Up Too Late: An Endless Search for Mr.Right & Other Important Things in Life

A girl I was dancing with came up behind me and put her arms around me - I stopped dancing and sat down. She was worried and apologized, as we'd had had a discussion about my problem of demonstrating affection in public - As a private person, I'm bothered by it, no matter who it is, unless it's a family matter of hugging.

She said "I'm sorry" 20 times, and I kept asking her not to apologize, but just to remember not to do it again...

On top of that, some guy I met from South Africa came five minutes later, asking if I was dating her. I told him that no, if I'd date someone, it'd be someone of my own sex. He seemed surprised, and added that he comes from a conservative university in S. Africa, but that he is happy to be here, to have his views... "opened?" I suggested. "Challenged," he said. I was puzzled whether this guy I considered a friend was in fact conservative. He said he apologized for everything and hugged me, asking me to forgive him for making things awkward tonight.

I've had to forgive people tonight, and I am wondering why I went out in the first place. I feel like staying in, reading, and avoiding people for the rest of the year. I think I may be becoming depressed. I'm listening to the Requiem for a Dream theme song...

Labels: Friday, friends, gay, party, sad, United Kingdom

It's been a while since I've last blogged. Too many things have happened for me to write about on here, so sadly, the last few weeks will have to remain a mystery for some obvious and other, more complicated reasons.

Nevertheless, I will summarize in one-sentence segments some of the points I thought important to mention:

-A young man in his late twenties, from Philadelphia, drove for 36 hours and got on two ferries, traveling from Philadelphia to Augusta, Maine and somehow made it to Nova Scotia, got the ferry to Newfoundland and made it to St.John's on Thursday. The intelligent polyglot [speaks six languages... Dari, Farsi, Spanish, Portuguese, English and Turkish] found a place to stay for the night, then headed to my workplace and came to talk to me about becoming a volunteer there. He said he had run away from the US so he wouldn't go to Iraq, and, to quote him, to "dodge the draft". I was moved and touched by this young man's enthusiasm to contribute to the community to which he had just moved, but I felt he was too nervous to speak to me at that moment. He, as we chatted, insisted he show me the photos of his deployment in Iraq... He played an instrument he had brought along, a saz-like instrument he said is a traditional music instrument in Asia.

-My best friend, princess Ivana and I found ourselves disclosing our most personal stories, only to find out that we had much more in common than I had thought we had. It's good to know that I'm not alone, when it comes to going through family issues. She and I had a trip to Cape Spear and took tons of photos, mostly of her...

-My camera will be making it to the ER sometime this week. It had a slight accident last week when a young girl from a children's summer program that I visited dropped it and then, upon realizing she had caused some damage, continued on as if nothing had happened. I hope it lives to see the day of taking another photo soon...I miss taking pics.

-I bought Breakfast on Pluto and The Dying Gaul on my way back from the hair studio... Breakfast on Pluto is certainly one of the best films I've seen in a while. Patrick Kitten Braden, aka Patricia Kitten Braden, is a transvestite who spends half of her life trying to find her mother, who abandoned her at birth. Through her narrative, we see the Irish-English divide in Northern Ireland, but also the contrast between the rural naiveté and the urban cruelty and coldness in human relationships. It's heartwarming story that I thoroughly enjoyed... I haven't seen The Dying Gaul yet.

Labels: adventures, Friday, friends, movies, St.John's

I arrived in Ottawa at 9:30 pm on a Friday night and rushed to the first shuttle I saw at the airport, to make my way to the Mariott in the Market, the hotel I was told I'd be staying in. I got there, only to find out I was miles away, staying in another Mariott near Parliament Hill, on Kent St. I got a cab and quickly made my way to the hotel, rushed to my room,which I was sharing with a guy from Alberta, had a shower, got in bed [super-comfy, they must have just changed them] and slept for 8.5 hours.

The next day was rainy and muggy, a perfect day for a meeting, which lasted all day. In it were some of my favourite people from the organization I volunteer with, so it went pretty smoothly. I told Gina, whom I met for dinner later on at a Moroccan where we all decided to go, where Renee also made it, that I wasn't overly fond of a certain someone as I thought the person was very self-involved. I thought about it later on and decided it was just a spite decision, I think partly contributed by a misunderstand I had had with the person...

Before I made it to the resto, I checked out the Ottawa Turkish Festival, which was great...I laughed as I observed a man dressed in black, looking like a con man, sing traditional Turkish songs. It was remarkable to notice the number of veiled Turkish women in the fair, selling food, items, or enjoying the concert. I could swear I had seen fewer head-covered women in Istanbul two years ago than I saw in Ottawa on Saturday. I bought a Beşiktaş soccer team t-shirt for me and a Fenerbahçe one for my brother.

A funny dessert combination that was popular at the Kasbah, the Moroccan restaurant we dined at, was one of Moroccan mint tea and crème caramel. We had a big photo session, as it usually happens with talented and willing photomodels I come across.

Following the fun evening at the Kasbah, I didn't join Renee and the crowd in going to the back deck of her appartment, but instead lured Gina into coming to Parliament Hill with me for a walk behind the building to see the stray cats. It is rather remarkable, and it only came to mind after Gina pointed it out, that we have a shelter for stray cats on the grounds of one of the most important government buildings in the country.

The evening was beautiful and though we had missed a fireworks show that had happened five minutes before we had gotten to the grounds of the Parliament, we enjoyed the spooky light show that came about on the towers of Parliament Hill, where fog-like smoke caused by the fireworks made me want to sit down and enjoy the view...

Gina and I shared our frustrations and also some excitement as we walked around downtown Ottawa. We talked about things I would probably not discuss with anyone else, matters of philosophic and perhaps moral nature that I would find most people would have trouble understanding. What is always strange for me, though, is the fact that I use things I do, films I see, songs I hear, as channels to show my thoughts and feelings, and that's what happened when she and I talked about Armin, a Bosnian film about an overprotective father and his son, dealing with the new generation of Bosnian war survivors who wish to be identified with Bosnian and not victim.

We ended up back at Renee's deck after looking for it a good five minutes until a kind lady in a wheelchair opened the door to Renee's apartment building. We joined a crowd of semi-intoxicated young people who told politically incorrect jokes that didn't overly appeal to me, and I judged, based on Gina's facial expressions, her neither. They were mostly told by my Albertan roomie, who said that "the Chinese will eat anything", then, having just realized what he said, tried to correct it by saying they were resourceful and would never die out of hunger because they will make anything edible, which was just another generalization. I thought I'd call it a night, since Gina said she'd leave and Renee looked like she was well-settled with the crowd, joking and chatting away...

I didn't get a chance to have gelati with her this past weekend, though she said a couple of days ago she wanted us to go out for some. We'll have to go for beaver tails the next time I find myself in Ottawa, probably in October or November. That is, if Renee doesn't find another job that takes her around the world...

Labels: Friday, friends, ottawa, St.John's

It was 16:45=4:45 pm when I realized that, having just made my way to the St.John's airport, my flight would be delayed by 30 minutes. Partly stressing because I had with me a Kadare novel that I had almost finished reading and partly because the duty-free shop,aka the magazine store was closed and I couldn't get the new GQ, I resorted to opening my laptop and reading, for the second time, some of the meeting documents I was to read for a mini-meeting of 6-7 fellow activists from across the country.

I had only come to the second page of the first document when a familiar face got my attention: Brett, a dear old friend from St.John's who had similarly found himself in Montreal at the same time as I had, was coming toward me.

I met Brett six years ago when, his uncle, a lawyer, had hired me as an interpreter for some refugee claimants who needed some documents translated. It was Christmas time and I, after meeting one of my first crushes since my arrival in Canada, had fallen for Brett. That day, I didn't ask him anything about his sexuality and neither did he. I wouldn't see him for another year.

I couldn't wait until the next year. I went to his uncle's X-mas party once again and he was there, though slightly inattentive, lacking in excitement, anti-social even. He seemed disinterested, which made me wonder why he was that way, whether I had said something wrong, whether in fact, my gaydar was right in putting this Irish descendant on the list of the double-male sandwiches.

His sister Mariah was kind enough to introduce herself and keep me company for the rest of the evening. As I left, I looked for him so I'd say good night. I went to one of the bedrooms where he and a few of my schoolfriends were chatting away. On my way out of the door, I hear him calling out my name. He ran down the stairs and asked if I was free anytime soon for us to go out for tea or coffee.

We went out, and I found out my guess was right, that indeed, this son of the newfound land was a rainbow hugger.During our date, I found out my newfound friend smoked grass and did some heavy drugs at one point in his life, had made six porn films, hadn't been in a monogamous relationship before but looked up to one in the future, if one did show up on the horizon. None of these points that Brett had so honestly pointed out, made me feel attracted to him. In fact, if anything, they made me feel physically disconnected from the guy I had so long thought I was attracted to.

Various things, mostly clashes in values came in the way of our second date. Brett was offended to hear that I would say no to him. This was the first time anyone had turned him down. I felt sad for weeks, not knowing what to do about the guy I had for so long wanted to date and then turned down on the first date.

I had seen Brett in Montreal, where he got his life together and started Mideast Studies and Arabic...I saw him here and there, on the street or a dance bar, but somehow, I always thought about whether or not he had forgotten this moment in our lives...and whether he got over the fact that I judged him and based my decision not to go out with him on the fact that he kept no secrets from me. Somehow, I still do think about these questions, every time I see him.

Seeing Brett at the airport brought all of the emotions back. Surprising, but at that point of the day, I couldn't have been happier to see him.

He had lost weight, still looked straight at me with his blue eyes and tried to look serious. The only change was how calm he had become. Brett always had anger issues, but seeing him on Friday was proof to me that people can change. He had little luggage and, aside from Courrier International, only carried a small bag and a shoulder man-purse.

He was headed to Middle East, Palestine and Israel, in fact, aside from Lebanon, Jordan and Syria, which he wants to visit simultaneously, all during his six-week break before going back to school in Montreal in the fall. There were many things that had happened in his life since I had last seen him, including a switch from an Israeli boyfriend to a Palestinian one that he had met in Montreal and had now left in St.John's. He looked self-confident, ready to embark on his new adventure, excited that he would finally see a part of the world he was so close to via his boyfriends.

We talked for almost two and a half hours, mostly about world issues and conflicts and also about Kosova, the future of the region, etc. A woman behind us complained, saying we were too noisy. We didn't really get any quieter.

I was moved to see Brett reading Courrier International, an issue on Kosova at that, which he said he picked up, as he wanted to keep in touch with the situation there now.

Somehow, despite my happiness to see him and the fact that I felt like I had been with Brett all my life, I could not see Brett as anything other than a friend. I was honestly glad that he had gone through a transformation I never thought he'd manage to go through. I say this because he didn't feel comfortable being who he had become five years ago, a drug addict forced to resort to any means just so he could get his fix.

We parted ways in Montreal, where he got to his connection to Toronto, the place he was going to stay in for a week and then make his way to the final destination, whichever middle Eastern country that was.

As we said our goodbyes, I hugged him and wished him all the best.

I felt like telling him I was proud of him and the strength he had had to go through a world of changes, including a drug rehab program, but once again, risking being misunderstood, I kept my thoughts to myself.

I didn't want to make our friendship any more awkward than it already had been in the past.

I turned my iPod on at the airport and listened to Adelina Thaqi's S'Mundem Më [Real Media File].

Labels: airport, date, friends, Montreal, St.John's

Princess Ivana's birthday celebrations started on Sunday night, Canada Day. We headed out to George Street, which had lots of guys in the Navy uniforms looking around for someone and lots of drunk men and women performing their zombie routine of crawling and mumbling Gibberish words... we tried five bars before coming to the conclusion that we had missed the crazy partying by about 24 hours, so we thought we could head out to the Zone , one of the only two gay bars in town, as there is always something happening there.

We entered, only to realize everyone was looking at everyone else and no one was dancing. After about 30 minutes of dancing with Ivana and Jason and some other guys, we called it a night...Jason invited us to a barbecue he's having tonight.

The birthday dinner on Tuesday turned out to be just ok. I thought that trying a new steakhouse in town AND getting together with two of my closest friends [and another friend from Kosovo, Zana] would make the difference, but

a-Ivana showed up 30 minutes late and even caused the waitresses to question me whether I really had three other invitees for the reserved table or whether I just needed the extra space;

b-Zana never showed up.She had some sort of trouble getting to the resto.
c-My prime rib was nothing special.
d-Julie got dessert all over her white jacket.

The Princess, Zana, David, Andrew, Julie, myself and some other friends are going dancing again tonight.

Labels: birthday, friends, St.John's

Thursday afternoon at work was a rather unpleasant surprise for the Roma family that had just been told the day before that no charges would be laid against the father and the mother for uttering deadly threats. The police officer of the night before had canceled the complaint, but the frightened translator [see three entries earlier] decided to approach another officer and ask that a summons be issued to the family for a court appearance on the 6th of July.

This means I can't go to Ottawa on July 6th, as I will be at the court, translating for the harmless, five-foot-tall mother and her even funnier six-foot, twirly-moustache-wearing husband who looks like he just stepped out of the set of a Bollywood movie...or maybe an italian mafia documentary [this latter one is less convincing of his innocence].

On Friday, just before I headed out to Ottawa, I was almost late to the airport, as my coworker just left the organization we work in, so I applied for her job and got it. It's a great upgrade, as I will be earning 1.5 times more than I earned earlier. I didn't get a chance to learn much about the responsibilities of the new upgrade, but it can't be anything too hard to learn. I imagine it will be a transition step.

Two and a half hours of leafing through Air Canada's travel mag and a reading of "Can You Keep A Secret?" later, I found myself in Ottawa, excited that I was finally seeing Adam. The night before coming to town, I had received an e-mail from him asking if I still wanted to meet him, as I had, as he said, not been in touch as much as I perhaps should have been. This was slightly strange for me, as I had thought that he had been avoiding me...I was already pissed off as it was, as I hadn't really heard from him in a while. So I wrote a one-liner and said that yes, I still want to see him.

Coming down the escalator of the Ottawa airport arrivals was strange. I was looking for Adam in the crowd, hoping to see the familiar face somewhere in the crowds of anxious Ottawans waiting for their friends, husbands, fathers, brothers. As I noticed him in the crowd, it was almost as if I had done something wrong, something unmentionable. Adam looked tired, exhausted even, and not in the least happy. I smiled, but as I did, my smile filled me with regret, unexplainable actions peering out of me. I wasn't in the least surprised that he would act this way, but I was hurt somehow.

I asked immediately if everything was ok, only to be met with a strange response that required further explanations. As we waited for my luggage piece, I looked at him and how much I had missed him. His new haircut, new reading glasses, the evident loss of weight made me think of how much he had changed and with time, so did our interactions. We found his green Aztek Pontiac [I was impressed with the choice of colour for the car] in the giant parking lot. As we drove, he gave me a box of things he had collected for me in the last few months, including a Turkish, Anatolian-style pillow that he had bought after he returned from Montreal, where he and I had been shopping for a winter scarf for me. My choice of colours for the scarf had reminded him of me when he came across the pillow.

In the box, a dictaphone, which he had bought after coming back from Montreal the first time we had met, after finding out my dead iPod had stopped working [so I couldn't do any voice recording for an interview, a requirement for my Sociology course], a book he had told me about, a few buttons in different languages saying "I am loved", some toys, meeting distractions, etc. I was surprised, moved by this caring gesture, unable to say much. The truth was, I was moved by the fact that Adam had taken the time to collect all these small pieces of conversations we'd had, artifacts of our friendship.

We had a long discussion on Friday night. It was mainly my objections to Adam's values, his work ethic, the distance between us that triggered his reactions. We went to Dunn's for a later dinner, where I had a burnt steak and fries. Adam had French toast breakfast. Ottawa was warm at 11 pm.

We went back to the B&B I was staying in and, as we entered the door, were met by Brian [the owner]'s dog Chelsea and, immediately after that, Brian himself, who was curious to meet Adam. He concluded Adam and I were boyfriends and I didn't say much, but rather agreed to go with the story. I didn't feel like clarifying. We went up and spent our last night together.

The next morning, after breakfast, I met up with Denis and his friend Mauricio. We soon thereafter headed to the city two hours away. Mauricio was quiet while we drove, giving off the impression of someone who either 1/is hungover or 2/is antisocial, or 3/doesn't know me well, thus keeps quiet. This only lasted for a couple of hours and the shyness disappeared as the day wore off and as we visited three gay strip bars in an attempt to expose M to as much gayness as possible...

We also went on a bus tour of Montreal. We met up with Bee and said hi to la Patronne which was one of the highlights of the day. We had desserts and nachos, updated each other on the last two months, walked around the block and finally headed back to Ottawa at around 11:30 pm, only to get lost on the highway. Finally, M saved the day and we were on our way to la capitale...I fell asleep in the back on Denis's lap. As we approached my bed & breakfast, I dreaded having to say goodbye...

I came into my room, headed for the bed and put the pillow next to me...the rough, thorny fabric softened shortly after i laid my cheek on it...

The rest of the weekend involved pizza dinnfer outing and chat with Renee and her friend Juanita. I was impressed with Renee's apartment. I was amused by the fact that she likes Asian decor, but not necessarily visiting Asia. I shared the stories of my clients and the stories of misunderstanding and plain silliness with her.

Gina, who was slightly distressed about the food we had at an Asian resto, spent all of Monday with me. We did our traditional Chapters book-shopping and book review stories, had cheesecake brownie and coffee cake at a cute coffee shop we usually meet at, and lastly, we shopped at the Giant Tiger on Monday for something I was told is sold there. We said our goodbyes, but on my way to getting a taxi at the office, I thought about our friendship and how close we had become...I don't remember how we met, but even if I tried, I could never forget her...

Tuesday night reminded me that I need to keep away from St.John's...I had to translate for someone who ended up at emergency...I spent 11 pm to 6 am at the hospital, went home for a short nap and got up at 10 for work...wonderful

Labels: AdamX, Canada, flying, friends, Montreal, ottawa

I am in Kelowna, have been for two days now, and will be here until next Monday.

There's something about a small, green, university town, that has helped me reach peace. In the last few weeks, I'd been slightly stressed out about finding a job and making my monthly VISA payments. Suddenly, I don't think about that anymore. I'm fascinated by Kelowna.

I'm in a town where sailboats are THE thing, where the highway goes in the middle of the downtown area, where the rich have built houses in the hills to overlook the rest of the inhabitants, where a new university campus is the hope for a more lively Kelowna. The hope is that incoming university students will bring noise, so that the continuous sound that the crickets make incessantly, day and night, will stop, or at least, diminish.

I went out on the town yesterday afternoon, after leading a workshop, in which I felt so out of energy, my 39 participants also felt extremely out of it. I had traveled for 13 hours the night before and had gone through two connecting flights, only to get up the next morning at 6:30 am, due to the time difference.

My friend Anita, whom I sometimes think of as one of the closest friends I've ever had and will have, took a day off work as a schoolteacher and rode for 3.5 hours on her motorbike, to come see me. I couldn't be happier when I opened the door to let some participants out for an activity I was doing, and she was there.

See, Anita and I go way back. When my family made it to Newfoundland, Ann's parents helped us around town. They were with us constantly in the first six months, when life for us in one of the coldest provinces of Canada became a stage of undiagnosed depression that took a while to heal. Anita would come during the Christmas holidays and bring her cheery smile and funny jokes, though she herself went through depression at the time, for reasons different than mine.
I remembered her as someone who gave everything she had, her energy, hapiness and smile while she sat down with us in those cold winter days.

I will never forget those year-end holidays, when I looked forward to Anita's visit, her warm presence and the "always-happy" appearance, which, at the time, gave me a push of happiness, at a time when the indicator of my happiness tanks pointed to "empty". Once again, as she visited yesterday, I felt her ever-powerful presence, as we rode on her motorbike [a first for me...what a thrill!] and tanned on the beach, looked at her new photographs [we share a passion for photography] and contemplated the future [we decided we will be a bit more selfish in the future]. Anita drove back to her town in the evening, and though I was slightly sad to see her go, I was re-energized from her visit.

I got back to my room in the new UBC residences, which are great, air-conditioning-equipped, huge-bathroom, living spaces for students who are here September-May. Right now, there are no students here, so all of the conference members are occupying the rooms.

I share the bathroom with Renee, who is also at the conference. She and I talked for a bit about her frustrations with some of the conference participants, and after venting off, we decided we'd order some food in, rather than join others in an outing to Kelowna. We ordered italian from some restaurant that took 45 minutes to deliver chicken cacciatore and Greek pizza that made me wonder why we had ordered there...We also didn't have any cutlery, so I ate pasta using my fingers...great.

After our food got in [Renee had to give directions to the delivery guy], we sat down to watch Garden State, the movie that Renee insisted I should watch. Instead, I fell asleep and it was decided we should go to bed, except that Renee went on to chat on MSN. I was extremely tired and after checking Facebook and sending today's photos to Anita, I turned off the lights and went to bed at 10 pm...

It's 7 am and I got up 20 minutes ago. Another sunny day in Kelowna awaits...

Labels: adventures, Canada, friends, Kelowna

I found myself going to a basement party last night, as I pondered whether or not I should go out to socialize with a bunch of strangers, most of whom I'd never met before.

It was 11:15 pm. Having just watched Uptown Girls with my mom on TV, I decided it was too early to call it a night, especially since it was Saturday night. I called up Princess Ivana, my best friend, to make her come with me. I should have predicted that any call made to her involving me asking her to out to hang out with people she's never met would be met with a stern "No", in that strict Russian/Kazakh fashion.

I rarely learn my lessons from the past, so I called Ivana and asked her if she wanted to join me to the basement party organized by an acquaintance whom I'd worked with in Montreal. The blue-eyed blonde waited no longer than the end of my question to say "No, I have to work at 9 am tomorrow...but we can go out in the afternoon", to which I agreed, but I was slightly down that she didn't come with me.

It took me 15 minutes to change and find an old, medium-size-for-kids Spice Girls t-shirt in the basement. The party organizers had laid down a rule for those coming to the party to wear Spice Girls t-shirts in order to be let in. Aware of it being a joke and certain that my entrance with a Spice tee would get some laughter, I went on looking for the t-shirt. I found an extra one, both of which I had bought a couple of years back, when I still thought the girls would get together.

The warm breeze in the air made me feel good about the 15-minute walk ahead of me. It was a cloudy, but otherwise wonderful night out. I made it to the party, only to find out that half the people in it were people I had known for years and I had even gone to high school with. The big "Oh, my God!!!!! I haven't seen you in ages!" began, and everywhere I turned, a familiar face appeared.

It was a rather fun night with Petros, who went around trying to get everyone around him drunk, so he could take funny pictures of them, or the two Australian transplants who found themselves coming back to their birthplace fifteen years after their family had moved away. They talked about the overwhelming count of gay men they had made and had declared they were in the wrong place, but intoxicated and with their friend Jack D., decided to stick around.

I had taken a French course with Petros in Montreal last summer, but hadn't really spent much time talking with him. He told me last night he was going to Syracuse, NY to study medicine in the fall. Antisocial as I have been the last few weeks, it was good to chat with him and Mike in one of the bedrooms, away from the noise.

The other highlight of the evening was a story from a friend from high school, also gay, who was gone off to Cayman Islands to finish med. school, only to find out that the university there was strictly based on theoretical teaching, rather than hands-on practice with cadavers, etc. After two weeks in the school, Jose decided to call home and ask his parents for a ticket to get back to Newfoundland. He said he had loved the beaches, the weather, the people...but not school. It was interesting to hear from him that he had done such a mistake, as usually, he was one to be well-ahead of others in school, followed IB studies and received perfect marks.

After some good chatting and rambling about random things, after the exchanges of numbers and e-mail addresses and the "please, come downtown with us"es, I called it a night and walke d back a couple of blocks, only to be stopped by Petros, who, along with the sister and another friend, gave me a ride home...It was a good end to the night.

This morning, I got up at 11:30 am...I have never gotten up that late before.

Labels: friends, party, St.John's

Wednesday was a rushed day. Renee drove in from Ottawa to visit before I left for Newfoundland. I had initially hoped to go to Ottawa myself, as I wanted to drop off extra luggage [which turned to be much more than I could have ever carried, so it was good she came in], but I remembered hearing something about there being a strike on Via Rail trains,so I decided to stay in Montreal, just in case there were problems with me getting back to catch my flight. It turns out, it was a CN strike and not Via Rail...oops :) ...

We updated each other on our lives at a great sandwich cafe in the Village, called Kilo, where Renee pointed out the incredibly tall waiter was eyeing me. It was flattering, but I didn't really need his eye-flirting. :)An outing with Renee to find an Iranian grocery store in the Anglo part of Montreal turned into a long drive through the super-rich part of the city. It was incredible how perfect everything looked. The dogs were perfectly groomed, their owners jogging in Lululemon athletica sports suits. The streets couldn't be cleaner and the day couldn't be more beautiful to drive through Westmount, Montreal's Fairview.

We got a pound of Turkish tea, which my mom asked me to get for her, and then, we drove back to the residence, only to find out that Ren had missed a conference call. I was sad/happy to know that she had forgotten a call because she had so much fun with me...I tend to give myself a lot of credit these days.

Leonard had said it would be good if we could all go to the new Albanian-Turkish resto, but when I called him on Wednesday night, the instructions were so complicated that I told him to just meet Renee, Miranda B, Baroness Phoenicia and myself at Juliette and Chocolat. He said he'd bring Artan with him.

Ren and I showed up at the coffee shop, where Baroness Phoenicia had already arrived, eagerly looking out for us. I was slightly nervous, as I didn't know how my friends would get along, since they had not met before.

In short, it was a good mix of discussions ranging from French TV comedy to Baroness Phoenicia's likeness to Trinity in the Matrix, to Arabs being stupid. This latter comment is not mine and I would not like to take ownership for it. Rather, as something that Leonard said, I'd like to put it in the context...and the context I don't remember, so I will shortly say that Leonard, who wasn't overly fond of some of the discussions going on about the state of Lebanon after last year's Israel bombing, stopped and said "It happens because you guys are stupid" [or something like that]. Then, realizing he just made an awful realization, he said "but we're stupid too...We're all stupid"...and we all laughed.

I don't know how comfortable everyone was, and had I written this post the night after the coffee shop meetup, I could have been able to describe much better some of the interesting remarks made, but now, four days later, I am slightly lacking in memory.

I said goodbye to Miranda, who called me an hour later to say a proper goodbye because Baroness Phoenicia doesn't like goodbyes and therefore, she wasn't able to say goodbye the way she wanted to.

Ren and I were at a pizza place for a second, then we changed our minds and went for Lebanese.Alas, the place was closed, so we picked up something fast, ate it and within five minutes of lying down, we were fast asleep...

The next morning, we went for breakfast at a nearby cafe that served tea with one tiny cracker [what do i do with one cracker?] ... I loaded the tons of things I had in Ren's car and gave her my movie collection to watch until June, since I will see her in Ottawa then...She doesn't like my taste in music, so she just might not like my taste in movies either...What's up with the world? Few people like my taste in music...

I still made Renee an eclectic mix of the best [or everything I could come up with in 5 minutes, as Renee was getting ready to drive back to Ottawa] dance music I could come up with, so she wouldn't fall asleep.

Well, whatever, I will continue to resist classic and indie rock, which Renee seems to like...ewwww to those both.

Labels: chocolate, coffee shops, friends, Montreal

I don't know what happened to me on Tuesday and Wednesday. Somehow, I fell into a big packing frenzy and felt like, after days of packing, I obviously needed a break, or boost, whatever you may call a hot chocolate break. So I met Leonard for hot chocolate at Juliette & Chocolat for some hot chocolate. A gay couple next to us thought we were together and Leonard noticed it...He didn't, however, do anything.

Instead, he said something that made me want to come out to him. He said how cool it is that people feel free in Canada to be whoever they are and how in Kosovo, holding hands at a table would have been considered a no-no and probably followed by something worse, like a homophobic comment or worse,a beating. I told him I agreed and that was it... I didn't really feel like starting a whole debate on being gay, I was far too tired.

We chatted about many things with Leonard, including how thick the chocolate was. For the first 15 minutes, we kept looking around. I don't know Leonard for long, so it wasn't like I knew what his interests were.

Eventually, we started talking about his past. He told me he had opened an Albanian restaurant a couple of years ago, but, since it was on the outskirts of Montreal, few people found out about it. He closed it down, only to sell it to another man who opened an Albanian-Turkish restaurant in the same place. Apparently, the owner is an imam from Kosovo who, upon coming to Montreal, found out imams weren't paid positions here (in Kosovo, they are). So, he opted for the next best and logical thing to do for an imam: Start a business. After all, selling a message and selling food aren't things very different from one another.

Leonard talked for most of the night, except for when I talked with him about my opinion on Kosovo's pending independence. I mentioned how the international community, UN being the representative, have created a rogue government that controls many of the institutions in Kosovo, part of the reason why Kosovars want the independence so badly. In the last seven years, UNMIK (United Nations Mission in Kosovo) has created ministries and departments that have all been controlled by the international bodies of the UN, not allowing much local and regional development. It's a sort of a bamboo plant metaphore: You can shape the plant any way you want, you just have to allow only one source of light, and the plant will follow by growing that way.

In the same way, the UN thought that if it controlled the ways of functioning for the Kosovo government, many of the wanted human rights and economic/social reforms would take place. Unfortunately, groups like Vetëvendosje (Self-determination) were created, groups which sometimes want nothing short of independence,and they want it now, without any negotiation.

The delay in reform, including the silence behind close to 2500 missing from the war, has caused many problems in Kosovo. It has also brought home a problem that didn't exist before, one of international trafficking of women and drugs. These are "needs" expressed by the rich KFOR [NATO peacekeepers] soldiers who can afford to pay hundreds of Euros for trafficked women from Moldova and Bulgaria or Romania.

Most Kosovars just want the international community to give the power to the local politicians, instead of having them play around the world like little puppets, playing with wording like "diversity" and "multiculturalism" and "tolerance" [yes, i said tolerance and not "acceptance" or "respect"] in front of foreign officials.

It is important to think of the international community (EU, USA, Arab & Muslim world, Australia etc.) as those who changed the situation from war to relative peace in Kosovo, but to what extent does this merit give them the right to control Kosovar institutions? It was something that Leonard and I discussed for a long time and by the time I noticed my hot chocolate was now cold, it was already 11:30 pm [we met at 8:30].

I forgot to mention that Leonard is going through a mid-twenties crisis. He is, in fact, in his late 20s, but is afraid no girl will marry him because he is getting old. In Kosovo, most guys his age are married and have kids.

This last pic here is by Damir Sagolj, one of my favourite photographers. It was taken on a cloudy day in Prishtina, Kosovo.

Photos: Missing Persons, Prishtina, Kosovo - Rachel Geylin / Blackcrows - Damir Sagolj, Reuters

Labels: albanian, chocolate, coffee shops, friends, journal de montreal, Kosova, Kosovo

I've thought much about the topic of my post, weeks and weeks overdue...Perhaps the best way to go about it is by describing my last week in Montreal. I am now in St.John's and feel quite zen being in the part of the country that few people know is so beautiful, calm, rough.This week began on Monday with a trip to Ikea with Miranda B. It is quite obvious that she and I share a passion for all things Zen. Though Ikea furniture assembly is nothing like Zen, and as Adam pointed out, is slightly on the fragile side of things, I still think there is a magic to anything Ikea.

It starts with the simple lines on the furniture, almost retro- European sort of a look. Besides, it is Zen for the money-deprived, and this wins the game. It may take us hours to assemble a piece of furniture, and in the end, we may have to go back to the store to get a missing screw from the package, but the end result is quite satisfactory.

So, Ikea trip it was. Not only did we shop (I got a wooden salad bowl and a revolving wooden plate wheel, the kind you see at some "all-you-can-eat" Asian restaurants), but we also did a slight bit of Ikea tourism, as Miranda called it. We took shots of one another everywhere in the store, including children's bedrooms, closets (I came out of one, while Miranda was quite comfortable in it), couples' bedrooms (I cheated on Renee by taking a shot of Miranda and I in a king-size bed...the passersby who took the picture thought we were a cute couple... if only they knew...) and bathrooms (Miranda sat on a toilet, while I preferred the comforts of a bathtub, overlooking the Ikea parking lot...how beautiful).

We made it a whole pseudo-Swedish experience by having some meatballs at the resto and some Swedish ice-cream, which tasted slightly watery.

It was a rather intense photo day. In all, there were close to 80 pics taken. Miranda was quite tired of it all, and I couldn't wait to get to bed. Alas, I remembered in the last minute that I was to meet Princess Tanita and her Prince Ivan for some pure hot chocolate at Juliette & Chocolat at 6pm, so there was no rest to be had.

I was quite hungry by the time I had to meet the royal family, so I had a spinach and cheese crepe, which didn't fill me at all, aside from leaving me disgusted (the spinach tasted raw...ewww)...I chatted with her highness for about an hour. Before the Princess coupled up, she lived in Newfoundland and I knew her from some language monitoring work we did together. She was not liked very much by our boss, as naturally, like all princesses, this one loved talking...our boss was all about "being professional", which apparently means no talking if she [the boss] is not there. When she was present and she was involved in the conversation, you could chat about anything, including Paris Hilton and Britney Spears.

I said my farewell to the two lovebirds who kept feeding one another while we talked, something I found slightly distracting... Princess Tanita may be going to Gross Morne in the summer, so I told her it would be good if we went together, though I will probably rent a mobile home instead of camping out [i despise camping]. She wasn't quite pleased and I wondered why that was, since well, princesses of Austrian descent are usually snobs.

P.S: The photo of the unhappy artist comes from the website titled Elite Designers Against Ikea. Adam made me think about this. Somehow, it looks kind of like a joke, almost like an Ikea initiative...

Labels: friends, ikea, Montreal, shopping

Canadian Parents for French just e-mailed me to check if I would be interested in working for their national office in Ottawa for the summer, as a communications assistant.

I posted my resume on a job-finding website ten days ago, not expecting any responses....

Why does it have to be so far away? For the second time in two weeks, I say this again:
I wish distance didn't exist.

In other news, my big scholarship interview is this weekend. I don't anticipate a big "congrats! you got it!" at the end of June [when they send out letters letting applicants know], but it will be interesting to see what they will ask me. I can't wait for Sunday!!!

P.S: I'm still on away mode...this is just an "i'm alive" message

P.P.S: I had a blast at Starbucks with David last night. Not only did David get banned from Starbucks for stalking someone he went to school with, I met a fellow Albanian whom I'd chatted with long time ago. I also met his and David's mutual ex, who is hoping to make it big in fashion. They are all slightly eccentric and extremely talkative [a little bit too much for my taste], but funny and fun people nevertheless.... They may join Miranda B. and myself tonight, to an art opening at a boutique in Montreal's artist ghetto.

Labels: friends, funny, job, Montreal

Qesar visited last week and I met him for the first time ever. We had talked once at an Albanian Gay Forum and had kept in touch since, chatting on MSN, exchanging e-mails, etc.

It had only been a year ago that we started talking and at the time, I thought I'd never meet him as, of course, I am a big pessimist when it comes to distance. I felt like we had a lot in common, as we both came from a similar family setting. Though I'm out to my family, Qesar isn't, and for me, it felt like I was the big brother in this whole thing, guiding him on the way to someday being comfortable with whatever he decides to do about his sexuality.

Qesar and I also shared the mutual passion for anything Albanian, including men, so it was no wonder we kept in touch for a long time. Mind you, in the last six months, I think he did most of the work of updating me on what he has been up to, as being in Montreal and working away, I haven't been very good at keeping in contact with him, though I've thought often of his e-mails and messages that made me laugh at times.

This was Qesar's first time in Montreal, so we hung out for a long, long time. We went out together on Friday night and I met his zillion friends, the entourage that Qesar brought with him. :) . Miranda Bradshaw, her friend Princess Alya and Alya's friend, Prince D, joined us in going dancing that night.

Qesar's friends are so worth talking about and had I not had only 10 minutes to write (I'm in school... :P), I would have written a page for every single one of them. Instead, I will opt for something shorter about some of them.

Zane: Slightly feminine, super-friendly and bitchy (in that stereotypical gay way), very intelligent and sometimes silly, this young man speaks perfect Urdu and German...what's the likelihood of someone speaking these languages?

the highlight of my encounters with him was the story he told on Saturday night, where he recounted how earlier that day, he had bacon for the first time in his life. Apparently, he didn't know the plate had bacon when he ordered, but when he saw it later, he just shrugged and asked a friend to take a photo of him eating the bacon. "Well, I figured, I'm going to hell anyway, so why not try it? It's not like I don't drink or anything."

Monica: Smart, poetic and friendly, this young woman will someday amaze me with her writing. What she amazed me with this last weekend was the amount of energy she put in trying to convert gay men into being straight by showing them her breasts.

She also tried to get it on with a waiter at a restaurant, but the guy resisted the temptation. She did, however, let a bi stripper at a gay strip bar put his hands in her breasts and play with them. This was not necessarily the way I wanted to remember her, but it's definitely the way I remember her now. Oh, well.

Greg: Greg is made up of 235981456345876 nationalities. His mom belongs to four different ethnicities, as does his dad, so he is a melange parfait. He speaks perfect German and is quite down to earth. I went through his iPod and found out he listened to a lot of the music I listen to, including Freemasons' "I got love on my mind".

I liked Greg for not trying to be something he's not. His sarcasm was also quite funny, at times (though higher doses of it would be dangerous). Greg is the kind of guy you meet and know right away that you can be friends with them.

Out of the whole group, Qesar and Greg are definitely guys I can be good friends with.

Fareed: This Pakistani hottie shook his booty a bit too much in the two nights we went dancing. He also left early on Friday night to go to the gay strip bar with Zane, just so he could get some.
He also liked to play with handcuffs in the hotel room, including cuffing people and playing around with them.

I was touched by his story and wanted to hug him when he told me (and the rest of the group) that he had been molested when he was 10 by his Qur'an teacher in Pakistan. I had tears in my eyes and wondered why anyone had to go through something as horrible as that and was going to say something, but instead continued with my "observer" role and just listened instead to the stories he and others told.

I was attracted to Fareed, but I think it was simply physical. It was slightly odd, as we danced and suddenly, I felt the attraction was mutual...and i got my confirmation, too.

Danny: Danny was wonderful. He loved talking about his mom, whom he is convinced is lesbian. He loves talking about her as soon as he has a sip of a drink, whatever it is. We went out for dinner and he had Bailey's, followed by a cheesecake made of...guess what...Bailey's.

This Asian young man got a private lap dance at the strip bar we went to on Saturday night, courtesy of Fareed, who did this because of Danny's complaints that no one in Montreal liked him and this was no memorable weekend for him (that was my first night at a strip bar, ever, by the way...more on that sometime soon). He came back, serious and solemn, as if nothing had happened. We asked him what had happened.

He said the man pulled down his pants, let him look and approached him, asked Danny if he wanted to touch it. Danny touched it, and that was it. That's where US$20 went.

At a restaurant we went for a dinner to, Danny called up his bank, while the waiter stood in front of him, so he could check whether or not he had enough money in his account to pay for his meal. Out of the whole group, this guy is the winner in the 'funniest guy' category.

Adam: Adam was definitely the shyest of them all. A young Jewish man whose family found out about his sexuality through MySpace, Adam studies computer science.

Throughout the weekend, he had a number of witty comments that went ignored by the group, but I thought he was a nice guy. Overall, he has no sense of style, wearing Monica's white pearl necklace (I made him wear it so I could take a photo of it), but he is very friendly.

I asked him whether he practiced the Shabat and he said he didn't, though he said he practices parts of his religion.

I would have also liked to write about Chelsea, who was Monica's friend. She was also high on hormones and in need of some lay, so she kept fake humping with the guys, which I found extremely funny.

The whole group, though, is so diverse, I couldn't believe they were friends. Blacks, Jews, Muslims, Pakistanis, people from Trinidad and Tobago, Germany, Afghanistan, Macedonia.

It was a wonderful weekend knowing them. I may see them someday again.

i need to write about some things that bugged me that weekend, but more on that later.

Labels: Canada, friends, men, Montreal, Qesar, United States

Monday, March 26, 2007 - Provincial elections in Quebec. I went to vote, but unfortunately, couldn't, reason being, I haven't "officially" moved from NL (filled out a form with my new address). True, I didn't… Still, I wanted to vote for anyone but ADQ, Action Democratique du Quebec, an ultra right-wing party gaining power in Quebec. In fact, they gained so much power, they bumped Parti Quebecois, the province's leftist sovereignist party into the third place, getting in this way the balance of power in the first Quebec minority government in 129 years.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007 - I showed "The Laramie Project", the film about Matthew Sheppard to my high school students, in an effort to create some sensitivity around the issue of gay rights.

For the most part, the students took it well. One student who wasn't answering questions I put out for the class to answer ("What is happening in the movie?" and "how do the characters feel?") said he couldn't answer them because as a Roman Catholic, he thought it went against his religion. I told him writing what he sees does not go against his religion. I think he was just being lazy. At one point, I lost the attention of the class. Everyone was talking, few were listening, and since regular talk doesn't work with these boys and girls, I yelled at the top of my lungs and gave them a lesson on how they should always show compassion to others, no matter who the others are. I was so angry to have lost their attention, I think they (and me, too) were frightened of my facial expression after my fit. I looked at my supervisor after giving this "talk". She looked traumatized.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007 - Hanna, my Albanian student who is going to Kosova in just two months, presented her PhD research proposal at McGill on the state of Kosovar women in post-war Kosova. It was beautifully done. She has a great grasp of Kosovar culture, despite not being from there and despite only spending two weeks in Kosova a couple of years ago. After the proposal, we went to the McGill graduate student bar, where, out of all people, I saw my friend Ed who is usually in St.John's, so seeing him at the bar was super surprising. Hana and one of her friends had whiskey and cookies to celebrate (aside from their meal)…I stuck to water, roast beef sandwich (with horrible honey mustard seeds…ack…) and Oreo cheesecake…yummmm…

Thursday, March 29, 2007 - I went to a public discussion at McGill on racial profiling and police brutality. It was of particular interest to me because Khadijah Bennis, Anas Bennis' sister was there. I am writing a paper on Anas. Anas Bennis was shot twice by Montreal police on December 1, 2005, but no official version of the incident was given by the police, except for a short media release that said it was an act of self-defense because apparently, Anas Bennis, as he came out of the morning prayers from the mosque, made a run for the two officers on the street while he held a kitchen knife on his hand. The investigation, completed and finalized, was never submitted to the public, reason being "national security". A video from a neighbouring Bell Canada building, showing Anas Bennis being shot by the policeman was confiscated by the Montreal police and was never released to the family or shown to them. Khadijah said she doesn't know what that means because Anas was never implicated in any terrorist links.

Friday, March 30, 2007 - I interviewed Khadijah Bennis for my research paper. She is a super strong woman to be able to handle interview after interview after interview. I felt guilty for asking her to do another one, but she was very friendly and helpful. After the interview, I looked out onto St.Catherine street, where hundreds were coming and going everywhere, and I wondered why it had to be him, why we're so evil and mean, why we shun those different from us. It's naïve to ask these questions, but they are things that haunt me on an ongoing basis. I am saddened to see people like Khadijah who have lost a loved one, yet continue to hope for an explanation they so rightly deserve.

I went shopping so I would feel a bit better, though it didn't quite make a difference. I kept thinking about this young man and his death and how he died. He was not much older than me.

In the evening, Miranda Bradshaw, whom I was supposed to go dancing with, decided she is not into dancing and invited me to join her to visit Miss Chatterbox instead. We did, and had a lovely time. Miss Chatterbox is super-funny, witty and smart, and Mr Chatterbox is just as kind. They have a wonderful apartment at quite a good location and apparently, a great landlady.

I met Baroness Phoenicia, who loves dancing and hates photos. I am looking forward to going shaking it with her…

It was a wonderful night that ended at around 4 am (time I went to bed), only to start again two hours later for my weekend tennis club shift…la vita e bella :) ....By the way, these are Miranda Bradshaw's new shoes, not mine :P

Saturday, March 31 - A flirting session sprang from a regular chat with an acquaintance I met in Montreal six months ago. I told him I wanted to see him before we left and then he started saying he liked me, bla bla bla…We're going out for tea on Monday night.

Later on, my neighbour dropped by. A mix of Moroccan and Chinese ancestry, this young man is quite interesting. Two days ago, he knocked on my door and said he liked my music (Mika) and was wondering if he could borrow my CD. Last night, we had dinner together, where he revealed he is into transgendered women, though he doesn't like to call himself bi or gay because he still likes straight women. So I asked him if he was into guys and he added he liked very feminine guys…Hmmm, interesting. I'm glad I'm out of the picture :)

Over chinese noodles and his spices (he brought spices from his studio), we chatted about lots of things. He talked about how his mother is so controlling and how he only told his father, who said it's ok for him to be with men, but with transgendered women, that was pushing it a bit.

Sunday, April 01, 2007 - I started research for a paper due in two days on provincial jurisdiction drawn by the British North America Act of 1867. I may get to finish it up, though something tells me I won't. I've got dinner with Miranda Bradshaw and her buddies…it's her birthday.

The members of the tennis club are still talking about my table accident. Someone suggested today that the damage be reduced from my pay. Four others exclaimed that would be unfair and the person shut up. Oh, well, I suppose no more nice Arbër for him :)…

Today, I found out I won CAD $30 million on lotto 6/49.

$30 million? Ummm, nah, just an April fools' joke :)

Labels: Canada, everyday life, Friday, friends, funny, gay rights, homophobia, human rights, Islamophobia, men, Montreal, racial profiling

I am not writing about either one of those cities, as I know how depressing my writing has been lately.

Instead, I want to write about an excellent Friday and Saturday evening I had last week with Renée, a dear friend visiting from Ottawa. Renée was in town visiting a friend, so we got together at Orienthe and chatted for a while, sharing our own romantic dramas and issues. I, of course, said my most popular sentence ("Read my blog to find out more!" about five times.

Following Orienthe, we went to Renee's friend's house, who was expecting us along with his friend/girlfriend/other (Renee seems to be confused as to the kind of role this person/woman plays in Rihan's life) to go out for dinner.

We went to a restaurant on Prince Arthur street (a wide selection of restos for all tastes, if you're ever looking for a place) that Rihan had chosen. "From Damascus to Baghdad" had lighting that made me think of basements of Iraqi homes at wartime. It was so dim, I had difficulty reading what was on my menu.

Nonetheless, it was clean, busy and the staff were friendly (though I assume, new to the job, as the waitress who served us was pretty clumsy…She mistook an order for something else and just seemed like she was out of it…but she was still friendly).

Before I'd met Rihan, Renee had suggested that he was attractive for a straight guy. I thought about it and the minute I saw him, I knew he had betrayed his own kind. He, my loved ones, was a friend of the Dorothy. Well, if not a best friend of hers, then at least a very close acquaintance.

I don't know how, but we got talking about the topic of sexuality. I mentioned how in some Muslim countries, men resort to having sex with other men because they can't have sex with women until they marry them. So, I thought it was slightly strange that a men would have sex with another man until it was time to marry and then say "ciao ciao" to his male lover.

Rihan didn't see anything wrong in this. In fact, he admitted he didn't believe that humans could be heterosexual. Just like him, every human being has a tendency to be bisexual, said our sexual pariah who devours men and women alike. I looked for an approving look in Renee's face, but she was looking ways away, as if she hadn't been in the room.

The rest of the night was spent discussing politics, which Rihan sounded so passionate about. The part that was passionate was his strong will NOT to vote. When I told him if he doesn't vote, he has no right to complain for the government elected, he pretty much exploded. He was pretty passionate, so I just let it go :P

The girl sitting next to me must be pretty smart, as she's doing a Phd in genetics, but her people skills were slightly on the side. She talked about things I didn't find interesting and just had a super girly way of talking, which was kinda bothersome after a while… So, since I had to get up super early on Saturday, I ran out the door as fast as I could and made a date with Renee to meet the next night to go to Kermit's (one of the professors I work for) post-St.Patrick's Day party.

The night of the party, Renee decided she wouldn't show at my place, so she'd meet me at the party itself. Miranda Bradshaw canceled on me as well, so I was left with none other than Leonard, "the white Arab". I invited him to come to my apartment , but before I did that, I removed any signs of gay existence in the room (I'm not out to Leonard because I want to get to know him a bit better before I come out to him…coming out to fellow Kosovars is slightly more challenging than to other Canadians).

Leonard came in and settled while I changed and prepped myself up. He asked if he could check his e-mail. I said "of course! Go right ahead!"…and then it struck me: I had dozens of gay torrent and gay chat links under the address bar of my browser. Oh, well, I couldn't tell him: "wait, I have to do something for a second". He noticed them and said "wow, you have many gay links on your browser." I just said "umm, yeah, I know" … Three minutes later, we headed to the party as if nothing had happened. We talked about silly things while in the subway. He is a fun guy to talk with, for sure.

We got to the party. Being the non-drinker I am, I had taken a two-liter bottle of Tropicana mixed fruit juice. I thought Leonard could share in. Instead, he decided we should go get booze. So I asked him "So, you drink, eh?" and he replied "ya…I mean, I try to pray and all, but I'm not too good at it. I do have to say, though, that I am the most religious one in my family." I held myself from laughing once again, for the second time in two days.

The party was fun. I discovered Massive Attack, though I had heard one of their songs long time ago in a movie soundtrack. I also saw my Newfoundland compatriot Deborah, who shares in the same passion of social justice as I do, whom Leonard seemed to have fallen in love with, as all night, all they did was talk.

I left at around 3:30 am, only to go home with a girl. Dat's right, Renee came home with me that night and we talked until I fell asleep on her. That was apparently a first for her. Five minutes later, I shouted out "do you need a sleep mask?" and then went back to sleep.

It was kinda cool, though, only my second sleepover ever.

In the morning, I was late to work at 8 am (Renee asked what time I was supposed to be at work at 8:10), so she gave me a ride. When I came home that night, I had the following note from her:

Ah, women… you never CAN please them...

Labels: food, friends, Montreal, party, restaurant