Mirror Selfishness

 

It says it's 22 degrees Celsius in Trail right now but I call bullshit. I just walked to work and back cuz I had to submit my hours and can't do it from a home computer, only the ones at work. It's not even 9AM and it's gotta be close to 25 out there. But before you think this is in any way a complaint, it was 16 degrees last night. Unlike Korea, it gets cool at night. Actually, it was 37 at the hottest yesterday and actually dropped down to 12! That's 99 and 54 for you stubborn Imperialists. Summer's not so hard to deal with when you have cool nights and lower humidity. 

Another thing I am LOVING about summer here that I could say about ZERO summers I suffered through in Asia: NO mosquito bites yet! I've had more wood ticks than mosquitos on my body! This is awesome! Now I'm not getting out much. Haven't golfed or done much fishing. Don't have a hiking trail that I know of. But NO bloodsuckers yet! I say bring on the heatwave if it burns up the mozzies.  

So it was a pleasurable walk to work this morning. I wore shorts and tee shirt, not the uniform, and it didn't matter how much I sweat. I didn't have to sit through a 12-hour shift in my sweaty shirt. I could just go home and take it off. Which I did. I'm now in the air-conditioned comfort of my apartment drinking a Fresca and listening to the yowling of a cat that should never have been here. I'll get back to the cat. First another unusual thing about Canada.

A new paragraph and a new Fresca for this. When I walk to work it's up a hill. A substantial one but I'm getting used to it. I certainly don't huff and puff like the Big Fat Wolf when I walk up the highway to Teck. But I think that's it. I'm fat and old. I've never lived in Canada while being fat and old before. People stop to give me rides. Even people who I don't work with. Total strangers. And since I need a bit of movement before sitting on my can for the better part of the 12 hours ahead of me, I usually refuse the offers. This offends people. I swear to God they think I think they're gonna molest me I guess. I get weird looks and weird comments like one lady who said, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna bite you." The funniest was a guy who stopped ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD and yelled out his window that he thought I was his mailman or something like that. I couldn't hear over the traffic. He motioned "Do you want a ride?" and I motioned "No thanks I'm good." I guess he disregarded the no thanks shake of the head and wave of the hands and read the "I'm good" thumbs up to mean, "Shit yeah I wanna ride big fella!" So he dangerously U-turned and swung up beside me. Old white compact car with a cardboard sign with Selkirk Security stenciled on it blocking his back window. Amorphously obese guy taking the shape of his bucket seat and spilling out over the edges in some areas says, "Hey, you need a lift?" I said, "No thanks, man. I need my steps. I just work at Teck up here anyway. I was nearly at work by this time." He gets a puzzled expression on his face, reaches into a console pocket and pulls out a Selkirk Security logo. It looked like it might be a sticker or vehicle decal. "Selkirk Security," he says while proffering his evidence of trustworthiness." lol

It's odd. I imagine if I HAD grown old and fat here in Canada I probably WOULD have a vehicle and maybe even be able to afford insurance and fuel, but that not being the case, I guess people see me humping up the hill and their initial thought is, "Awww. Poor guy." Well they're not wrong about the poor part! But I often wonder if I did have a vehicle, would I still walk to work or would I just drive? I think the latter to save time, get extra sleep and try to make the auto insurance a better value. It'll never be WORTH it, but the more you drive, the more you get for the small fortune you spend on it. 

Today, however, wearing my hiking clothes, and not doing the hike just before shift changeover, I didn't receive any offers to get driven in the woods, roofied and left for dead. There WAS, however, some sort of senior ladies bike ride. I'm guessing it was from Trail to Castlegar. I passed one lady on the way up the hill and after submitting my hours and starting back down the hill I must have passed 40-50 ladies decked out in professional clip on cycling shoes, spandex shirts and shorts, there wasn't a bike worth less than a thousand bucks amongst them, even saw one tandem cycle with two ladies in identical cycling garb, most had gloves, cycling shades, all had helmets and numbers and all but a couple said, "Good morning!" to me. Bunch of nice old gals! Really made my walk a little more pleasant even if I was feeling like a flight attendant bidding passengers farewell as they deplane. 

Now, from those nice old gals to maybe the opposite. You know when you're walking down the streets of Trail and you're getting close to the homeless streetpeople area and you see one coming up to you, one who has approached you before, one you have been forced by your strong sense of common courtesy to talk with only to get what you dreaded most from them, "Hey friend, can you spare a few bucks?" This was not a problem when I last lived in this area. The streets of Trail had loads of pedestrians and few of them were begging or panhandling or on drugs. Well, except maybe pot. Now they've taken over. People get out of their vehicles only when necessary. Even eating outdoors in the summer at the Dairy Queen or drinking a Slushy outside 7-11 you stand a good chance of getting approached by them. They're like body snatchers only you don't have to fall asleep to get owned by them, just have to make eye contact. Do you know what I'm talking about? And it sucks being like that doesn't it? It makes you feel elitist. Kinda guilty for believing you are so superior to that other human being that you should just shuffle by them without making eye contact so you can escape a stop-and-talk and get on about your business. Are we assholes? I used to think so, but I'm gradually changing my mind. It's self-preservation isn't it. Now you can say that's just selfishness but that argument has lost its edge.

Anyway, back to the cat. That's how I am with the cat. Every time I have to go out of my room into the perilous living room/kitchen/bathroom area where the cat spends most of its time, I am thinking, "Don't acknowledge it, don't say anything to it, don't make eye contact, don't even look at it," and it comes out from where it was, purposely walks directly in your path meowing at you, sometimes dropping to the floor onto its back in an invitation to play, sometimes even clawing at you, "I'm almost there, a few more steps and I'll be in the kitchen, MADE IT!" He usually stays out of the kitchen while I make food. Maybe it's the lino instead of the carpet. Maybe Fred, the roommate who has underhandedly subjected me to this daily awkwardness, has trained it to stay out of the kitchen. I know that it will bellow and whine and meow meow meow the whole time I'm in there and repeat the whole process of trying to get my attention with even MORE gusto when I am on my way back to my room with FOOD, but at least I can cook in relative catlessness. If I make pizza or baked things I have been told by Fred not to leave them out or the cat might get into them, but most things I make don't require cooling in the kitchen.

You know what's even worse? I've become the same way with Fred. "Don't look at him, don't make eye contact, don't communicate, just get where you're going, do what you want to do and get back into your hole." The streetpeople, the cat, and Fred have one thing in common, well probably dozens of things, but there is one thing they have in common that elicits this behavior from me. They want me to do something for them and don't give a shit what they have to do to get me to do those things. They will lie, beg, bug, whine, follow, and pester if they are given any indication that any of those tactics will get results. The cat has balls and wants to go out so he can get him some (fake well) pussy. I can't blame him. Some of the homeless people are just down on their luck in a harsh economic climate, maybe the worst ever in Canada, so I don't blame them always either. But I blame Fred. Which makes it even harder to look at him.

You see, he was told that the former tenants had a cat and there was fur everywhere and I didn't want any cats. He said he had a quiet chihuahua and a cat and saw that I was going to say something like, "Not interested then," so quickly said, "But I can get rid of the cat. It's an outdoor cat anyway." I met the quiet Chihuahua, (I know, it's like a unicorn!) and got first month's rent and he started moving in. One night we sat down and had a few drinks together. Sorta made friends. Found commonality. You know bro-down. It might have been during that session or it couldn't have been more than a day later he dropped on me, "I hope you don't mind the cat coming to stay here for a few days." I immediately said okay. That's why I think I might have been drunk.

So the cat came to live with us. I was nice to the cat because I thought it was temporary. But it just kept BEING HERE when I got home from work. "I'll get rid of the cat Wednesday." Wednesday came and went. "I'll get rid of the cat Saturday." Saturday came and went. "I'll get rid of him tomorrow." Tomorrow came and went. The cat's been here almost two months. It was supposed to be a few days. Meanwhile the cat is clawing up the carpet around the doors cuz it's "an outdoor cat" and wants to go out and get laid. Not to mention meowing endlessly. Fred is a roofer and I'm working mostly midnight shifts. I KNOW he knows the cat is a constant pain in the ass meowing and howling the whole time he's gone. Its name is Pita. PainInTheAss! The chihuahua? Not a peep. Never bothers me, never comes into my room. Pita is an asshole. But only if he thinks you will do shit for him. He's nowhere near as annoying if you ignore him or be an asshole to him every now and then. Now I don't want to do this and it's against my nature, but I'm doing it. I really don't like being put into this position, but here I am. But I already know this manchild I'm living with will only dig in his heels and make his romantic fight against the racist, cold, cruel roommate all the more Shakespearian tragic IF I force him to get rid of the fucking cat. So this is what I have to do to cut my rent from 1400 to 700 a month. It's becoming less and less worth it every day.

What makes things even worst is Fred has told me on a few occasions how he's a great salesman. "I can sell ice to the Eskimos," he said at least three times. I've actually heard him use the word "Indian" to refer to Native Canadians too. He IS one. He played the race card once on me before he learned that shit won't fly. But he still believes he's the alpha male, has a big coffee mug that says "I'm the Boss," talks to his animals constantly and has brought up his alpha-male status to Pita 100 times, but the fucking cat has him tied around his little claw, and by extension me. A cat runs this apartment. A cat that was never supposed to be here. I wanted to shampoo the carpets. No use doing that now. Not just because the fucking cat is shedding on them daily but clawing the shit outta them too. Can't have windows open for fresh air cuz Pita will claw the screens. Can't have doors open for air flow cuz Pita will go out into the hall. Can't sleep without being woken up by either Pita meowing or Fred telling Pita not to meow. Fred even went to a funeral for a couple days (he told me it would only be one) and left me in charge of the cat. What the actual frig, man?!?!

I have to somehow convince him that I am not an Eskimo (or Inuit to use the preferred nomenclature that a half Native Canadian really oughtta know) and what he is doing to try to "sell" me on Pita is not being a good salesman, it's being a selfish dick. The irony of selfish behavior of street folk, cats, and roommates causing others to feel like THEY are the selfish ones I guess would be the bullet point, the takeaway, the moral of this post. It's like my "mirror selfishness" is not authentic, it's just an image cast by the true selfishness of the other party. How to impress that upon someone without conflict.... Aye there's the rub!

And if we extend this point to the second-hand guilt that is spread from citizen to citizen in Canada, maybe less than it used to be now that we have a PM who the Liberals and Conservatives can agree to despise, but still entrenched deeply in our culture... well here's a cartoon:

Right? There are still folks telling us there's plenty of work available if you're not afraid to work hard. And if you stick to it, maybe you can have a pyramid someday. I would have included in the conversation something like, "... and furthermore, you didn't vote, did you? So you don't have any right to complain about the slave drivers we've democratically elected, do you?" Or, something I hear even MORE nowadays than I used to, "Just keep your negativity to yourself," or "I am trying to keep toxic attitudes like yours out of my life." 

In the face of mounting negativity worldwide, it is becoming more and more frowned upon to express dissatisfaction with it. To the point where we are silenced by our second-hand guilt. Our lives are becoming shittier by the day because of selfishness and we're socialized to feel bad about feeling bad. Greedy landlords, shop owners, manufacturers all overcharging and we have to just say, "Well, that's business," while forcing a smile. Financial institutions printing money and raising interest rates to pass more riches to the rich and the payment to the poor and we shouldn't be thinking of it in such negative terms. Governments colluding with the rich to eliminate unions, the middle class, and democracy, but you keep that toxic attitude to yourself buster!

To me it just feels like a world full of bad roommates. There are a couple of solutions. We can have it out with the bad roommates but that won't accomplish much if anything. We all know that. We can organize and fight the bad roommates together but that is being phased out. So, the ultimate solution is probably to move out.

And in a related story... Barbie beats Oppenheimer. Start practicing your survival skills.

Just read on a friend's Facebook page, "Manipulation is when they blame you for your reaction to their disrespect."