honoring the unprivileged self

My beautiful walk in Westmount honoring the memory of L.Cohen, turned into a short story, one could have given the name "the lost Finn in Westmount". I took my boyfriends car, as he had taken mine to a check-up. Already driving his car instead of mine makes me feel like walking around in somebody else's shoes that are clearly too big for me. I feel like driving around in my father's Volvo, even if the car is way smaller than that. Kinda like driving a boat on narrow streets instead of a car. 
So there I was driving in beautiful Wesmount, without any clue of where exactly I wanted to go and why. I started talking out-loud to myself "what on earth are you doing here?" And as often happens with conversations to myself I then tell me to show myself some respect and speak in my mother tongue. So then I go like "Nåjo, vad skall jag nu säga... vad fan gör jag här egentligen?".

When I read L.Cohen's description of Wesmount 

“Westmount is a collection of large stone houses and lush

trees arranged on the top of the mountain especially to humiliate the underprivileged.”

I thought it was his sarcastic funny way of putting it. I understood to my horror how accurate and painfully true it was. I honestly thought the police would stop me and tell me to go back to the part of the island I belong. So that is what I did, while yelling at my gps for not choosing an uglier route. 

I'm sorry not to back up my story with proper pictures. I have made a note to myself to dress up fancy, borrow a nice looking dog from somebody, go back and take some nice pictures. This time I will do it, to honor myself.

"godfather of gloom"

On the 30th of September 2014, I wrote my first text in this blog. I wrote that my love affair with Montreal had just started and maybe Leonard Cohen was the reason for moving here. Now Leonard Cohen is dead and the sparkle for this city is slowly turning darker. Maybe it's just a bad moment, it is November and gloomy. No honeymoon lasts forever. Reality tends to catch up on us sooner or later and a two year love affair is a pretty good accomplisment with buildings, streets and bridges. The light could have burned out sooner.

I heard about Leonard Cohen's death while in traffic driving to work. I started crying, I'm still crying. Listening to his music and crying. To me he was the greatest man who ever lived. I lost my hero and Montreal lost a significant spark. He was a great musician and poet and I felt he was walking around with the ultimate truth in his heart. Like a Gandalf of our time. I love and adore him. 

It's really powerful to listen to his new album that came out only a few weeks before his death. He clearly knew his minutes were counted. Knowing he came back to this city to record choir music from his childhood synagogue makes it even more powerful.

"I'm leaving the table, I'm out of the game"

He makes it sounds so freaking good, I'm jealous of him. He who got to leave. To reach his wisdom, I know I have a lot of time still to serve and I'm not sure I used my time wisely in my past, so the remaining one might not be enough. But hey, we can't all be poetic heroes. "Satan in Westmount" was Cohen's first published poem. Funny man. I often walk in Montreal and get thrilled to think he has walked the same streets, I should take a little pilgrim walk in Westmount area this weekend where Cohen grew up. 

Westmount is a collection of large stone houses and lush trees arranged on the top of the mountain especially to humiliate the underprivileged

Words from the man himself. On that note I will get back to my crying and enjoying his album.

calm down, your brain is boiling

I went from having my studies at McGill on my daily schedule, to having a new challenging job and my studies squeezed in the same schedule. People told me to take it easy and concentrate on my studies, I told myself not to start looking for a job but to enjoy and absorb the new knowledge I was given. 
Did I listen? ... No
When one makes decisions out of fear for a possible future outcome, one is possible making a wrong decision or at least a decision based on the wrong reasons. 
Did I do that? ... future will tell.
I have recently had to concentrate so carefully and push so much new knowledge in my brain that I am feeling that my brain is boiling. Small tasks started to feel hard. Listening to normal conversation felt hard. Talking felt hard.
I went to the pharmacy to get myself a facial cleanser, stood there looking at the different products wondering how I ever would be able to make a decision on what product to buy. I miss the Finnish pharmacies, small cute places with 3 or 4 options. Canadian pharmacies are huge, bigger than most supermarkets in Finland and the options are endless. So there I was half panicked about my upcoming purchase when a staff member walks up to me and asks me if she could assist me in anyway. I was just too tired and couldn't see myself explaining the situation, especially not in my 4th language, so I answered "no".  
My University studies are in English, that's my 3rd language. My previous jobs have all been bilingual as in French and English, in other words in my 3rd and 4th language. I recently went on a government web page of Sweden and read some information and was amazed how well I understood it. How easy it was to read. Well dah! It's in my mother tongue. 
At that moment I realized something.
Was I not feeling smart enough because I sometimes had to read a text a few times to really understand what I was reading? Or because I couldn't phrase myself sophisticatedly enough? ...Yes 
Should I instead use my energy being proud of how far I have come and think about all the things I am able to do in my repertoire of 5 languages and not feel inferior? ... Probably
That evening at the pharmacy, my boyfriend comes to my rescue. He walks up to me pretending to be part of the staff and asks me how he can help me. I tell him in a complaining voice that I need a liquid to wash my face with, because it's not good to use soap at my age. This thing of avoiding wrinkles or at least trying to avoid them. So he walks up to the the same woman I wasn't able to talk to and explains what was needed. She comes towards me and shows me a few options. I turn to my boyfriend feeling overwhelmed asking him what I should buy. After all he was the one who introduced me to the mascara I nowadays use, another surprising and weird store moment in my life, so maybe he was the best one to make this judgment on how to remove this same mascara off my face? He had no problem making the decision, neither dealing with the payment. I felt relieved and grateful to have my challenge over and done with and a few minutes later we crashed in bed. 
One pushes and pushes and pushes. Asking oneself to be faster, smarter, more creative more social, more this and more that. Feeling bad because you're not as great as you would want to be or living up to some weird standard you have created in your head. Or even worse, that somebody else has created in your head. 
I went from having plenty of time on my hands to read and study, enjoying fresh air and cooking good food for my beloved, to feeling bad at work for not being on top of it, feeling bad not to have time to study enough and then feeling bad for not being able to be the loving and cooking girlfriend I had been. I was given the gift of time but I ended up refusing it and chose running around like a headless chicken instead. Smart? No, not so much.
When my computer at work refused to recognize my last name as it is and instead try to suggest that my name is Boiling, I broke down and started laughing. I felt that it was universe's way of sending me a message "calm down, your brain is boiling".