Once Upon A Time...

I was asked years back if I would be the "designated" driver for my dad and my aunt to go visit family in Northern Minnesota, The Iron Range. I figured, sure, why not!?

So. Off I went to Passport Canada to get that Canadian ID so coveted by spies and nasty people. Being that I was born outside of this [great] country called Canuckistan, I brought all the identification that had done me well in the 50+ years that I have resided here.

US birth certificate issued by the great Commonwealth of Virginia, Certificate of Registration of Birth Abroad officially produced by The Department of Citizenship and Immigration under the Canadian Citizenship Act (1958) which duly registers me as a "Canadian Citizen pursuant to the Canadian Citizenship Act and Regulations", and my Ontario driver's licence held and maintained by yours truly for the preceding 25 years.

All of the above kept me in good standing whilst voting, paying taxes, getting jobs (including the Canada Revenue Agency in Collections), and being an all-around good citizen. We will not investigate the shenanigans I got into during my active using daze...
But, the Birth as a Broad, no wait... Birth Abroad thingy was a copy and, by gosh, Passport Canuckistan wanted the Original!! Original? What original?? This is what got me thru evrything I needed, including the vaunted CRA, for crying out loud!

OK. I decide to go to Service Ontario to get an Enhanced Driver's Licence, on the same day and with the same documentation that so faithfully served me thru the years. Wait, no wait. Seems the lady behind the desk doesn't know what that Registration of... is. But, wait again! Someone else pipes up, "I've seen that before! It's OK!" and voila! I have my enhanced DL!!!

Fast forward a few years to today. I have the original Registration now since my dad produced it out of the blue one day. I have to get a Province of Ontario Photo Card because I need to be placed as a signatory on a bank account. 

No problem! Service Ontario accepted all my bits & pieces that proved I am who I am (which, btw, is NOT Popeye!) and now I have the original, well, yadda yadda...!!

{{{Sigh}}} No. It appears that the oft-maligned Certificate of Registration of Birth Abroad, issued in 1958 by the Canadian Government of the day, is NOT in their list of acceptable documents to prove that I am who I am. Never mind the fact that it was OK less than 10 years ago, under the same frelling Lieberal gov't of today, no. They say that if I go get my passport... to which I told the nice lady behind the desk that the "passport office would probably refuse me as being who I am (and have been for over 55 freaking years in this god-forsaken country) and would probably refuse me just as nicely as you have! Thank you." ← that is as close to verbatim as I could get. I shall ignore the other more choice words I wanted to say.

Here I sit. Feeling unwanted in Canuckistan. Persona non grata. Utterly frustrated and VERY resentful towards government of all levels. When government issued documents are not accepted by a lower level of government, even tho' that same lower level gleefully accepted them in the past, well.

>>>swear words approaching!!<<<<

Fuck it. I refuse to bow down to the willy-nilly powers that be and do their bidding. Fuck it. If I need to produce a piece of gold-plated paper just to put my signature on a bank account, nuh-uh. Fuck it. Fuck the Canadian Government (Lieberals all). Fuck the Ontario Government (Fiberals all). And I won't get into the municipal government headed by an absolute dyed-in-the-wool Lie-Fib-Liberal.

Fuck It.
oh, and Keep The Faith*


Technology: Sucks, Doesn't it?

OK. 4 days later, my living room looks worse than it did when I started re-arranging it all. The biggest difference is now I am facing a different wall to watch TV and grumble on Facebook.

My plasma TV sucks as a computer monitor.
To the point where I may just set my old 42" monitor back up
& have two big ass screens to frell with. Which means a whole new round of tearing things apart just to rebuild it all.

My cable fed Internet is driving me frelling nuts! I spent hours switching between the 8 different ethernet cables I have, plus a multitude of plugging & unplugging the modem and router, just to get the two of them to just talk to each other. - Glad I'm not a marriage counselor! - Got it to work for my iPoop. Connected my computer up, and nada. Got it to work on my computer & iPoop. Connected my Blu-Ray, and nada, plus, the pad went down. Computer, by gosh works!

Then, blahblahblah, Tried to connect my VoIP phone, and nada. And the pad is still down. The Blu-Ray works, so does the computer (or I wouldn't be here right now!) WTF??!!

So. What to do. The intent of all this was to:
1 - Clean up my LR in a possible acquisition of a cat.
2 - Dispose of my 42" monitor & get the 42" plasma going.
3 - Get my beautiful dragon print on the wall (2 years later)
4 - Set a dedicated corner for my rock & dragon collection.
5 - Finally remove the thoughts of, "Gee, I really should do this!" out of my head.

And now, I sit with a cuppa java in front of me, screaming heavy metal blasting out (Dream Evil, oh yeah!), furiously keyboarding this blog
and the utter & complete desire to say Frak It ALL!! Oh well, I've got Lone Survivor on the Blu-Ray (I do NOT wanna try Netflix at this point!). Time to take a mindless break from all this fuckedness. I'll get this all together later.
Like, maybe in 2018...

Keep The Faith*




Sometimes it feels like it will never end. Memories of those now gone, from all over. My legs screaming at me. The tired mind racing the eternal hamster wheel. And, it is all pain. Physical. Emotional. Dare I say it, spiritual??

Right now, my legs are giving me hourly stabs. Hourly, in a very literal sense. It is now 00:35 hrs, and I have been awoken every hour, on the hour, since 22:00 last night. 

Yesterday, for some obscure and inexplicable reason, my silly mind did not go off to the races. I woke up at 04:00 and could not go back to sleep. Racing? No. This time it was emptiness, an almost complete lack of thought. My head couldn't hold onto anything and that echoing miasma that resided in my head drove me to getting up and staying up until I stumbled off to bed last night.

And now... here I be. Rummaging Facebook, reviewing my website, pounding away at my blog. I almost hit YouTube, but was fortunate to have at least a modicum of discipline to avoid that hell-hole.

I am tired. I applied some topical pain cream to my left leg in the hopes that when (if??!!) I go back to bed, I'll be spared the stabbing physical pain. I must do my right leg, also, because this sneaky affliction will travel there if only to drive me insane.

Emotional? Yeah, well, it is mid-November and it is cold outside and simply "that" time of the year. This round, tho', is sending me off to visit the long ago departed and the very recent. Why? Because I am getting old and my head has become screwed on sideways? I dunno. At least, these time visits have been occurring during daylight hours, short as that daylight seems to be.

Spiritual? Well, again, I dunno. I am still a wee bit fuzzy on that "spiritual" aspect to life, so, I'll just leave that to its own devices.

I went out to get a few groceries yesterday. Mainly wanted bread & eggs. Got two loaves of bread, two 12 packs of hot dog buns to go with the two packs of chicken dogs that were on sale. Four packs of Buddig sliced meats, again, on sale. Three hours after getting home, I was smacked with the realization, no eggs. Aw, c'mon, Robb! rEaLlY???

A beautiful day out, so I decided to forgo another Sunday trip on the buses and began the l-on-g overdue cleaning & re-arranging of my living room. I got almost half of it moved and vacuumed and washed. The other half, moving my entertainment area over to the other side of the room, after I dismantle my rock and dragon displays to be later inserted where the TVs are now, shall be... completed? tomorrow. Today. Later. Whatever...

OK. I am blathering now. Even tho' I had little sleep yesterday, I accomplished shit. Even tho' I fear going back to bed right now, I will. Heck, and if need be, I'll stay in bed tomorrow if sleep eludes me. Today. Whatever...

Keep The Faith*


Waiting For A Meeting

Last night.
Another half hour?
Start to put it all away.
Coffee shit.
Tables and chairs.
Install the lock box.
Watch the bus go by.
Another half hour.
Grab the sign.
Walk to a different bus stop.
Go home.
No more waiting for a meeting.


A Gift

I chaired my final meeting at my HG tonight for the month. I decided to volunteer as chair for October because I didn't want to, because it scared the crap out of me to even think of doing so. So, I did. And made it thru...

I also decided to volunteer for the position of treasurer for the group at tonight's GC meeting. Well, no, I had the decision finalized for me by being nominated. Again, fear (and my gawd-awful tremors!) kept telling me NOT to do it. So, I did. And got group support for it...

A Gift? At my HG, we have a thing where members put their names into a basket if they would like to share. As the meeting went on, folks came to scribble their name down. A hand came over my shoulder as I sat there and put this piece of paper in front of me:

My Gift. Recovery has given me the Gift of Life, the Love of my Family and the respect & gratitude (among many other things) from those who choose to live Recovery along with me. That is A Gift.

Keep The Faith*