From Pity to Power ...

I could write a million books about uncertainty and disenfranchisement. I could tell tales of doubt and internal agony. But what does that accomplish, really, at the end of the day? Where does that leave me, and the people who read and witness these sorry chronicles?

And is it not my due to my world to not encumber it with more sad tales of woebeme recollections, and tell stories of triumph, growth, development, and advancement? Isn't it always time for a raise and a rise??

No one speaks for me. I speak for myself. And I WILL tell a better story!

As the World Turns ...

My mind is screaming to go beyond established walls. Beyond the boundaries of chronic limitation.

Like Mandela, there's a gnawing in me, because powerlessness must not be tolerated. It must not be accepted. It must be fought. And inertia can be a disease that debilitates forever. And it must be avoided at all cost.

'Wutlissniss' has to start somewhere. It starts on the day when you decide to slow down. That one moment when you decide to 'take a break' can somehow metamorphosise into years. Years of breaks and breaking. Until finally, you see something new taking form. Water comes together. Dry land appears. Shoots and roots burst into being. The wheels of time keep turning in endless revolutions. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Aha ... Eureka! A revolution. An evolution.

Vanity Fair Questionnaire

**Stolen from Lady Putz, who borrowed it from Vanity Fair.


What is your idea of perfect happiness?
The Jewish concept of shalom, ie, perfect peace in any situation.

What is the one thing more than anything else that you don't want to happen to you?
Dying with unused potential, unspent energy, unwritten books, untold stories, unsung songs, etc.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela ... fervent, unwavering belief in hope ...  Amandla! Ngawethu!

Which living person do you most admire?
Mom. She is a house of prayer, tower of strength. And integrity in and out of the spotlight ... and regular people all over the world who make magic out of ordinary.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Erm ...  sporadic unconfidence.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Deliberate cruelty ... cold, calculated wickedness, intolerance and insensitivity.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Usually the simplest pleasures: sunrises, sunsets, blue skies, calm seas ... oh yeah, and fancy pastry, ethnic jewellery, skirts and scarves.

What is your favourite journey?
Going out and going home. Out to an adventure. Home to rest. Nothing's quite as magical as the anticipation of the day's work, or a long trip away, and when someone asks where you're going and you get to say, "home" ... *enter blissful joy here*

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
In today's society, virtues are grossly underrated!

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to lie at all ;-)

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
I try not to dislike any aspect of me. But if I must choose something, it would probably be ... ???

Which living person do you most despise?
I don't think I despise anybody, but I intensely dislike people who are deliberately cruel, manipulative intolerant and insensitive ... why can't we all learn to respect each other's right to be ... ?

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“What?”

What is your greatest regret?
Hmnm ... hard one. And certainly nothing to be shared with cyberland.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Mi Lord. Then books/stories. Then journalism and cultures.

Which talent would you most like to have?
Omniscience.

What is your current state of mind?
Restless.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far?? Umm ... changing the course of my family, generation ...

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Probably the world's first inexhaustible  pen ... I do love to write, lol.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
Bird. I like the idea of always having a song, flying free ...

What is your most treasured possession?
Ability to think, learn, grow, adapt, change and show affection (which I give freely yet with great restraint).

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
A purposeless life. Sadness that never goes away. No sunshine. No smiles. No warmth. No laughter. No love.

Where would you like to live?
A little bit of everywhere in every country in the world ...

What is your favourite occupation?
Writing, hands down ... then hearing/sharing great stories, inspiring others, being inspired, research, publication/home/fashion design, troubleshooting development issues, 'live-a-better-life campaigns, singing, smiling, laughing ... practising random kindness and senseless acts of beauty.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Passion. I emote, emote, emote ...

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Generosity, integrity, strength of character.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Without a doubt, strength and purposefulness.

What do you most value in your friends?
Humour,  tolerance, respect.

Who are your favorite writers?
Where to start? There are so many! I love biographies ... people's stories that instruct, uplift, inspire ... People like Nelson Mandela, Ben Carson ...

What is it that you most dislike?
Deliberate cruelty, poverty, abuse, hunger, disease, inexplicable catastrophe that plagues the human heart, mind and soul ...and gross disrespect and intolerance for others.

How would you like to die?
Empty. Spent. Fulfilled. Epitaph: Here lies a woman who lived a FULL life and left nothing undone.

What is your motto?
You live, you learn, you grow ...

All's Well That Ends Well, I Hope ...

I am writing this blog post as the events unfold, not certain whether I should laugh or cry or shake my head in incredulity at the truly 'unique' events that characterise my life.

First off, my crew at work had this fabulous idea of a pre-Christmas dinner - a potluck sort of thing. It was awesome. And I bought into it TOTALLY.

Second, I was assigned to do the potato salad - not a challenging task in comparison to certainly more awesome feats of the roast beef and ham and baked chicken and candied yams and gungo rice and peas that my coworkers were attempting...

Third, yesterday, I worked the late shift, which meant that I was here until 11:30. When I got home, it was after 12:00 going to 1:00. Instead of rushing off to sleep (which my mind and body were begging me to do), I decided to push past the boundaries of human fatigue and make my coworkers a fabulous feast of a potato salad.

Now, there are about fifteen of us in this little pot luck. That meant that I was peeling, dicing, boiling and straining a whole lot of potatoes - not to mention the vegetables to be boiled and the eggs and the mayonnaise and whatever else that needed to be procured. But at last, after four this morning, going to five, I completed the task, set up my utensils, and went to bed.

Then this morning ...

After going to bed so very near to sunrise, naturally, I woke up late. Bad start. I ended up rushing to finish my salad. The eggs, while boiled, had not been shelled. I made the rookie mistake of leaving them in the same water they were boiled in overnight - so the damn things chipped and cracked in my hands and only one or two of the twelve came out perfectly round. Eventually, I finished the task and managed to leave home with about fifteen minutes to get to work. I tried calling a taxi service, but they told me that it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to me. I couldn't wait. I'd be late. So I headed on to the road and got a regular 'robot' cab to take me to work. That's $1,000. But I was desperate.

He drove off, and we were on our way. Lo and behold, the pre-Christmas traffic was a headache, backache, heartache, and would have made for quite a hoarse throat if I had followed the basic instinct to yell at every passing motor vehicle (I did not). It took me one hour to get to work - one long hour!! When we got there, I was so late and harried that I quickly paid the driver, dashed out of the cab, into the lobby, into the elevator and up to my floor to start what promised to be a very full day's work.

Then I remembered ... the potato salad. I left it in the car of a complete stranger with no way of contacting him and no time to go back for it. This, I thought, was the start of a perfect day.

It only got better. I called home to see if someone at home could go to the bus stop to check if the taxi driver was there, only to be told that the person was "tied up" in housework and could not leave home to walk the two to three minutes it would take to go to the bus stop and check for me.

It is now 6 p.m. I still have no idea where my potato salad is, or if I will ever get it back. I've been at work all day. We had our little dinner. It was great. There was so much food there that I don't think anyone really missed the salad, except maybe me. I can't readily forget the huge unopened jar of mayonnaise, my three plastic cover dishes, the tin of mixed veggies, my foil, my Ziploc bags, my cling film, my dishtowel, my one sharp knife, or the gym bag that contained them all. But more than those, I can't forget those potatoes ... I spent so much time peeling and dicing and boiling and straining ...

It's Christmas. It ought to be a happy time of year. Ah well. I ate. I drank. I might as well be merry. Even if I wasted all that time, all those resources, all that energy ...

Merry Christmas everybody. I'll whisper a prayer for you all. Tomorrow is another day. And soon, this too shall pass and fade into obscure memory.

I can't wait.

I Don't Like Funerals

I don't like funerals.

The last time I went to a funeral, I was about 7 or 8 years old. I've had people close to my family die since that time, but I have never gone to any funeral since.

I don't like funerals.

They're sad. And all about dead people. And I don't like coffins. And the exorbitant drama that people believe has to happen at funerals. The wailing. The screaming. The griping and rolling on the floor and petitioning God. The wanting to jump into the coffin with the deceased. The passing the (poor little innocent) babies over the coffins (something I would outlaw if I were in government, cause that is just creepy and unfair and wrong).

I don't like funerals.

I especially don't like the graveside processions. The singing and dumping dirt on a slowly lowering coffin. The realisation that this person is really gone and never coming back. The old women getting into spirit as they sing ancient hymns and negro spirituals. The dumping the rum into the grave-hole to (supposedly) appease dead spirits. The nasty loose grave-yard dirt that I don't want on my shoes or anywhere near my home. And most of all, the sadness. The oppressive, pervasive, overwheliming sadness. And tears. And burdensome grief.

I don't like funerals.

So when I found out that a cousin of mine had died, I know I'll never see him again, and in my mind, I make peace with that fact. Because I don't like funerals.

Talk With the Self

Self,
I should start on a high note and point out that I love you in word, thought, deed and truth. Can't live without you, and that's no lie. I even have friends getting jealous and malicious because I love you so much... but such is life. I love you. I can't help it. Afer all, you're you! Who wouldn't fall in love with that? =-)

I should also say that you've been making a lot of personal progress lately. Like the way you've been getting up early in the mornings and getting more things done around the house? Fabulous. And the way you're not allowing little things to bother you, and actually having entire worry-free days? Just awesome. I love it. Cause I, for one, can't stand it when you worry.

And your self-control is coming along nicely! Remember when that same gal there open her mouth to speak nonsense in class (again), and you actually kept mum this time, and kept a straight face, even though the whole class was looking expectantly at you (cause them know you love to rebut and rebuff)?? I know it was hard, but I was so proud when you did that.

Or remember that time when that lady came to Auntie J's house and decided to pretend you didn't exist?? You actually held your tongue and managed to keep a smile on! Bra-vo. I know how trying moments like that are, and I'm really glad you're learning how to handle spiteful offense. I always say, if you can't change action, change reaction. Don't kill up yourself over them things there, self. It not worth it. This self-control will come in handy when you meet all God's wonderful variety of people in the working world... you'll see...

But, seeeelf, ah muss tell yuh! There are some things about you that are getting on my nerves. Especially the things you hide so well for so long that I think they not there any more, only to see them resurface later on... self, what is up with that?

Take today, for example. How you manage to not be happily finished with that essay when you had an entire month to do it? What happened self? I thought we were on a roll with this doing all things on time thing... how come that happened?

Self, I'm so ashamed of you for that. I seriously would give you a spanking, except it would hurt me as much as it would hurt you. How dare you jeopardise my future first class honours like that?? And then to dump all this unbelievable guilt and regret for it on me- me?!! Self, how could you betray me like that??

I really thought we were over the procrastination phase. I thought we were making progress. Perhaps we are. Now ah not so sure. Self, I really can't tell you how unnerved and just plain old frustrated I am with you today. That essay was an A essay. You could have easily handed in, not just good work, but great work. Instead, you somehow managed to watch time pass till too late, and then the maddening race against the clock...

I have to admit that you stayed calm under pressure, especially when it touched 4:45 and you knew you were working against a 5 o'clock deadline... I'm glad you didn't panic and get jittery and do something stupid. But still, self, you never had to be in that situation at all!! You could have finished this thing weeks ago and had a nice, slow, peaceful day today.

So self, hear me out: I can't handle the procrastination thing again. This is not high school. You can't get way with them things like one time (okay, maybe you can, but really, is a B/B+ good enough when you could have easily gotten an A+? Mediocrity just don't make it in my books!)

Self, step it up man! Do better. Learn from your mistakes and shape the hell up. You better not let this happen again, you hear??

I done talk.

Dagger This Daggering Thing For All It's Worth!!

If Jamaican film-makers/play-producers wanted to make some money right now, and had all the requisite resources (money, time, actors/actresses, etc) at their fingertips, I would advise them to make a movie called 'The Daggering Dilemma'. Yeah. I really would.

I was reading on Javed and Long's blogs about this daggering debate, and like a wonderful, epiphanic bolt of lightning, the idea struck me: money! A fast-thinking, quick-acting, creative genius could make money out of this daggering controversy. Of course, they would have to act veeery fast, but still, as I see it, the money could probably be made.

How?? Start with the script. How about a script showing all the different players (as outlined in our beloved Long's blog) in one small community, each group characterised by their reaction to this not-so-recent dancehall phenomenon called daggering? The play would hafta be smartly written, loaded with ironies and symbolisms and parrallelisms- probably a staunch uptown Pastor with a pious-looking wife who 'daggers' on the side, or a shopkeeper who is absolutely repulsed by the idea of daggering till he one day goes to experience it for himself and somebody else asking if daggering cannot be compared to what dogs do in mating season... catch my drift? Clever hyperbole, syllogisms, and tons of regular jamaican humour could pull this thing off!! And it would make a killing, or atleast a near-killing... and quite possibly, create an entirely new buzz around town!

And even if the movie/play is not all that, some good PR, riding on the waves of the current debate, could make it appeal to the nation at large, so that people would want to come see it at least one time. The producer/advertiser would just hafta pull out all the stops to ensure that there was a huge turn-out on opening night! Probably make it a one-night only thing, and have different classes of tickets for front row seats versus back row seats, etc. And I know, I know... how can I even think of producing a movie/play that is not very good just to make money from a controversy?? Where are my morals?? My response: this is just speculation people. Spec-u-la-tion.

Plus, if the movie was really any good, or anything even closely related to something good, it could probably be used in University courses about Jamaica's dancehall culture and in those Western/European/Asian countries where our culture is so readily exoticised and glorified... we could have subtitles in a coupla other languages and sell DVDs... it probably could really work!! It probably could!

Too bad the debate kinda sizzling down now, and I dont know any film producers. Or else we could make a killing off this daggering thing, and still manage to be somewhat educational and informative, and make a mini-dent in the Jamaican documentary/film industry, and probably even carve out a little niche in the wider ever-globalising world... or somebody else could take this idea and do all of the above.

Maybe I oversimplifying, and I tend to get carried away with my "great" ideas, but what you think people?? Would you pay to go watch, at least once, a (real literary-kind of respectable) movie/play called 'The Daggering Dilemma'... especially if it promises to be good Jamaican symbolism and satire!!

Whispers: Hey, people, this idea is NOT copyrighted! *wink-wink* LOL!

Simple Spelling, Hard Word...

Doing it::
Loving it::
They did her::
He did them::
She does everybody::

Why can't people just call sex sex?? What's so hard about saying the word?

Sex!! There, I said it... and I'm still alive...

We find every other word to candy-coat and sugar-paint that one little word: "body-talk", "having relations", "getting laid", "getting screwed", "putting it on somebody (or something, as the case may be)",the infamous "f" word, "hitting it", "coupling", "duggu-duggu", ... but we fail to say exactly what it is: sex!!

A couple had sex? They did it.
A guy had some sex? He did it too.
A girls gets a VD from sex? She caught it from doing it cause she didn't wear it...

Why is it so hard to say sex and sex-related words? What's so toxic and poisonous about them? Why is sex taboo? It's not even hard to spell. It's a three letter word, for crying out loud: S.E.X!

Don't even ask what got me started in this direction, but please people, words are simply a bunch of abstract letters strung together. They only acquire negative or positive connotations when -get this- when we add them!! So nothing's really taboo unless we want it to be...

And please please please please please note: you cannot beat your kid for saying the word SEX!!!

Failing Memory

My memory is not as super-sharp as it used to be. And this is not sitting very well with me at all! What sparked this latest bout of self-searching and self-critique? TVJ's Schools' Challenge Quiz!

I used to be able to answer a decent amount of questions from that competition in any category. I could even solve the occasional math problem. But now, I can barely answer four or five questions on the entire show! I'll sit there, and know that at some point in my former brilliant life, I knew the answer, but now I've lost the information. I just don't remember.

It annoys the heck out of me to not remember stuff about Biology, Chemistry, Physics and the like. I'm too young to have memory lapses. I'm too young to be forgetting so many things already!!

It just sucks to know that I knew the answers but don't anymore, even if I left high school and stopped actively studying those subjects over four years ago... it doesn't matter!! I'm not supposed to forget! I'm never supposed to forget! Once I learn it, it should stick with me forever! Forever, dammit!

And to add insult to injury, my daddy has the memory of a high-speed computer... he doesn't forget anything! Especially world history. He can give you names, dates, countries, timelines, the works... and he doesn't study these things intensely, he just casually reads. So why is he, in his late 40s, able to clearly remember stuff he read at 25, and, I, in my early 20s, can't remember stuff I learnt in my late teens? It's not fair!! Why did I have to inherit the broad nose instead of that amazing memory?

*SMH* It's not fair, I tell you, it's not fair!! I want my memory back, or at least the memory I was supposed to inherit from my father!!

SFGTD

Got this little email:
To: YOU
Date: TODAY
From: GOD
Subject: YOURSELF
Re: LIFE

Dear Valued Client,
This is God. Today I will be handling all of your problems. I do not need your help. If life happens to deliver a situation that you cannot handle, do not attempt to resolve it yourself! Please put it in the SFGTD (something for God to do) box. All situations will be resolved in due time. Once the matter is placed into the box, you are strongly advised to let it go. Do not hold on to it by worrying about it. Instead, focus on all the wonderful things that are present in your life now. You are strongly advised to recommend these services to a friend as well for bonus customer appreciation points. Please be reminded also that the fee for the termination of these services is only a lifetime of pain and misery.
Have a nice day.
Love,
God (CEO, SFGTD Inc.)

So I opened a (new) SFGTD Box yesterday. So far I put school, work, family, friends, finances and future in there. I have this special deal with unlimited box space, but my list keeps getting longer. I think the box will soon be full...

Question: What would you put in your SFGTD box??

We're finally becoming friends.

Before yesterday, I had nothing but bouts of anger, fits of rage and wild tantrums whenever I was in your presence... We've been fighting for so long, I didn't even think this was possible, but we're finally becoming friends!!

The problem was that I was always having "accidents" whenever I was near you, and I figured you were jinxed!! Either that, or you were deliberately setting traps for me, making sure that I had nothing but pain and trouble around you...

See all the scars I have from fights with you and your friends? You know how much crockery you've caused me to break in sheer anger, or because I was too flustered and upset, or just plain frustrated and all out of ideas... It was like you were constantly trying to burn me, to make sure that your jumpy hot oil of problems was always searing me... but now... finally, we're becoming friends!

Yesterday was our last fight, because yesterday, I finally won. Hear that? I won!! And it's funny. When you realised that nothing you did could spoil my good mood, you had the good sense to call a truce...

So I agreed to stop banging stuff around and cussing like a sailor when I was around you. I decided to be nice to your croonies for a change, talk to them with respect, you know, be nice. I agreed to be more open-minded and promised to stop scandalising and sullying your character. In turn, you would be civil to me, and even help me out a bit here and there.

So yesterday, because of this truce, I was able to cook a sumptuous meal without one single curse word or any cuts or nicks or burns... I treated the kitchen and all its utensils with respect: I never cursed, I never got upset, I didn't break anything, I didn't yell... nothing. I was nice to the kitchen, and for a change, that be-atch was nice to me: allowed me to cook my merry way through a three course meal that my auntie (my only audience) thoroughly enjoyed. What did I cook? I won't even bother to tell you, cause I can hear you saying, 'that was all?' and trumping my little spirit... But I think me and the kitchen will live on good terms from now on: we're finally becoming friends...

I'm Seeing Things

Little particles of light flitting before my eyes and on walls and on computer screens and books and just everywhere. And I don't mean the kind of imprints you see when you look into bright light for too long and then look into a dark area or vice versa. I see these little shiny specks just poppin' up out of anywhere at any hour of the day in any light all over the place.
I've never tried to touch one (can't give anybody a reason to call me crazy), and I don't know if I'm the only one seeing them (I strongly suspect so, because this chick at work the other day just walked right through a coupl'a them, and never even flinched).

I used to see this kinda thing when I was younger - everywhere, but they went away. Now they're back again, and I'm wondering what they really are. What causes your eye/mind to suddenly play tricks like that... I'm not crazy, and I'm not sick either. I'm just seeing things that nobody else does... whatever that makes me, I'm not crazy!

Venting

To the Chupid Bus-Driver who cut before my bus-driver and nearly kill off a bus-full of people (including me) yesterday: What the frick you think this is? Dover raceway? Where you get your damned driver's license? And what the hell you think you doing cutting in front a driver going full speed on a two lane traffic-jammed road - just to get to a damned bus-stop for two little passengers? You damn lucky our bus-driver can actually drive, or else you would have bout sixty murder charges on your head now. And you lucky the man that stop our bus and got out to confront you bout your nasty driving never have a gun on him. Him woulda blow your brains to Timbuktu. Is people like you give Jamaica bad name, driving on the road like you get your license underwater! You don't know you can't overtake on main road that ram with traffic? And then for you to look at the bus fulla frighten passengers that just see them life flash before them and laugh? You shudda open your bus door when the angry man come knock it and tell yuh to come outta the b@*b$cl&^t bus to make him and you work it out. Yuh shudda open the bus door and come out mek him get to buss yuh a$$. Eediat!!

To the University Administrator who neglected to update their website: Now you just really need a lick inna yuh head!! You know how much trouble you cause me? I was there believing I had to pay $43,000 plus miscellaneous. Had the money put down too. Now I hearing that things change and I have to pay $150 something-thousand!! You know how much trouble you cause me????? You know the hell me going through now to find that mega-load a money that my parents don't have hiding somewhere cause them not rich people? How you must not update something as crucial as the raises in fees?? Especially by THAT MUCH? Hm? You think money grow on trees round here? You think we have money fallin from sky like rain? Hm? You mek I ever catch you... I beat that 150 gran outta you...

To the guy at work who claims to have this unhelpable attraction to me: Help it!! Because you don't stand a chance in hell and you're getting on my laaast nerve! You make me want to throw my cell phone through the window under a speeding car, disguise myself and go into hiding. For the record, when a girl say she not interested the first coupla times, is not a test to see if you persevere and eventually get the prize - is not some covert invitation to pursue her to the ends of the earth. It should never be a turn-on. Take it that she mean exactly what she say: SHE NOT INTERESTED!!

And furthermore, is just plain chupid and ridiculous to ask a girl you just meet and barely know if you can be her boyfriend - just outta the blue so?? If it was a joke, it would prob'ly pass for a half-compliment, but for you to look her dead in the eyes and be serious... and she don't know you from Eden, and you don't know anything bout her? You MUST be kidding!! The law is that you try to get to know the girl first, then, when you build some sorta attraction, you try a move...

And one more thing, you can't just up and start pursuing a girl without finding out first if she don't have a man! This is Jamaica! You ever hear bout cutlass and bottle torch?? Man will black your eye for them woman... so nex time you feel 'unhelpable attraction' do yourself a favour and check if the chick single FIRST!!

CHIC Clothing

<<<<-This t-shirt has gotten me into more weird conversations than any other piece of clothing I own. In fact, that t-shirt inspired this concept I have of 'CHIC' clothing.

CHIC stands for Come Hither and Initiate Conversation. It's what men and women do when they read a witty message on your tee, or just like something you're wearing, and use it as an excuse or think it's an invitation to come over and strike up a convo. My 'I heart chocolate' t-shirt is a winner in that department. It just never fails. I don't think I've ever worn that tee without hearing several, I-love-chocolate-too's followed by a list of other things that the speaker loves... or doesn't love... My response, of course, is dictated by my mood, the weather, the time, dude's looks (if it's a dude), alignment of sun, stars and moon, and a host of other purely prejudiced and random things... My sis has a tee that says "I don't need your attitude, I have my own". You can imagine the sorta convos that triggers LOL. She even got the nickname 'Ms. Attitude' because of that tee, (and her attitude, cause she sure has one!)

CHIC clothing work wonders on the conversation radar. It doesn't even have to be a witty tee. It can be this hand-bag that never fails to get you a coupla compliments from both sistahs and brothahs, or those killer stilettos that just make men pause, or that shirt in that colour that everyone stops to say looks good on you... CHIC apparel just open doors for conversations with all sorts of people...

*Announcer's voice* So what are YOU waiting for? Get yourself some CHIC clothes today!! It could work wonders for you...