June 5, 1995.

Things to do which I'm putting off: opening a new bank account;
buying a ticket to Toronto. I probably don't really want to go
to Toronto at this point. I'm writing on a fairly regular basis
and things are starting to surface. It's not time to go. I
would also have time to really let myself go as far as writing
goes starting from the 15th on as I will be unemployed. I am
meeting with Jean Stevens tonight about translation but I will
suggest to him that we work on writing. I think we both have the
critical, skewed mind that would make good comedy. The Gilda
Radner, Father Guido Sarducci kind. I watched an old video of
Gilda Radner live in New York yesterday morning and I laughed
myself silly yet at the same time, it wrenched my heartstrings.
Radner has always been among my heroines in life. Her, Phyllis
Diller, Carole Burnett; women who could poke fun at themselves;
women who obviously at some time in their lives had been homely,
insignificant little girls but who I guess really believed in
themselves at some level and in what they had to accomplish.
They are all actually good-looking women with great bods, a
fabulous sense of humour. They dare broach subjects no one else
would touch with a ten foot pole and carry it off.

This weekend, I spoke to Gilles about the fact that perhaps I
had quashed his vocation by marrying him. I told him I was
serious; that I did not see priesthood in his case as something
negative. What I see, as far as he is concerned, is a man who
has always been more interested in the community than in his
family. He has given enormously of himself without any thought
of retribution. He's not in the least interested in money, in
material things. He answered me that he could never have been
celibate or that he certainly could not regret having given up
celibacy. He would also have been on the fringe because of his
ideas and beliefs. I said I really saw nothing wrong with that,
that it is time for more of his kind to be involved as far as the
church is concerned. It is clear that we are each spreading our
wings in a healthy way. That we are no longer meant to be
together if we are to be true to ourselves. We both realize it
and I finally admit it to myself and to him.

I talked to him about the cheetah in the jungle who is free,
noble, beautiful, admired by all until he is put into a cage.
The same animal then becomes listless, lifeless, cantankerous,
running circles and going nowhere in his limited space. People
comment on his appearance, even laugh because he does not fit in
there. He is the same animal but his spirit is broken. It's no
use even thinking about the future because there is none. Only
more and more days of going around in circles, doing nothing,
having people watch you: eating, going to the bathroom, sleeping.
At one point, you might just like to tell them to fuck off.
People would laugh at you because you have no power, no power
whatsoever. You're just an old cheetah, locked inside a cage,
not capable of inflicting any kind of pain or anything else on
anyone. Imagine the rage of being laughed at! You dream of
escape or let yourself die; it's as simple as that. Dreaming of
escape becomes a kind of non-life because the possibility is so
infinitesimal that it might as well not exist.

Living in the jungle is a lot harder. You never know what awaits
you, including death. You don't know whether or not you'll have
food on a regular basis but the adventure is in the living, in
the suspense of knowing or not knowing what will come about. The
adventure is also developing strategies to keep oneself alive and
healthy, it's building a family and helping them see it through
life, sharing what it is you yourself have learned. But to live
in a cage? What's the point?

My wife and mother days were just that. Gilles said it was true.
No matter how much I wish it hadn't felt like that, that's
exactly what it felt like. It's not easy to say something like
that. We're programmed to see our mothering days as noble, as
rewarding, as necessary and fuck it; they're not! But how can
you say that without making the people you love not feel
worthless? I'm convinced I loved my children, possibly even my
husband as much as the next woman but I didn't fit in that little
cage and no matter how I tried to adapt, it couldn't work. But
we're all judged by the rules that apply to living in that cage.
When I break my chains, I pave the way for them; I give them more
options but I can't take them with me. My children will have to
make their own choices concerning how they will live in society.
I haven't made it easier for them because as it is, I've broken
away myself but I haven't yet figured out whether or not I can
improve things for those who live in similar situations but don't
have the courage to break away or change them.

Children shouldn't force us to be economically dependent on the
state or men. Children shouldn't deter us from wanting to be
educated, from wanting to contribute ideas and energy. On the
contrary, having children often gives us renewed vigour, energy
which we can unfortuntely cannot channel anywhere except
sometimes in our houses. We become maniacal housewives.
Occasionally, we start children's playgroups so our children can
have someone to play with and we can talk to adults. The two
hours over, we return to our homes, cooking, cleaning, driving so
and so to whatever, picking up so and so from wherever and the
beat goes on. If we've pragmatic enough to marry for money and
not only for love, we can occasionally treat ourselves to a
manicure, massage or pedicure to pamper ourselves, to escape the
drudgery of our existence but sometimes, that can only make
matters worse. We return to our home and castle all dolled up
with no place to go and reality sets in even more harshly. I
we've married for love or lust and definitely not into money,
we'll be stuck just making ends meet. Forget organizing
playgroups; forget even cleaning eventually. Forget even trying
to pretend entertaining the kids. We'll drink coffee and smoke
ourselves to oblivion. What is there more to do in these tough
Canadian winters?

bullshit! Our options are minimal. We can go back to work if we
can't stand the thought of going mad staying home all day and try
and juggle both. Inevitably, we get caught in the materialistic
madness of North American society. How can we do otherwise?
There has to be some kind of compensation for what we're going
through and it can't just be spending our evenings with the
children.

Let's be honest. Children are gifts; yes they are, but not only
to their parents. They are also commodities. They are
tomorrow's workforce, tomorrow's parents, the producers of our
future workforces. If we can't afford to treat their caregivers
properly, if we can't treat them properly, then we risk having
frustrated adults who won't much care for people when they become
policy makers.

Where are we when we're at the point we don't have any more
imagination than to stick children into bootcamp to make them
behave. When despite our hightech sophisticated warheads, the
only solution we have to crime is the death penalty. We're still
thinking deterrents. Isn't someone in the liberal arts field
thinking? Or is it just that we have no time, money or will to
bother with the liberal arts. Science and technology have become
all powerful but they are worth less than nothing if we are
raising serial killers by the dozens.

Once an adult, we all make our own decisions, are responsible for
our decisions. I agree, but to be able to make intelligent and
human decisions, we have to be taught. We have to have someone
sit down with us and tell us about respect, about charity, about
doing on to others as you would like them to do on to you. We
have to teach them why these rules are good rules not just to
keep people in line but because it makes our world nicer to live
in. But we also have to have time to sit down and teach the
children those things and we have to have time to spend with them
to show them the example. It's not by rushing out at 7:00 A.M.
and driving them half asleep to daycare, picking them up at 4:00
or 5:00, rushing home to make supper, or maybe stopping in for
some fastfood, cleaning up, rushing them over to Scouts, hockey,
ringettes, soccer, music, saying a quick goodnight, and then
with a sigh, putting up our feet and falling asleep in front of
the T.V. that we will teach children values, that we will make
children human.

Let's make politicians accountable. We elect them, allow them to
run our affairs. Let's demand more imagination for the salaries
they earn, more solutions. You can't tell me that with the money
they're paid, with the pensions they earn they can't push
themselves a little harder. And hell, if it's not working, think
of a new way. If women with no money can get together and set up
all kinds of organizations, than surely, politicians with their
networking systems, money and time can work wonders and hell if
you can't, go work for daycare free and let other people find
the solutions.


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