dailyprompt – Page 6

Road Trips…..

Daily writing prompt

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

I’ve never had anything in the way of what I would call a “road trip” until rather recently in life.

My father wasn’t the type of guy to go camping with his kids.

He did borrow a truck with a camper from one of his air forces buddies when we lived on CFB Griesbach in Edmonton from 1980 to 1983, but this was so that he could take his new wife camping in the mountains.

In 2023 I had what you could call “road trips”.

One was to Ontario. And one was to Iceland.

The trip to Ontario was by Via Rail. This trip was booked so that it would happen right after I made my application for M.A.i.D.. I was intending to use the trip to have some quiet reflection after making my application for my death.

But of course, the Government of Canada capitulated to the imaginary friend brigade.

It was an interesting trip, but as usual depression and self doubt were my constant companions.

Initially I thought that the trip was going to be aborted in Winnipeg as there really wasn’t any space for me to be left alone on the train, but thankfully I discovered the “economy class” at the front of the train.

The “sleeper class” section of the train has access to the diner car and the bar car at the rear of the train. But with the exception of meal time, the diner car is off limits for sitting down in.

And the rear of the train is for socializing.

I don’t socialize.

I hate small talk.

And I hate polite talk.

So as can be imagined the trip started off as a nightmare.

But then I discovered the “economy class” diner.

And yes, I could grab a chair and sit at a table and write out to my heart’s content on my laptop.

My trip to Iceland came as a result of the settlement that I received for a previous childhood matter.

Ever since I received my medical reports from the PEI government in 2011 that indicated that my father had been in Iceland on the day that I had been knocked unconscious in a “bicycle accident” I had a desire to go to Iceland to see what was so special that he’d leave my brother and I alone in the PMQ while he flew off to an entirely different country with the Canadian Armed Forces.

The day of the “accident” was in July of 1978. My grandmother had returned back to Edmonton in the spring of 1978, and we moved to CFB Namao in Edmonton in August of 1978. My mother of course had been kicked out of the PMQ by my father in 1977.

I don’t recognize the names on the hospital records of the person who found me “laying” in the middle of the road and took me to the hospital. And my father’s name is the only name listed as Next of Kin, so it’s obvious that Richard wasn’t going to let his kids stand in the way of his flying to Iceland.

So, as I said, I was curious to see what was so special about Iceland.

I booked the trip so that I would be in Iceland for the summer solstice.

Iceland, or more specifically Reykjavik was interesting.

I didn’t get around too much of the island, I just stayed around Reykjavik, but I did violate one rule and I ended up out at the Black Sand Beach on the south east corner of the island.

So, I never did discover a reason for my father to have buggered off to the island while leaving his kids unattended at home in military housing.

Maybe he thought that the other parents on base would just look after us in the same manner that he just expected everyone else to look after us.

And I can’t see having told his chain of command that he wouldn’t be able to go out on training exercises as he had a responsibility to look after his family.

Iceland is an interesting place. Nice and quiet. Everyone keeps to themselves, but they are very friendly.

If you have depression or anxiety Iceland is actually therapeutic as it gets you away from our toxic and highly dysfunctional culture.

The cycling culture is better than that of Vancouver’s.

Even though the Americans infected Iceland with car culture in the aftermath of WWII due to the presence of an American air force base on the island, bicycling is supported very strongly on the island. As is walking. Reykjavik is a very walkable city.

This counter that was just down the path from the hotel I stayed in shows that 5 bicycles and 16 pedestrians had passed this point by 00:58. Yes, the counter resets at 00:00. And yes, this is midnight on the summer solstice.

And the aforementioned US military presence on the island in the years after WWII is what fuelled the punk rock scene on the island, especially in Reykjavik. The punk rock scene exploded primarily as a force of resistance against the American influence on Icelandic culture.

There’s a wonderful little Punk “museum” in the heart of Reykjavik in an old converted public washroom. These public washrooms weren’t small, they’re pretty large. And hence there’s a museum in one of them. If you’re in Reykjavik you should give it a try.

Walking around in Reykjavik I realized that there weren’t many visible signs of drug use, mental health issues, or homelessness. That’s not because they don’t have these issues. It’s because unlike here in Canada where we are in a never ending race with the Americans to see who can cut their taxes to the absolute minimum while cutting as many social programs to the bone, Iceland heavily invests in social housing, looking after their mentally ill, and looking after their drug addicts.

Yes, their taxes are high when compared to Canada’s taxes, but they don’t have homeless people sleeping in doorways, homeless families living in cars, and homeless people shitting and pissing in the alleys.

And the truth about Canadian taxes is our tax rates, especially our lack of a wealth tax, is that our taxes are laughably so low that they’re criminal.

The tables below are from the World Population Review.
https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/highest-taxed-countries

Canada’s tax rate is even less than America’s tax rate.

Christ, our tax rate is even lower than Ethiopia’s tax rate.

Yeah, it’s no wonder why we don’t have any investment in social programs and why our governments are trying to cut away as many social programs as possible. Our governments are trying to compete against Indonesia, Pakistan, and Ethiopia to be tax havens for the rich.

Anyways, would I go to Iceland again?

I probably would, given the chance. I’d plan for a couple of weeks stay and I’d try to get up to the northern part of the island to get as close to the Arctic circle as possible for the summer solstice.

The Past

Daily writing prompt

Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?

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I spend an inordinate amount of time in the past.

This is primarily due to how dysfunctional my past has been and how much the past has affected my life in the current day.

All my life I’ve never had anything to look forward to in the future. The future was always uncertain for me as after CFB Namao I never saw myself having a future.

The one thing that I do have to look forward to is death.

The only certainty that life has to offer is death.

Death, as has been said, is the great equalizer.

When we’re dead we’re no better and no worse than the next person.

Death offers freedom from pain and suffering.

Death frees you from the past.

Here’s an interesting “daily writing prompt”

Daily writing prompt

What is the greatest gift someone could give you?

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What is the greatest gift that someone could give to me?

Four simple words

You

Have

Been

Approved

I am so fucking tired.

Tired of this life.

Tired of this existence.

Tired of fighting the lies.

Tired of learning that the truth was more insidious than what could be imagined.

I’m really hoping that my nurse practitioner tells me in 2027 that the two M.A.i.D. assessors have approved my application for Medical Assistance in Dying. “Bobbie, you have been approved”.

Those four words will bring so much joy and relief to me.

This ought to be a good one….

Daily writing prompt

What colleges have you attended?

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What colleges did I attend?

That’s a simple one.

None.

My father had to be one of the most significant anti-education people that I’ve ever seen.

He dropped out of school in grade 9 and enrolled in the Royal Canadian Navy in 1963 just after he turned 17.

To him, his single room school education was all that anyone would ever need in their life.

To him, the teachers were all idiots.

Especially if the teachers were women.

It’s not that I didn’t want to go to school, but by 1987 things had gone so far off the rails in Richard’s house that leaving home was the only thing that I could do.

So yeah, there was going to be no college, university, or even trade school in my future.

When I discovered the existence of my social service paperwork in 2011 and discovered that I had been so close to being removed from Richard’s dysfunctional household, my brain exploded.

All of these years I had absolutely no idea that when we lived on Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Toronto that my family was under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto and that if when home life started going to shit in the days after Richard’s rampage in 1985, I could have applied for emergency shelter and moved out of Richard’s dysfunctional household on CFB Downsview and had my room and board looked after until age 19.

But, none of that was meant to be.

So, here I am at 53 years of age despising what my life has become due to the decisions of others and hoping that I can qualify for medical assistance in dying when it becomes legal in March of 2027.

When am I the most happy?

Daily writing prompt

When are you most happy?

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I think that I am the most happiest when I am asleep and dreaming.

In dreamland I can be anything I want and I can make my reality into anything that I want.

I am also happy when I think about my death.

I know that it may sound odd, but the thought of the peaceful slip into the dark abyss of nothingness appeals to me. It’s something that I want and it’s something that I crave.

To not ever feel anything, or to be aware of anything, or to remember anything, this would make me happy.

Well, it wouldn’t really make me happy.

Yes, in death I would never experience happiness, joy, sunshine, or other pleasant things.

But I wouldn’t exist any more so it’s not like I would have any form of awareness as to what I am missing out on.

And by not existing any longer I wouldn’t be forced to remember all of the shit that I’ve been through.

Dreamland is nice, but it doesn’t last. Every morning that I wake up is another day of never ending suffering.

And that’s why the thought of my death makes me happy.

Five things that I am good at?

Daily writing prompt

Share five things you’re good at.

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Okay, so this is the prompt that I got today.

5 things that I am good at.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Hiding. Hiding my mental illnesses from everyone.
Lying to myself that I am good at hiding my mental illnesses from everyone.
Converting food into fecal matter.
Converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.

Anyone who thinks that I am good at anything is seriously deluding themselves.

Fears……

What fears have you overcome and how?

WordPress sometimes prompts me to write about a certain topic. It’s geared towards “family” type events.

There are very few that actually seem to apply to me.

Today’s prompt was somewhat interesting.

I think the biggest fear that I had in my life was my father.

I overcame that fear somewhat in 2006 during a series of phone calls that I had with him.

Then there was his death in January of 2017.

That was a major relief.

My brother thinks that I’m over exaggerating my fear of Richard, but as Dr. Gabor Maté observed, “no two children have the same parents”.

The most significant fear that I had of Richard was his temper. Richard had very poor impulse control and very poor control of his anger. He also couldn’t take into account the difference in physical strength between himself and the person he was lashing out at.

My fear of Richard only grew more intense when I became involved with military social worker Captain Terry Totzke.

Richard is dead and gone. And the world is probably better off for this. But his effects still haunt me and have left their traces upon me.

My grandmother was another person that I feared as a kid.

Her anger and her impulse control were worse than Richard’s, but at least she lacked the physical strength of Richard.

Alcohol. I’ve always feared being an alcoholic.

Both my father and my grandmother were intense alcoholics. Both were happy drunks for the most part. Conversely both were intensely angry people when they were sobering up.

I’ve had so little alcohol in my life I can almost remember every exact time.

The last time that I had a drink was back in July of 2011.

Before that it was January of 2010

Before that it was August of 2006

Before that it was September of 2005

Before that it was May of 1994

Before that it was sometime in the winter of 1990 in Gagetown, New Brunswick.

Before that it was sometime around 1986.

I can’t remember all of the “sips” that my father or my grandmother would give me when they were drunk.

I do remember the beer that grandma made me drink in the summer of 1984.

Most of these were just casual get-togethers when I was changing jobs and moving up the so called ladder.

But becoming an alcoholic has always been one of my fears.

Growing up on military bases I was exposed to a significant amount of alcoholism. It was as if being an alcoholic was a requirement to join the Canadian Forces back in the ’50s through the ’90s.

Being a “homosexual” and subsequently growing up to be like the babysitter was always a major fear of mine. Both Captain Totzke and my father would keep telling me that if I didn’t stop kissing, hugging, and being interested in other boys that I would grow up to be just like the babysitter and the priest from Namao.

Imagine the type of fear that would instil into a 9 to 11 year old.

Being told that you’d be going to a psychiatric hospital or jail for “allowing” the babysitter to do what he had done.