{ C o l i b r i – – ☂

"A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession." Albert Camus

another montreal weekend

I’ve been spending a lot of time in Montreal, lately, my home city. It’s two hours away, so i’m surprised about the number of times we’ve been going. Annually, we have a generation party where the adult cousins have their own meet, and us, the younger generation cousins/siblings/boyfriends/husbands do our thing, too.

We arrived at the condo at around 3pm, bringing in the necessary booze and munchies. I made the most BEAUTIFUL deviled eggs and brought this strangely sweet alcohol we officially dubbed “the girl-drink”, due to its many various flavors. There was blueberry (disgusting), raspberry (tolerable), green apple (way too sweet), and lime (didn’t get that far.). I had a lot of fun, trying to ignore my little sister’s teenagehood brooding about and what not. She thinks no one likes her and she depresses for no reason, being a little drama queen. It’s driving me nuts.

With so much food, I really wasn’t sure what was the supper and what was the appetizers. Everything was doubled, so when industrial-size spaghetti “for the army”, as my cousin put it, was served, I could only survive three bites before I felt I was giving birth. Plus, with the sugary alcohol, it wasn’t a very good combination.

Question of digesting, we turned to Guitar Hero on their big-screen TV (because you can’t have a mid-city condo without a plasma screen), and I learned to play. I’m a bit of a delinquent, so I had a hard time getting the notes right, especially since the plastic guitars there are not the same as real ones – not that I play them. I’m just saying.

Anyway, so we played a few rounds. My cousin Eve’s boyfriend kicked all of our asses on expert (he was 6th place against 24 people who did a competition in the middle of nowhere. woopdeedoo.). Later, her brother Pierre came. He’s had every kind of problem you can imagine. Alcohol, drugs, school, dropping out, stable job. He’s 20 years old now, and he’s slowly getting back together – cancelling out the drugs, first. We wasn’t all quiet as he was before though, last I saw him. He was friendly, talkative, not at all reserved or wobbly. I caught a glimpse of a scar over his eye from the time he smacked his face against a clothing line and I couldn’t help but laugh.  He works at Tim Horton’s now, making doughnuts. He told us that several times, people come in with their friends and ask for a prank for their friend. What is the prank you ask? A mayonnaise filler at seven in the morning. Delicious.

I visited his apartment, but with the winding staircase layered with ice, it was impossible to bring the dog up so I stayed with my older sister to wait. He and my little sister had to talk. Because she lets herself be influenced easily. And he’s an influence.

I try not to care because she asks me not to, really. But I just can’t. I mean, she’s my baby sister! All she does is complain about her boring life and how she can’t stay more than an hour at home. She can’t fall to drugs for some stupid teenage phase. Eve told me there was nothing to it, that in three months, she’ll get sick of it and go back to normal. I don’t really know what to think about that. I just really hate this whole drama scene that she’s trying to create for herself to make her life seem more interesting.

So now I’m back home.  There’s a lot of snow outside now, and the ground’s already completely covered.  My boots have holes in them and they’re worn through, so the snow melts and sucks right into my socks. I did buy a new coat, though, and it’s absolutely beautiful! I can get a picture of it soon.

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