The operators are downright rude, the collectors outright insulting, the communication overtly condescending, the unions with absolute impunity, the bigwigs holding politicians and judges in their back pocket, and the behaviour plain and simple: We don’t need you, you need us for protection. Period. So move along.
I guess the term ‘twist of fate’ holds some meaning afterall. In this case, had a series of twists a few weeks ago which resulted in the mornings looking brighter and more beautiful; evenings something to cherish and a smile returning to a face devoid of it for some time.
It’s been a while since I last posted.
Had to quit the hard-found job early last year (2007) because of some ridiculously exploitative conditions and additional duties (details too dark-humoured to share on the blog). Kept my hopes alive for the better, but it’s been almost a year since then and have not been able to get something that does a tiny bit of justice to my education, experience or qualification. Or am I being really naive?
A gutsy admission and attempt by Canadian mainstream media and a subject that is gladly no longer a taboo: this television documentary about “some disillusioned immigrants, and their struggle with poverty, rejection and shame.” Do watch:
So, I’ve completed my first year in Canada – without a whimper. Happy first anniversary to me! And now without further ado, here’s a customary list of only a few of many, many things that I’ve come to see, like, love and dislike in this great country. Please note that this is a very incomplete list, and I may add, retract, revise or improve on any item – for of course, I take the liberty of a dumb newbie, as always.
The snow builds up on the sidewalks inch by inch. It’s soft, fluffy and when you step on it, your water-proof shoes leave a deep imprint. So perfect is the impression planted by the sole of your shoes that you cannot help but to try to turn around and see what is left behind. Your neck is stiff with the parka over your head, so you can’t look behind without turning your entire body around.
In the Greater Toronto Area – or the GTA as it is called – the suburban city-town of Mississauga, where I lived right after I landed in Canada, is a sprawling sister-neighbourhood of Toronto which strives hard to deserve the respect of being called a city. Or does it?
