The Happy Hormone

In our western society, few are the times for greater reflection than on, and around New Year’s. A time to look back at a set of time and space and ponder on the deeds and non-deeds that have carried us to this point in our lives. A time only followed by one’s birthday and the death of a loved one in the totem pole order of reflectiveness. Surely many secular-types would like to add Lent, Christmas and Ramadan to name a few, but from an general perspective, New Year’s still has a certain Je ne sais quoi, which can inspire or still be abhorred by all people equally.

As I have always said, ‘people do not take enough time to know themselves.’ It is most unfortunate as this is one of the most important lessons a human being can learn. Alas, this is generally not the case. In fact, people will pay others to half-ass do it for them. Hence the number of inspirational Jesters out there who, for a fee, will surgar coat wonderful promises of ‘how you too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three!’ …It is quite the multi-million dollar industry. While omitting the fact they themselves would be as poor as dirt had you not paid them to tell you how you too, can be like them. Which ironically, it would have to be by you charging other people and tell them how they too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three. Creating some evil infinite loop where someone just has to be miserable for the whole industry to exist.

So I sit here, babysitting the flu and wondering about my last year on earth. Nothing better than spending it alone and sick as an old chapter approaches to a close. As you can imagine, it had both its highs and lows. Ultimately –for us who do it– that is, put your life on a proverbial balance from time to time, the hope is for said balance to lean over onto the highs rather than he lows. But this year, sadly, it has been a little too even. Losing a very loved one, changing jobs, faced some life-long illnesses. Well, I could just take it in for what it is and call it George, right? But I can’t do that! For it has been a year of some really good accomplishments. As they say, ‘the longer the fall, the more alive you will feel looking back down at the abyss when you climb out.’ And although I am not totally out… no point in lying, right? I can see the top closer than ever before. Teasing me to move forth. It will be sad to let go of a few things –someone in particular– but that’s how life is. The view is going to be breathtaking.

So, I sit here, waiting for the flu to get the hell out of my body and for my immune system to really get cracking. I mean, what else do I pay it for?

I hope all of you are in good health and have some interesting plans for the weekend; And subsequently, take the time to find out where and who you are. Only then you will know where you are going! Cheers.

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Hell, if Quebec can do it why not ME? If Canada recognizes Quebec as a nation (If you do not know what I am talking about, click here to read) So uh-hum. Without any further ado…

Little did I know all had to do is act pissed and pout for you to listen. For I am sick an tired of you not counting, asking, babying or validating my feelings!

You don’t speak for me! Even though I help vote your government in. Do I really have to bitch for 169 years before you to listen? Well, no more!

I want to be able to speak to other nations at international meetings –as I have a few good ideas I would like to run by the Chinese ambassador — as I do not feel you are looking after the interests of My Apartment or the many wonders therein. Such as my stove, fridge, my two pet rats and my potted plant. Which looks very healthy by the window on sunny days, thank you for asking. You didn’t even know I had a potted plant, now did you?!

I have real reasons to be upset as you fail to treat me in any special manner and I like to be treated like I am especial, I mean, I speak Spanish as my first language for God’s sake! That aught to count for something!

Your behaviour towards me and more importantly towards my living expanse –I do pay for a corner unit you know– is inexcusable. For I am not as understanding as Quebec because even though they like to think themselves as French or even European, at heart they have never forgotten it was King Louis XIV of France who disposed of them like a cheap bottle of table wine to the British at the Treaty of Paris in 1763. Choosing instead to keep the Guadeloupe Archipelago, a set of six islands hardly ten times the size of Washington D.C. instead. Everybody knows they are almost impossible to find in a world map without the help of a magnifying glass. That is what I call: ‘Le slap in the face — with vigour.’ Yet they stand gracious and proud.

Unfortunately I am not French. But then again neither are the people from Quebec. Since if I were to follow that logic, then I would have to announce that I am Spanish. But I am not, since I was born in El Salvador and speaking the language does not make from Spain. Oh Quebec, you have it all figured out.

I promise that once Parliament Hill concedes to my demands I will try[*] not to push for further powers or cause any problems. After all, you conceded this to Quebec and if anything you can trust the Bloc Quebecois on the same.

After all even the Bloc Quebecois has to agree that British Canada has been trying to suck up to them since the Quebec Act in 1774 when they re-establish civil tradition for private French law which had been revoked back in 1763. Whoops… true, true, their bad but they tried to make up for it. It was this very act that allowed the citizens of Quebec to become part of the Colonial government and eventually lead to Quebec’s first charter of rights. Cheerio and well played Canada.

But what have you done for me lately? Not even a bloody ‘Happy Columbus Day’ card. Like come on, you brought this upon yourself. Where is my own charter of rights? Is it in the mail?

As such I have come to the conclusion that Canada and the country of My Apartment can exist within one nation. Particularly when it comes to sharing universal health care, security, excursions into Canadian soil and its natives plus other social services. Including sharing our military when a snow storm blocks my driveway. However not within a united Canada when it comes to other more pressing and morally diverse issues like me paying income tax. That is where I have to stand up and draw the line. No more!

Remember Canada, My Apartment is its own Nation!
I will remember!

[*] – However I can’t make any promises.

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