non-classe

Asian Perfume.

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In a grey morning of my forties the idea, I am my mom’s own portrait, imposed itself. After, it seemed easier to start appreciating my accomplishments. Nevertheless, my family history had though me grand satisfaction. With all efforts, from managing earth shattering details. Being understanding, compelled, attentive, also means an awareness of every minute. Then I decided to redeem the responsibility of this small household. Staying up at night to watch over my loved sleeping. For years now, I prepared lunch between 4am and 5am. I still do, has if my own pride depended on this guilty pleasure of attending to chores. 

It all started with symptoms of Agoraphobia. At the end of adolescence, it became evident it was more comfortable for me to act has a recluse. What came later, are a basket of trauma, due to my agitated passage in the psychiatric system. Crazy nurses have chocked me, I have been sedated, put in isolation, tied to a bed repeatedly, other patients would beat me up. My distrust in psychiatric care is growing as much as the intensity of my bad dreams about the hospital. The strong fear of the outdoors surged at the same time with a serious anxiety problem. So, I tucked in. Years later, even with treatment, I make a trip to the supermarket twice a month. And I visit my nurse once every three weeks, that is it. In the Summertime, I might take a walk around the block in the middle of the night. When the whole city is sleeping, I usually stay awake. Because even from the inside of my home, I can ultimately feel safe.  

They’re just a few roads that lead to psychiatry. The police may take you there, sometimes the ambulance or a relative. To most of us it feels like being swallowed by a big machine. The health system takes charge very efficiently, of those who suffered too much to remain sane. For the patient, it’s all about an unexpected life adjustment. The first few years will be about learning the lingo. Whether the newly mentally ill are reluctant or not, it is a difficult turn of event. Most often, the resistance originates from the outside. Before, addressing the path to recovery, a lot is happening. We could point out, the need for the families to be more accepting or the care takers within the system a lot more welcoming. Only then will it be possible to get over the prejudices. To me, it felt my number had come up, to be the next guinea pig. Countdown to my future Haz begun.  

  • It would be easier, if I did not love my mom. 

Project Talk.

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Ten out of three hundred and sixty countries on this planet, are not fighting a conflict. As we speak there are rather reasons for violence, than proof of peaceful actions.

Culture of war gathers global truth on the way to the existing century. My army is throwing me firsthand, on the premises of research, at the wolves of urban biological warfare. Some would ask. How could I have volunteered for such a fight? Saving the world is dangerous endowment. Lots of people have said, this seems far more profitable than peace. We are talking about saving people’s lives. Our ways of living are so intricated with conflictual politics. Not to mention the profits gained from these battles. Profits which allowed all of us in the west, survival for the past hundred years. For a long time, before we were counting night and day. As far as history takes us, and beyond. Preceding thieves and prostitutes. There have been men protecting land and its habitants. On the day humanity was born, some endorsed the role of soldiers. The legacy of it is felt individually, as a trend of our time. We cannot even imagine Peace. Around a planet which gives Tyrans and injustices, all the choices. But to fight, wars that are so unpredictably recent, leaves no childhood to the kids. Some countries are historical enemies, oponants, some fights are nationwide. When yours is precisely home. To determine a winner is not a quality of it. It usually goes on, until there are no more battlegrounds. Or, in the event where the army takes over the Law. The moment it had occurred to me, has being at a new frontline, happened in the late 1990s. After they had transported me to an Oxygenated room, I woke and walked out. A nice officer slowing down, offered to take me to town. I was around 25 minutes from the nearest center and 2 hours from my home in the city. From there, they categorized me missing. It took another six months before I would show, for a follow up appointment. This time at the Downtown Program of Intensive Care, section Homeless Intervention. From there the drugs were upgraded. For what is design, to be Active and In Action. But then, distant voices and souvenirs kicked in. The Officer who decided my faith, has been transfered to Car Thief and Burglery Sections. 

Hell’s Kitchen Theory.

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Chapter four 

Then, the millennium, a fight started. It was as ugly as it gets; a psywar that is intended to take over. From America to the latest refuge in Asia, all the way to recluse Africa and civil-war, Middle East. Someting to discourage the crowds. In the only advantage an army has been found. The soldiers are following the path of a fragile economy. Considering political leaders have truth tellers. Incidents happened. Only overtaking the future of citizens. Demanding more than a couple of tanks in the streets. The ruling of any war is far beyond what we expected of a deployment of forces. It is usually about how stressful daily life can turn out to be. Creating the kind of basis which only futuristic views on conflicts will explain. This machine, this imposed worry, will change lives as it did in the past. It would take other appearances as we move toward an era where war does not traditionally mean armed conflict. Especially in the west, the second millennium seems to bring to humankind more surveillance, more multi-cultural issues, more citizens disapproval. My Country sends soldiers anywhere from Africa to peacekeeping missions all over. Its beliefs are democracy, capitalism, local entrepreneurship, free health care, fair trade, decent housing. Above all, its goal is for the citizens to keep spending, putting every cent back into the economy. Therefore, the government itself pumps a lot of funds, distributed among start-ups, ngo, multinationals and individuals. It was not this sort of fight, which can make you a soldier. At the most, you could be an advocate for a cause. Liberal ideas ruled here, doctors and lawyers were your decision makers. Evil meets new opponents, who are mostly innocent victims of its taste for control. 

Chapter five 

  • Efficient, your turn Mivan. 

About telling the truth: My life has brought me to war, since. My experience remained misunderstood. We do it, otherwise we do not like it.  

  • Pleasure at war includes my own city, political gossip, living in hiding.  
  • You have travelled a lot before. 
  • As a kid my father had taken me, to Europe and South America. Later I made my way to New York and, returned, returned, returned…  

Around, seventeen was the time I started travelling alone. Way before being diseased and way after, I visited the South of the border. I made friends with who, we spent many adventures together. Most of them have moved on. Myself as well, nothing in the life with Him, resembles my old existence.    

She Haz is a cop, with problems  who are covering a deficit of goods.  Besides, the only wrong ideas about them, are Envy, Jalousy, Covet, Money, Passion.   

Touchdown.

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As much for the others, a lot of what is happening remains in the realm of the unnoticed. The wife job being closer to undercover agent, than the maid we ear mentioned so often. So here I am, forty something, and we find this small, ruin-down, downtown place. He said it would be temporary. But I cared for the space, and we are still here. Enduring the fact, it was not a nice apartment was out of the question. Taking on me to remodel, I repainted, changing some doorknobs, choosing window covering. We made it our own. The last thing we think about now, would be to give up our nest.  It had been carved with my sweat. Has become a feel of Punkish, Provence and Zenitude. This part of downtown is cold and feels sad, at first glance. Here, we created for ourselves a comfy bubble. We made us home, very much outside of any timeframe. We are not middle class, but rather we feel at home with little means. Not struggling either, we choose a very placid life. My joy comes from solid simple pleasures. I paid much attention to the daily life of my household, as if it is worth millions. When getting into the preparation of a homemade mayonnaise, dividing yolk from the egg white, choosing from a variety of flavored vinegar we have, adding dry mustard or garlic… I can really tell the truth from the lies, during a very quiet dedicated chore. For a moment, concentrating in making the kitchen tidier. I feel rewarded in such a way, just by grabbing a sponge to work on the cupboard’s doors cleanliness. Taking on me, to make a fresh Humus or Tzatziki from scratch. I am so proud to do good things for my family.