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Aug. 14th, 2007 | 09:05 am


... All I have to say is supporting a mental and physical illness like this is completely idiotic

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Aug. 10th, 2007 | 10:34 pm
location: Home
mood: complacentcomplacent
music: iTunes ;)

There are very few things in the world I have trouble dealing with. People can come to me and talk to me about everything except one thing ... suicide. Not because I once had an issue with my own thoughts ... that's not it at all, in fact I never really had the want or desire to die (yet some could argue that I would not be blamed had I). My friends, my loved ones ... they have all come to me to chat over the years for anything they have on their mind. It is high time that I put my dealings with suicide to rest here.

For those who have read this story many times before or heard me talk about it at nauseum, I apologize.

When I was sixteen years old my family life was null and void. I had a father (though no strong connection to my mother), but he was rarely around and when he was it was not anywhere near tolerable conditions. I was mostly a slave with some pretty terrible grades and a emotional void of a father snoring away in his arm chair. When it came to school work I had no discipline let alone any encouragement. When my father's best friend was murdered I stood at his side as a pillar and tried to be the strength ... all I wanted him to do was to lean back against me and thank me for being there. His action was not returned in kind and he died more inside. I reached out to any one who would give me attention and spent a lot of time with a specific friend or with my father's girlfriend at the time. This woman even saved my arm from a very bald boiling water incident when my father wasn't around.

At seventeen I was punched in the side of the head for coming home around New Years and not having done the dishes (which looked as though either weeks had passed or someone had a party) and that was the last straw on that camel's back. I left. It was cold and I remember throwing my keys back at my father with all my might and headed directly for the coffee/donut shop a block away. Loretta was there, but emotionally I was not. I was dying inside like my father had many years ago. It wasn't my father who came running to my side, though, but rather it was my mother who I barely knew. She emptied her wallet into my hands and told me to call when I needed help. The next day I moved to nearby Belleville from Wellington Ontario and tried to start a new life.

I met this girl in school just after I moved to Belleville ... she was quite the girl to me. I was infatuated with her, but I doubt she returned the feelings. We usually hung out on my bed and chatted, cuddled ... teenage shit filled with the usual angst, but she was captivated with death. Valentine's day weekend I went to my mother's house in Kingston and when I returned Janine was gone. She had been killed in a car accident with a snow plow; I died inside a little more. After the funeral I didn't know what to think or believe any more and though I attended a Catholic high school I felt as though faith was reaching back at me. My support was Mike Doornbos, my best friend then.

A year later Mark was shot in Daytona Florida on March Break ... and I was almost void of emotion. I sunk all my time into being with whoever would give me their attention and running the risk of not only ruining my life, but (and selfishly I admit) ruining some young woman's life too. By now I was being kicked out of school so my school didn't want me around for this grieving for the guy I sat beside in a few classes while I was attempting to be a good student. I don't blame my school ... really. I was a bad student. I never showed up. I was too hung over, too strung out or too busy making excuses why I couldn't walk across the street to the building.

One more year would pass and one more person passes. Chris, a friend through Mike (and who my mother says was friends with me in my childhood before her divorce) took his own life. I attempted to stop it several times while I knew him and even when I was his room mate. The situation left me completely dead inside and I didn't know how to express my rage at all. I was so pissed off at the world and wanted everything around me to turn to dust. I remember the day I was the paul bearer more vividly than I do almost all of my childhood friends faces. When I fell to the ground watching the car drive his body around I was enraged and broken. The arms around me were the Doornbos family ... and not my own. My mother was very sick and my father was ... well, your guess is as good as mine.

Despite everything that happened my father never came to my side when I needed family most. He did, however, come to me when his mother then father passed away. I was there for him and this opened the chance to move to Ottawa. I spent three months in Wellington in a friend of his' basement freezing and alone before I would move to Ottawa with my father. Why I waited I do not have a clue. It took a few months for me to find someone in Ottawa to cling too and when I did I held hard. We were so inseparable that when my father's family in Ottawa planned a birthday party for me that I wanted her to come. When she was not invited I cut myself off from the Samuel family ... the last straw of family ignorance about my own life I guess.

When that girlfriend left me I felt as though my world was over. I ended up on welfare (from Belleville to Ottawa) for almost 6 years before I ended it.

So why is suicide tough for me to talk about? It's selfish I admit, but throughout all of my past I never once considered it an option. I saw what the world looked like when Chris killed himself and though I was nearly nothing (a subhuman by a lot of peoples standards ... a phantom by others) I felt that I had something to contribute. My offering was to tell the stories of what I knew of the fallen and lost. About Dave Bowerman, Janine, Mark, Chris, Mary Samuel, O.C. Samuel and to remember them as inspiration to me. Lives cut down violently, too early, needlessly, in perplexity, succumbing to disease and dying of loneliness and despair.

So there you have it. I live it here on the Internet. I will admit to some things in my life being my own fault. I wasn't a great child. I had problems coping and did some really stupid and shameful things in my life. I redirected a lot of negative energy at the wrong people and when it came to my family I chose to cut myself out instead of keep fighting. Now that I am thirty years old I have one regret ... that I cannot remember most of the people from grade school and high school who add me to facebook.

- Will

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I must be nucking futs....

Jul. 26th, 2007 | 04:38 pm

You'd think the "I <3 CU" button on my backpack was a standing testament of my adoration for this school, but you'd be wrong. Don't get me wrong ... I do enjoy my classes and time here, but there have been just a few low points for me. You have to figure in that my attempts with administration and bureaucracy has been a nightmare here. I have not had an easy go at things and I find it very stressful to attend classes at times. I keep saying I cannot wait for September to come because then I can obtain a clean slate and balance in my chaotic life at Carleton University. Now, you're wondering why on earth I am writing this. After all, if you are reading this you're either a stalker (hi) or you have already read my rants on Facebook about various issues I have had this year. Heh. This will make someone laugh and others cry on my behalf.

After this wicked brutal year, this torturous and painful year dealing with money issues, grades, idiots behind desks who don't have the training, knowledge or compassion to deal with another human being ... Sarah and I are SERIOUSLY consider moving our wedding and reception location to Carleton. That's right... Alumni Park, in fact, is the idea because it cuts a lot of costs and it matches a lot of the requirements we had anyway. So.... how much do I actually love this school? Well, I hate the bearcats, but I do like the atmosphere and the people I have met....

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Wedding woes

Jul. 23rd, 2007 | 04:29 pm

When we first made our projected guest list we were looking at a possible 90 people.  That doesn't mean 90 friends and family, but people in total.  Our friends and family who may bring a date along to this and such.  Soon after, Sarah's mom was bitching about the list.  We decided to cut out some not so close friends from the list and hoped not to offend anyone in particular.  Now my mom is all up in arms because the list is a potential 60 (46 in total with a possible 14 additional).  It's 60 people... it's our wedding, but she promised to split costs between Sarah and I, Sarah's folks and her 1/3 down the line.  We found a place that would do absolutely everything for roughly $2800 each and Sarah and I were willing to pitch on that.  We would of course have to also handle the transportation of guests (I don't want any of you drinking and driving on my wedding night), rings, attire and invitations, but I am not telling the families this because it seems as though no one is ever happy.

When we told everyone we set a date we let it be known that we needed to know a cap, a ceiling in which we were permitted to spend money to in order for this wedding.   The mothers thought we should get a budget via estimates and we work on that.  Well, we did that.  This place wasn't the cheapest for everything, but everything combined it saves us money, time and a lot of hassles.  We have yet to finalize it or decide anything, but we want to on Saturday.  It'll either be there or the wedding will end up shotgun in a city hall when people least expect it.

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Attached more?

Jul. 23rd, 2007 | 10:27 am

Well, as most have already heard, I have left the B.Hums program.  I am now an Honours Anthropology student.  I had considered attaching minors to mirror my fascination with the Humanities (some Philosophy with Religious Studies) or even picking up a couple more politics classes to round that option out too.  In the end chose History and English Lit. as my double minors and am now working that direction.  It's a good thing I did this though.  I only need 9 credits to graduate and I was planning on taking courses next summer.  This will ensure I will have the next two years of school mapped out and keeping my busy.  When I am done, however, will be an amazing party.  My HUMS friends will be graduating from Carleton in the same year I graduate from OttawaU from teacher's college.  I smell a wild party.... I do.  It smells funky sweet and very amazing

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Writer's Block: Bump In The Night

Jul. 22nd, 2007 | 11:51 pm

What are you afraid of?

This is a tough question.  I don't really have any fears any more.  I have become rather comfortable, but if I were to pick on something I dislike that sometimes it can freak me out ... spiders.  I just don't like them.  I understand they have a purpose, but I frankly couldn't give two shits about it.

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Writer's Block: By Any Other Name

Jul. 17th, 2007 | 05:15 pm

If you could rename yourself in real life, what would you choose, and why?

... This new elJay setup is kind cool.  A lot better than it used to be.  Anyway, to answer the writer's block question...

If I could change my name I would change it to William Christopher Marshall from William Marshall Samuel.

Christopher is the name of a dear friend who took his own life and I missed his friendship every day of my life.  He was a tortured soul, and now will not have a legacy of his own.

Marshall > Samuel ... The Samuel family, albeit was aloof and sometimes generous when I came to them, was never there for me.  I had to always extend the effort myself.  Moreover, my father was not exactly the best of intentions let alone anything else.  Very self-centered and focused on only himself ... this left me with a rather distorted sense of self.  In addition, he also had a wicked temper and was not very socially adept at dealing with other people so I learned everything from him and unlearned it in my twenties.

Since then my Samuel family has not moved an inch to shoulder me (not my problems, but me) when I needed it.  Be it mental, emotional, fiscal what have you... I will not carry a name that has a family of guilt and shame associated to it as such.  So, I am planning on changing my name hopefully before the wedding ... or, saying fuck it and building my owned damned Samuel legacy ;)  Marshall is also the family name of my Great Grandparents, and I wear my great grand dad's ring with pride.  He was a generous and kind man who did anything for his family and even bent over backwards for the poor.  

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