Monday, November 12, 2007

Innocence Lost

GLEANER EDITORS' FORUM - Terror's young captives - Students relive pain, bloodshed, but vow to succeed
published: Monday | November 12, 2007

Children from primary schools across Kingston's inner-city communities participatein a Gleaner Editors' Forum last Wednesday. The forum was held under the theme 'Hopes and Aspirations for the Future'. - Rudolph Brown/Chief Photographer

Tears flowed freely at the most recent Gleaner Editors' Forum, held last Wednesday, which focused on the challenges being faced by primary school children in several inner-city communities in Kingston.

Today, Earl Moxam, coordinator of the Editors' Forum series, presents highlights from that session, held at the newspaper's main office at North Street in Kingston.


Her eyes are bright. They glitter with confidence and promise. She says she wants to be a doctor, or a lawyer, perhaps. She could be either, or both, maybe.

But, alas, evil lurks nearby, determined that such promise should not bear fruit. Such is the stuff of which Brittany's world is made.

The grade-six student enjoys socialising, reading and singing. Sounds like the kinds of pursuits that the average 11-year-old would enjoy without having to worry about anything.

Not so for Brittany. She carries the daily burden of life, and death, in her community on her young shoulders. She is afraid to walk the streets and her parents keep her close to their side lest she fall prey to marauding thugs.

"I'm actually afraid, because recently they killed seven people, including a 10-year-old boy, a two-month-old baby and an old lady," she recalls.

At the recounting of such horrors, her eyes lost their twinkle momentarily, as sadness eclipsed the initial joy.

Rebounding with optimism

Shortly thereafter, however, Brittany was soaring again.

"You can't let things let you down. You have to know what you want in life, and if you know what you want in life, you can do it. In my vocabulary, there is no such word as 'can't', so I choose to rise to the occasion and do what I want to do," she asserts with the wisdom of a sage.

But as she looks around at her peers, Brittany is particularly concerned about the boys, many of whom are dropping out of school and joining gangs. For that she blames poor parenting, particularly the absence of enough good fathers.

"The fathers are basically the same as the children. Most of them sit on the corners; they drink, they gamble. I think (the community) needs a lot of fathers. Not biological fathers, but a lot of father treatment."

This bright-eyed young girl takes great comfort and solace from her Christian parents and her church. "If you have a problem, you can go to your pastor or another member and discuss it with them," she advised.

But she is wise enough to issue a cautionary note: "You still have to be careful which church member you speak to, though, because even in the church there is hypocrisy!"


Roje is a grade-five student. By his own estimation, he is "very good" in language arts. He wants to become a veterinarian.

"I have very good parents who help me with my home-work," he reports proudly.

Despite those positive factors, however, he too is very scared; so scared he was only able to nod his head in acknowledgement.

"What makes you most scared?" he was asked. "The gunmen," Roje answered almost at a whisper and with a shiver. Then he began to sob.

Time to move on to another child ... another story of innocence lost.


Tashana has visions of becoming a successful businesswoman. Life at home is fine. It is when she goes on the road that terror grips her young heart.

This is particularly bad for a student who wants to do well in school, but who must risk being caught in the crossfire of rival gangs on her way to classes.

Her memories of the last general election are not of the song-and-dance routines at the party rallies, but of the blood that flowed down the streets of her community as political thugs struggled for supremacy.

Two months later, the shootings continue, leaving Tashana too scared to venture out some mornings.

To compound her concerns, this is the year that this young girl must sit GSAT - the examination that will determine which high school she moves on to. A day away from school, therefore, means a crucial loss for her.

"I'm afraid that if I don't go to school one day, something will be taught that will come in the GSAT, so I try not to miss any day, but I'm very scared," she said, her voice breaking at the end.

Still, she braves the fears because she wants to gain a place at Wolmer's or Campion, her favourites.


Jerome has dreams of being a broadcast meteorologist.

He is not fully satisfied with his academic performance to date, but is determined to improve. He takes pleasure, in the meantime, in being "a little bit ahead" of the girls in his class.

He wants the other boys in the school and community to follow his example, but he is worried about some of them.

"I see some of them going around with some men that they shouldn't even walk with, because they will get them into a lot of trouble," he laments.


Amy (not her real name) is dreadfully afraid, particularly at night, while lying in bed. Even there she does not feel safe from the gunmen who often come charging into and through her yard.

What is worse, sometimes they even knock at the doors of her house where she cowers alone while her parents are out.

So, she is pleading for parents to stay closer to their children, to remain at home with them and give them comfort and solace in the dead of the night while evil stalks and hunts new prey.

Despite such terrors, Amy, a brilliant student, has ambitions of becoming a paediatrician, or a teacher, someday. In the meantime, she has her sights firmly set on a place at Campion when she completes primary school next year.


At age 11, Devon should be exploring and enjoying life to the fullest. However, much of the delight in his young life has been doused by a sorrow too deep for a child to bear.

In June this year, his beloved grandfather was killed while on his way to work.

While recounting the painful experience, young Devon cannot hold back the flood of tears.

Still, he must go on.

"Some of my good experiences are when I get a hundred or in the nineties or eighties in my grades at school. I feel very good about myself when that happens."

He revels in the company of his parents and he craves for peaceful interaction with his peers.


Jovante is enjoying a 90 average in his schoolwork. He wants to become a medical doctor.

He is critical of his fellow male students, pointing out that the girls are generally doing better in school "because they are more determined".

Furthermore, he says, too many males "are not interested in doing well in school or anywhere else."

That, he fears, will result in more criminals being produced in his community.


Nancy (not her real name), a grade-six student, wants to become a nurse or a journalist.

Perhaps it is the budding journalist in her that is already breaking free, for she is able to give vivid descriptions of life in her community. It is not a pretty picture.

This child of 11 describes her community as being in a state of war. It is a war in which she and other children feel they are among the primary victims, if not physically, then certainly psychologically.

"I get scared because at times the men come into my house from the front and from the back to hide from the police," she explains.

Nancy is also haunted by the memory of feeling forced to lie to the police. It was during a raid on the community by a police team that the lawmen barged into her yard and showed her a photograph of one of the men they were pursuing.

Did she know this man? Had she seen him today? Where was he hiding?

The correct answer to question number one would have been 'yes'. Likewise, for question number two. Question number three was the most difficult to answer, because only metres away, up in a tree, the gunman was perched, the business end of a deadly gun aimed directly at her forehead.

No, she did not know the man. No, she had not seen him today. And, certainly, she did not know where he was.

The instinct of survival prevailed over honesty.

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Tired to the Bone

OK... I have hit the fatigue block, and unfortunately, I have further to go. Officially, I am on a diet of Burger King and sugafree Red Bull. Maybe I should overload on multivitamins eh?

So I did my first show this morning. The pace was god but other things need to be worked on. I will get the hang of it soon.

Gotta go meet my other deadline...

Oh btw, if I never said before, I am moving today.

My mother is a gem of magnanimous proportions!


Tired to the Bone

OK... I have hit the fatigue block, and unfortunately, I have further to go.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

When it Rains....

It has been raining for over two weeks straight in Jamaica. I mean, every single solitary day, sometimes all day. It also seem as though life is mimicking nature.

I having problems with the new place. Apparently the previous tenants had money outstanding on the account, well actually, that is putting it rather nicely. The truth is that the guy was a blasted crook who did not believe in paying bills and found ways to connect himself illegally.

So... there is one helluva rigmarole for me to occupy with all things connected.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I tired out hell.

I have however, miraculously found the time, energy and wherewithal to halve the impromptu project due on fri am. And i mean seriously, i just started tonight, so I am expecting to finish by mid-late afternoon tomorrow. That means that had I properly organised myslef and made arrangements for the cleaning of the new place, I would have been able to actually get my stuff in by tomorrow evening.

Since my show is in the morning, I am going to have to go to bed early tomorrow. Three late nights and early mornings in a row will mash me up.

But I am still proud that I actually managed to accomplish so much and I think I will actually get it done ahead of time!

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

What am I Longing For?

My space.

I am sooooo looking forward into moving into my new place. No more studio living, mi re-instated to one bedroom mi dear!

I am thrilled! Big kitchen, big bathroom, big enough bedroom and a lukkle tuups a living room that will have to share as workspace but you know what? I dont care! At least I wont have to lock myself in a bedroom in a three bedroom townhouse because I feel uncomfortable.

And u just wait till I buss way pon the decorating because you know that a fi me sinting!

I just got an urgent project which is going to throw off my moving schedule (which was suppsed to begin today). It is not likely that major movement will start before Friday as I have to ensure that my company meets this deadline.

In addition to all that, I have my first live show that I am producing this week. So the news just in: I am back in broadcast big time! Dont ask me how I going to do everything. All I know is I must. These are indeed exciting times!

A gone go do the people dem work...


Sunday, November 04, 2007

Green is the New Black

This West Indian woman hails the work of Majora Carter.

Smiling Trini

Jouvert Morning in Trinidad & Tobago

"Siddung Pon a Riddim Like a Lizard Pon a Limb"

(Charley Chaplin, Jamaican Reggae artiste)

[I wrote the foll in the wee hours of the morning when I woke up and could not fall asleep and felt like everything was crashing down on me. Thank heavens the iPod, which was starting to behave wack in the day, settled down and allowed me to listen to playlist "gospel redemption," which is my go-to defacto anti-depressant. I cried a bit but ended up feeling hopeful and falling into peacefull slumber with a song of praise on my lips.]

I feel like a failure.

I am 27 years old, I am sleeping alone, without any hopes for a boyfriend, much less a husband, which means I am going to have to severely compromise my dreams of having a legal nuclear family home if I ever want children. I feel incredibly lonely and have very often felt that way since my last relationship. At this point only those over three months count so that makes my last relationship four years ago.

I am moving for the 7th time in 7 years, and as much as I had stayed in one place for over 3 years, I am making my second move from that place in less than 4 months.

My income is very limited. Business hasn't taken off the way I wanted it to.

I dont know if I want to do PR anymore or events anymore. I think I just want to focus on production, photography and writing.

I feel so sad and damn lonely in this moment.


Saturday, November 03, 2007

No Abiding City

Dem seh rolling stone gather no moss. If moss is the ability to find stuff and really stay connected in a place, I got none.

So I moving again. Yes chile..again... to my third pad for the year. Dont get me wrong, before the earlier temporary move, I had the same address for over three years, flooding, leaking and all. I had to move because the leaks got so bad that I was getting real sick and I couldnt stand having another 3 month bout of bronchitis and neear pneumonia. I moved in with a friend upon her invitation - BAD idea (living hell)... and I decided to cut that short. I guess having jumped into my third job in July, I am right on par.

The bible says three is the number of completeness. I sho does hope so.

I moving back to the hills, but this time on my own. Praise God for journeying mercies.

I feel some stability coming back.

Maybe, I will be able to gather some moss after all.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Beauty & Sadness

by Berna Garriz


Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Hangin with the ex and his gf of 5 years...of sorts

It's weird.

We have been in the same space all afternoon. Totally weird.


I guess I am a grown up now.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

The game plan

I tell you... I have to say that I am slightly comforted with the game plan. It occurred to me that maybe if I stuck it out and just kept at it, one day I will earn very good dividends.

Confidence: Belief in one's abilities to deliver on things even imagined

I know what I want... and Imelda #2 is right... I know how to get it. That even applies if I only want to get it so I can throw it away.

As it was written.

The first cut

In spite of all the crap I have been faced with this week, month, past few months, I am determined to rise above all of it.

I am not sure I have a template per se but I have to figure my way out of this maze. God didn't bring me here for such a mediocre existence. He knows my needs and my desires and I am going to trust him to lead me with his guiding light.

I have been through pain in my shorty twentysomething life that I never knew I could get over... and here I am, scarred but alive. Some wounds are taking longer than others to heal. But its the first cut that really runs the deepest.

Job Period

The saying goes that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I guess my strength is testimony as to why I am alive.

They stole my laptop on Sunday. Yes the &*()))^ took my mac! I am past anger.

Relationship is also on hold... of sorts. Well, the truth is that it would take a miracle of the the proportions of a Lazarus to revive it.

I am playing with fire in places I swore I would never return... and yes... I got burnt yet again.

Business is slow.

Sigh.... but what doesn't kill you makes it stronger... right?

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Hanging in the Afflicted Yard

Guess who mi buck up today seeking refuge in a wireless uppity wired cafe?? Nuh the Afflicted Bastard!

Years have gone by and tempers have become mellow, no calling any police or duppy truck.

Still inspiring doh.

Age is a helluva ting.

Finally Online

Ok... so moving has turned out to be a nightmare. I dont have internet service and it sucks rotten eggs. I feel like a freaking fish out of water.

I tried mobile publishling from my crackberry but that sucked even more. Maybe there is something I am not doing right- I never considered myself an "edgy" whiz.

More on the "edgy" bit later.

Its nice to be back...even temporarily.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

i am ready

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Cooking up a Storm

mobile blog

this post is from my crackberry.

I have never posted from my phone before so this is pretty cool.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Love After Love

by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Conflict Resolution

So it seems that the absolutist break up happened only in my head.

Apparently I totally misunderstood the very poorly selected words that Mr. Mention (the boyfriend) used and we finally came to an understanding. This is after I offered him his walking papers and 24 hours after the consumption of 2 bottles of horribly tasting pinot grigio (the worst I ever had).

Turns out dude wants to go on a spiritual fast that will involve chastity and introspection for 4 months. I have done the same for over one whole year so I totally identify with that but I certainly couldn't identify with all the hemming and hawing that was taking place instead of a reasonable explanation for a shift in behaviour (hence the walking papers bit).

SO , I haved definitely learnt a few things...

That spiel about women not saying EXACTLY what they want, men do that too and when they do it, it may be more devastating because we expect men to say exactly what they mean to say.

The fact that I am a trained communicator stays strictly in my professional realm. There are very few guys who can communicate as effectively naturally and they may say all the wrongs things. And when I say wrong, I mean they may say things that they dont want to say but cannot seem to find the right words to express exactly how they feel.

Breathe. Before I drink another two bottles of bad wine and break a glass and feel like everything is over. Be patient and get to the bottom of things. For communication to take place, meaning must be shared.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Two Wine Bottles Later

I got piss poor drunk last night.

My dear friend Imelda #2 accompanied me on this man-purge as I forced myself to feel emotions that were so bottled up inside me.


I barely managed not to send him drunken email (I sent it to me instead).

It hurts like a muthaferker.


Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Tastee Patty Turnaround Time

I think I have knack for creating a calendar of love interests that rivals only Tastee patty batches.

Another flew over the doctor bird's nest.

I am getting tired of my love life.

I think I just need to buy a nice little fix-me-upper in the hills and get like five dogs of different breeds and a baby or two before my eggs get too old to be of use.

I want a family.

I'll get dogs, birds, fish, chickens, goats and babies, with a nice little subsistence farm and nice polite neighbours who will give me everything I cant manage to grow.

Since I clearly cannot count on men for lifetime companionship, I might as well focus on the things that have no choice but to rely on me for their existence or are at least guaranteed to stick around for 18 years minimum.

New Party in Power

The tables have turned after all of 18 years. The Jamaica Labour Party has won an election over the PNP after 4 terms in the wilderness of opposition.

My sentiments are contained, though that came after a moment of panic. No one wants to suffer the political brutality of the 70s and 80s and not enough are convinced that a man who was so tight with criminals has been able to clean all of the blood that splashed on him by association. But still we watch. And still we wait.

The rest remains to be seen.

Monday, September 03, 2007

If I had a hammer...

I remember that childhood song... "I'd hammer in the morning, I'd hammer in the evening, all over this land..."

It doesn't seem so long ago since those lyrics would burst from my lips a I took long showers and baths on Saturdays.

Then, I would have hammered out justice and freedom and love between my brothers and my sisters all over this land.

Now, I think I just want to hammer out sense into the heads of men who seem intent on wasting time fooling around and bullshitting everyone including themselves.

Why is it that all men seem to be in some sort of psychological deficit? And if it is so apparent to everyone else, why don't they seek some sort of remedy? I think the lot of them are intent on having mass parades featuring their dirty linen at the expense of the rest of us.

I honestly cannot stand men sometimes. I think that even the most mature of them are woefully childish.

Yes i am clearly upset about something.

Mr. Long Distance Love and I have had a falling out due to the fact that he seems to be flip flopping more than Bruce Golding and Karl Samuda combined.

So officially, mi vex.

I have absolutely no patience and tolerance for bullshit. Honestly, life is too short to hem and haw over things that are so damn simple. And they say women are complicated.

Jamaica Votes

I find myself awake on what I believe to be the final morning of the People's National Party (PNP) rule in 18 years. I cannot say that I am overjoyed.

The truth is that while I tended towards Edward Seaga and a JLP government as a little girl because I loved their symbol of the bell, Michael Manley and the PNP seemed to have won my sympathies, if not my silent following.

Maybe it was the introduction of free education up to the tertiary level under his regime that offered my father a university education and me a chance for a better life due to the fact that my university educated father was more keen on what constituted good parenting practices and investing in my own education as a blueprint for a successful future.

Maybe it was legalisation and de-bastardization of children, like my father who were born out of wedlock to a respectable principal and one of his many unfortunate concubines, my dear grandmother who struggled with so many issues of insecurity that she fell for the wiles of the wandering educator.

Maybe it was the fact that I knew the man personally, and hold his memory in reverence to this day.

Regardless of how or why, I have to say change, though necessary, is not always for immediate gratification but since all things work ultimately for good, whatever happens in the polls by this time tomorrow morning when all the votes are tallied, we will be better off in the long run.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Off My Ass

I have not worked out since the beginning of the year. I was so busy changing that I couldn't find the energy to be consistent in other areas. I am on my third job, moved house and a brand spanking new relationship and i just could not muster up the will to stay active.

I am going to sign up for three months in the gym to jump start my fitness so that I will be able to at least move around without panting.

These days have been rather boring. But that is prolly due to my lyming buddy, Imelda#2, being away for six weeks. She returns tomorrow so I expect a surge in alcohol content by Sunday. Can't wait.

A boyfriend for Sheer Almshouse

Well it turns out that I have gotten so close to a very good 'friend' that its time to add a three letter prefix.

Now you need to understand that I have been officially single for 4 years. Yes by choice of course, I kept on saying "no," for one reason or another. Turns out that not only could I not come up with an excuse to say "no" this time, but I really didn't want one.

We kind of stumbled into this relationship which seems rather ironic since he is a twenty plenty hour airplane ride away, with a stop in London.

Yes he is THAT far away- in country that blocks skype, text messages and even voicemail. Nevertheless, he has been home twice this year and we spend a lot of time together when he visited last.

I should be visiting sometime post September. I was hoping to visit him for his birthday (30th) in October but we will see). Failing that, there are talks of a vacation together next year in mainland Asia. I say India, he says Japan. We'll see.

This seems like the season for kindling flames that were too green to get started in the first place. My Friend of Frank has just gone official to Old Dawg Winer, who makes certain that she gets on a plane once every four weeks so that they can get their monthly fix of each other.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Why I Want a Wife

by Judy Syfers (1971)

(Sheer Almshouse Note: This classic piece of feminist humor appeared in the premier issue of Ms. Magazine and was widely circulated in the women's movement.)

I belong to that classification of people known as wives. I am A Wife.

And, not altogether incidentally, I am a mother. Not too long ago a male friend of mine appeared on the scene fresh from a recent divorce. He had one child, who is, of course, with his ex-wife. He is looking for another wife. As I thought about him while I was ironing one evening, it suddenly occurred to me that I too, would like to have a wife. Why do I want a wife?

I would like to go back to school so that I can become economically independent, support myself, and if need be, support those dependent upon me. I want a wife who will work and send me to school. And while I am going to school I want a wife to take care of my children. I want a wife a wife to keep track of the children's doctor and dentist appointments. And to keep track of mine, too. I want a wife to make sure my children eat properly and are kept clean. I want a wife who will wash the children's clothes and keep them mended. I want a wife who is a good nurturing attendant to my children, who arranges for their schooling, makes sure that they have an adequate social life with their peers, takes them to the park, the zoo, etc. I want a wife who takes care of the children when they are sick, a wife who arranges to be around when the children need special care, because, of course, I cannot miss classes at school. My wife must arrange to lose time at work and not lose the job. It may mean a small cut in my wife's income from time to time, but I guess I can tolerate that. Needless to say, my wife will arrange and pay for the care of the children while my wife is working.

I want a wife who will take care of my physical needs. I want a wife who will keep my house clean. A wife who will pick up after my children, a wife who will pick up after me. I want a wife who will keep my clothes clean, ironed, mended, replaced when need be, and who will see to it that my personal things are kept in their proper place so that I can find what I need the minute I need it. I want a wife who cooks the meals, a wife who is a good cook. I want a wife who will plan the menus, do the necessary grocery shopping, prepare the meals,serve them pleasantly, and then do the cleaning up while I do my studying. I want a wife who will care for me when I am sick and sympathize with my pain and loss of time from school. I want a wife to go along when our family takes a vacation so that someone can continue care for me and my when I need a rest and change of scene. I want a wife who will not bother me with rambling complaints about a wife's duties. But I want a wife who will listen to me when I feel the need to explain a rather difficult point I have come across in my course of studies. And I want a wife who will type my papers for me when I have written them.

I want a wife who will take care of the details of my social life. When my wife and I are invited out by my friends, I want a wife who take care of the baby-sitting arrangements. When I meet people at school that I like and want to entertain, I want a wife who will have the house clean, will prepare a special meal, serve it to me and my friends, and not interrupt when I talk about things that interest me and my friends. I want a wife who will have arranged that the children are fed and ready for bed before my guests arrive so that the children do not bother us. I want a wife who takes care of the needs of my quests so that they feel comfortable, who makes sure that they have an ashtray, that they are passed the hors d'oeuvres, that they are offered a second helping of the food, that their wine glasses are replenished when necessary, that their coffee is served to them as they like it. And I want a wife who knows that sometimes I need a night out by myself.

I want a wife who is sensitive to my sexual needs, a wife who makes love passionately and eagerly when I feel like it, a wife who makes sure that I am satisfied. And, of course, I want a wife who will not demand sexual attention when I am not in the mood for it. I want a wife who assumes the complete responsibility for birth control, because I do not want more children. I want a wife who will remain sexually faithful to me so that I do not have to clutter up my intellectual life with jealousies. And I want a wife who understands that my sexual needs may entail more than strict adherence to monogamy. I must, after all, be able to relate to people as fully as possible.

If, by chance, I find another person more suitable as a wife than the wife I already have, I want the liberty to replace my present wife with another one. Naturally, I will expect a fresh, new life; my wife will take the children and be solely responsible for them so that I am left free.

When I am through with school and have a job, I want my wife to quit working and remain at home so that my wife can more fully and completely take care of a wife's duties.

My God, who wouldn't want a wife?

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Taking the Plunge

It has always been my dream. I have thought of selling muffins for a profit ever since I was 8 years old. I think it was the subliminal seduction of the Oprah show, that seemed to celebrate youth in business. In my limited sphere, muffins seemed like a big enough idea then.

Fast forward 18 years, a registered company, a resignation letter, and a lot of confidence (with the occasional bolt of fear), and I have decided that this girl likes to be on top.

It seems like all roads have led to this point. Here's to the journey, which has just now really begun.

Yes,a LOT has happened in two months. Changed jobs, resigned from second job, hired and fired (well...almost) and gone full time in my entrepreneurial endeavour.

I feel like I must be crazy or something? Who gives up maternity leave and paid vacations? And furthermore, I swear I have never worked harder in my life!

I leave it all to God, cause Jah know, I am just following my calling. I know too well that to whom much is given, much is expected.

For more... visit "Girl On Top" at

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

My Feet Despise Me

I cannot leave work early today. This is not because I don't want to, but because I cant. I cannot walk.

After going on an elaborate shopping spree, and insisting on wearing new shoes only to my new job this week, I fear that my toes are in a bind in a bid to outdo each other for the Top Bunion & Carbuncle Awards.

I cannot see straight, much less walk straight. The shoes and the outfit are fab but what is a sexy pair of shoes on feet that have been sore from wearing new shoes everyday? Bloody murder!

I think I may actually now join the pantyhose posse cause God knows that toes were never meant for the kind of agony that now befall mine.

To make matters worse, I have been invited to a ball tomorrow by my boss and the entire department is going. I cannot even think about dancing in those fabulously fierce BCBG MaxAzria heeled sandals that somehow find a way of grabbing my sprained big toe right where it hurts.

All in the name of making a big impression for my first week. I hope nobody sees when I hippity hop around corners wincing in agony.

If there is one thing I HATE about the corporate world, its closed toed shoes. No one was meant to suffer in them all day!

Jesus, tek di case and gimme di pillow!

Monday, May 21, 2007

Defining Quietude

I have been very quiet over the past two months and all within good reason.

I have been trying to get in touch with myself.

There's lots I want to say but I don't have the means to say it.

Maybe I should stick to blogging all things political and lay off the personal discovery bit. But that wouldn't be me would it? I am not polarised in my thoughts. After all I believe that all writing, including fiction is autobiographical.

My professional life is going splendidly. New job is extremely promising. In fact, for the very first time in my life, I feel "at home" on a job. I feel like I can stay there and grow there, and I really respect and like the people I work with.

The business I had started is doing well (even though I am not actively involved) because I have put people in to manage it and to work the day to day.

My personal life.... that's a whole story which I dont have the time or wherewithal to explore this morning.


Tuesday, April 24, 2007

This woman's work

by Maxwell

Pray God you can cope
I stand outside
This woman's work
This woman's world
Oh it's hard on the man
Now his part is over
Now starts the craft of the father

I know you've got a little life in you left
I know you've got a lotta strength left
I know you've got a little life in you left
I know you've got a lotta strength left
I should be cryin' but I just can't let it show
I should be hopin' but I can't stop thinkin'
All the things we should've said that we never said
And all the things we should've done that we never did
All the things we should've given, but I didn't
Oh darlin', make it go
Make it go away

Give me these moments
Give them back to me
Give me your little kiss
Give me your...

(I know you've got a little life in you left)
Give me your hand baby
(I know you've got a lotta strength)
Give me that pretty hand
(I know you've got a little life in you left)
Oh surely you understand
(I know you've got a lotta strength left)
My lovechild
(I know you've got a little life in you left)
Whatever you need
(I know you've got a lotta strength left)
Give me your hand
(I know you've got a little life in you left)
Give me your hand
(I know you've got a lotta strength left)

I should be cryin' but I just can't let it go
I should be hopin' but I can't stop thinkin' and thinkin' and thinkin'
All the things we should've said that we never said
And all the things we should've done that we never did
All the things that you wanted from me
All the things that you needed from me
All the things we should've given, but I didn't
Oh darlin', make it go
Just make it go away.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Ode to Brian Charles Lara

It was in art class in third form at Campion College that the name Brian Charles Lara first had any significance to me or to the members of Mr. Young's portraiture class. While we slowly sketched with our pencils, our ears and heads perched out the window to listen to the ball-by-ball commentary from Fudgie's tinny sounding radio.

The boys and the odd tomboy crew(of which I was the sole member at times) in the courtyard, neglected the usual break time scrimmage game, as the dirty yellow tennis ball sat motionless in the middle of the gathering. Bigger things were happening elsewhere.

Even Fudgie himself abandoned his pastime of cleaning his toenails with the same knife with which he cut us bun and cheese. Everything was quiet. No one spoke. No one dared to rustle the universe, lest we disrupt history in the making.

While we held our breaths, scared to breathe too loudly, our individual hearts betrayed us and pounded. They seemed to mimic the Lara's sweet operatic aria of leather against willow. It was soft at first, but then as our anticipation grew, the beats got deeper and louder and soon our nubile West Indian hearts played a wild rhythm, ushering a unified kindred spirit to witness what lay ahead. And then the din rose, the clambering cymbals, the steel pan and congo drums, the maracas rising to a climax we were not sure we could handle. And then it came, the jubilant crescendo greater than any little death- "Brian Lara bruk the record!!!"

It was no surprise that I would 10 years later- having graduated both high school and university thus finally earning my right to unfettered travel- as the kindred spirit would have it, be there to witness history the second time around. After 10 years of an unbroken record, a feisty Lara, upset with the audacity of his challenger, batted all of us spectators at the Antigua Recreation Ground into a dancing and screaming frenzy in his retort. It seemed like he was saying "stay bruk!" in his Trini lilt. Again, it was pandemonium. Again, it was Lara, working his magic.

Today you said goodbye but I will hold on to the positives. Thank you Brian Charles Lara for synchronizing the beat of my heart with this beautiful game of cricket.

"Walk good my friend," and as the Jamaican saying continues as a blessing to those departing, "may good duppy follow you."

(c) Sheer Almshouse , April 21, 2007.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Fearing hospitalisation

I am not responding to my medication andd this drives the fear of God into me.

I dont want to have to go to the hospital. I dont have any hospital worthy nighties (unless I trying to mek a doc mi husban), nor fluffy bed slippers.

No but big and serious, I fear more than anything compounding my bronchial problems with hospital induced pneumonia. So I have to stay away from the hospital. But I also have to get better.

I am extremely scared. Already I am thinking that ok, I have apportioned all my earthly possessions to my family, so if the worst were to happen, I could be at peace.

But I not ready to go yet. I have too much work to do. My time has not come. I just want to get better soon.

Lord, please deliver me.


Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Balancing act

It is becoming increasingly difficult to balance my life where day job, entrepreneurial endeavours, finding a new day job, professional association board responsibilities, and completing my thesis are concerned. Notice I haven't even mentioned any element of a personal life, which ideally involves 6 days of intense excercise, 3 days of dance classes, daily mild yoga practice which intenfies into a scenic outdoor weekend practiced, some quality uncluttered time to write and photograph, "beat breaks" to the country or traveling overseas, curling up with fantastic books, evenings sipping good wine and listening to eclectic music, stimulating conversation, and leisure domesticated duties such as making house and cooking and entertaining.

My life is a cacophony of too much activity. I seem to like it that way. Lie. I love it that way. I thrive on adrenaline. I push hard and work hard but cannot seem to strecth the hours and energy to play hard.

That's where this balancing act comes in. My personal life suffers. Mind you, I am not talking in the limited scope of a relationship but rather in the general manner of nurturing ME. This is not to say that a relationship is not on my list of things personal. its just that at this point, I dont have one "up in my face," for want of a much better phrase.

My mind is too cluttered to facilitate peaceful slumber and I am at my wits end doing a job for which my passion has long expired. I am unhappy with it and it is taking a huge toll on me psychologically.

I am one of those people who has simply got to do what she loves. I cannot be in a relationship for the sake of being in a relationship and I cannot have a job simply for the sake of having a pay cheque at the end of the month. This state I am now in is quite like being forced to be in a relationship by external forces such as duress. I know all too well that quitting before I secure another is far from sagacious- a lesson learned twice over. It took me two times to get this shy.

So where does this bring me? To a level of anxiety that makes me very uncomfortable. I have a second interview tomorrow and I have a nervous stomach. At this point, all my eggs are on this new opportunity, I met them once and now they want to see me twice. I guess they like somethings about me, but they like somethings about somebody else too because now we are shortlisted to two.

I know that I should be anxious for nothing. But right now, that is easier said than done. In fact, I find that I am anxious about all the things in my life that I care about, and that's not so good is it? On one hand, it appears that there is a lack of centredness and faith which propels this fear, but on the other hand, as I know in show business, if you aint nervous, be scared. If the cameras start rolling and there isn't a wee bit of fluttering in your stomach, something is wrong and you are pretty much guaranteed a poor performance. Nervous energy as I was taught, is just additional energy that you just have to channel elsewhere so that you can really shine. Hmmmn.. maybe its the same coin then.

Writing is sooooooooooo important to me. It seems like the more I write, the clearer I get, and the more I discover about myself.

Having said all that, I still need to find a way to make all this work and not only work but harmonise. Too much dissonance nuh good. I cannot focus only on my career. As much as it brings me tremendous satisfaction, my work cannot be my only joy. There are other things that bring me happiness, and the more I find time for them, the greater the spread of happiness and the more content I will be.

Balance. Simple, yet profound to the overwhelmingly workaholic.

Will I therefore just shut down this computer and go to bed, or will I find time to sort out some paper work for my business and maybe throw in a chapter of reading for my thesis? Hmmmn.. I dont feel like sleeping anyway.

Compromise. An important word in relationships (especially the one with your cluttered self missy). I will spend half hour finalising paper work and then do 45mins of a dance routine on dvd. If i feel invigorated and not woedfully tired afterward, I will read that book to put me to sleep.

Hmmm.... I like this. Feeling better already.


Monday, April 02, 2007

Silence makes the heart grow somber

I have been trying to acquiesce with this silence. I never had expectations to begin with so I cannnot define what I now feel as "disappointment." It's just a strange resignation, almost a numbing of the senses.

I guess that is not too farfetched after having sensory overload over the past few weeks. Things have simply gone back to normal. No more calling, cooing and coddling. No more nocturnal daydreaming, just the stark reality of what is.

Still trying to figure out what that is.


Sunday, April 01, 2007

Like Love, Like Cricket

What is it that the people of the West Indies want from the Windies Cricket team? Nothing but a damn fight.

We don't have to win all the time, we just want to fight hard and hustle all the time. I think we have so much talent that if we really hustle and really put our wits in it, we might surprise ourselves with much better ranking.

I find that the Windies are like West Indian men- inconsistent, partially-fulfilled, commitment-phobes who would rather lose without a fight than fight to win. You see, it's easier (in a psychologically warped way) to say,"I lost but I wasn't really trying hard," than to put your whole heart into something and lose. But life is not for cowards.

You see, the 'coward's way out' is not only confined to suicide, but also to conceding defeat even before the game/life has even begun. Nobody was promised sunshine and abundance everyday. It's what we do when we face adversity that truly reveals character.

Like with love, one cannot expect to have the passion without the responsibility. That which brings sheer happiness sometimes delivers some serious curved balls.

A good woman does not want her man to be perfect, just to stand up and be a man. He does not have to bring home more money, just have blasted ambition. She does not need him to be there all the time, just to be there mentally and emotionally when he is there physically. She does not need material justification, just devotion, and commitment.

When it comes to cricket, just like it is in love, it's either all, or absolutely nothing. Anything less is simply purgatory.

Having said all that, I still wholeheartedly rally round the Windies.


Finding Mi Voice

I feel like I have just been talking so much crap that I am coming dangerously close to not being able distinguish my owna voice.

That is the drasma (as opposed to "drama") associated with PR. Politically correct bullshit that people hire you to tell them about themselves. I want creative license to walk around and just talk mi mind. A tired of mining mi damn manners. Some people really are goats and they deserve to be told!

I am too nice, and even though my boss thinks I could be nicer, I believe I am as nice as I can get. I cant stand foolishness, not even from mi owna modda who i love more than country-style cook food. And I certainly cant tek fool and half eediat (of which they are plenty in Jamaica).

Does anybody even read this blog anyway? I just think its my theatrical performance that no one turns up to, which of course gives me freedom to be as incoherent and inconclusive as I really am.

I really need to travel, write and take photographs. I think I want to start drawing again... I feel so pent up creatively, its confining.

April Fools

No more cigarettes. From today, I look inward and upward (not outward) to get centred. I made a promise. I am sticking to it.

I will be doing some yoga later, heading to church, then I will be going to the green grocer to pick up fresh veggies and seasoning (what foreign people call "herbs").

By the way, I have been ill. I have been having symptoms that present similarly to asthma (bronchial spasms, tight chest). I couldn't find my inhaler which made things worse, but I did eventually.

I have also done some massive spring cleaning in a bid to rid myself of the excess junk. I have already packed three bags of clothes (one for the dumpster).

I have to move soon because I have had it with this apartment. Not only is it too small now that I have gotten comfortable enough to acquire more than a bed, but it provides the prime environment for me to develop full blown asthma. This is in no way appealing to me. There is a leak that emanates from the apartment above that will take either legal action of the threat thereof to get sorted. In the meantime, the place is cold and wet when the rain falls, the dust from the "popcorn" effect from the ceiling is provoking serious allergic reactions and the ceiling may very well fall on me as there is a rather worrisome crack in the ceiling which actually forks like a freaking road.

In all of this, I have decided that spring cleaning is not only timely but apt.

* I need all the space I can get

* I don't intend to move with junk

* I need to cut the sentimental attachment to crap (I used to keep my ex's work contract because I helped him to get the job and it reminded me ofdhow we struggled to get the business together).

On a totally different note, I had the most intense dream of lovemaking last night. Do these things really happy after puberty?


Thursday, March 29, 2007


Kahlil Gibran

You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.

Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and spaceless?

But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.


Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Breathe Dawta, Breathe

I came >>>>>>>>>>>THIS<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< close to handing in my letter of resignation this morning.

I am just tired of this damn place. Its thoroughly frustrating to work with headless chickens who knit pick because their pea sized brains lie bloody on the floor.

I just want to walk but I am trying my best to hold on to some level of reasoning and not leave before I have another offer in black and white. I am scheduled for a second interview for a job for which I have very good prospects but I cannot be certain until its certain, ya know what I mean?

I have not really grown on this job. All of my efforts have been watered down and met with more criticism than praise. In fact, my highest points professionally have actually come from external projects that I did on the side.

If my work is my life and work is not bringing me happiness, I need to find work that defines my true love.

I pray that this deal will close and I will be able to send in my resignation by mid next week. My last date to tie up something is April 13. I pray that it doesnt come down to this. The ideal thing would have been to finalize everything by the end of this week and get the entire April off as vacation leave. But, alas, no such luck. I am hoping that I will have an offer in hand on by Holy Thursday (April 5).

Until then, I have to constantly remind myself to breathe.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Sex...casually speaking

I am almost positive I blogged on this topic before but I just feel the need to offload a bit on the topic just now cause annedda half eediat was just a nenge nenge (nagging mosquito sound) inna mi ears.

After embracing single life for three years, I must say that casual sex is severely overrated and only thrilling to those suffering from boredom in relationships and or those too hurt to let themselves get close to anyone.

I accept that women are now free to do as we wish. Hell, I am all for turning the "good girl vs bad girl" debate on its head, but as much as its great to bed whomever, whenever, wherever, however, I am having a lil issue with the "whomever" bit at this point in time.

Don't get me wrong. I am not trying to say I have been a saint, I never signed up for the convent and don't even believe in catholicism, but casual sex for me is totally unsustainable.

I have no desire to be anyone's booty call. I think there is a lil more going on for me than my rotund Caribbean derriere. There is nothing more shallow than the anti-climatic discovery that one of you has got to scram right after an orgasm. (Well, maybe listening to my lame as f%^*k boss drone on as he desperately tries to sound smart is just slightly more tortuous) . But why settle for booty only when there is a perfectly sharp brain to pick with quick wit to match? Not even to metion a soft, affectionate soul worth knowing and exploring (behind the glaring fangs and the claws). But seriously guys, a woman is much more than a booty, just as a man is much more than a stud.

I have reached a point of consciousness that makes me thoroughly disinterested in sex just for the sake of sex. If there cannot be stimulating conversation, intrigue and affection, I will do just fine on my own thank you.

So NO THANKS to all the booty inquiries. Mi nuh desperate. And no, a single woman isnt necessarily waiting for your goddammed lame ass to rescue her from sexless bouts of hysteria. There are tonnes of vibrating solutions available, in fact, you would be hardpressed to compete if shallow climaxes are all you have to offer.

I rest my case.


Of self-sufficiency and solitude

Every woman needs to not only discover self-pleasure but also willingly partake in and out of a relationship. Full stop, comma, comma, dash dash.

After spending sometime tidying house, I took a long hot shower and reclined in my all too comfy bed with a wine glass filled with coke, sipping in candlelight. There is beauty in silence and pleasure in aloneness.

There is certainly a time for everything under the sun, not quite ecclesiatical is this revelation but still poignant:

There is a time for company and a time for solitude
A time for sharing and a time for witholding
A time to laugh until you cry and a time to cry until you laugh
A time to hurt and a time to heal
A time to suffer and a time to prosper
A time for coupling and a time for self-pleasure.

Let's toast to solitude and self pleasure.


Travel bug bites again

I am looking forward to the easter break next week. I am planning to leave work half day and disappear for the weekend. I have not finalized travel plans but I am definitely going on a plane somewhere. It could be Fort Lauderdale or another Caribbean island. I just dont want to spend too long in transit so short distances are optimal. I may go to visit my brother in the Cayman Islands but I have to look into the visa requirement. Something tells me that bureaucracy may eliminate that as a possibility.

I would actually love to go to St. Lucia as I have been trying to go there since last year. Was actually booked for jazz but did not get to go.

I just need a change of scenery. I suspect that I will travel twice this month before I start a new job. This first trip will be a short breather and I hope to take a two-week break by month end. I will go to Fort Lauderdale and shop for a week (new work duds) and then return to chill for a week. I may book into my favourite boutique hotel on the south coast.

I havent been anywhere since the year started so I am very much looking forward to it.

I wanted to cross the Atlantic later this year too but we will see about that.

Bon voyage to moi!


Life is beautiful

Not quite reminiscent of the classic, today was a good day and I must say that life is truly wonderful.

I just feel very centred today, like my life is going according to plan and that things are better than they seem.

Female hormones are weird, I mean really weird. Its been 15 years since puberty and I still cannot get used just how unsettling the monthly hormonal spike can be. I think it is more intense when I am under lots of stress, which I was over the past two and a half weeks.

Maybe its because I feel so strongly that God has my back, but I strongly believe that all things work together for good.

I maintain, life is beautiful.

In all things, give thanks,

Sunday, March 25, 2007


Maybe its time for me to learn a new virtue- patience.

Maybe its time for me to worry less about things I cannot change.

I thought I had mastered my tongue and my reactions to certain things but my actions have defied me.

Will I be able to forgive myself? I have to because the one person definitely have to live with is me.

I need to stop fretting so much and let things be. What is to be will be and what is for me will not go by me.

Everything else I leave to God and time.


Hindsight is 20/20

I cannot believe that I am making such grave errors in judgement at my age. I thought I was fierce enough to face and express any emotion I deemed necessary. Funny, because now I lie awake pondering the predicament of doing quite the opposite.

In spite of this- because we are human and prone to mistakes- I have learnt that what separates the mature from the lot is the ability to admit andd take responsibility for regretable actions.

I cannot promise that I will always be the person that others want me to be, hell I am struggling to be the person I always want to be, but I can try to be the best that I can be.

Space is often a good thing. It gives one the opportunity to assess objectively without the prejudice of interference. Having recoiled into my own space, I now know that all I really want to do is share it.


Tuesday, March 20, 2007

10 day love...

There is a lot going on in my love life at this time and I dont know whats going to happen. I am trying not to sweat it and enjoy each moment, but Lord knows I am nervous. I think its because I feel so strongly and so certain.

I have so much to learn.

The fact is the only two things that are certain in life are uncertainty and death, but one still has to dream.

What good is love without passion? And on the other hand, what good is passion without control?

According to Khalil Gibran (yes I am quoting the big man himself yet again cause profundity necessitates reinforcement):

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing; And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.



I am not a 9-5 woman. Will never be. So why am I looking for jobs in the wrong places? I am unhappy where I am and chances are, I will be wherever I go, especially if its full-time. I want to work from home. I want to work in sandals and yoga pants.

I really have to spend some time refining my business plans so that I may actually get things off the ground, cuz going on job interviews is a totally different experience than pitching for business with a client on equal footing.


Saturday, March 17, 2007

I know

They say in a Jamaica Tourist Board ad, "once you get there, you know." If I am to borrow this beautiful phrase and apply it figuratively to where I am in my life at this point, I could say with confidence, "I know."

Life has a way of working itself out. God does masterful works and all things work together for good. As I keep on saying on this blog, all previous moments have led to this.

Love is a "many splendoured" thing (this being my blog, I have creative license to do with words as I wish).

I am looking into the mirror as I type, seeing the bags under my eyes after an entire week of blissfully sleepless nights. While I have been working hard juggling my daytime job and other major projects, I have to thank God for leading me into this oasis.

What is for you cannot go by you and all things most certainly work for good.


Sunday, March 11, 2007


Its been a while since my last post. In fact, it's my first for the month of march after a most prolific february. I guess I never had much to say. Till now.

I wanted to post today so that I could set this date as a record of activities leading up to this deliberately vague entry.

Time has a way of working things out, even the unexpected. Sometimes the unexpected brings waves of euphoria, sometimes confusion, somtimes conundrum, sometimes all, even so in all of this, it brings a fresh new way of looking on things that may have always been right before you.

I cherish this day, and will forever, remembering the sheer bliss of simply knowing and feeling. Even if the view gets distorted by category 5 hurricanes, I will keep this moment etched in my heart as a moment of discovery and uncluttered enlightenment.

I am not caught up with what is to come because tomorrow has enough problems of its own. I am living in the moment, enjoying the first fruit of a tree I never thought would give forth fruit.

It is true that good things happen when you least expect them but it is also true that amazing things happen when you are simply ready to embrace.

Nothing before its time.

March 11, 2007 -Ritz Carlton, Rose Hall, Jamaica


Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Right befored dawn

I think I just scored a huge point in my consultancy today. Things are about to get bright pretty soon. Convinced the principal of an entity that my services were needed to market it properly. My first assignmen should be in April.

On another note, I am adding image consultancy to my porfolio of services, which means that I will handle the finer details of image and refinement of etiquette that some corporate professionals were too busy to pay attention to on their way up the ladder. The thing about life though is that the higher monkey climb, the more him exposed so it is very useful to make all the necessary adjustments to one's mannerisms and image once placed in the spotlight.

The thing is that everybody notices that you are slurping your soup or your suits are shabby but no one is brave enough to say it to you and to offer you a solution- except me.

So now I am becoming a personal shopper and refining consultant in one... not bad for the daughter of a fishmonger and farmer. I guess as my mother lectured as I was growing up, "manners really do take you through the world."

Smiling so


Early Bird

I am up early this morning because I am exec producing a studio recording this morning. The alarm went off at 6 am but I snoozed until 6:30. I need to be out the house in 20 mins. Havent showered yet but have had my breakfast of oatmeal cereal and non-fat milk. Ok the producer just called pushing the appointment back to 8 so I have an extra 15 mins to play with.

This is the first month in the history of this blog that I have posted so much- slightly ironic since Feb is the shortest month of the year.

I have closed a deal with a regional marketing company to do some work for them. Works out to an extra 150 usd for 15mins of work. Not a bad deal at all. Need more of these. Also have another job coming in producing a logo and company collateral for a small technology firm that I strongly believe will grow. I am also in the process of negotiating to produce a feature for prime time local television.

Its good to be getting back into the production side of the business and its even better to be negotiating from the perspective of a company conducting business as a company. I am going to finalise registration soon.


Monday, February 26, 2007

More work? Pay me more!!!

I usually have some thought in mind when I beging a post. Not this time. I am just tired ...long day at work and the monthly feminine trappings loom at my doorstep.

I am trying to be more calm and collected in my day to day activities.. especially as it relates to the bablylonia that is my workplace. Now that I have a mission to adhere to, it seems more tolerable.

They want to reassign me to take on addditional managerial duties but if it comes with a hefty increase, I may just cave in. That means reporting for work at 8:30 and dressing up on a more consistent basis though. But hell, if I will be able to save for a European tour, a new mac laptop, a semi-professional digital SLR and an iPod, well honey, I will in at 8! Well at least for the first three months.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Secret admirers

It turns out to be rather amusing to discover that two rather respectable gents were vying for upskirt peeking privilege in my master's class some years ago. The funny thing is that all the time I thought I was being ultra conservative and modest, wearing mostly ankly length skirts and the occasional risque split in the front number that I thought made my voluptuously vulgar bumpsie less daunting.

Now the same posterior has expanded beyond modest containment and totally impossible to conceal. I am but what I am ... a full-figured, "healthy bodied" Caribbean woman. For that I make no apology.

In spite of the modest below knee length skirts I wear to work, I find that I have to leave work socials early because some drunk coworker is usually inclined to let it slip that he had secretly stared lasciviously atmy behind.


Saturday, February 24, 2007

To be or not to be?

That is the question. I am in the middle of a soliloquay... as I lament the dilemma of working for andd with arses ... and the fact that the only current job offers are with equally or more stupendous entitites...

Dont get me wrong.. I am grateful to have a job. So many people dont.... but I have long since overstayedd my welcome. The conflict is that I am completing my thesis and have to be careful about switching jobs until the majority of the work is underway.

I guess I better try to stay put until about May. If I can last until then, I will be due 21 days vacation pay (that's one month's salary without deductions). That would pay for a return trip to London and flights to Ireland and Paris!!

HMMMMNNNNN!!!! All of a sudden, things sound really good for me staying until May! The only problem is getting two weeks off the new job just one month on the job.

Anyway, we'll see how long I can last.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Burning Bridges

I dont care what my mother says, some bridges need to be burnt behind you. What's the point in keeping a connection to something that only brings pain and disappointment? For crying out loud, lets get some gas and set this mofo ablaze. Burn baby burn!!

So you have been summoned to this the gathering celebrating the burning of the bridge that leads to a most painful past. The worst part though is not the past, but the present day connectivity to the past that the bridge represents. This means that though the actual violations are in the past, the bridge continues to haunt and taught the present and destroy hopes of a sane future.

To tell you the truth.... I have been trying to figure out how to burn this bridge for over three years. I have come up with yet another brilliant idea. I hope its gas in this container this time and not water.


Fuck Valentine's Day


Enough said.


Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Sanity Break

I need a timeout from reality to preserve my sanity. I believe I am walking a very thin line and I fear that I may cross over without even knowing it.

This job can turn a sober man into the village drunk.

If I were born into money,I could quit my job today and spend my efforts launching and running my own firm and pursuing my own happiness instead of pining daily in a kind of non-existence, making no contribution to anything, being valued for nothing as I bide my time in search of meaningful work.

Money isnt everything but it sho brings power. With power comes choice and with choice comes destiny.

Sigh... I feel a combination of intensly vicious anger, spiralling depression and silent bewilderment. I feel like I have wasted my year professionally and its time to move on. The only thing is that I cannot seem to find a fucking job and it is getting on my last fucking nerve!

If I could find one good client who is willing to hire my company on retainer, the rest would be history.

I have a dream about opening an office downtown Kingston and up in the hills of St. Andrew, bringing fresh (yet unspilled) blood to the downtown restoration initiative.

I am in the process of bidding for a contract to produce a feature for prime time morning television and I should have a series of training videos to do for a company.

I dont think I can honestly navigate the politics of a 9-5 anymore. I am just not cut out for it. That was the beauty of being a freelancer in media and then an executive in an agency... I got lots of work done without the commonplace workplace drama.

I just need a few consultancy roles. I will file my own income taxes, and provide my own pension and health insurance. Fuck employers. I want clients.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Medicated Fool

I pinched a nerve in my back and have wound up delirious from the medication.

I feel very sad and sedated.

Will I ever be able to recover these years?

Quite unlikely.


Lonely wont leave me alone

Is it really "better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all?" I think that whole notion must have come from a senior citizen who happened to have lost his/her partner late after a lifetime filled with beautiful memories. It certainly couldnt come from a young person who still grapples with that loss early in life and cannot seem to move beyond it.

I am tired.

Better yet, I am fatigued.

Somehow I seem to be reliving the same reality over and over. I want something new, soul watering, uplifitng, thrilling. A shared experience without serious conflict, and too much compromise. I have had a difficult but good life (give thanks because it could always be worse) but I just want to be cut some slack. I want love, family and shared happiness. Its not enough to be happy all by myself.

Lyrics by David Foster, Jermaine Jackson, Tom Keane & K. Wakefield

Why do I seem to be caught up inside a dream
All my life, it's always been my shadow and me
Over my shoulder there's always a voice somewhere
Saying I never should try to set my heart free

I wish that love would come and take me in [his] arms
Show me what I've never known.
Where I could hold someone words like right and wrong
Just fade away like yesterday

Lonely won't leave me alone
Lonely won't leave me alone
Why, tell me why, won't even let me fall in love
Oooooh everywhere I go always by my side
Won't even let me fall in love

I try and say I love you but the words won't come through
In my eyes, see all the tears and sad memories
Why can't I start out new and leave that old feeling too far behind
I guess that lonely needs company

Around each bend of road
I'm thinking that in time there will be that rainbow's end
But when I follow those self illusions
I find that it's only lonely and me again

Lonely won't leave me alone
Lonely won't leave me alone
Why, tell me why, won't even let me fall in love
Oooooh everywhere I go always by my side
Won't even let me fall in love

Lonely won't leave me alone
I wish that love would come
Lonely won't leave me alone
And take me home


Farewell Aunt Rosa aka "AnTrosa"

She the second of the women to die. "At Lou" (Aunt Lou), had died before her, during a time when I was still grieving the death of my 31 year old aunt, Cover (Ingrid Allison Anderson). While At Lou was stern, Aunt Rosa of plenty smiles was warm and doting.

She was my Sunday School teacher in that little pentecostal type country mountain church, Assemblies of the First Born, when I went to visit my granny in the summer as a child. I can still hear her soft kind voice urging us in the way of our Lord.. "Our golden text is take from... Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven."

We had to pass her house to walk to my granny so greetings were always in order. Its going to be really sad to not have to stop to talk to An Trosa anymore.

She died yesterday, leaving behind a host of memories, children, grandchildren and friends.

Walk good An Trosa, and may good duppy follow you.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Only a woman's heart can know

I think this song is by Mary Black

My heart is low, my heart is so low
As onlv a woman's heart can be
As only a woman's, as only a woman's
As only a woman's heart can know

The tears that drip
From my bewildered eyes
Taste of bitter sweet romance
You're still in my hopes
You're still on my mind
And even though I manage on my own

My heart is low, my heart is so low
As only a woman's heart can be
As only a woman's, as only a woman's
As only a woman's heart can know

When restless eyes
Reveal my troubled soul
And memories flood my weary heart
I mourn for my dreams
I mourn for my wasted love
And while I know that I'll survive alone

My heart is low, my heart is so low
As only a woman's heart can be
As only a woman's, as only a woman's
As only a woman's heart can know

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Diamonds.. a girl's best friend?

One man's friend is another man's foe.

I just came home from watching Blood Diamond by myelf in the cinema.

I am still speechless. I will have to write about it tomorrow.


All into context

I am returning to work today after my two day sanity break. I called in to my assistant and got upset just discussing the inefficiencies on the job.

I am smoking a cigarette and i have to admit that it just tastes nasty. I guess its high time I quit - for good.

My plumbing is out because the dudes who were putting in new kitchen cabinetry broke a pipe. Have left countless messages for my landlord. I have no water. Was actually contemplating going to work without a wash but maybe that's not such a great way to start my day.

So I have to relax and remember to BREATHE. I should have spent 5 mins doing sun salutations instead of smoking that damn cigarette. Tired of smelling and feeling like an ashtray. Have to learn to handle stress better than to resort to cancer sticks. Plus I realise that there is a direct correlation with smoking and gaining weight... I must be the only person who this happens to.

I am looking at starting a new excercise routine in March. I think I will resume dance classes sometime in Feb.

Inspite of all that comes my way today, I will try to stay floating on my back, so that even if I get thrown into the deep ocean, I can still keep my head above water. No sense in tiring myself trying to swim 5000 miles to shore. Help must and will come.

All things work together for good.


Tuesday, February 06, 2007

I Will Be the Boss of Me.

Notice the heading has a full stop. I intend to be the boss of me, period. I am in the process of registering my own company. It is a tremendously liberating feeling. I have come up with what I believe to be a good concept andca funky name, and have even brought my ceativity to the fore by designing a logo.

Dont get me wrong, I dont plan to leave my employer, I plan to be fully employed while I get my business up and running until I get to the place where I can earn enough from the company to replace my salary. I have to be pragmatic because my start-up budget is incredibly low. This way, the company pays for its own growth. The prospects are good I think but it will take some time to get things squarely off the ground.

Starting this month, I will be an executive on the board of my professional association and I strongly believe that this will put my company in a good position. I will also be underaking final professional accreditation which will put me in the ranks of an elite 800 persons worldwide.

I will have the company join the Young Entrpreneurs Association and the Small Business Association, for networking purposes and also to encourage other persons to take the plunge and be mistresses and masters of their own destiny.

I am also in the process of finishing my masters thesis which should be complete by May end. Now THAT has been a long time coming but since I dont like leaving things unfinished, its gotta be done. I have already re-enrolled in university.

I am also going to be applying to NYU to do an MFA in Fine Arts (Film) next year. If I get admitted AND the 11-12mil Jamaican dollars needed for the trip, I will be leaving for three years of full time study in NY.

My company will still be in existence as I plan to take it to a level that I can actually be proud of before I leave and put systems in place to ensure its growth and survival. I have to ensure that I have something to return home to!

My career seems to be really taking shape, and I am happy about that. I dont want to spend the rest of my life working for ungrateful companies that operate to make their owners (not employees) rich. I want to be wealthy but I also want my employees to be wealthy. I want them to be happy and to look forward to coming to work each day. I will also give them share options to empower them to give even more. It will be a while before I can hire full-time employees but I hope that I am very much looking forward to the day.

Once I incorporate, I will have to write a will because I will have a little more than furniture to leave behind when I kick the bucket (which I pray is no time soon).

Better Late Than Never

Its been slow in coming but I think I am getting a grip on reality, somehow, someway. I think absolutes have their place... if only to fool us to moving on with our lives.

Some things simply never change.


Monday, February 05, 2007

Best Ziggy Marley Song

True To Myself

life has come a long way since yesterday I say
and its not the same old thing over again I say
just do what you feel and don't you fool yourself I say
cause I can't make you happy unless I am I say I say I

got to be true to myself got to be true to myself

day in day out I've asked many questions I say
only to find the truth it never changes I say
if you don't deal with it it keeps killing you a little by little I say
call me selfish if you will my life I alone can live I say I say I

got to be true to myself got to be true to myself

I don't care if it hurts I'm tired of lies and all these games
I've reached a point in life no longer can I be this way
don't come crying to me I too have shed my share of tears
I'm moving on yes I'm grooving on well I'm finally free I've

got to be true to myself got to be true to myself
got to be true to myself got to be true to myself

Self Contradictions

I know I often contradict myself on this very same blog... call it the twenty something paradox. I say one thing today and another tomorrow but who cares?

The most important thing is that I am conistent with all the things that are important...even if they are not consistent with me.

Side Orders

The worst thing about being more than a marginally attractive woman is that often times, men only want to get into your pants.

I have known guys who have waited for close to 10 years, unflailingly begging bedding rights. The trouble is that they dont often state their true intention. It takes some experience to be able to separate the good goose from the gander and its often through trial which sometimes results in error.

I am so over sex. I mean honestly, been there, done that, can we change the topic? If there could be a way to have a meaningful asexual relationship, I would be in it. Its just so disconnected from love and better off in some other compartment than the core relationship.

I happen to like gravy but I prefer it on the side, in fact that general rule goes for all condiments. I want romance and intimacy in a relationship but right at this moment, I think I prefer my sex on the side. Lets not confuse our taste buds.


Sunday, February 04, 2007

Show Me

by John Legend

I realized as I lay down to sleep
We haven’t spoke in weeks
So many things that I’d like to know
Come have a talk with me
I need a sign, something I can see
Why all the mystery?
I try not to fall for make believe
But what is reality?
Where do we go?
What do we know?
Life has to have a meaning
Show me the light
Show me the way
Show that you’re listening

Show me that you love me
Show me that you walk with me
Hopefully, just above me
Heaven’s watching over me

Guess it’s funny how I say thanks to you
For all you’ve given me
Sometimes the price of what you gave to me
I can’t stop questioning
O God of love, peace, and mercy
Why so much suffering?
I pray for the world, it gets worse to me
Wonder if you’re listening
When people go
Why do they go?
Why don’t you choose me?
But someday I know
I’m gonna go
I hope you’re waiting for me

Show me that you love me
Show me that you walk with me
Hopefully, just above me
Heaven’s watching over me

Maybe we’ll talk
Some other night
Right now I’ll take it easy
Won’t spent my time
Waiting to die
Enjoy the life I’m living


Saturday, February 03, 2007


Together they fall
in love
Lying prostrate on their backs
Their spirits entwined hover above them
Casting a shadow greater than their
individual parts.

They lose themselves
one to the other
sacrificing self for the plural good
two is better than one.

(C) sheer almshouse feb 3, 2007

Thursday, February 01, 2007

For My Mother (May I Inherit Half Her Strength)


~Lorna Goodison (Jamaica)

My mother loved my father
I write this as an absolute
in this my thirtieth year
the year to discard absolutes

he appeared, her fate disguised,
as a Sunday player in a cricket match,
he had ridden from a country
one hundred miles south of hers.

She tells me he dressed the part,
visiting dandy, maroon blazer
cream serge pants, seam like razor,
and the beret and the two-tone shoes.

My father stopped to speak to her sister,
till he looked and saw her by the oleander,
sure in the kingdom of my blue-eyed grandmother.
He never played the cricket match that day.

He wooed her with words and he won her.
He had nothing but words to woo her,
On a visit to distant Kingston he wrote,
'I stood on the corner of King Street and looked,
and not one woman in that town was lovely as you'.

My mother was a child of the petite bourgeoisie
studying to be a teacher, she oiled her hands to hold pens.
My father barely knew his father, his mother died young,
he was a boy who grew with his granny.

My mother's trousseau* came by steamer through the snows of Montreal
where her sisters Albertha of the cheekbones and the
perennial Rose, combed Jewlit backstreets with French-turned names for Doris' wedding things.

Such a wedding Harvey River, Hanover*, had never seen
Who anywhere had seen a veil fifteen chantilly yards long?
and a crepe de chine dress with inlets of silk godettes
and a neck-line clasped with jewelled pins!

And on her wedding day she wept. For it was a brazen bridein those days who smiled.
and her bouquet looked for the world like a sheaf of wheat
against the unknown of her belly,
a sheaf of wheat backed by maidenhair fern, representing
Harvey River

her face washed by something other than river water.
My father made one assertive move, he took the imported cherub down from the heights of the cake and dropped it in the soft territory
between her breasts ... and she cried.

When I came to know my mother many years later, I knew
her as the figure who sat at the first thing I learned to read : 'SINGER', and she breast-fed my brother while she sewed;
and she taught us to read while she sewed and
she sat in judgement over all our disputes as she sewed.

She could work miracles, she would make a garment from a
square of cloth
in a span that defied time. Or feed twenty people on a stew
made from fallen-from-the-head cabbage leaves and a carrot and a
cho-cho and a palmful of meat.

And she rose early and sent us clean into the world and she
went to bed in the dark, for my father came in always last.

There is a place somewhere where my mother never took the
younger ones a country where my father with the always smile
my father whom all women loved, who had the perpetual
quality of wonder given only to a child ... hurt his bride.

Even at his death there was this 'Friend' who stood by her
side,but my mother is adamant that that has no place in the
memory of my father.

When he died, she sewed dark dresses for the women
amongst us and she summoned that walk, straight-backed, that she gave
to us and buried him dry-eyed.

Just that morning, weeks after she stood delivering bananas from their skin
singing in that flat hill country voice
she fell down a note to the realization that she did
not have to be brave, just this once
and she cried.

For her hands grown coarse with raising nine children
for her body for twenty years permanently fat
for the time she pawned her machine
for my sister's Senior Cambridge fees
and for the pain she bore with the eyes of a queen
and she cried also because she loved him.



Lorna Goodison was my first favourite Jamaican poet.

On Becoming a Tiger

The day that they stole her tiger’s-eye ring
was the day that she became a tiger.
She was inspired by advice received from Rilke

who recommended that, if the business of drinking
should become too bitter,
that one should change oneself into wine.

The tiger was actually always asleep
inside her, she had seen it
stretched out, drowsing and inert

when she lay upon her side and stared
for seven consecutive days into a tall mirror
that she turned on its side.

Her focus had penetrated all exterior
till at last she could see within her
a red flowing landscape of memory and poems,

a heart within her heart
and lying there big, bright, and golden
was the tiger, wildly darkly striped.

At night she dreams that her mother
undresses her and discovers that, under
her outerwear, her bare limbs are marked

with the broad and urgent striations
of the huge and fierce cat of Asia
with the stunning golden quartz eyes.

She has taken to wearing long dresses
to cover the rounded tail coiling behind her.
She has filled her vases with tiger lilies

and replaced her domestic cat
with a smaller relative of hers, the ocelot.
At four in the morning she practices stalking

up and down the long expanse of the hall.
What are the ingredients in tiger’s milk?
Do tigers ever mate for life?

Can she rewrite the story of Little Black Sambo?
Can a non-tiger take a tiger for wife?
To these and other questions,

she is seeking urgent answers
now that she is living an openly
tigerly life.

From Goodison’s Selected Poems published by University of Michigan Press (Ann Arbor).

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

The sound of solitude

I have the loudest fucking fridge in the universe. The frigging thing sounds like belt buckles being washed in the spin cycle. Maybe it is that I have too much time on my hands and not enough personal noise to distract me but its jusck freaking annoying. I guess its not as annoying as the chinese glee club that meets in the townhouse beside me... bwoy are THEY annoying.

Picture: chinese immigrants gathered around a piano-playing fellow immigrant
Sound: christian hymns sung in all the english the poorly educated immigrants can muster
Effect: A dizzying state of nausea

Luckily my phone is ringing...


All that jazz

I notice that I have been posting on love a lot these days. Hmmn.. deep...

Anyway, single life is bound to get to any fiercely independent woman after a while.

Its nice to have someone to share with, cook for, lyme with, travel with, romp with, fight with and all that jazz.

Anyway.. i tired. Long day doing a job I despise. I am going to go off into Paradise by Toni Morrison.

Do you know

by Mr. Vegas






Monday, January 29, 2007

Black is the colour of my true love's hair

After a weekend of R&R (sans the romance), I have come home with a burgeoning ache for just that.

Not hot passionate sex, but lovemaking of the kind that you can only share with a true love.

I vividly remember the emotion, the tremendous sense of satiety, peace, fear, passion, and intense desire all wrapped up into one continuous emotion. I could dream then... about a future... about the plural concepts of us and we together. About a small and intimate country wedding, children running wild, dogs, huge vegetable gardens and growing old together on rocking chairs on a lovely countryside verandah. I saw the vision clearly- the fights, the misgivings, the rifts and the bridges that would always help us find our way back to each other- our love and our children.

These moments scare me.

But they shouldn't -at least I know my childish enthusiasm is still alive and I am still open to dreaming my most intimate dreams. Love is the dream of the young and foolish and the old and lonely- the most siginificant contribution to a meaningful existence.

Yet my love is out there... hanging bright like a star in the night...just waiting to lead me home.

I'm ready when you are.


Sunday, January 28, 2007

The Blue Beat

I had a quiet weekend in Montego Bay.

I read.

I slept.

I ate.

I walked.

I sunbathed.

I did some yoga.

I listened to and watched jazz in the making.


Monday, January 22, 2007

No Borrow Goods Round Here

I think its time I settled in a monogamous relationship... you know the "one unto another foresaking all all others" kinda relationship. I dont know about the "till death do us part" bit but I think its time I really opened up myself to love again.

It doesn't have to be passionate flaming love, in fact it better not be... you know what they say about playing with fire, and my skin is stiff rough from previous third degree burns.

So I guess I'll be looking for a respectful and spiritually rewarding relationship.

Sometimes I think I shoot myself in the foot because I come across so many great men.. but ...I dont handle compromise very well. There is one particular gent who is charming to this day but I really should have met him 20 years ago. Yes, I know I was only 6 then but I was speaking figuratively.

If anybody told me that I would be writing posts like these at 6 am, after a hiatus of three years from the long term relationship scene, what would I have said?

My life has turned out to be damn good in very many ways, of which I am very grateful but in moments like these, it sho helps to have someone beside me to wake up and mope to.

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