Blog: Critical Condition, February 16, 2012

Oh! The Fucking Week

When seven days can be as exhilarating as it is frustrating

by Gaëtan L. Charlebois

Have you ever had one of those weeks where, while running errands on a gray, rainy day, you are at a stop light and you think: I have two choices; I throw myself into the oncoming, or I cause a catastrophic accident which will kill a dozen, much to my delight. It is a sorry emotional state; a mixture of excitement at how fast things are going and rage at how you seem to be the only one in the whirlwind (it's like no one else notices). You are feeling both love for the world and a deep misanthropy at the same time.

"Platonic"

This week - because of a variety of positive causes (the huge readership of Brad Fraser's essay, the exchange about it on Facebook and Twitter; the growing readerships for both CPM and CPC) mixed with the negative ones (ongoing medical issues with me and my SO, the non-discussion of Fraser's piece everywhere but Twitter and Facebook) - I was in a state I can only compare to the one actors are in the day after they've closed a hit show and there is no next show lined up.

Inertia.

Stasis.

Chose a word.

Then I was reading Roger Ebert's biography. In it, Ebert used the term "Platonic" in a sense I didn't understand. Well, God bless iBooks which allows you to tap a word and opens a dictionary to that word. Here is the sense Ebert meant: "confined to words, theories, or ideals, and not leading to practical action".

And I was at peace. Sometimes you just need to have a name for something for everything to feel right. I am so, so tired of being in a country and community (theatre) where everything is platonic. We are letting the Tories step all over what we believe to be right (gun registry, privacy) while doing a whole shitload of talking but nothing actually practical. As I have written here, the Healey affair at Tarragon is a clear sign of worse to come - but we do nothing (except on Facebook and Twitter...cheesh!).

In my home life I am just as platonic. I am caught between doctors, mourning for my life, instead of bringing a professional complaint against one  and satisfying myself she will at least get her hands slapped. My condition isn't improving but I can do nothing about it because I am caregiver for my SO and there are no real systems in place to help either of us.

So I moan. You moan. He/she/it moans.

There...

Onwards.