Wednesday, 30 December 2009
It wasn't quite the same kind of painting that used to reward me with wall decorations, but it still reminded me of old times. It also required much more work considering I was painting only two of four walls with one of the hardest colours to paint. In the end, the red walls are something to be proud of. My painting partner accidentally got the paint on the other two walls as well because men are not usually as meticulous as women when it comes to things like that. Now I have to prepare to touch them up with white paint, which should be the easy part of the whole ordeal.
I cannot forget to mention the preceding action to the actual painting that took up the majority of the time. For some reason, the previous paint on the walls was stripping in some parts (Perhaps this is due to moisture that raises it from the wall) so we had to go over the entire wall with a scraping tool to strip off the parts that were troublesome. This meant plenty of dust, plenty of sneezes, and plenty of cleaning up.
In the end, the room came out nice. I feel like I am going to wake up in the morning feeling extremely sore–much better than extremely sick though. I went home and drank 3 glasses of orange juice and took a Claritin allergy medicine. I am going to nip these sneezes in the butt before they have a chance to keep me from my beloved beach and possible new years celebrations. Sometimes I think I am allergic to Jamaica.
After all of that hard work, I found just enough energy to go out to a little hang out spot last night with a few of my friends. We were all there socialising for maybe 2 and a half hours before my best friend and me became really tired. On the way back to the house, Jamaica decided to remind us of how careful we have to be. JPS decided to do a routine light check between 12 and 4am so the entire area where my bestie lives was without electricity. This was the perfect opportunity for a little "badmind" (as we call it) thief to burn a hole through the fence, break the car window, and go inside and steal the radio; and that is exactly what happened.
Parked at the top of her driveway, the monster (my favourite car in the whole world) was a target. When we pulled up to the house to open the gate and drive up into the driveway, we saw that the trunk and driver's door were wide open. At first she almost convinced me that I had left the trunk open, but when I saw that the door was wide open as well I realised that something was up. She pullled up behind the monster and shone her headlights so I could see that no one was there before using the flashlight to notice the broken glass, missing radio, and hole in the fence.
Whoever thought they got a good steal is in for a horrible surprise when they find out the radio was not really working anyway. I am pretty sure they did not want just a penny for their efforts, and hope they do not come back for something more. Still, the part of this that worries me the most is the fact that the car was only parked there for a day. For them to come fully prepared with a tool to burn out the fence as perfectly as they did means that we were being watched.
To perfect it, they waited until the light was gone to creep over and do the deed within about a 2 hour time frame from the time we left to the time we came back. The car was also shifted into second gear, probably because it gave them ample room to take out the radio. I am happy that nothing too valuable was left in there, that only the small back window was broken, and that the gate was locked. That prevented them from rolling the car down the hill and over to wherever it is they came from.
Needless to say, I did not get a very good sleep last night–despite how disgustingly exhausted I was after spending the day painting and cleaning.
Monday, 28 December 2009
Based on my prior blog about the lost case of Jamaica's airline, I know some of you are thinking that Spirit and AirJa are now one in the same. However, it is to my understanding that the deal between the two was never finalised. Still, here I am on Spirit Airlines experiencing the same problems I tried to avoid.
I have been at the airport since 10 this morning, been awake since 8, and been annoyed since 12. After getting only 5 hours of sleep last night, I was hoping to venture to the airport this morning on time–which I actually did–and board the flight at 11 15 as stated on my boarding pass. How wrong I was.
The first announcement, which came 45 minutes after the scheduled boarding time, was that there was a problem with a flight attendant and she was sent home. This meant that we were forced to wait until another attendant came to take her place before we could board the flight. The announcer found it imperative to mention that "It may take 30 minutes, it may take an hour; we don't know. It all depends on when she can get here." Those were not very uplifting statements. Luckily, though, she only took about 5 minutes. We boarded the plane thereafter, all thinking we were minutes away from departure.
After everything was settled, Mr. Flight Attendant came on the speaker and told us to turn off all electronic devices and prepare for departure. Fifteen minutes later, still in the same place, the Captain finally found it necessary to let us know that we were not going anywhere because someone's bag was lost and they were trying to find it.
Maybe it is just me, but I think that sounds kind of crazy. How did they lose someone's bag when Spirit has its own entire section of the airport? On the other hand though, some airlines would probably disregard that one bag and just take off anyway–that is the silver lining I have found, along with the fact that when I arrived my bag was safe and sound.
All in all, the delay was only an hour and 40 minutes–it could have been worse. The runway was full of planes and we actually had to wait in a line to take off. (I guess the airport is just that busy during Christmas time.)
Still, the flight was very smooth and I am more than relieved to be safely home as the recent crash in Kingston had me a little bit more nervous than usual. I was not successfully able to pep talk myself by using the "more likely to get struck by lightning than die in a plane crash" statistic, and instead calmed my anxiety by listening to my Owl City playlist and thinking about the beach.
On that note, I had hoped to step off the aeroplane and into the sand but since that never happened, you should already know where to find me for the next two weeks.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
It is bad enough I already do not like to shop, but being in the mall and on the road with such incompetent people is enough to drive me crazy!
I spent the last two days between Sawgrass Mall and the area around
Though I am in no way trying to be greedy, yesterday did not work out quite as smoothly. I spent the last of my money on a gift for brother unlucky; an article of clothing that cost twice as much as the gift for mother dearest. He came up with the gift idea on Monday when he went to Sawgrass, and of course it was very much expensive. Prior to that, we had no idea what he wanted.
Aside from an empty pocket, the most aggravating parts of my day were the obnoxious people on the roads. You would think that people would be in the spirit of sharing and being courteous, but not even Christmas can bring that out anymore. They were all too busy being selfish money-angry impatient jerks who reminded me of my one time fantasy of owning a tractor with a scoop in the front instead of my little Fabian. Call it road rage if you must, but sometimes I wish I could just shove people out of the way with my tractor whenever they cut in front of me under the impression that my brakes are working perfectly. I thought it was common sense that if you are coming out of a plaza you are to wait until the cars are far enough in the distance that they do not have to break hard or switch lanes just to let you in, and in order to avoid an accident.
What if my brakes give out?
What's more is that for once I was actually driving the speed limit and it seems like the world cannot handle it. Between riding my ass at the mall while I looked for a lane to turn into, blowing horns while I let people through because I cannot block an intersection, and coming out in front of me at 5 miles per hour, I have to be thankful that Fabian and I are both in one piece and that I have low blood pressure.
Road Rules (according to moi)
*open to objections*
1. Malls usually have two lanes; one that is both a turning lane and a slow lane, and one for those who are not [yet] looking to turn or who are already finished and are looking to leave. You cannot drive in the turning lane with a hoggish attitude. It is understood that yes, people do have to break in order to turn so if you are in a rush please remove yourself from that lane and go into the other.
2. If there is a line of traffic that extends beyond, and would therefore block, where there is an entrance to a plaza, you are supposed to leave enough room so that cars on the other side can turn in. This means, if you happen to be right in front of the entrance, you should leave a gap for them to enter. (Especially if it is the entrance to a hospital; God forbid there is an emergency and you are the ass that decided to fill the gap.)
I'm sorry impatient lady, but the light is red anyway, so why should I rush to drive up and block the intersection? I still won't be able to go and neither will you if I can't.
I have come to my own conclusion about the loathsome behaviour of these adults.
All of those folks who really belong behind a computer somewhere far from the rest of humanity and away from consumers are now out and about; the same ones who know how to speak to humans only through a keyboard. They learned how to drive years ago and only get out for practise once, maybe twice, a year. They do all shopping online -- this includes shopping for a significant other on eHarmony or one of those other dating sites -- except during Christmas when they try to prove to themselves (and maybe some estranged family members) that they can be social and mobile too, just like everyone else!
My solution for dealing with them? The Golden Rule: "Do onto others as you will have them do onto you."
Did I blow my horn right back? I sure did. Sped up to cut them back off? Indeed. Drove even slower when they were too close behind? Of course!
And you know what? It felt good.
Monday, 21 December 2009
I do not believe in luck; I believe in blessings, so here goes my resolution:
For 2010, I plan to do two things.
1. Read the bible from front to back
2. Stop partying
In my defence, and for those who do not know me personally, I can probably count on my hands how many times I go out and party in a year (the summer would make me count my toes as well). Still, I always find that going out is most of the times not fulfilling. I often go through such stress just to get out of the house that by the time I am on the way I am ready to go right back home and get into bed.
Back in high school, I made it my goal to go to sleep at 8pm—or there about—every night. But wait, before you throw a fit, I was forced to wake up at 6am every morning. I always felt like no matter how early I went to sleep, being up before the sun would forever make me feel as if I did not get enough sleep—that is until I started going to sleep at 8. Being on the swim and water polo teams made me even more ready for bed by the time I got home from practice, ate dinner, and took a shower. (Homework? What is that? I am an A student, so let us just move on.)
As far as the partying, and aside from the fact that I would rather be sleeping, I will go ahead and list out the three reasons why I have decided to make it a point of change for the year to come.
1. The Outfit
For some reason, I am always compelled to go out and buy new clothes before I can go anywhere. Then, when I do end up wearing that outfit, it is practically dead—Miami gives me the feeling that I cannot wear one outfit more than once (luckily, I still have Jamaica and Orlando). Also, I have so many outfits in my closet that I have yet to wear, because I buy them to go out and then end up staying home. Some of my friends can attest to the fact that I have yet to wear my 17th birthday outfit despite the amount of times I have put it on or packed it to wear somewhere. This factor makes me feel extremely materialistic and too focused on worldly things.
2. The Time
All things considered, being on time is practically a cultural and unavoidable problem. However, people are normally motivated to be on time or early if the incentive is money. This means that when a party is free before a certain time, those who are wise will try their best to get there “for free.” When your sibling is brother unlucky, though, timing has to be thrown out of the window. The free incentive for girls is not motivation enough for him and his male friends to be ready when we are. I always stress myself out over this factor and get myself into that "why do I even bother" mood. Why should I have to spend $20 when five minutes ago the same thing was free? That's like seeing a sign that says "free diamond Rolex" in the distance, and then it gets taken down right in front of your face as soon as you get close enough to touch it.
3. The Actual Party
I spent my last Saturday night sleeping in the car while everyone else was inside enjoying themselves. I did this in order to not be a kill joy, and also because I found myself unable to breathe amidst my recovering bronchitis, the cold weather, and the cigarette smoking. I also found myself rather bored and bbm-ing inside the party for the short period I was there. In all honesty, that nap was the best part of the night. I put the chair all the way back, warmed up the car with the heater a little before I turned it off, grabbed the nearest jacket, and went to sleep. Even though my nap was great, had I known the way the night was going to play out, I would have chosen to stay home (my bed is far more comfortable than the chair inside my brother’s car.)
Usually, I only go out when there is a specific party I always enjoy or when it is a special occasion, but sometimes I allow others to convince me that the party will be enjoyable and those are the times when I do not enjoy myself. I am beginning to believe that I have to be mentally prepared—a few days in advance—for everything the night will have to offer in order to have fun.
Next year, I will not have these problems.
I have always said that I would much rather have a few people over, play a game or two, and just sit around and enjoy their company. I stand by that now more than ever.
Thursday, 17 December 2009
In a continuation from my last post, I am a big believer in good and bad energy and the idea that we attract everything to ourselves based on our attitudes.
We are so quick to hold on to that one mistake someone made even when there are a million other good things to be noted. We seem to forget that people have to deal with the consequences of their actions - or the actions of those around them - whether they have heard our opinions or not. There is a difference between being honest and being abhorrent. If your opinion is not asked for, it is not needed.
Never give someone else the power to control your smile. No doubt that people can contribute to your happiness, but they should NEVER be the determining factor. Your happiness, just like you, should be bipedal. Believe in yourself and your dreams and know your worth. Material things come and go but inner peace is something that no one can reach out and take from you. That is the type of wealth we should all be striving to attain.
As for hatred, it is always funny to me when I come across a person with a million enemies. They spend so much time rolling their eyes and convincing them self that they "do not care" that they fail to realise how much energy is really being given to the situation. When you "do not care" you are free from all opinion.
Most people think hatred is for the other person, but you see, it is more like a boomerang; if you throw it out, it is you who gets it back. The negative energy surrounds you because of that eye roll or profane comment - not so much the other person. If it is a mutual dislike then it surrounds you both. But why even bother? Disliking someone else is not going to pay your phone bill, nor is it going to get you an A in statistics, overwhelming joy, or inner peace - so why waste your time!
Forgiveness is key. I'm not saying you should be best friends with everyone, but some things just need to be let go. This is also true of people. If you hang with wolves you will howl. Freeing yourself from negative company is just as important as freeing yourself from negative energy. In fact, most times the two go hand in hand. Do not entertain meaningless or detrimental relationships. You and your company should spend most if not all your time uplifting, inspiring, and motivating each other - through both action and speech. ("Do as I say and not as I do" is not nearly as effective.)
You just always have to remind yourself you can do it, whatever it may be. Doing something positive for yourself or others should never be a question of who is going to let you, but rather who is going to stop you!
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
*yes that is a link go ahead and click on it.
It never included the same folks as the last game I hosted back in the summer, but considering the fact that they are still Jamaicans, the 8 o clock game never started until 12—no surprise there.
There were only about 12 people who came, 9 of which actually participated in the game, and half of which participated in drinking out my entire stash of Pepsi. I spent most of my time turning a blind eye to the fact that they were using it as a chaser, and that there would most likely be none left for me to indulge in this morning. I guess it is a good thing that they did not perpetuate my addiction, and I did manage to go the entire night without even so much as a sip. (Yes, I do deserve an applause.)
In the end yesterday was a good day. Brother unlucky and I went to dim sum in the early afternoon and two of my girls and I did some catching up. The food was delicious and I had longed for the outing which was full of laughs as usual. The conversation was entirely too arbitrary but it was still good for the soul. I surround myself with such wonderful people.
After dim sum brother and I headed over to Grandma's to decorate her Christmas tree. The afternoon had passed without her answering the phone, but we decided to go over there anyway. As it turned out she was unable to make it in time, but she came back to a fully decorated tree. I was thinking to leave a note that said "love, Santa" but the surprise factor had all but died when we found out she was expecting us. (But what a wonderful surprise that would have been!)
By the time we left her house we had time to come back home and relax a little and then people began coming. Kalooki is the only game that gets me competitive enough that sometimes I genuinely get either angry, frustrated, and annoyed, or extremely happy and proud. It was a good game though and I never needed to get too competitive.
Even though I did not win, I still went to bed feeling like it was a successful night. My brother finally met my best guy friend and I think they get along just fine.
As for today, I spent it trying to figure out if bad energy spreads the same as good energy.
Two of the people who were at my house until 3 in the morning had to wake up to catch a flight today. As the day progressed with me in bed, they both began to tell me of their traveling discrepancies - simultaneously - and mentioning that their trip is starting off horribly. I was even given the mental image of an airport filled with unorganized, impatient, and obnoxious passengers each carrying 10 bags and 5000 boxes.
Have I ever mentioned that I hate FLL airport? After being so used to Miami International, I cannot figure out how to properly transition from organization to chaos. The space between the entrance and the check-in desks is not enough to accommodate the millions of people who are now forced to patronize because Air Jamaica decided to stop going to Mia. Not to mention the fact that—if I remember correctly—bags are scanned in between check-in lines and I never quite understood why. I figure a normal airport would take the bag into the back and do it there.
I can only imagine how crowded and busy the airport was during this holiday season where Jamaicans from all over south Florida are trying to go home with Christmas gifts for their entire family. (I can also imagine the outrageous outfits some of them must have been sporting. That should have given my friends a good laugh in the middle of their frustration.)
In the end, all happened as it should have. In between trying to help them feel better I also spoke to some other friends and their morale was not any higher. At one point I felt a swarm of negative energy surround me. I started believing that my generation boasts far too much negativity and has a constant aura of bad energy. I know I sometimes get a bit down myself too but I try to stay as positive as I can.
It is far too hard these days to find someone who can uplift you, and it is the easiest thing in the world to find that most people do not genuinely wish you well.
"Friends that do not help you climb will want you to crawl."- Colin Powell
I found myself being the positive one today, and I will admit it was pretty hard. But I feel like it simply starts with a smile! As corny as it may sound, smiles send signals to both your brain and the brain of anyone else with whom you smile. They are the simplest and cheapest way to make your day even a little bit better. They turn the universe around to work in your favour! Try keeping your smile while you are in the worst mood, you will be surprised!
Remember that everything happens for a reason, and life is as beautiful and as amazing as you want to make it. As one of my friends cleverly said the other day, "Life is a menu; whatever you order is what will be delivered to your table!" - Robert Thomas
There could not be a truer statement. Oh and one more thing, happiness is contagious! :)
Monday, 14 December 2009
My tree now stands eight feet tall with green and silver decorations. I also sprayed some "snow" on a few of its branches, in order to give it the up-North-in-the-snow look I was going for.
Now for it to give off that delightful scent I've longed to smell.
On another note, and in regards to the title of this post, my high school friend and I plan to go down memory lane sometime this week to visit some of our favourite high school teachers. From what I've been told, with the graduation of the class of 2008 and 2009, my school has managed to transform itself into something like an inner city school. Apparently the student population is made up of ill-mannered and violent youth who care as much about their education as they do about the teachers and staff seeing their boxers and ass while they walk through the school hallways.
The fact that it is now a D school and that my old Spanish teacher has complained that some of the students cannot even read in English is all the evidence I need.
With that said, after church this morning I stayed up long enough to eat my mother's famous lasagna and then went back to sleep. During that time, my subconscious thoughts manifested themselves into a scary and realistic dream. It was one of those dreams after which I woke up and had to praise God that it was not real.
As planned a friend and I went back to my high school to visit our teachers - only the friend in the dream is not the same friend with whom I intend on going. In fact, she is one of my best friends from Jamaica. Nonetheless, the dream began with the end of our visit, or so we thought.
By the time I had finished talking with the two teachers I love dearly, the school bell rang. This meant that we were instantly surrounded by the same high school youth I was just talking about.
On the way to the parking lot I looked over and saw an old friend that I had not seen or spoken to since I graduated, so I walked over to say hi. Standing there next to him was a guy I am more than embarrassed to be dreaming about; we call him Eye Candie and he was my first "love" for half of my high school career.
In that awkward moment, he smiled at me and gestured for a hug. After we hugged, he started bragging about his new haircut (back in my days he had braids, which he had cut off after I asked him to, but clearly grew them back. [Indian hair grows too quickly.]) and saying "I cleaned it up" to which I responded "yeah, very nice." After that short conversation I walked away.
As my friend and I approached the parking lot, we saw a sexy new Chevy Camaro parallel parked right in front of where we were standing. (During half of the dream the car was white with 2 green stripes down the middle, and throughout the other half it was a chili red.) In true bestie fashion, we both decided to take pictures of and with the car. In true her fashion, she was oblivious to the fact that the bag on her back managed to scrape off a thick line of paint that extended from the top left of the hood to the top corner of the driver side door.
We both began to panic. She immediately called her brother (who in real life is not her brother at all, but her first boyfriend.) After the call we both decided to head back to the school and see if we could find the owner to apologise and come up with a plan. My welcome back greeting was by Eye Candie's girlfriend - the chick who succeeded me - as she came over angrily and shoved me by my left shoulder saying "I heard you're back to try and steal my man." To his I responded by saying to myself, "did she really just touch me?" and proceeded to end all argument and just hit her.
The fight lasted all of 2 minutes until gunshots began to rain in the school. Bullets flew all over the place from unknown shooters in unknown places. Everyone quickly reacted by running, as people were being taken down by the bullets all around. The dream suddenly became very real, and my bestie had all but disappeared. Apparently at some point during the fight she had decided to go back to the parking lot and leave a post it with her name, phone number, and an "I'm sorry" on the Camaro.
I realised then that I was alone. After successfully running away from the concentration of gunshots, I suddenly ended up inside my car, inside my garage. I found myself, key in hand, still worried. My heart was pounding, my breaths were short, and I was not safe inside my own garage. Before I could turn the car on and proceed to reverse onto the driveway, a charcoal gray Z35 with neon lights pulled up in preparation to reverse into my garage and park next to me.
It took the driver 2 tries to do it right, which gave me enough time to notice that he and the passenger were dressed in all black with skully caps and bullet proof vests, and to hide underneath my staring wheel. I had about a 2 second grace period where I needed to successfully reverse out of my garage and speed off without being caught, seen, heard, or followed.
And then I woke up.
Friday, 11 December 2009
It was supposed to end nicely with three A's and a C (in statistics of course) but I realised last night that I was one question away from an A - rather an A minus - in world religions. Nothing upsets me more than an 89 or an A minus. All that says to me is "Haha you were not good enough for an A, I bet you thought you were! Haha."
With that said, I am getting two A's, a B+, and a C. Moving right along before I get upset again.
Being home for 2 weeks feels good. I recently got a new mattress and bed set that makes my bed ten times more comfortable. Mother dearest also went out and bought new towels - one of which I used last night and thought I was in heaven. It is the softest towel I have ever used, and I felt as if I should have been using it in slow motion.
One of my best friends came over yesterday and reminded us that we don't just have a house, but a "home," as he looked around at the painted walls and renovated kitchen that my mother designed. The house has always been welcoming and decorated with "a mother's touch." Now the coffee tables and shelves bear cute little snowmen, scented candles, and Santa clauses in the true Christmas spirit.
I'd love to say that it is beginning to feel a lot like Christmas, but the heat outside says otherwise. Still, all it takes is a fresh and scented Christmas tree, a few decorations, candy canes, and Christmas lights to put me in the mood. In fact, that is my favourite part of this holiday season.
In true Meisha fashion, I do have a complaint. This mild case of bronchitis that I have been dealing with since Sunday is rendering me unable to eat. I am not even able to swallow my spit without careful planning and preparation for the pain. My ears are clogged, my head is congested, and I am losing even more weight. Have I taken medicine? Of course not. I walk around every day stubbornly believing that my immune system will nip it in the butt all on its own. My patience is wearing thin and I really have no time in my Christmas schedule to be sick - but back to the decorations.
I cannot wait until our lights go up, and I plan to decorate the tree in the days to come (I am thinking purple and gold.) Yes, I take pride in my Christmas tree decorating skills and every year it boasts a specific theme. (Multi-coloured just does not work for me.)
Brother unlucky is coming home today so the Christmas shopping is soon come; that part I am not so enthused about. To me Christmas was never about gifts, it was about family time. It is just about the only time of the year that people slow down a little and look around at the blessings the Lord has bestowed upon them within the year. It is the time when we sit around at Grandma's house on Christmas Eve night, drinking hot chocolate and talking about life, while we await the midnight hour to watch the "kids" open gifts.
I have some warm and fuzzy childhood memories about Christmas at Grandma's. Now that I am older and gifts do not excite me as much, it is more about watching as my little cousins open their gifts and their faces light up like the Christmas tree beside them. Maybe that is just me though, because father's face lights up just the same when it is his turn to rip off the wrapping paper.
Have I mentioned my gift-wrapping talent as yet? Pardon my boasting, but my near perfect gift-wrapping is often called upon by others who are not so meticulous. I've wrapped many gifts for those who simply cannot master the art, and it bothers me a bit to see that all go to waste at 12 01 when the papers are savagely ripped off by my overly-excited family members. Nevertheless, slow gift openers - as I've dubbed them - are plenty more irksome than the "savage" ones. I'd like to say I am somewhere in between.
I missed out on all of these memories last year. By this time we were packed and ready to board the Air Jamaica flight to our second (or first) home. This year, I get the best of both worlds; Christmas preparations in Florida, and New Year celebrations in Jamaica.
I guess I have found the cloud with the silver lining.
Monday, 7 December 2009
Also, if you have not figured it out yet, if you are not amongst the top 1% of the world's wealth, the U.S Government cares as much about you as they do a single leaf on one of the maple trees planted on their 200-acre land. To go even further, I will also be the first to let you know that the
Now that I have gotten that out of the way, I will be happy to go in depth.
In 2005, it was foretold that toward the end of the year 2009, more and more Americans will begin dying off, as a part of the depopulation plan of the government, from preventable diseases such as CANCER, SWINE FLU, AIDS, HEART DISEASE, HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE.. And the list goes on. (The underlying theme to this “fight against Global warming” is that there are too many humans on the earth. They don’t
FACT: The earth has a natural ability to exude all excess carbon dioxide from its atmosphere and also has natural warming and cooling trends.
(Source: Huntsville's Earth System Science Centre.)
You mean cancer is preventable and Global warming is not a real issue? Yes, that is exactly what I mean. What we really needed to focus on was the overuse of non-renewable resources. Not the unreliable recorded temperatures of the Earth.
The way I see it, the swine flu was the second biggest and most blatant con I have observed in my lifetime, behind 9/11 of course. (I would not necessarily consider global warming a con because the earth is probably slightly warmer than it used to be.)
How many of you were told way back when we were still sad about the twin towers that the "War on Terrorism" was really just
When was the last time you heard about Al-Qaeda or Bin Laden? Exactly my point. George Bush (brilliantly!) played on the temporary passion of the
That was the first con. It was never about the way he treated the citizens of his country. The Sunni’s and Shiites have been at war since before Christ.
As for the swine flu; did you take time to notice how much publicity was put into these “flu shots?” What better way to CON the population into getting a vaccination than by telling them that it will save their lives. They made it a nationwide
-->competition to get the flu shot – and the school with the most would win a free concert.
Now every cleaning solvent commercial talks about h1n1 - and even mentions that you, the viewer, needs to get the flu shot (again!). I have never seen such a publicized and emphasized vaccination in my life. It makes me wonder: why on earth would they want us to get it so badly? (Other than making us believe they really care about our well-being.) Give it a few years and I feel badly for all the folks who ran out like robots and got the vaccination.
FACT: The swine flu, also known as h1n1, was created in a laboratory. It is the same strain as used in 1918 in the Spanish Flu endemic.
(Source: Centre For Disease Control)
FACT: HIV/aids was also created in a lab. And just to emphasize the obvious, the world is just sitting around awaiting the day that enough of the dark-skinned Africans die out from said disease so they can take over the most important continent on the planet.
(I am sure you have heard of the New World Order. As you know, Europe has been united, creating the EU and the Euro; a concept soon to be fully emulated by African nations - creating the AU; Caribbean countries into Caricom, and North America into NAU - that last name is still pending. You will never see that on the news though; after all, why would we need to know if the world leaders are uniting their countries into one? It is not like we live in this world or anything.)
FACT: No disease can kill you unless you give up! Your mind plays an enormous role on the fatality of anything you feel you may have, but when every television station and news article is telling you that 500,000 people die from swine or cancer or whatever, when you are inflicted with the disease, you will automatically and subconsciously put a time limit on your life; unless of course, you have a wonderful support system. My advice to those who do not have that support; when you get sick, go to a different country for health care!
Do your research.
What people do not understand is that those who we elect into office to represent our needs, are not there to do anything of the sort. Change? Not at all. They are not implemented to cause change; they are implemented to keep everything the same. The events of this country have been carefully planned out by the "enlightened ones" since the days when the CONstitution was created. They have successfully kept the general public ignorant and complacent; making us believe that we are the world’s superpower. That is a joke! We have not been a superpower since after the First World War.
"Keeping people hopeless and pessimistic is the best way to govern them. An educated, healthy, and confident nation is harder to govern." Tony Benn
Everything is manipulated so that we remain ignorant; and the most popular form of manipulation is the media. They told us we were in a recession – lie – they told us swine flu was from pigs – lie – they told us George Bush was against terrorism – lie – they told us the world was going to end in 2000 – lie – they told us iPhones and 3G networks are the new cutting edge technology – lie – they told us that Cuba is inhumanely communist – lie – they told us that Castro is the devil – lie – they told us that free health care is a bad thing – lie – they told us that socialism is the second biggest evil to communism – lie – they told us that global warming is the biggest issue we face - lie - they told us that everyone in the world wants to be an American – lie – they told us that we are the biggest, richest, and most developed nation in the world – LIE; I could go on for days.
They have turned the idea of “independence” into sheer selfishness by completely avoiding the aftermath of being independent – interdependence. They have allowed and most times required that mainstream musicians – their puppets – spread their messages of materialism, greed, and lust through songs and videos that should be banned according to censorship, another concept that is slowly disappearing . All of this while the general population just sits around listening to the songs, taking the word of politrick-ians for The Gospel, and working their ass off day in and day out just so they can one day emulate the "success" of those people they see on MTV Cribs.
FACT: Most of the houses on Cribs are not the real houses of those people.
(Source: The celebrities who live in my neighbourhood.)
FACT: The Al-Qaeda "terrorists" that are being held on
(Source: Michael Moore)
FACT: In my home country,
But wait, that defies the limitations of the physical world was we know it ... Well, unlike our government, the Chinese government dedicates themselves to pushing their citizens to the limit. They want them to go above and beyond what everyone knows as "reality," creating out-of-this-world technology and breaking boundaries that have been around for years. Never wondered why almost everything is made in China, Japan, and Vietnam? Oh, I see.
FACT: Fascism is a political ideology that seeks to combine radical and authoritarian nationalism with a corporatist economic system. (Corporate
The best part is that most Americans opt to remain in the dark. If it is not directly written out on Chanel 4 news or in the New York Times, it is either “not true” or not worth reading. That is why there are so many things available online for those who seek it and the government does not care to remove any of it: they know that no one is going to look it up and the select few who do are crazy and will be largely ignored.
FACT: The unemployment rate of the
(Source: U.S. Bureau of Labour Statistics)
And then they make us believe we are not a third world country. Oh please; that could not be farther from the truth.
Oh, and I am definitely prepared -- after this blog -- to not ever get a job in this country, but somehow I am okay with that because I plan to get out of here A.S.A.P.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
I figure since I only have 2 days left in this semester, I can go ahead and post out the story until I get back to Miami and actually have something to write about. What! You mean the girl who always has something to say, has nothing to say ? Not quite. I have a few things in my mind that I need to get in writing, I just have not found the opportunity to do so; perhaps only because I spent the last few days anticipating an email that I swear will never come.
Oh but I did go back to Daytona last night with the same folks as the last time. I took note that Daytona's club scene is pretty dry, but they do have vibes. The club we went to this time was literally right next door to the last one. We also happened to pass the same "No colours" restaurant and noticed the sign still placed slyly in the window.
Another thing to note, it dropped to 44 degrees Fahrenheit while we were inside, and I almost died when it was time to leave. I totally forgot what it felt like to be freezing! Luckily, though, something told me to bring a jacket and it saved my life. I did wake up this morning with a cold, which I blame my friend for - who kept insisting I go home and take vitamin C and drink orange juice to avoid getting sick.
That was a total case of "talking something into being." And for the record, vitamins make me sick.
Now back to Andrew:
At first, Andrew displayed a lack of emotion unforeseen for one who received such detrimental news; but his calm expressions belied his inner grief. He remained that way for days; acting as if all was copacetic, until finally the shock began to abate and his true feelings became ostensible.
He was going to die in a year. This put his entire existence into disarray, as he was excited to begin life on his own. He wanted to travel the world and experience new cultures. He had plans to fall in love, marry, and have a family. How could he possibly live out his entire life in just 365 days?
All of a sudden, Andrew felt the world on his shoulders. There was no one alive who could possibly console him; not even a member of his close-knit family.
No longer would school be his first priority. Instead, Andrew decided he would head for the bank to apply for a loan. He planned to use every cent of it within the next year to go wherever his heart desired.
His first stop: Japan.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
As of late, I've been losing that ambition.
November was good to me. I never really had too many complaints. I spent most of my time equally focusing on both my school work and my social life. And let us not forget the Thanksgiving break, which I realise I have said nothing about. Do not be mistaken, my break was awesome. As usual, Brother unlucky gave me something to write about, very minor, but I just decided not to. There is simply too much irresponsibility and bad luck in one human being. My friend's response to his losing his blackberry - for the second time - was "if it wasn't for bad luck, he would have none at all." Enough said.
As for my newly and subconsciously adopted idea of "quitting life", I will admit that I do not enjoy it at all. I almost convinced myself to not write the 4-page Spanish essay that was due today, despite the fact that I already read the 300-page novel it was supposed to be analysing. Remember that? I'm sure you do, I complained about that too.
Thankfully something came over me and I decided to do it. It probably took me all of about an hour and a half to do it. If I invested as much time into productivity as I did into complaining I would be a straight A student.
Speaking of straight A's, another part of my quitter mentality is my satisfaction with a C in statistics. Mind you, I was borderline failing up until the last test, but I still should not be happy with the air of mediocrity that surrounds a C. What keeps me going are the three A's that I plan to get to balance out that nasty 2.0 in my semester GPA.
That should be easy enough; just one more week to end off the semester in a positive light.
There is one more thing that I am trying my hardest not to give up on. It’s the one thing that has kept me sane for the past few months, and promises to improve as time goes on. Therein lies the problem - time.
I have this huge fear of December 31, 2009. It could be my conspiracy theorist speaking again, but I feel this one is a bit more grounded. That date is said to begin Agenda 21 - the esoteric agenda of depopulation of the world by 3 billion. (Google it.)
I had hoped to spend this Christmas holiday in Jamaica with my family and him. I had all these plans for mistletoe's, zip lining, road-tripping, and ringing in the New Year. Everything was squashed when I found out I am not going anywhere. Spending New Years in Florida? Rough. Now I have no idea when next Jamaica will see my face.
Sounds like a minor issue, I know, but it is not so minor when your relationship depends on it. And plus, I was hoping to stock up on my vitamins and nutrients before it is too late.
But since that cannot happen, I hope Codex Alimentarius is joking.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
We went mainly because my brother and his roommate Jaime were throwing a party, but also because it was "Classic Weekend" here in Orlando and we do not really support that. Anything to get out of Orlando, though.
All in all it was a good weekend but we cannot forget the drama, what with brother unlucky included and all.
The party was supposed to be kept at a Vietnamese restaurant called Chop Stiks. Up until two days before the event, after fliers and Cd's were made advertising that venue, the manager, whom we will call Teetee, decided to cancel. She claimed she had a "family reunion to attend, and that she had forgotten about it."
Despite brother unlucky and Jaime's efforts to work out some sort of agreement in order to avoid a last minute change, they were still forced to do exactly that. Teetee came to them with a sob story about how badly she felt that she had to come out at the last minute, and said they could use another place she owns instead. This was a hispanic restaurant called El Norteno and it was just down the road.
The manager of El Norteno was a man named Martin, who was more than willing to work with them for the event. He was very cool and they came to an agreement that they would pay $400 ahead of time for the venue and then at the end of the night they would split the money made at the bar 45/55 - giving him the 55 percent. The verbal agreement was made, amongst brother unlucky, Jaime, and two other people from UF Caribsa, who were also helping out with the event.
With this, Martin and his bartenders were supposed to clear out the venue before the party started at 11 o'clock. Since it was a restaurant, the party had to begin after closing which was at 10 30, and he therefore agreed to allow the party to go until 4am. (Usual G-ville parties end at 2.) This gave them a 30 minute grace period to begin cleaning out and my brother and his friends were willing to help.
Sure enough, when we got there - after 10 30- nothing had been moved. We got phone calls that Martin was sitting around for the past half an hour watching Novelas and drinking beer.
Upsetting incident number one.
We already had folks waiting to get in when we arrived. The music at that point was not even on as yet, and we now had to quickly move around the furniture before we had too big a line outside.
My prima esposa and I worked the door for most of the night. We collected the money from everyone who entered - minus the 500 people some girls from the CSA e-board decided to let in for free. Their main concern at the beginning of the party was to take pictures. Hence, we decided to take over their positions and we did not mind it one bit. After all, we would much rather greet our supporters as opposed to halitosis who was sure to send them right back home the moment she opened her mouth and whispered "ten dollars."
Before the end of the night, prima esposa and I had counted more than $1300 in 20's alone and let the CSA girls replace us for like the last 30 minutes. By 3 a.m., Martin was turning on the lights, and by 3:15 a.m., the party was basically cleared out.
Upsetting incident number two.
Of course we were the last people left in the party, and at that time the DJ played songs like "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus, just for fun. After which, he played my favourite song - fireflies. This made my night; but only until dark lord Martin completely turned the success of night 180degrees.
When it was time to count the money in the cash register at the bar, cool guy Martin had turned into a monster. Amongst him and his workers, it was complaint after complaint.
Complaint number 1: "The bartenders never got any tip."
Complaint number 2: "Two of the flimsy little tables are broken."
Sidenote: He wanted us to pay $350 for each table. So we were supposed to pay $700 for two tables that were not broken, and we only paid $400 for the entire place? And the tables were not even supposed to be in there when we arrived? The guy is clearly not dealing with a full deck.
He never even understood that we were going to tip them for good business and were willing to pay for the tables, but just wanted to split the money first. Out the window after the following events.
After his and the bartenders' bitching for far too long, he finally agreed to allow us to count up the receipts. He handed over a handful of them and watched as Peter counted them up. There were $200 in receipts. But that only accounted for the drinks that were bought with credit card, and my brother and his friends alone spent more than that at the bar. Nevertheless, he sat there with a smirk on his face as he agreed to let Jaime open the register and take out the money.
There was $12 in the cash register.
Upsetting incident number three!
Martin had already went in the register, took out, and pocketed all of the money that was made at the bar. As if that was not shady enough, he knew there was nothing in there but still allowed Jaime to count up receipts and go in the cash register as if it was some sort of joke.
Little did I know, Teetee had showed up at the party at some point in the night, went to Martin, and told him not to give us any of the bar money. The same Teetee that was supposed to be out of town for the alleged "family reunion" which was why we could not have used her venue for the party.
I had to hold back three angry Jamaican men at one point or another. But after much cussing, anger, hotheadedness, whispering in Spanish, and shadiness, we decided to cut our losses and just take the 45% out of that 200.
Thereafter, Martin pulled out a large stack of money and gave us $90. Ninety dollars! Unheard of. There were more than 150 people in that party, and he wanted us to believe that only $200 was spent at the bar?
As if that was not bad enough, the money Jaime counted from the cash register that I was working was $1000 exactly - and that includes 1's, 5's and 10's. That means that on top of taking out the money from the bar, Martin had at some point taken out and pocketed some money from the register in the front as well.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
On behalf of Jamaicans, I will be happy to clarify what we mean by this; I would also like to mention that this problem only occurs by United States standards - the most backward nation by far in my opinion.
From observation, I realise that skin colour matters the most in America. Those little "ethnicity" surveys are not really about where you are from, they are about your skin tone. (They only put ethnicity because putting "race" or "colour" would be far too controversial.)
I disagree with everyone who would look at dark skinned Americans and seriously call them black - or worse African-American. African? Really? How many "African Americans" do you know who have actually been to Africa? Or know for a fact which part of Africa their ancestors came from? I am going to jump out here and say that probably 97% of the people that this nation regards to as "African Americans" have absolutely no link to the culture, language, or anything else besides skin tone and features of Africa.
But if the U.S can look at them and call them Africans, then why can't the U.S look at white Americans and call them Europeans?
Black is not a race. It is not an ethnicity. It is not a nationality. Black is not even a colour -- and neither is white. This is why Jamaicans who have migrated have a problem with being "black."
(By the way, everyone who is not an American Indian is a migrant. That includes the majority of the population of the US.)
No one is denouncing the African influence of our Caribbean culture. In fact, majority of the population is African; but for those of you who have never been, not all Jamaicans have African in them -- the same goes for other Caribbean countries. We believe, as do other countries in the world, that nationality is most important -- not skin colour -- and we were never trained to look at people and determine what they are, or who they are, because our motto is "Out of many, one people" -- and we are just all Jamaican.
If you ask me what I am, being Jamaican should be good enough. The fact that I am 1/5th African should not just automatically outweigh the 4 other cultures that created me. And even then, the only culture I am tied to is the Jamaican culture -- which happens to influenced by Hispanic, Indian, Chinese, European, and African peoples.
Africa has "white" looking people too, you know. Does it make them any less of an African? No it does not: because for generations and generations they have been living in Africa and the African way of life is the only one they know.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
I have more than once told myself that I have plenty of issues and baggage, but it is nothing I am dwelling on; and as my friend told me, we are not going to call them "issues." We are going to call them "characteristics," because if I give them the power of being "issues" then they have more power to mess with me.
I am a very strong individual. I have proved that to myself and those who know me best countless times. I do not think I have anything left to prove.
But enough about myself. I just read a blog from my fellow blogger, wherein her father just found out he has Leukemia. This deeply, deeply saddened me. I cannot fathom how I would be able to manage something like that, and I hope you can pray with me for her and her family.
It was just this morning I was thinking about the times when I lost people I was close to.
Over the weekend I had gotten my hands on a CD that I have not been able to listen to for the past four years. It reminded me of a time I try to forget, but am never successful. A time when someone was taken from me every month. A time when I thought I had cried out my God given share of tears. It reminded me of how very much it hurt me that I never got to say goodbye.
This brings me to a quote that I have always kept in the back of my mind: "Life is short and time is precious;" because you just never know what tomorrow brings.
Be thankful for every day and every blessing.
Monday, 16 November 2009
As I mentioned in my last blog, my family came into town this weekend. Needless to say, there was plenty of food to go around, and I still have leftovers in my refrigerator. This is going to be a good week.
Speaking of this week, it is my last full week of school before Thanksgiving holiday, after which I only have one full week left. Now that I have a full class schedule next semester I can be excited for this one to be over.
My grades are looking lovely, minus this statistics class of course. Never would I have pictured myself to be content with a C on anything much less as a class grade, until now. Getting a C in that class would mean I would not have to succumb myself to taking it again next semester. That satisfies me.
In regards to this weekend, I am starting to wonder if maybe the name "brother unlucky" was a curse. It has been a while since I have written about him, with the exception of my last blog. Why is it a curse?
On his way down here, brother unlucky struck again. His front right tyre blew out while he was driving. It was night and he had to pull over on the highway in the middle of nowhere. With experience from all of his other unlucky life experiences, he was able to successfully change that tyre by himself and drive 50mph on a donut until he arrived safely in Orlando.
This meant that he was late - as usual - and that at some point during the weekend we had to find ourselves at tyre kingdom with a couple hundred dollars.
I got a 98 on my last grammar paper analysing the content of another blog, by Patricia O'Connor, called "Grammarphobia." It is a delightful read for anyone who is interested in the change of the English language over the years.
Friday, 13 November 2009
I say this because I gave my schedule a rest over Veterans' Day, and got up yesterday to try again. Funny enough, all the classes magically appeared, mostly with one spot left. I now have 12 credits, three classes of which are on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and one that is online.
To me, this sounds like a very loose schedule. Quite possibly I can have some very fascinating and nomadic weekends. On the other side of the spectrum, I might also spend plenty of time being extremely bored. Either way, I think I will have far more motivation to make something of my college life.
Most definitely, I am most excited to do Water Polo in the spring. Finally I can get off my lazy ass and do some physical activity.
Somehow, perhaps due to the excessive walking I have been indulging in, I managed to lose a few more pounds; bringing me back to a delightful 112. When was the last time I was that small? High school !
Speaking of getting off my lazy ass, I have been quite the productive student these past few days. I finally put my application essay for the School of Journalism together, as well as my portfolio of high school newspaper articles. I plan to bring the paper to my grammar teacher on Monday before I turn it in next week. Can you say anxiety? I can.
Though I have successfully managed to get smacked by my classroom door, and burnt on the eyelid by the egg I was cooking this morning, I am still having a pretty awesome week.
This is delightful.
P.S. This weekend is UCF homecoming, so I think I should enjoy another weekend! Not to mention, mother dearest and brother unlucky are both joining me in Orlando. Two good weekends in a row? I think God is with me now more than ever. What more can I ask for.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
I have been sitting here for the past 2 hours trying to register for classes and I have yet to find even one! Either they are full or they are "non-existent." What is up with that? I'll tell you; UCF is severely understaffed for being one of the nation's largest student bodies. They shove 200+ people into one classroom because they only have one teacher available for the course that half of the students are required to take.
Fine, that is acceptable for general education classes; but when time comes for me to get into those 3000 and 4000 level classes directed towards a specific field, why am I still having issues?
My major is Journalism, as you all know, and I cannot take any classes in regards to that until I have been inducted into the "secret society" of 25 students who are accepted into the program each semester. Thus, they require us to have minors so we can have something to do while we wait. As I previously stated, I declared a minor in International and Global Relations. I am sitting with the course catalogue in front of me, bearing 31 classes of which I only need 6 to complete the minor. Why then, am I unable to find even ONE to register for?
Do the classes not exist? Am I doing something wrong? I cannot take this pressure. It upsets me that my registration date was so late, but I got over it because I never thought I would have issues with these upper level courses. The classes in my minor cannot be that incredibly competitive that all 31 of them are full. This is unheard of.
Florida needs to stop with these budget cuts when their public institutions clearly need more professors. They are pushing people to choose between out-of-state-fees and community colleges - which are now also becoming over-populated. Society should be happy that its students want to fulfill higher levels of education and they should have the gates open for the opportunity; instead of discouraging the masses by having seniors who are 2 or 3 classes away from graduation waste their time spreading those classes out over 2 and 3 semesters because they are not all available in one.
That is unacceptable!
Sunday, 8 November 2009
I decided from mid-week that I will enjoy a weekend in Orlando if it killed me. (Actually, I did not want to stay in Orlando this weekend. I was more interested in going to Tampa or Gainesville but that never happened.)
On Friday I opted to leave my room and head to campus, though I had absolutely no purpose in being there. I walked around aimlessly after sporadically declaring a minor in International and Global Relations so that I will have some classes to take next semester since I have yet to apply for and get accepted into the school of Communication. After dawdling for a bit I ran into Miss CaribSa President, Caribbean Student Association that is, and we began a conversation that led to - "Oh no, you're bored? Let me save you! Come to my place."
At that I decided I really had nothing better to do, and we headed over to her place. Upon arriving, aside from noticing that their pool has a section where I can do laps, I also realised that I have a few other friends who live in that neighbourhood. (The lap pool is by far more exciting though, and I will be shuttling it over there far more often. Ever since UCF got rid of it's lap pool I have been very deprived.)
Anyway, as the night went on we all came up with the idea of going to a club, only because Renaissance (all the way from Jamaica) would be Dj-ing. How could we miss Renaissance! It is very rare that Orlando clubs have a Dj who knows how to transition from one song or genre to another. In the end, I think I can safely say that was the most fun I have had at any club in Orlando since I have been here - granted I do not go out often, but I know myself enough to not waste my time at non-entertaining events.
The next day my prima esposa forced me out of bed at 5pm, yes I do enjoy my sleep time on Saturdays and Sundays, and we ten-toe-turbo-ed it to a Chinese restaurant and had the most amazing General Tsao Shrimp and yogurt that tasted like Devon House ice cream - the best ice cream in Jamaica. Then we proceeded to go to the movies and finally watch This is It! It was amazing and we are both ultimate MJ fans - I wore my "Off the Wall" shirt and everything. (And in case you are wondering, yes, we cried like babies - her more than me.)
On the contrary to my enjoyable weekend, the highlight of today will be taking a shower, but I have no complaints. My dry pockets might have a different song to sing, but if you have been keeping up with my blogs, you will know that money and I do not get along anyway.
Have a great week.
Friday, 6 November 2009
I feel as though I have opened myself up to information that perhaps I am not ready to handle; information that I would have to take in doses, time being the middle man.
This all slightly reverted me back to my childhood. Whenever I had moments where I was afraid of life and infinite knowledge, I needed to have someone with me. You see, I was always afraid of loneliness - a fact that I still cannot rebuke.
I used to trick my brother into staying in the bathroom with me while I took a shower. I tried coming up with all sorts of things to converse about if ever he came in to brush his teeth. I am not sure if he ever realised, but this was all due to fear of being alone. (I never really cared about whatever it was that I coughed up to keep him around.)
My prima esposa almost had to be my big brother on Wednesday night. Perhaps because I overdosed on information and needed a distraction. Still, it has not stopped me from continuing my research.
In fact, I have now opened up conversation on the topic with several other people, including my prima esposa who is now almost as fascinated by it as I am.
What is it, you ask? Well, you'll just have to read my last blog to find out, for I will write about its details no longer.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
I tend to believe in, or rather not completely dismiss, all conspiracy theories and all kinds of esoteric agenda's amongst those in power as long as there is a documentary or well-written and supported article to back it up. Maybe it is because I truly believe that all power corrupts.
Who better to partake in secrecy than those who have the power to keep it that way?
Though I have no intentions of plowing the fields as an investigative journalist, I am leaning more towards being an editor, I still sometimes go out of my way educate myself on certain things that perhaps I should not be so eager to delve into. I am even a bit wary to write about it. Nonetheless, I will. (Typical journalist, no?)
Remember those videos I told you I was introduced to by a friend? Well, I still have not gotten around to watch the last few, and to be honest I believe I have purposely shoved the idea of doing so to the very back of my mind. But today, I was reminded of them and their content by a friend whom I least expected to be wary of it. (Come to think of it, I am not sure I remember how the conversation even came up.)
It all started the night of the MTV Video Music Awards. I am not sure where my head was at when I first watched it, but what I can tell you is that I practically changed the channel after the Michael Jackson tribute.
I cannot say I regret not seeing the entire award show, but I almost feel like I should have at least seen Gaga's performance. From my understanding, she had blood on her? I am not sure how this award show did not get crazy publicity for her performance, other than the diversion of the staged controversy between Kanye West and Taylor Swift.
I know I am super late on writing about this, but forgive me. I just happened upon the article today. Read it with an open mind. Ciao
And if that didn't give you goosebumps, or at least something to think about, maybe these will.
Illuminati Part 1
Monday, 2 November 2009
On another topic, I thought I would share with you a delightful piece that made me smile. It is called Notes on Punctuation by Lewis Thomas. (Yes, he is very much amazing.)
"There are no precise rules about punctuation (Fowler lays out some general advice (as best he can under the complex circumstances of English prose (he points out, for example, that we possess only four stops (the comma, the semicolon, the colon and the period (the question mark and exclamation point are not, strictly speaking, stops; they are indicators of tone (oddly enough, the Greeks employed the semicolon for their question mark (it produces a strange sensation to read a Greek sentence which is a straightforward question: Why weepest thou; (instead of Why weepest thou? (and, of course, there are parentheses (which are surely a kind of punctuation making this whole matter much more complicated by having to count up the left-handed parentheses in order to be sure of closing with the right number (but if the parentheses were left out, with nothing to work with but the stops we would have considerably more flexibility in the deploying of layers of meaning than if we tried to separate all the clauses by physical barriers (and in the latter case, while we might have more precision and exactitude for our meaning, we would lose the essential flavor of language, which is its wonderful ambiguity )))))))))))).
The commas are the most useful and usable of all the stops. It is highly important to put them in place as you go along. If you try to come back after doing a paragraph and stick them in the various spots that tempt you you will discover that they tend to swarm like minnows in all sorts of crevices whose existence you hadn't realized and before you know it the whole long sentence becomes immobilized and lashed up squirming in commas. Better to use them sparingly, and with affection, precisely when the need for each one arises, nicely, by itself.
I have grown fond of semicolons in recent years. The semicolon tells you that there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added; it reminds you sometimes of the Greek usage. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a period. The period tells you that that is that; if you didn't get all the meaning you wanted or expected, anyway you got all the writer intended to parcel out and now you have to move along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; to read on; it will get clearer.
Colons are a lot less attractive for several reasons: firstly, they give you the feeling of being rather ordered around, or at least having your nose pointed in a direction you might not be inclined to take if left to yourself, and, secondly, you suspect you're in for one of those sentences that will be labeling the points to be made: firstly, secondly and so forth, with the implication that you haven't sense enough to keep track of a sequence of notions without having them numbered. Also, many writers use this system loosely and incompletely, starting out with number one and number two as though counting off on their fingers but then going on and on without the succession of labels you've been led to expect, leaving you floundering about searching for the ninethly or seventeenthly that ought to be there but isn't.
Exclamation points are the most irritating of all. Look! they say, look at what I just said! How amazing is my thought! It is like being forced to watch someone else's small child jumping up and down crazily in the center of the living room shouting to attract attention. If a sentence really has something of importance to say, something quite remarkable, it doesn't need a mark to point it out. And if it is really, after all, a banal sentence needing more zing, the exclamation point simply emphasizes its banality!
Quotation marks should be used honestly and sparingly, when there is a genuine quotation at hand, and it is necessary to be very rigorous about the words enclosed by the marks. If something is to be quoted, the exact words must be used. If part of it must be left out because of space limitations, it is good manners to insert three dots to indicate the omission, but it is unethical to do this if it means connecting two thoughts which the original author did not intend to have tied together. Above all, quotation marks should not be used for ideas that you'd like to disown, things in the air so to speak. Nor should they be put in place around clichés; if you want to use a cliché you must take full responsibility for it yourself and not try to fob it off on anon., or on society. The most objectionable misuse of quotation marks, but one which illustrates the danger of misuse in ordinary prose, is seen in advertising, especially in advertisements for small restaurants, for example "just around the corner," or "a good place to eat." No single, identifiable, citable person ever really said, for the record, "just around the corner," much less "a good place to eat," least likely of all for restaurants of the type that use this type of prose.
The dash is a handy device, informal and essentially playful, telling you that you're about to take off on a different tack but still in some way connected with the present course - only you have to remember that the dash is there, and either put a second dash at the end of the notion to let the reader know that he's back on course, or else end the sentence, as here, with a period.
The greatest danger in punctuation is for poetry. Here it is necessary to be as economical and parsimonious with commas and periods as with the words themselves, and any marks that seem to carry their own subtle meanings, like dashes and little rows of periods, even semicolons and question marks, should be left out altogether rather than inserted to clog up the thing with ambiguity. A single exclamation point in a poem, no matter what else the poem has to say, is enough to destroy the whole work.
The things I like best in T.S. Eliot's poetry, especially in the Four Quartets, are the semicolons. You cannot hear them, but they are there, laying out the connections between the images and the ideas. Sometimes you get a glimpse of a semicolon coming, a few lines farther on, and it is like climbing a steep path through woods and seeing a wooden bench just at a bend in the road ahead, a place where you can expect to sit for a moment, catching your breath.
Commas can't do this sort of thing; they can only tell you how the different parts of a complicated thought are to be fitted together, but you can't sit, not even to take a breath, just because of a comma,"
Friday, 30 October 2009
I really wish I could find a picture of him on Google, and put it on my blog and say IT WAS THIS GUY! And then blame him for all the problems of the world. He took convenience to a level it never ever needed to reach.
The purpose of that ^ rambling is because money is always the problem; never the solution. You feel good when you make an extra dollar, only to have to spend that plus 10 more within the next minutes, hours, days, whatever. Bills here, bills there, bills everywhere.
I hate it.
What is the number one cause for divorce? Financial Stress. Why do we fight wars? Financial power. Why do we go to school? To be financially stable. Why do we want to be financially stable? So we can perpetuate the cycle.
I know I am drawing on the obvious here, but I have to tell you, at 19 years old I am thoroughly frustrated. I am thinking about going to live in the mountains of Peru where I can run around naked, bathe in rivers, cook, and have babies. (I know I have said I do not want children but I think I would prefer that lifestyle instead. If it was not for grammar class and him I promise you I would have lost my mind already because I don't do routine. It is far too.. routine.)
Every familial argument is always about money, or the lack thereof. There has to be a way to free yourself of financial obligations. Why can't it be that we just pay for the basics. Light, water, food, gas - and the occasional entertainment. Why does it cost so damn much to have a cell phone? Why the car insurance? Why the mortgage for the other 4837658 places when you can only live in one, or the car payments for the other 80977663 cars when you only need one.
People need to learn to simplify, just stick with the necessities so money does not have to rule your mind. I guarantee to you that the money does not care half as much about you as you do about it.
Last time I checked, it was just a piece of paper.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
I also feel like I have written way too many blogs about being "sick." (I am still going to mention that I spent all day yesterday wallowing in my own self pity and weakness and wishing that I really do not have the flu right now.)
My lovely prima esposa came to my rescue as my night nurse with some theraflu and some dinner. Very much appreciated. I worry that she might have caught my disease, and if so I assume the tables will be turning within the next few days.
Anyway I am still not feeling my best, but I do have something to smile about. (Other than the prospect of my long distance love being not-so-long-distance anymore :D ). That last test I was late for in Grammar class turned out to be a success! I managed to pull off the only A in the class, by which my teacher used to curve the grades for the rest of the class - which she kept complaining were terrible. How lovely did I feel? Just delightful. Especially since I turned my test over right after she said "the highest grade was a 91," and saw a 91 printed very neatly on top of my paper.
The nine point curve was not that helpful for the rest of my classmates, but I, on the other hand, cannot remember the last time I got 100 on a test.
Then, the best part is that the guy next to me - who when we came out of the test last week had to mention to me that "it looked like I was struggling over there" - got such a low grade that the letter won't change even after the curve. I bet he felt like a real jerk when we swapped test papers. But hey, I never told him to insert his foot into his mouth on that lovely Wednesday afternoon.
Nonetheless, this causes for a celebration. (As soon as I get better that is.)
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Last night I accompanied a few friends to Daytona because I have nothing better to do with my Friday nights. We got there around 9, which was good timing for the event we were to attend. After a few hours, my female companion and I decided we were hungry and wanted to explore what Daytona had to offer.
What a decision.
As soon as we stepped out of "Wise Guys" we found ourselves on Main St - which by the complete lack of human activity should quite probably be renamed. It looked like a town in the Midwest, or at least how I picture it anyway; the Harley's, country music, building structures - and I want to say that I saw tumbleweed blow across the street but if I did, I would be lying.
Anyway when we got to A1A we saw a diner on the corner across the street, so we crossed it and attempted to look at the menu. It looked like that Diner in Grease where Sandy and Danny tried to eat in peace until Rizzo and the rest of the Greasers rudely interrupted. It had neon coloured lights, coulourful images on the walls, brightly pictured food items on the stand-alone menu outside, and shiny silver round tables and black stools for eating. The bar was oval-shaped and they were showing wrestling on the television. I'm sure they had a jukebox somewhere in there too.
I saw all of this from outside, all before I saw "the sign" that completely took me off guard - but not until my friend got offended and was ready to storm away. Oh, but I cannot forget the looks of death we were receiving from the folks inside as we stood there looking at the menu.
Everyone I have asked thus far suggests it could be gang related. I won't deny that, but I think they could have put "no violence" to avoid the confusion all together. I will leave you to make your own interpretations. With that said, on to what came next.
There was a Papa Johns not too far and we decided that wings and bread sticks would be delightful choices, but before we could get to Papa Johns we had to pass another pizza shop that was broadcasting "fresh New York style pizza". They had wings too but my friend was bent on Papa and I wanted bread sticks, so we kept walking.
But before we could finish deciding, we heard a man with a deep down-south-accent telling us that we have made a mistake.
"Our pizza is the best," he said as he stood on the restaurant porch smoking a cigarette. He threw us off guard a little bit because he came out of nowhere, and after that Diner sign we were somewhat paranoid and slightly afraid to go inside Papa Johns while the competition was watching us. Nonetheless, when we thought he was no longer standing and staring, we made our way inside PJs.
The guy in there was not any less scary. In fact, his accent was even deeper, and he resembled a leprechaun. All the while he had an evil grin on his face and he was not excited about us only ordering bread sticks - considering they were practically closed. We stood there for about 5 minutes waiting on the bread while he veered at our discomfort from the back of the store.
He was a short guy; bald with pasty skin and the bluest eyes ever. His hands were full of veins and they looked very strong and muscular - if that is even possible - as if he had a hard life. He seemed to be trying his best to make conversation by observing the fact that we were both on our phones, and then making a joke about us "calling him." We both agreed to just smile and nod, wait for the bread sticks, and then get the hell out of there - which is exactly what we did.
Of course when we got outside, the other guy surely was waiting for us to come back. He kept talking about how amazing his pizza is and that we will not regret it. (He also made fun of my bread sticks after he opened the box and looked at them.)
The pizza truly was good - but the fact that I had to leave my box of bread sticks outside on the counter as the manager demanded, was not thrilling. Neither was the fact that he sat with us to watch us eat. He put his foot in his mouth a few times too when he decided to mention that we do not "look like Jamaicans." He said there are two types of Jamaicans: the black ones and the ones like me. "You don't look black. You look like you are mixed with something. And you," he said to my friend, "you look Brazilian. Are you guys sure you are from Jamaica?" I am not sure sir, are you sure you are German/Irish ?
Oh, the ignorance.
Now that we are on the topic of Jamaicans, after we went back to the event my other friends were ready to go and we made our way to someone's house. When we got there, we were introduced to the most Jamaican Jamaicans we have met outside of Miami. Some of them came from places in Jamaican that I never remembered. Kingstonians (those who are from Kingston) were there too, of course, but for once they were out-numbered.
So we got to have a few good anti-Kingston arguments - something I am not too used to- and we talked about the difference between "country" and "city." Turns out there are three Kingstons. Kingston city, Kingston Parish, and New Kingston - some of which are not even in Kingston? Yeah, I know. Confusing.
Anyway, Daytona was definitely an experience. Had it not been for the getty at the end of the night, I am not sure I would be fully convinced to ever go back there again.
Thursday, 22 October 2009
What can you do to help when someone is mourning? What can you possibly say to that person to make them feel even just a little bit better?
Nothing. Nothing at all. You just have to sit there like a faithful friend and cry with them. You can give hugs until you are blue, and mention over-and-over that you are there for them, that they need to be strong, that the person is in a better place, that time heals all wounds... But that is as far as it goes.
It is a kind of uselessness that far surmounts any other. No matter how many pretty words you can come up with, it won't mask any of the pain that the person bears in their heart from the moment that it happens.
I suppose if you have been there before you should be able to help more than someone who never has. Maybe you can mention what you did to feel better, or how you managed to pull through every day despite your heavy no-longer-whole heart.
After so many deaths, I wanted to believe I had all the right words to say. But I didn't. All I could do was walk with her and tell her my stories and experiences with the grim reaper. All five-thousand. For once I was actually able to get through the funerals, the goodbyes, the regrets, the pain - all without shedding one tear.
We just sat there on the hill (my hill that is); her listening and me speaking. I suppose that was helpful enough, but I still can't help but feel like there should be more I can do. I guess this is how my friends felt every time I was in her position; Completely helpless.
Either way, I'm here for you prima esposa. And I'm sorry.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Andrew’s usual morning routine went a little something like this; Wake up, take a 7-minute shower, put on jeans and a t-shirt, make breakfast, brush his teeth, and head out to class.
You see, Andrew was your average college freshman, with his independent skills growing but still somewhat inchoate. He went to Ohio State University with an undecided majour – the only thing he was ever certain about in his life was well, nothing.
High school for Andrew was just like high school should be; a bunch of immature students walking around in their limited friendship groups, going from class to class. It was four years of not learning anything more than how to make friends with teachers and pretend to do homework at home.
Now that he was in college, 200 miles from everyone he knew, Andrew experienced a loneliness that was intimidating even to a 6-foot, average build, 19-year old college freshman. Fortunately for him, he was one of those good looking boys without hubris - humility works way better for making friends.
Thus far, he lived a pretty average life. He never experienced anything traumatic to bemoan until one morning when he was awakened by an unusual pain in his chest. Not being very paranoid, Andrew never took heed to the pain, and attempted to go about his day as he did with every other. The routine continued until one morning when the pain exacerbated and he decided to go to the doctor.
Have you ever thought about what you might do if your life had a time limit?
On that “regular” morning, Andrew was forced to answer this question. The doctor came back with the result after less than 30 minutes: “I am sorry to tell you this Andrew,” he said laconically, “But you have an extremely rare heart problem, and you only have a year left to live.”
Friday, 16 October 2009
Before you jump the gun here, I'd like for you to walk with me for a minute.
I never payed much attention to American college life because well, I was not an American college student. Sure I have heard of fraternity's and sorority's (if I remember correctly my high school even tried a little something at one point; not sure how far that went.) but what are they? What is the purpose of joining one? What do they stand for?
The only thing I have heard from those who decided to dedicate their time, life, and sometimes even grade point average to become a part of is for one word - networking. So, what you are saying is, in order to network, I need to allow myself to go through weeks of "secret torture" so that I can meet people? And then all 500 of us have to become "sisters" for the rest of my life? I'm sorry, what? I do not even like you like that Jasmine.
Excuse number 2: "You can put sigma on an application anywhere and the overseer will know exactly what that means." Well, I am not a hiring manager, but enlighten me.
These organisations portray themselves superior to the individual. I know I have written about individualism in this country being a problem (or if not then keep your eyes open), but now it seems as though if you do not have sigma, alpha, delta, zeta, kappa etc behind your name, well then your qualifications just do not matter. You are just an individual, and who needs one of those when you can be a brother or a sister.
I do not understand. For an organisation that brags "prestige" why is it that the procedure in which to join has over the years caused a number of deaths and injuries to those who are interested? Why is it that the attitude amongst much of the Greeks is that of "Oh you're not in greek life? I'm sorry.. Who are you?" I understand having a certain respect for those who were able to make it through "hell week" but do not think for a second that someone else who is simply not interested could not do it too if need be.
Another thing, what is with the secrecy? It almost feels like a cult. (And let me say, I am slightly afraid to even be writing about this right now.) What happens after you join? Do you then become a part of the initiation of the new folks? I mean who comes up with that initiation shit anyways? What if you change your mind? And why can't I touch your cane ! Is it sacred? Will lightning strike me five times?
Am I ever even going to get an answer to any of these questions?
I am thinking that is a no; but I am open to all objections.