time duets with Elton John right now?"
"I had a girl say this to me. She goes "you know, if god intended women to suck dick, he'd made cum taste like chocolate" I said "Yeah, but he had to make it taste like bleach so you remember to do the laundry""

These are just a few, I will come back with more at a later time. Hope you enjoy. If you share my sense of humour, look up those comics. You won’t regret it.

The return of the non-dangerous perv

I haven’t had the chance to write on my blog over the last little while. Why? I’m not exactly sure. I may be short on inspiration these days. I think that it can also be explained by the fact that I spend so much time in my daily life restraining my true self that I’m not used to really expressing my thoughts anymore.

Those who really know me know that I have a special sense of humour. I come from the George Carlin school of thought. I believe that you can joke about pretty much anything if you construct the joke well. One thing is clear: I do not believe in censorship. When it comes to dirty thoughts, I’m a champ. I love women, I love sex and I love to joke about everything surrounding those subjects. It doesn’t make me a dangerous man. I would never assault or force myself upon anyone: I just love talking about this so beautiful subject. I’m a non-dangerous perv.

Unfortunately, in my daily life, I run into a lot of prudes. People with no sense of humour at all. People that cannot laugh at themselves and at everything around us. Some people take things a little too seriously. When a joke is too spicy, raunchy or whatever, they groan as if they were the fruit on the second immaculate conception in history. Look, folks and folksettes, we’re all here because two human beings somewhere decided to get laid. It got done in different situations and in various ways, but it is one of life’s guarantees. It was probably a case where your dad asked to get some, and he got lucky when your mom finally gave him a slice of pie. Sure, not a pretty thought, but the reality.

Also, we are all born with the same parts. They come in different shapes and proportions, but they are all the same pieces of equipment. They are made to connect, so get over yourselves. Why should a thing so beautiful as sex be taboo? From birth, we are taught that the human body is dirty and that it should be hidden. We are taught what we shouldn’t talk about. Barriers by the ton from the beginning.

I try to be respectful of other people’s sensibilities, but I just don’t understand, In the meantime, I try to restrain myself when I’m not sure about the audience. Some of you have seen me let loose on Facebook sometimes, but I’m still careful there. When I’m surrounded by people who can take it, I finally can be myself, I thank those of you who don’t take everything I say so seriously as to get offended. Your presence in my life is truly a blessing.

Hommage à une grande femme

Ma maman adorée et moi - Fête des mères 2010

Non, je ne parlerai pas ici de la reine d’Angleterre ou d’une quelconque grande vedette. Aujourd’hui, en cette journée de la fête des mères, je veux rendre hommage à celle qui m’a donné la vie. Cette qui m’a bercé pendant de longues nuits et qui m’a aimé de tout son cœur.

Toutes les mères souffrent pour leurs enfants, c’est normal. C’est un rôle tellement ingrat. Ma mère ne fait pas exception. Après avoir perdu quatre enfants avant ou après la naissance, elle avait adopté ma sœur. Elle pensait que la vie ne lui donnerait pas d’enfant biologique. Cependant, quatre ans plus tard, elle tombait enceinte à nouveau. Cette fois-là serait-elle la bonne? Elle a passé au-delà de 90 jours à l’hôpital à la fin de sa grossesse et les docteurs ont tout fait pour que cette fois soit la bonne. Elle le voulait tellement, tout comme mon père. Eh bien, le bébé a survécu et est devenu celui qui écrit ce texte aujourd’hui.

Au début de ma vie, j’ai eu beaucoup de problèmes. J’ai attrapé toutes les petites maladies qu’un enfant peut avoir. J’avais des intolérances au lait et beaucoup de coliques. Ma mère a passé des nuits entières à me bercer parce que je pleurais toujours. Avec toute sa patience et son amour, elle m’a prodigué tous les petits soins imaginables et m’a aidé à passer au travers de tout ça.

Pendant longtemps, j’en ai voulu, périodiquement, à mes parents d’avoir mis au monde cet être que je détestais tellement voir dans mon miroir chaque matin. Je me disais que j’aurais dû faire partie des statistiques et ne jamais survivre à la naissance. Mais, aujourd’hui, je suis reconnaissant. J’ai grandi dans un foyer où l’amour régnait. Je ne me suis jamais aimé, mais mes parents m’ont aimé assez pour compenser 1000 fois. Ils m’ont gardé sur le droit chemin, malgré mes écarts pas si graves, et m’ont mis sur la bonne voie pour rencontrer la femme magnifique que j’ai mariée.

Aujourd’hui, je veux rendre hommage à ma mère, Laurette (Lebel) Poitras, une femme forte et aimante, une femme magnifique que j’aime beaucoup et que je respecte énormément. Je lui dis merci d’être ce qu’elle est et de m’avoir tout donné d’elle-même. Je n’ai pas toujours été facile à vivre, j’en suis certain. Cela dit, malgré toutes les embûches que la vie a mises sur mon chemin, je sais que je peux au moins toujours compter sur l’amour de ma mère.

Merci maman, je t’aime.

The big picture

Last weekend, my wife and I went to Bangor to pick up my parents at the airport. They were flying back from Florida. We decided to make a little vacation out of it to go shopping and to enjoy the good restaurants over there. The duty free booze on the way back seemed like a good plan also. As I said, there was some shopping involved in the deal. I found some CD’s and DVD’s, and my wife found some clothes.

That being said, let’s move on the to the main subject of this particular entry in my blog.

While my wife was trying on a dress in this one particular store, I was standing around waiting in the area reserved for trying on clothes. Had I only known the horrors waiting for me in that section of the store, I would have kept away. Unfortunately, I was ill-informed and, thus, was subjected to an absolute atrocity.

You see, right there, there was a huge sectional mirror that would permit you to get a full view of yourself, front and back. Had I been properly briefed about the whole thing, I would have looked away. But, NO! I looked deep into the eyes of pure ugliness. I saw everything. My fat ass, my inflated forms, the back of my head and my increasing baldness. Sweet mother of God, it’s a good thing I was not naked.

At that particular moment, though, I wasn’t really feeling sorry for myself. To be honest, I felt bad for my wife. How can such a beautiful and smart woman have such poor tastes? Well, to be fair, I have changed quite a bit since I met her 11 years ago. I have gained over 100 lbs. That made me wonder what she would do if she met me for the first time today, looking like this. Would she fall in love with me? Would she even be attracted to me? God forbid, I’m not even attracted to myself right now. I barely feel like sharing a bed with myself now, so forget about touching myself.

This experience has made more resolute about losing a lot of weight. In the meantime, I take comfort in my sweet wife’s multiple kind words about me and in the looks of love she lays upon this broken ship. She may have weird tastes, in my mind, but she really seems to love me, and that is all that matters. I have to count my blessings. After all, looking like I do, one would think I would have to pay to get the affection of a woman. And one thing is for sure, she’s not with me for my money...