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

I was out on a date last night with a guy whom I'd briefly spoken with long, long time ago...

I couldn't believe last night, that I was sitting in a coffee shop with someone who could only remember meeting me by the word "ethnic cleansing" ("you're from that country, with ethnic cleansing stuff, right?")

I ordered hot chocolate, he ordered Canadian [beer]. Soon after, the waitress came back, expecting us to order food, but I opted for a fruit salad instead...Poor Jamie B. from NB ordered a bowl of brownies and ice cream, only because I'd done it.
Coming back from this failure of a date, I became convinced once again that I am single because I am picky - penso, igitur solus sum.

In other news [exceprt from an e-mail to a close friend]:

I'm in the middle of preparing an outline that will contain the summary of my 40-plus page-essay in one single page...I'm not good in summarizing, so this is proving to be a chalenge,....

I gave up 2/3 of my hours at the ANC, so i'm hoping that will help me concentrate more on class, though there are so many things that are keeping my mind away from classwork...

My brother called twice today...He usually does this to politely check if there is a way for one of us to help him by sending him some sort of a remittance. ...As time passes, I only worry more that his arrival in Canada won't happen and that somewhere down the road, someone will change his/her mind about it all and cancel my brother's application...thoughts are roaming in my mind and I know that they shouldn't, but somehow, i can't censor them...Kadare would have laughed and felt wonderful about just having gotten enough material to write a new novel.

I feel like a dying giant who, with the grasp of his final bits of energy, is trying to stand up...I don't know why that analogy is appealing to me, but somehow, I do feel like i've fallen down and am having difficulty standing up...it must be Kadare! I should blame Kadare for everything wrong. :) Hoxha did/some Albanians today do.

I received a call a couple of weeks ago from a man who just moved here from Kingston. He came here from Prishtina in 1999 with his family, did his Master's in Engineering after proving to the university that he had worked in the power facility in Obilic until late 1998. He is now working on the Harbour clean-up project...I have yet to go out and chat with him, but he sounds lonely on the phone. His family is in Kingston, apparently, waiting for summer before they can move here. He, in the meantime, is looking for a used car to buy...I didn't really know where to send him for that....He asked about the other Kosovar family in town...I told him I'd check with them.

A good friend's father passed away Monday...it must be the sadness that his death brought that has affected me. I've been thinking what I'll do if my father dies, and I'm not there during his last minutes...It is sad to know that he will die without us having a chance to talk about the past...any effort of the sort would end in complete failure...It's also sad and slightly ironic that I'm wanting to study diplomacy when I couldn't resolve conflict between my father and the rest of my family...I may be being harsh, but it is something that is and has been part of me for so long.

Labels: date, Friday, Kosova, Kosovo, men, men problems, problems, sad

Adrien called me last Sunday, said he felt terrible about any misunderstanding there may have been, regarding the strange guy ruffling under the table...he asked if i was free anytime this week, to which I replied that yes, i was free friday night...

we went out tonight and had orange-canteloupe juice, chatted about various topics ranging from high school memories to future plans, took occasional breaks when our mutual friends would drop in to the cafe and say hi... later, we went out for dinner to a stir fry resto, which was great... He had a party to go to after, but opted to join me in watching a film at my house, so we watched Breakfast on Pluto.

There were some awkward moments, where I wondered whether he was expecting me to say something or not, but neither one of us did say anything, and instead opted to call it a night after the film...I don't know where we were and if this does repeat itself,I will raise the question...I just wanted tonight to be just a night of hanging out together. I didn't want to spoil the moment...

Adrien went to get his reading glasses, as his lenses were drying up, then to the party his friends were at...

I am now in bed and will be sleeping in a few minutes...

This isn't exactly what I would have hoped for, on my first date with Adrien, the cliqueish boy from high school, but it was an unusual "date", one that doesn't compare with any dates i've had in the near past, making it unforgettable...

The feeling of uncertainty and butterflies in my stomach feel strange and I wish I had a hint of what is happening between Adrien and I, but right now, even if i never heard from him again, I'd be happy. It's good to feel wanted..It's wonderful to feel alive again.

Labels: crush, cute, date, men, mr.right candidate

Adrien was my high school crush. He was, throughout my three years in a formerly all-female and religious school, the guy I hoped to someday go out on a date with. Alas, at the time, he was straight, into alternative posses [of rich kids who can afford $3000-music instruments for their participation in the orchestra, etc.] and not quite receptive to those outside of his friends' circle.

I saw Adrien at our high school prom, where he was eager to take photos together and even chat for some time.

During my university life, I saw Adrien three times, one of which was a time when i had to fix my watch at the store he worked in, the other a coincidental meetup just before he headed to volunteer in Brazil for a year and the last time was at a movie theatre, where I watched Narnia with my brother and he with his mother.

Since our high school graduation, Adrien kept e-mailing me, intercepting me while i rushed to class, when i had no time to stop and chat, and it seemed always that he wanted to talk, but somehow, kept back...so I ignored him.

Last year, Adrien came out...A couple of months later, I saw his profile on gay.com.

Last night, I went out with half a dozen friends who were celebrating a good friend's birthday. Maria is one of my closest friends, so spending time with her was great fun. We made it to the town's G-boat, the new gay hangout, alternative to a stereotypical, dark, gloomy solution to boredom on Saturday night for gay men. G-boat, a large ship overlooking the harbour, is quite an attraction...

This is where I saw Adrien tonight. He was so happy to see me, he ran and hugged and kissed me. I was, too, though I didn't know how to react to it all.

Because the G-boat was pretty quiet and not that happening, we decided that along with a few other high school buddies, we'd go to the Zone, the dark dance bar.

Before we got there, Maria, the birthday girl and activist extraordinaire, had a nervous breakdown because she had failed to prevent the Immigration authorities from deporting a Russian family to Israel. Convincing her that it wasn't her fault and that she had done all she could [and more]took around 15 minutes, during which time Adrien patiently waited outside and we talked in the washroom.

We had to wait in line for a bit, during which time Adrien tried to get people to go to the G-Boat...the only person he recruited was a guy who flirted with him. Nevertheless, Adrien came with me to the Zone, so we danced for a bit until he suggested we go back to the boat because his friends were there. I said I preferred he stay, but he said he'd promised the girls he'd come back, so he had to go...

So he left...and then I felt bad for not going, thinking maybe it was a hint of him liking me.

Throughout the one hour I spent at the Zone, I had five or six guys, three of whom were quite attractive, approach me to dance, which we did, but when they offered their numbers, I said I wasn't interested, as I was dating someone. I figure this excuse helps in these situations...In reality, all I was thinking of was what had happened to Adrien.

As Emilie, my other friend who's just recently started dating the waiter in the G-Boat, got ready to go, I decided i'd join Adrien and the crowd there once again. At this moment, I was slightly excited and ready to tell Adrien how I had felt about him in the last six years.

We made it there, only to discover that Jim, Adrien's new crush, was playing with his foot under the table they were sitting at. He confessed to me that he wanted to go out with Jim on a date to give the guy a chance, but that he didn't want to have anything to do with him now, as Jim was super-drunk [having difficulty walking and standing]. He said his friends told him to keep away, but that he was willing to try a date out and see what happens.

I sat there and looked at Jim, as he shoved his foot towards Adrien's thighs, who tried to ignore him, or so it seemed. I was incredibly angry that Adrien would want to date someone who was slurring his words and couldn't walk without someone holding him. I felt angry that somehow, he didn't see me as anything other than his high school friend...or so it seems

I stood there and feeling pathetic, decided to move tables, so I sat with some friends and chatted with them before I left the building...

As I hugged friends to leave, I didn't think I'd let Adrien know I was leaving..He saw me leaving and ran after me and hugged me...He said he was going to work on getting rid of the guy. I told him it was good to see him. As he hugged me, he mentioned we'd be in touch soon.

I was going to share the cab with him, but in the last minute decided to walk and clear my head from what I had just seen. Despite being hurt by the fact that Adrien didn't see me as anything other than his high school friend, I didn't feel like ignoring him. Somehow, the feelings I still have for him seem to overpower the anger and the embarrassing situation I found myself in last night...

Dear reader, welcome back to forma melancolica. I'm living up to the name of the blog once again and at this moment, I wish I didn't...at all.

Labels: birthday, crush, cute, everyday life, men, men problems, mr.right candidate, party

men are strange creatures.

they like you, love you even, adorn you with gifts and place you on a pedestal, until the end comes.

then, like/love is replaced by apathy, hatred even, and words that were uttered are taken back.

...

regret replaces eagerness and the warmth transforms into a misunderstanding of feelings and an awkward bit of emotion of "i don't know what to say to that".

if i don't understand men, then i don't understand myself. i should, since i think i understand myself perfectly well.

i just don't know why i don't feel the way that men around me feel, particularly when they dislike.


...


a man dropped by my office today, wanting to volunteer. he's in his late seventies, still wanting to do what he can to improve things around him. i saw myself in him, not the improving things part, but the aging part.

...


the day i understand men, i'll be using a walker and will no longer have any plans in the way of my life.

....

i wonder when men will understand me.

Labels: everyday life, men, men problems, sad

Darn calls from reception to interrupt my studious research paper-typing. I felt like turning off the ring on the phone, but I answer anyway.

"You have mail, sir", says the Senegalese receptionist who usually talks to me in French, and all of a sudden I feel like Scarlet O'Hara, whose love for Rhett Butler makes her even more racist than she usually is, in "Gone with the Wind". I start guessing what there is in the mail and I realise I guessed right when I get to reception.

Downstairs, I'm greeted with a box of roses. I open it up and what else can it be but Adam's blue roses! :)

I'm now in a state of bliss and am grinning, looking at the roses and the card, where Adam apologizes yet again for something he has no control over him...I wanna hug him so bad right now!!! :D I feel so happy, I could dance outside, in the cold rain, with my cold. This is one of the sweetest things someone's ever done for me.
Ok, uhhhmmm, back to studying...and up the Away mode again, while I think of the times that now feel like distant past.

Labels: AdamX, cute, date, men

If anyone's ever had a freaky Friday the 13th, they will know that it starts in the morning. The symptoms are comparable to many situations, namely fear of the unknown and the notion of "what it's true...?".

Labels: AdamX, Friday, men, Montreal, mr.right candidate

A few updates that I've been meaning to make in regards to my Mr.Right candidacy work. None of these updates, aside from the last one in this post, have anything to do directly with Mr.Right candidates.

The MSN flirtie is a date no more. He felt he would miss me too much if we were intimate until I left. He asked if we could date when I'm back next year. Ummmm, no.

This morning, a med. student sitting opposite me in the subway gave me his number after I asked him if he had a lot to study for. The conversation went something around the lines of:

Me-You're in med. school?
He-Yeah...I have lots to study for.
Me-It looks like you've got the whole book highlighted.
He-Ummm, which stop do you get off on?
Me-Angrignon, and you?
He-De l'Eglise. I've never gone past this one in the three years I've been in Montreal.
Me-Oh, where are you from?
He-New Brunswick.
Me-Cool, I'm from Newfoundland.
He-I'm Jean-Marc.
Me-I'm Arbër.
He- Well, I have to get off now, but can I give you my number? I don't usually do this.
Me- Ummm, yea, sure, I guess.
He ** scribbles down his number **
Me **thinks about what just happened**

Should I have told him I wasn't interested? Would that have offended him? I know it would have offended me, so I didn't say anything.

I don't know if I should call him and tell him I am not interested, that he's cute and all, that it's not his problem, but that I am kind of going out with someone now. I was afraid telling him that this morning, while he rushed to write his number down would offend him. And it's not the first time someone has done this either, it's just never happened in the subway.

AdamX said he might visit on Friday before he goes back home from Ottawa. I have a major paper to write for next week, but, as Miranda Bradshaw said, maybe spending time with someone I like will help me do more in less time, so I shouldn't feel guilty about spending time with him.

I agree.

Labels: men, Montreal, subway stories

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

Aside from Qesar's visit [which I will certainly write about tonight or some other time], this week's highlight has been AdamX's visit in the city.

We met at noon on Monday...After close to 18 hours together, we said bye on a Tuesday morning and for the first time in a while, I felt super-sad that it ended.

I want someone to steal Earl Grey teabags for me and apologize for the slightest thing they did, even if it means they have no control over it.

Someone who knows what the Office de la Langue Française means and is geeky enough to take a photo of it. Someone who knows little about Amnesty International but is willing to learn about it. :)

I want to imagine what it would be like to be with someone who has an infectious smile and who will risk a night of browsing Montreal to help me fix my ancient, broken iPod.

I wish I could spend a longer time with someone whose facial expressions make me laugh and warm inside.

AdamX gave me a taste of it and funny enough, I liked it.

I just wish life wasn't so complicated and distance didn't exist.

Labels: AdamX, men, Montreal

I'm in a state of temporary bliss after a great date I had last night with my MSN flirtie.

For the first time in a while, I had a date that actually looked promising. He's 22, a big fan of litterature, a writer [currently working on his first work of fiction], a sucker for Manet paintings [awww, so classic... :) ] ...

We met at 7ish and by the time I got home, it was almost 1 am.

I thought maybe i'd see him once more before I left, but already today, he was wondering if we could go to the Museum of Fine Arts on the weekend [after I, of course, invited him to come dancing with Julius Ceasar and I. Ceasar is visiting la ville from CT...I just couldn't resist not inviting him]. So, I think I will definitely see him before I leave town....and more than once.

I was late for work this morning, but I didn't really seem too worried about it when I told my supervisor I was sorry to be half an hour late. She waved it off and said, "hmmm, it's fine...your hickey makes up for it" ... that's when i covered up my neck :P

Labels: date, men, Montreal

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 just got back from Mika's concert. WOW! The guy is AMAZING. He is so energetic, so jumpy, so happy, so...wonderful! He made me so happy with his voice and energy, I kept dancing and singing with people I've never met or seen, and we even hugged and danced with one another! Bliss, I tell you! :) Sadly, Montrealers seem to have found out about him, so my dream of getting his autograph and/or a photo op. did not come true. This didn't stop me from taking photos of him tonight, though apparently he did ask photos not to be taken... They pics I took didn't turn out great, but here they are...

The good thing is, I will forever treasure Mika's new album. It's happy, lively and most of all, a rarity of quality corn pop. It's really a wealth of emotions bundled together in an album to which, once you listen from the beginning to the end, you will become addicted.

I was supposed to meet a few friends at the door, but they went in early to get some good seats and obviously didn't end up with good ones because I combed the place through and couldn't find them anywhere. So I kept walking around like a lost case as all the gay guys and teenage girls with their straight and sexually-confused boyfriends mingled and eye-flirted with fellow Mika maniacs.

Aside from the concert being a great, lovely night, I met a boy! Well, not a boy, more like an analogy for a cute single man who i am going out on a date with on Wednesday night...

It's odd because we had chatted online some time ago, on a day when my only social contact happened to be the cybersphere. I saw him tonight, he waved at me and said hi and I had no idea who he was and why he was saying hi to me, though I thought he was cute. I got back home and I already had a message from him, asking if the person he waved and said hi to was me. I clued in and messaged him back. He replied saying he thought I was cuter in person than in my profile photo. Why, of course... :)

The luck that I have, my three single teenager-looking straight friends were just outside the door as I left Club Soda tonight...Speaking of teenagers, I felt like one, wearing loose Levi's, Converse All Stars and the over-the-shoulder man-purse with a cowboy shirt...

Labels: concert, date, favourite music, men, Mika, Montreal, pop music

Before you get any ideas in your minds about the title of this post, it's lyrics from a song I like...and "he" is actually "she" in a song, but today, it's me, being high on coffee this morning, as my only means of trying to stay awake for the day.

I had less than two hours of sleep last night, I mean, this morning and I couldn't feel better. Oddly enough, though I have huge bags under my eyes (I know, so self-conscious of me) and though I did feel slightly hesitant about coming to work this morning (I kinda always do feel hesitant about that), I am doing pretty good for someone who has slept, well, to be exact, 1 hour and 45 minutes. I had a great Saturday night with Miranda Bradshaw and her Kerastase model friend and colleague, V. and their friends, for what was a birthday party for V.

It's funny because I didn't really meet many people. In fact, out of the dozen people that were there, I got to know three very interesting characters, one of whom was Isabella Rosselini, a super-smart Montrealer who speaks and writes Arabic! Can you imagine? She lived in Egypt for two years and studied Arabic and now speaks it perfectly. I was really envious of her as, ultimately, someday, I hope to learn arabic, too, though I think so many of my brain cells are dying at such a high rate, there just won't be any space left for this tough language. Isabella is now researching a doc on dancers in Egypt (I presume, belly dancers...?). She had brought Newfoundland Screech to the party, the typical Newfie drink, a familiar thing from home (home being relative, in this case, Newfoundland) and told me she visited St.John's last fall.

V. is writing her thesis (Masters, I think) on eco-feminism, or at least that's what I got from it. Her research is on the effects of environment on women in Quebec. I thought it was unique, as I hadn't really heard of a special relationship between the environment and women, but after hearing about the work she did in the rural areas, following women's lives and their work in the country, I was convinced. The only thing is, I'd probably have to read her work before I could fully understand the point.

I felt really comfortable hanging out with the always-smiling and in-the-mood V., her super-friendly boyfriend, the future supermodel daughter (she posed for me numerous times when I asked to take a photo of her once) and their friends. Miranda Bradshaw was slightly tired, but that didn't prevent her from dancing to some French rock band tunes (Dead Zone or something like that), just as the presence of people I'd never met didn't prevent me from doing some shake-your-booty Arabic belly-dancing (and to think that that was the first and probably the only time I did belly-dancing in public... rare performance is what I call it).

Miranda B. had once told me about how a friend of hers had mentioned to her that she could be overwhelming to guys who just want a "simple, regular girl". I sort of felt like I overwhelmed a new acquaintance last night when I started telling him about living in war-time Kosova. By the end of the chat, he said, "ummm, I'll go get some more wine," and as he left, I allowed myself to some giggling, as I had just made a guy ponder how he'd spent all his life not thinking about things he sometimes takes for granted.

On the occasion of the special party for V., we had two police visits (V. is THAT popular). The people living on the floor below us apparently called the police and complained about the noise (really, it was just a little music and some walking around). As a result, we had not 1, 2 or 3, but FOUR cops come to the party, to tell us to keep it quiet, otherwise they were going to charge Isabella $150 for the noise. This got Isabella angry, so she put the sound level of the cd player up and continued dancing, which only seems to have further irritated the neighbours because before we knew it, the friendly blue uniforms were back in our door. Ah, how fun...we should have invited them in :)

Hearing about my misadventures must have triggered Miranda B.'s "in-need-of-a-date" alarm, as part of the reason she invited me to V.'s party, aside from meeting her, was to meet V.'s friend Manu Chao, apparently a single gay guy whom she thought (or hoped) was compatible with me. I didn't really talk with Manu Chao, mainly because for most of the evening, I didn't even know which one in the crowd WAS him, and when I did discover, I didn't really talk to him that much, aside from taking pics of him and the future supermodel, jumping around, building little shelters with pillows and umbrellas, etc. It was nice, really. He looked pretty child-friendly, but it was sort of...odd. I felt quite out of place being there and feeling pressured to talk to him, something he probably felt, too. I wonder if he was in on the news that the girls were planning this little scheme. I hope he was, anyway, as I would hate to be the only one aware of it all, aside from the girls.

Miranda asked repeatedly for my opinion on the guy so she could pass on the word to V., the other schemer of this little vendetta (see? V is definitely "V for Vendetta"). I didn't really say anything partly because, well, there wasn't really anything to say. I mean, i hardly talked to the guy, so I couldn't really make up my mind on him judging by his good child-entertaining skills (which I was impressed with, but the future supermodel doesn't count...he knows her who knows how long), his dance moves and the good looks.

My residence soulmate and I got a cab, as we were sort of lazy, and it WAS 3 am. She hailed one in Carrie Bradshaw-in-New-York style, which comes to show how Sex and the City she is. But if she is a combination of Miranda and Carrie, then who am I? I know that by many means (oh, I dunno, relationship status, maybe), I fit the description of her bald-headed, reading-glasses-wearing gay friend (whose name luckily I forget), but I hope that's not where I am when I get bald-headed. I mean, I hope I don't get bald-headed, period. Wow, looking back at this post, this is very narcissistic of me. Then again, this whole blog is a sort of a narcissistic thing. I need to get my frustration and joy out somewhere, and aside from little things I do outside of selfish blog-writing to address those needs, this seems to be it.

After talking for close to an hour with Miranda on various topics ranging from the noise level in our appartments to the culture shock of being in Canada to going through the experience of war, we parted ways for the night. Miranda is going to be reading from her blog next Friday night at an Open Mic event of "feminine reading", where men are not even allowed near the mic, reason being, they "dominate the stage", according to Miranda. M. hasn't chosen the post she'll be reading from yet. I checked out her archives and I find she is pretty funny. I also found out from reading her archives that she went to a local Starbucks in Beirut once...*gasp* what??? How can this be possible??? As for my favourite post of hers, well, I'm still going through the pages and pages of her writing, some of which is extremely funny, especially this one.

Labels: friends, men, Montreal

Friday...hmmm, well, it's hard to write about my only day off without calling it "the check out" day, the day when I:

1-...check out from the school/work world and only do things I like doing (though sometimes there are exceptions, like last week, when I taught Albanian on a Friday, or every week, when I reply to e-mails);

2-...check my guilt level out. On Friday, I usually feel guilty because I should be going to the mosque and pray with the ummah, fellow Muslims..funny enough, feeling guilty is not Islamic, but I can't seem to be able to help it;

3-...check out and get checked out by men (and sometimes, women) in coffee shops, preferably of my age, while I do the tedious and extremely un-fun task of correcting quizzes, tests and homework for my TA job;

4-...check out new episodes of Ugly Betty, Little Mosque on the Prairie and Desperate Housewives and

5-...check out music / tech / clothing stores for sales.

Thursday night is the time when I plan ahead for Friday. The plan usually looks like this:

8:30am - get up and shower [in actual fact, I get up at 9:30 - 10:30 am and stay in bed while checking e-mails and reading the news]

9:00am - have breakfast and watch new episodes of Ugly Betty, Little Mosque on the Prairie, etc. [I have breakfast around 11:30 am and at this point, I plan on getting in the shower...but i am watching the latest in Ugly Betty, so I can't]

10:00am - wash dishes, clean up around the studio and organize [at around 12:15, I remember I need to be at a meeting of the university chapter of WUSC, so I hurry into shower, get out, change into clothes and rush out with wet hair]

11:00 am - reply to e-mails sent [i have already checked my e-mails and haven't had time to reply to them...I am at the meeting until 1:30 pm, when I decide I should go do some work at the nearby Starbucks]

12:10 pm - go to weekly WUSC meeting. [I stay at Starbucks until around 4:30 pm, correcting, chatting on msn, eye-flirting, etc.]

1:30 pm - go to Starbucks to do work [yes! see, my logic still works...I still get things done on time!!], work meaning working and eye-flirting with guys and occasional girls who think I am looking at them, when in fact, I am not....but oh, well, it can't hurt :).
This is a funny one because at this particular coffee shop, I run into two McGill Med. students regularly, both of whom try hard to look as if they were studying and in real life, maybe they are, but they don't project that in any way. One of these two young men always carries two coloured markers for easy use on his already over-markered book. The other one always checks out the men coming in, almost like an eye radar thing. As soon as the two see someone they like, they whisper things to one another and voila, a big giggle is produced. I opt for ignoring them, as they don't really seem that interesting, with their carefully chosen tight jeans, marker coloured hands, cell phones on the tables (checked every five minutes) and unpredictable giggling moments. Indeed, they are THE symbol of this Starbuck and I say they shall be called the Starbucks Docs from now.

4:30 pm - I meet a friend/friends for tea/dinner....on anti-social days, I go to the library and check out the headlines on Washington Post, NY Times and the new issue of The New Yorker.

around 9:30 pm - I am in bed, trying to make myself sleep...I need to get up super-early the next day...I have "More Tales from the City" running in the background and am trying to figure out what the characters are talking about, with my eyes shut. Occasionally, and these are exceptional times, I allow myself a "late" outing that can at most last until 11pm. After that, my inner curfew alarm buzzes and I absolutely must return home without losing any glass slippers...All Star sneakers, I mean.

I have no life this year... :(

Labels: coffee shops, Friday, humour, men

Hmm, I'm going through a J withdrawal phase. I have come to realize he is so self-absorbed, he loves talking about himself...Well, no, maybe i'm exaggerating, but the truth is, I am over him. He messaged me on Tuesday and the truth is, I didn't really care about him anymore. It must have been just a crush..(wow, "i'm over him" has become my most used sentence ever on this blog).

I am going through a "dying out of laughter" in my French classes. My super-intelligent and very kind, funny and outgoing French grammar prof (I must write about him and my other profs sometime), has been quoting sentences he comes across in our quizzes and tests, some of which sound like "Je suis très fière que le chien poursuive le lapin" (I am so proud that the dog is chasing the rabbit). Huh? [the original sentence was "Je suis très fière que..." and we were supposed to fill in the blank]. Another funny one was "étant donné que Paul faisait des heures supplementaires, sa femme cherche les enfants à la garderie" (since Paul was doing extra hours (at work), his wife is looking for the children at the daycare)...I wonder when she will be done looking for them.

I am going to an Albanian family party tomorrow night to celebrate the international women's day...that should be interesting.

I wore a Dutchcamp (ironic, I know) zipped sweater today in the design of the funky South African flag (with all the colours, and "South Africa" in the back). I liked it when i first saw it, so I bought it. When I wore it today, I had an awkward experience: People were looking at me oddly. I couldn't wait to get home and change. I realized that when I wore that sweater, I felt like a colonizer...but only after I got the "omg, i can't believe you're wearing that" looks.

Something that has nothing to do with me: After 19 years of being held in detention without ever being tried, Jose Garcia was freed yesterday, after his first hearing in 19 years. poor guy.

Labels: fashion, freedom, men, Montreal

The id is not the subject of my post this morning. Rather, it was the title of J's short, which I saw last night.

How, where, when, you wonder (I did, too).

Well, I got back from Ottawa, checked my messages, decided I was hungry, wanted to ask J if he wanted to go out for dinner. He wasn't there as usual, so I didn't leave him a message, then quickly called back and left one, telling him that he had one hour to call me back, as I was not going to be here after that...While I did other things, I noticed 8 pm was approaching and pretty soon, I decided I should just leave...Just as I was getting ready to go out, the phone rang...J was wondering if I wanted to go see his short, being shown as part of a Mexican Student Association's sexual diversity night. I said I would.

Half an hour later, I was there. There were six other people, four others came, all girls, each of them giving big hugs to the man of the night.

J's short was very similar to the feature film Secretary, if you've seen it, although he swore he had never heard of the movie. It was done in German expressionist style of the silent film. It had some original features and aside from the similarities with "Secretary", it was a great short.

Followed by this, J decided he'd scoot out, as he had to work on his motivation letter for a transfer to Concordia. I said I had to eat, so he said he'd come with me, although he had already had had supper. Then he invited the three loud, super-hyper and extremely extroverted girls to come with him. He said he'd met one of them at a chinese resto, and then they kept in touch, so now they meet all the time (they, too are Mexican).

We went to Nickel, a sandwich resto on St.Catherine. They didn't order anything big, but rather a coffee and J got an apple pie. I was so hungry, I could have eaten a desk.

I was somehow flattered to meet J's friends, but then, I thought maybe he just brought them along so he wouldn't feel awkward, being alone with me...The girls invited me over for dinner sometime soon and then to a beauty contest they are participating in this weekend. I was going to go until I found out the show was in the morning. See, if I'd gotten fired, I could totally have done this.

It was hilarious to be in the presence of these women. One of them said her dream was to be the first star of J'd porn movies (I wasn't aware he wanted to make porn....uh, this is kinda cheap). i asked J if he really did, and he said "no, no, but she'd really want me to". THEN, at one point, one of the girls shouted out "I'd love to be in a threesome with two hockey players!" and half the people in the resto turned their heads towards our table. J and I died laughing, and the girls tried to look away, while they, too laughed.

They soon went off to their separate directions, meeting boys. As J and I left the resto, I wondered if I should open THE topic up for discussion. Sadly, it was super cold outside and I could barely speak.

I decided it was NOT the right time. So we walked for over twenty minutes, talking about various things, including J's membership in the air cadets at his early age until he became aware of the effects of war on civilians, at the age of 16... :P

I asked him if he wanted to do something the next day, he could call me, as I am relatively free, but he said he had some actors' workshops or something, but that I should call him and if he is free, he'll come....uh, yeah, this guy is kinda getting tired of calling.

I came home and looked at the mirror, only to notice bits of my peel-off mask on my beard. I washed it all off (or I thought I did) when J called, before it had dried. Wow, great...

Labels: friends, men, men problems, Montreal

Many things happened in the last few days, including an outing on Thursday to the Metro Lounge in downtown Montreal for a friend's birthday where, instead of giving gifts to the host, my friend David and I got presents, in exchange for a spanking on the ass (the guy giving out the gift bags that had briefs from Ginch and Gonch (I got these ) apparently has a spanking fetish.

David was shocked as I asked for a pair of undies for Miranda Bradshaw: "What if people think YOU will wear them now?"

I should be happy as this is the reading week at UQAM, a week when reading is replaced by partying, going out and celebrating the week when you see none of your profs.

Montreal is also in a good mood, it's wonderfully sunny, no wind in the air, just beautiful.

But, I've been feeling down the last few days.

It all started on Friday with the brunch that I was to have with Jorge, the guy I mentioned in my previous entry as "a new friend I made a couple of weeks ago". We went to Piz Pistol, which was filled with office workers, including a guy I'd met at a gay film festival a few months ago, who has been inviting me everywhere and anywhere. Now I know how it feels to be rejected...

Hmmm, well, the brunch would have been like any other brunch with friends, had Jorge not started asking me odd questions (for a friend, anyway), like "so, what's your type?" and "what do you look for in a guy?". I replied to all the questions and asked them back, but something changed in the way I looked at him now. He kept asking me things about my type, and then, at the end, he would look at me and say "but you're not looking for anyone, because you just want to make new friends, right?" (what I told him when he asked me what I was looking for, a couple of weeks ago).

I started to wonder whether he was asking me these questions for simple curiousity, conversation or whether he was interested in the essence of my answers. So, in doing that, as I listened to his answers, well thought-out, down-to-earth formulations that made me ponder hours later...The problem with me is, when I like someone, I get nervous...and when I get nervous, I talk a lot. So, I talked away all day...

I began to look at him as a potential date. I wondered what it would be like to go out for dinner together, go out to the movies, cuddle together, ...

Friday was strange for a number of reasons. Not only because I revealed to him that I would never tell a guy if I liked him (he asked: would you tell a guy you liked him, if you did?), but also because I told him all of my failures and silly moments in relationships past. See, when you're just friends with someone, you can say things you would say to someone you would date...But then, at the end of the day, I regretted having told him about all the pathetic points of previous relationships, my failures as a b/f, etc.

So it was supposed to be a brunch that should have lasted at most 2 hours. Guess how long we were out together, talking and window-shopping? 7 hours... and during all this time, I kept asking him if he had to go home, always getting a "no, man, i'm free, nothing to do..."

At the end of the day, he revealed he wasn't a big fan of shopping. I was floored, as most of the day, that's all we had done. So I looked at him and asked, "why didn't you tell me?" ... I don't remember what he said, but it was something along the lines of it not being an issue.

I had to get back to the residence to get ready to go out with friends to a shisha bar, so I told him I was going to get the metro and he said he, too, was going to go home. I wondered that night what that day was, and I still do...

On the weekend, I did a number of things, including destroying an 80-year old antique table at work by ironing my dress shirt on it while thinking of him and listening to Julie London sing "Misty" ("walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play").

Miranda Bradshaw (former Carrie Bradshaw of Montreal) and I had some mutual phone therapy by sharing each other's worries and hopes. She is great at consoling me, always suggesting alternatives. Somehow, she has become my confidante... :) ... She suggested I tell him how I felt.

I got the courage to call him yesterday to ask him if he wanted to go take some pics on the old port (he does photography, too) and I was going to ask him if he was up for a date, so I called, but all I got was the answering machine and his message in Torontonian English and an accented French. So I didn't hear from him...Now, it's 11 am and I haven't heard back from him ... So I get his point.

I took loads of pics, some of which are on this post. I also bought a new pair of all-stars, so my feet thank me...wee :)
I'm glad I'm going to Ottawa to some meetings and to visit some close friends. It will be good to escape this whole silliness I've gotten myself into. Sometimes I wish I wasn't this complicated. I'm afraid of getting hurt by guys, but I hurt myself more this way, always unsure of what I'm getting myself into...

By the way, I didn't get fired for my little Julie London mishap. The manager was impressed by my "honesty" and said it was only an accident (wow, I wish everyone reacted like that to the destruction of an antique table worth thousands of dollars).
I don't know if I'm happy or sad about that. I wanted to have a break from the the ludicrous 11-hour shifts...Then again, getting fired IS embarrassing.

P.S: I used to hate this song, but while writing this entry, I couldn't stop myself from playing and replaying it. Dido's "Do you have a little time?" ... Listen to it here

I'm off to pack...

Labels: accident, Dido, journal de montreal, Julie London, men, mp3, photography

GQ published an exceptional article this month on the current problems Iraqi gays are going through, in an effort to make an exit for the West, the unreachable fortress for many gravely in need of its help.

It has to be mentioned, however, that many Iraqis, gay or straight, die on their way to freedom, aka Europe/North America/anywhere but Iraq.

The exceptional nature of Ali Hili's case [and thousands of other Iraqi gays, for that matter] is that they are hated by everyone in Iraq. Being gay is not the best thing to be when you're Christian (except for United Church Christians), Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu and well, add to that homophobia that develops as a result of cultural influence of men assuming their role in the society as the providers of, among other things, fluid for reproduction ... It may be funnily termed, but it's true...

It is sad to see that a society that once, long time ago, was an open haven for libertarian ideas and lifestyles, including sexually diverse communities, is today attacked by the fans of monosexuality. I call it that because uniquely, attempting to heterosexualize a whole world can only bring a dictatorial nature to something that should be enjoyed, but is instead repressed.

Below is the intro. to the article by David France(Kudos!). It's an extremely emotional article, an account many of us would be unable to even imagine, especially not from our homes on this side of the fortress.

you can read the full article on GQ or click on the title below.

DYING TO COME OUT: THE WAR ON GAYS IN IRAQ
Ali Hili is a gay Iraqi whose government forced him to spy on other homosexuals. Now, after a daring escape from his home country, Hili is doing everything he can to make up for the past...

Other articles:
Gay Rights and the War in Iraq [The Drop]
Gay Iraqis Fear for Their Lives [BBC]
Iran Exports Anti-Gay Pogrom to Iraq [In These Times]

Image courtesy of Channel4

Labels: gay, GQ, human rights, iraq, media, men, middle east