Saturday, December 01, 2012
'Getting to Zero' is their motto for the 2012 campaign. Their aim this year is for zero new infections, zero AIDS related deaths and zero instances of discrimination. That's definitely a campaign I want to be a part of and hope to do so by the end of this year and continuing forward.
The caribbean is second only to sub-saharan Africa in it's infection rate and women, young women have a higher rate of infection than men. Men and women must learn to use protection in all instances of sexual conduct and get tested themselves as well as their partners to get tested. We need to encourage people to get tested and to remove the stigma getting tested has gained over the years.
There's never any shame or harm in seeking to know the truth.
More than 13,000 people became newly infected in the Caribbean in 2011, bringing the total number of people living with HIV/AIDS there to more than 230,000. AIDS claimed an estimated 10,000 lives in 2011. (http://www.amfar.org/about_hiv_and_aids/facts_and_stats/statistics__worldwide/)
HIV/AIDS Statistics: Caribbean
Adults age 15-49 living with HIV/AIDS - 4,00,000
New HIV infections - 45,000-80,000
Adult HIV prevalence age 15-49 (rate %) - 1.9-3.1
Women age 15-49 living with HIV/AIDS - 210,000
Children (ages 0-14) living with HIV/AIDS - 20,000
Children orphaned by AIDS (ages 0-14) currently living - 2,50,000
AIDS deaths (Adults and Children) - 30,000-50,000
Friday, October 19, 2012
In my mind I kept saying 'Seriously?! Are you being serious right now?' and I let slip that I thought she was losing her edge, talking about marriage to this man whom she'd had a roller coaster relationship for years. Maybe he had changed, maybe them both being older and more settled made them want to be more settled. I hate admitting it but I felt kinda betrayed. As if we'd made some blood pact at 10 that she was breaking. I felt like she was settling. Like sure you love this man now but are those feelings real? Or are they the residuals of so many years of connectedness?
I feel terrible writing that because I was being so judgmental and truthfully as we've grown steadily apart over the last few years I can't say wholeheartedly that I know what she wants anymore or how she feels. We're different people and I just had to accept that who she is now is considering those things as viable options. That she wasn't me who cries about being lonelyish one moment and then cringes at the thought of having a significant other the next. My other homie, KARP, has a new man in her life as well and the relationship is fresh and they're sharing endearments over social networks like twitter and facebook and I get the same feelings all over again. Maybe it's jealousy (it's not), maybe I'm just a mean old bitch who is both afraid of never feeling that and afraid of being overwhelmed by it. I don't do relationships well. I'm acerbic and cynical, terribly sarcastic and an acquired taste.
I fear I'm going to lose myself completely in a relationship so I never give more than needed of myself. I fear that I'll never feel that with anyone so I never give more than needed of myself. Catch-22 if there ever was one. I just cant imagine my friends being married with kids. It scares me. I'm scared about us not growing older but growing farther away from each other. I'm scared that I'll be standing by watching them build families and I'll just be standing there stagnant. That's scares the shit out of me.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
"Is he dying? Shouldn't we do supm?" He heard her ask, seemingly concerned.
"How me fi know? My shoes get fuck up, they are dying." He heard the reply from the man he'd seen her with. The man he was supposed to be interviewing, San-Gee.
After an eternity of minutes the fountain of 'Eww' seemed to stop flowing. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and attempted to wipe his mouth.
"I'm so sorry. I guess the drinks didn't agree with me." He said unfolding his body from it's bent position. Looking at the disgusted and puzzled expressions on the faces of the two people around him.
The two made eye contact for a brief second before she turned away grinning.
"Great first impression." She said through a smile. "I'm Kerri Peart, San-Gee's manager." He notices that she doesn't extend her hand.
He wipes his mouth as best as he can hoping that when he opens it again nothing but words spill out.
"Nice to meet you." He replies.
"So we're just going to forget about my shoes?" San-Gee says, clearly annoyed and disgusted.
Jason glances down on San-Gee's now ruined shoes and groaned. "I'm really sorry about that, how can I make it up to you?"
"You have a new pair of shoes and a bathroom inna yuh back pocket?" He asks angrily.
Jason's short temper begins to flare. " I understand it's my fault but it was an accident, I've already apologized. What more you want?" He asks.
"My yute yuh need fi chill. You fuck up and I can't get upset?" San-Gee hissed his teeth angrily.
"Now boys no need to get upset. Jason right?" Kerri said moving closer to him. She glances down at his feet. "What size do you wear?" She asks cheekily.
"What?!" Both men exclaim simultaneously.
She laughs out loud, puzzling the two men, finally she says "He's performing and needs something to wear on stage. Seeing as it is your fault..." She shrugs as if the solution is obvious.
Jason weighs his options. After a few seconds he nods and says "I wear a size 12."
Barefoot and feeling sick, Jason watched San-Gee perform from back stage. At least that was what he was trying to do. He could not concentrate at all. He made the decision about two songs into the performance to call it a day and go home. Back stage was now very crowded with people he recognized from the tent earlier in the night. All with excited expressions watching San-Gee perform.
"You don't look too good." He heard someone say from his left. He turned to see a very attractive man about 6ft tall leaning against a rail checking him out.
"I don't feel very good either." He replied making his way through a cluster of people, moving closer to the stranger.
"You need any help?" the stranger asks. Pushing himself off the railing and moving towards him.
Jason finally made it through the crowd and was standing parallel to the man. "No I think I can manage." He says and smiles. "Thanks though Mr....." He says leading the man to respond.
"Kingston. Just Kingston." He replies extending his hand for a shake.
Jason takes the hand and replies "Jason. Just Jason. For now." He says, smiling. He sees someone approaching them and realizes it's San-Gee's manager Kerri.
"Hey Kingston, long time no see." She says offering a hug to the stranger.
"Hey baby girl, you not coming to the gym again? I could schedule some time for a little training session." He replies after the hug. He gives her a flirtatious up-down with his eyes. "Not that you need it."
She laughs. Jason notes that she does that a lot. "I've been busy but I'll definitely schedule a session for next week. I don't want anything that's not supposed to jiggle. To start jiggling." She turns from the stranger to him with a more serious expression. "Jason right? Sorry but the interview has to be re-scheduled."
"That's cool, I'm really sorry about earlier I don't know what came over me." He replies embarrassed.
She smiles and shrugs "Shit happens. Great story though. I hope it's included in your piece."
He pretends to contemplate it for a few seconds then replies "I don't think so." He fumbles for his Blackberry out of his pocket. "I already have your number so why don't I give you mine and we can set it up as soon as possible." He looks at Kingston who had been watching the conversation. "You can take my number too." He grins.
He notices Kerri's raised eyebrow and adds on quickly, "For the training session."
Friday, September 14, 2012
'What kind of name is that?' he thought.
A quick summation of the crowd made him determine that there over a thousand people at the venue. He wondered if the high turnout was for San-Gee as his was the most high profile name on the line-up.
He did a quick check of his surroundings hoping he'd see someone he knew to distract him from his 'duties'. At 6ft 4in tall it was easy to see over people's heads but he came up empty, besides it was too dark and too crowded to see anything much less recognize any familiar faces.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, partly in frustration and partly to wake himself up. As he opened his eyes he sent a short prayer up to the heavens as he spotted the very open and very stocked bar. He began to make his way quickly to the bar deciding that the night would go much easier if he wasn't completely sober.
"Give me a Guinness and a shot of vodka." He ordered from the bartender.
With bottle in hand and feeling a slight buzz from two straight shots of vodka he determined it was time to make his way to the media tent at the back of the stage. After flashing his media pass to the imposing guard he found himself in the tent surrounded by artists, managers, entourage and other media personnel. He spotted a photographer friend and gave him a nod of acknowledgment.
He only recognized a few of the artists and even fewer familiar faces. The bio he'd created of San-Gee said he had a female manager but never attended shows with an entourage. There were a lot of females in the tent but he doubted that any had the title of manager.
He decided to just chill out and wait for San-Gee to make an appearance. He took a swig of his Guinness and realizing it was finished meandered his way to the tiny bar erected at the far end of the tent to order something else.
"You have food in here right?" He asked the bartender
"Yes. Oh sorry No. It done. Shoulda come earlier." was the reply he received.
Jason hissed his teeth in annoyance and ordered Henny on the rocks and another Guinness as a chaser. He hadn't eaten since lunch and knew all this alcohol was a very bad idea, at least sober Jason knew that. This slightly buzzed Jason was anticipating becoming drunk Jason and had thrown caution to the wind.
San-Gee peeked out from back stage just to get a read of the size of the crowd and what conditions he'd be performing under. His eyes almost bulge out of his head as he sees a bigger crowd than he anticipated.
He turned away from the stage and clasped his hands together. Rubbing them together slowly as he'd done a million times before when he was nervous. For some unknown reason it calmed him down but it was a giveaway of his present mental state.
"Don't be nervous David." He heard Kerri Peart say, his manager and sometimes best friend.
She was in best friend mode right now, calling him by his government David Holder, wrapping her arms around his waist her head resting on his chest. He was over a foot taller than her at 5ft 11in but her hair made for about 6 extra inches and was now tickling his chin.
"I'm trying not to be." He said wrapping his arms around her.
"The crowd is fucking huge but that's good right? More people, more power, more money, more respect." He said confidently.
She gave him a tight squeeze then released him.
"Exactly and this is just the stepping stone for bigger shows. You have what they want and you look good giving it to them." She said looking up at him and smirking.
He let out a loud laugh at her innuendo and bent to give her a quick peck. Their relationship was solid. He'd known her for 21 years having met her at St. Richard-Hugh's Primary school. She was the tiniest first grader but very feisty. She'd saved his ass a million times from real and imagined foes. She was the closest thing to a sister he'd ever had.
That 's the only reason he'd let her put him in this black leather biker jacket, bright green graphic tee, 'fitted' jeans and bright green Chuck Taylors. Well he liked the Chucks, those were more his style but every thing else felt foreign. He pinched the shirt away from his body and looked at her with a puzzled expression.
"What size is this? A s-medium?" He asked raising one neatly, but inconspicuously, manicured eyebrow.
She laughed "David it's what the girls love to see. Shows those abs nicely." she said rubbing her hands up and down his mid-section. He hissed his teeth jokingly and turned to his left where he saw someone approaching.
A very tall someone at that with a slow, confident gait. He noticed the press pass and looked at Kerri who shrugged her shoulders and took out her blackberry.
"Hi. Jason Sander from the Observation we're supposed to have an interview...?" The stranger said upon reaching them. He stretched his hand towards San-Gee for a hand shake and then proceeded to bend at the waist and vomit all over his Chuck Taylors.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
My homegirl had been sipping some concoction she called 'Sizzurp' all day. Her sizzurp was a whole heap of rum with a tweps of lemonade. She was feeling mellower than a house cat, I have a feeling it was one part sizzurp, one part pizza and one part whatever she'd been smoking. Can't help but love her.
I think it was a bad decision to take the bus home. The bus stop has no working street lamp so it's lights out on either side of the stop for at least 20 feet. I def don't feel safe. Made the decision to walk back to the lighted bus stop I'd seen a few yards down the road. I had seen several people there as well so I felt more assured about some semblance of safety.
I think I'm drunk. I'm trying my hardest to ignore that feeling. Also why the hell do I smell bacon?
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
In those times there are more than 1 of me. The 'normal' me, the apathetic me and the psychopath. I imagine they live in a house, the normal me stays in the attic trying for assurance and positivity. Apathetic me stays in bed and doesn't give a fuck about anything. Eating, sleeping, talking, breathing. Anything. The psychopath is Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Every word is a stab and every stab leaves a scar. Those scars never leave and the wounds never fully heal they're just pulsating and waiting for the next triggering event.
I live in my head for a few days. Happy that my job is routine because I have no space or function to reason. My brain has a singular focus of apathy and self loathing. In that time I try to find something real to ground myself. Whether it's writing or reading or playing a mind numbing game. Shockingly enough this keeps my mind busy enough to drown out some of the negativity. It's a coping mechanism I've discovered and used over the years along with a few others that have kept me alive and relatively healthy.
Depression shelters you. Pretends to be a warm coat on a cold night and quickly envelopes you and slowly chokes you to death. It's a trap that's difficult to escape but I've had fewer and fewer episodes which makes me aware of my own strengths. I'm working on it.
Sunday, September 09, 2012
I will always be about track and field events. I'll watch track and field any day and I love the olympics and world championships because my Jamaican cannot be quieted, it's where we excel and I feel obligated to cheer us on. It's in my blood and our passports we have to promise to cheer Jamaican and be Jamaican every time there's a Jamaican athlete in the event.
I can't get enthused about most sports, I'm sorry. I'd rather not hear about some injury to some dudes tibia that's going to hinder his.. whatever I don't know because I'm not interested. Also fuck cricket. But I'll listen.
I'll listen to you talk about the seemingly unending, mind numbing boxing match that doesn't seem like anyone's really winning. And I'll listen to you talk about the merits of Juventus against Manchester United even though I wasn't aware they were different teams much less what sport they're for. (Soccer, right?)
We'll argue about the Celtics having a chance for the title this year (which they do every year in my book. Shut up about the Lakers.) And I promise I won't hate you if they fall as long as you don't say I told you so.
This and all things I vow to you. I vow to put the cap on the toothpaste and to never leave your side in times of crisis. I vow to always try to cook a meal you like and to keep you in my heart forever. I vow to save at least one snack for you and to be there when you fall with a cookie, open arms, an open heart and my love. I vow to try my hardest never, ever to interrupt that crucial first round doesn't mean anything game and to be truly yours and only yours. Forever. This I vow.
Saturday, September 08, 2012
I enjoy working out. I love the way ot makes me feel. I joined the gym as soon as I was able to when I got a job and I'd go at least 5 times a week. In college I worked out a schedule for myself that included an aerobics class 4 days out of the week. On both occasions I lost over 40 lbs over a 3 month period. I loved it. I loved how I felt and how my body felt in clothes and the reactions I got from people who were seeing me through that journey.
My problem is not exercise, my problem is consistency. I'm not at all consistent. It fucks with me sometimes that I can't follow through. I dislike that facet of my personality. It reminds me too much of my parents who, to put it nicely, weren't very consistent with me. I don't want to be their mistake who has their mistakes.
So I'm back on the healthy kick. Trying to be more consistent, organizing my thoughts and my life to include exercise so that it feels like a natural entity in my life. I'm working on it and I'm surprised how much it's helping me work on myself.
Friday, September 07, 2012
I can't toot my own horn at all because the advice I usually give them is to follow their hearts, pay attention to their gut instincts and add a dash of logic to cushion your fall if all else fails. It's generic advice that they've probably heard from someone else and themselves but they need a third to solidify the theory.
I have no great life changing advice. Mostly I just sit and listen. I listen to both what they're saying and what they're trying to say. They're always trying to say something. Like the dude who was telling me how much he loved his girlfriend but was falling out of love with her or the lady who was terrified about her husband's being ill and so far away or the girl who wants more than anything to be independent and self reliant.
I listen to all of it. Give them some minutes of my time because I know how difficult it is to want to scream and have it come out as a whimper. A whimper so quiet no one hears or ignores. So I listen, I give them that ear when they need it. I can't measure. I can't measure taking a half hour of my hour lunch to reassure this man that he is not the cause of his father's abuse, that he has to live his own life and not his father's because the past can't be changed, the future is unpredictable and all we've got is the present that we're all trying to escape. He already knew that. I just vocalized that inner voice. That shit can't be measured. Not the help I attempt to offer or the toll it takes on me.
I never tell people what to do because I don't know what to do but I know that in most cases in their hearts and minds they've already made their decisions. I just help them to see that and allow them to be brave enough to follow through.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
Seeing the bride make her way down the aisle, watching the man's reaction as he sees her for the first time. All made up, probably more beautiful and radiant than she's ever been or will be. His first thought is most likely 'Oh shit I'm getting married!' followed by 'She looks beautiful.' then finally 'Mine forever.' Or at least that's what I'm telling myself they're thinking.
Whether it's a religious ceremony or simply spiritual there is an energy in the air that just can't be explained. I call it 'love mist' because it seems even the air changes. Everything becomes foggy and everyone's connected and feeling the same things, happiness, love, pride... We, well I, always send out as much positive energy as I can to the couple as a means of wishing them 'good luck' for their future. I always cry or tear up because weddings are so beautiful.
Not only do I like attending weddings I like planning them... For other people. The stress is something I'd welcome if in the end you get a beautiful ceremony.
I love weddings.
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
I hate my job. Not the company just the job. 5 years of my life. I'm grateful for the life it's afforded me, grateful for the opportunities and benefits I've received but I'm so mentally past this position it's ridiculous. I pretend everyday to give a fuck about the problems, the process, the bullshit. Every day of my life is pretend. The say's I'm allowed to escape I spend at home where I'm so mentally incapacitated that I never leave my house because I feel safe here.
My anxieties have developed anxieties of their own and I have no clue how to escape. I think about quitting my job all the time. I've applied for so many different positions in the company and have been turned down so often that I started applying for the impossible shit just to get a laugh. I'm a fucking asset to these people but to them I'm merely a pawn and I'm praying for the day I can leave and finally be free.
I've always harped on the fact that to step out of your comfort zone you must be brave AND prepared. I've failed myself because I'm not at all prepared to exit. I'm so scared to lose this job and so scared to keep it at the same damn time.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Watching Frank perform both a cover of the song he wrote for Beyonce 'I Miss You' and his own 'Thinking 'Bout You' had me not only belting my heart out but feeling heavy hearted. What I feel most is without. Without someone I can confide in. Without someone I can depend on. Without someone I can feel those emotions for.
I am woman hear me roar and all that jazz but it never hurts to have someone ask you how your day was and be truly interested in the response or someone you can share intimacies with (SEX!!! How I miss thee let me count the ways...) because it just feels good to share that with someone.
"I remember, how could I forget?
How you feel?
And though you were my first time
A new feel
It won't ever get old, not in my soul
Not in my spirit, keep it alive
We'll go down this road
'Til it turns from color to black and white
Or do you not think so far ahead? (Ahead)
'Cause I been thinkin' 'bout forever..."
This is the part that always gets me. That fear of being alone forever is so persistent and so concrete sometimes that you convince yourself it's real. You're convinced that this is a real, rationale and logical conclusion you've come to, so when that gets shaken and you realize 'oh it's not a foregone conclusion that i'll live with 20 cats by myself in a run down but paid off 2 bedroom' hearing him say he's thinking about forever, while knowing he's not talking directly to you, is poignant and important.
It's important because we aren't all going to be alone 'forever' some of us will be surprised by the loves we find, some of us will have kids and find a new feel and new love they never thought was possible and some of us may never find a 'one' we may find many 'ones' or just not one significant long term 'one' and that's fine. It's all fine, we'll all find a forever, whatever that situation may be.
Sometimes though you'll be all up in your feelings, feeling without and wanting. So I'll take some Frank Ocean to soothe my fears while I live in that space... At least until morning.
Monday, September 03, 2012
I allowed her to speak because I knew when it got to my turn she wouldn't interrupt. I wanted her to hear every word of what I had to say. But I had no idea what I wanted to say. I had no idea what I was feeling as I watched her crying and try to explain.
As she blubbered on I looked around her apartment and wondered why she opted to let me down easy here. In this space. Her grungy couch which I'd told her to upgrade for years just stared back at me as I tried to avoid making eye contact.
She knew me too well knew what to say to make waver and she was using every trick in the book. "You're more than my friend you're my sister." She knew how that would make my heart flutter, make me not want to lose her as friend-family because she was one of so few that I considered family.
I don't know which emotion to show first. I want to scream for her to shut her lying, betraying ass up but anger was never my due. Indifference is where I shine. She asks me if I have anything to say. I give her the look that let's her know what I have to say she won't want to hear. That shuts her up real quick.
I was staring out her front window when I realized I recognized the car that pulled into her drive way. I almost laughed at the sheer hilarity of the situation. She's begging for forgiveness and he's showing up to... What? Beg for forgiveness too? Or simply offer support? And to whom?
I hear her doorbell ring out and for the fiftieth time since the conversation's start I wonder how long they'd been a they and when did him and I stop truly being an us. She slowly gets up from her chair and ambles towards the door. We can't ignore that doorbell any longer I guess. I shrug my mind's too muddled to think or react appropriately so I'll go with the flow, at the very least this will be interesting.
Knowing that once I'm by myself... I shake my head and the first set of tears away. I can't think of that now. She opens the door and he's standing there, 6ft of nothing but lies and deception. This look on his face is telling me that 1. It's definitely over between us 2. He's a sorry lying ass motherfucker and 3. Please don't kill us.
I sigh and pick my bag up off her kitchen counter. I zipped it shut keeping the secret I'd come to share a secret for now. I pushed passed both of them as they hadn't moved from the door jamb. Waiting for my earthquake is my guess. I'm proud that I didn't give in and tear her apartment to pieces. I'm proud of myself for that.
I feel the sun on my face and the tears start falling. My brain can't stay shut down anymore. No sobs though. Not in front of them, I can't let them have that. "Are you happy?" Comes out of my mouth before I realize what I'm saying.
"Wh-What?" She stutters.
I turn my face up to the sun and close my eyes, I feel it's warmth all the way down to my toes.
I repeated "Are you happy?"
I turn and look at them both. I'd known and loved her longer but he, he was my love. Now they're looking at me as if I just sprouted a new head and a tail.
"I don't know. No. I don't want to lose you but I had to come clean." She answers moving a few inches closer to me.
He never says a word.
I nod once and move towards my car. I don't look back at them.
Sunday, September 02, 2012
There are tons of 'rules' we fatties have to live by in order to fit in to the size 10 world. Acceptable fat, thick versus fat, hour glass figure versus pear shape versus everything else... I could go on forever. Fuck that. I fit in a world that I've created for myself. Albeit not very easily because almost everything is made for the size 10 and under frame and at an ample size 20/22 I've had to create my own space to survive. I won't even front and say I'm not a pleasant plump person because I am, I'm the nice one. Always have been and I've always been fat but the two don't prove or disprove the other. People tend to try to force you into a particular role because once you're there then they can control their interactions with you and can create appropriate responses to you it makes it easier for them to relate when they place you into their created mental image.
But who says we have to be what people think we are? When I tell people I love yoga and exercising I can see them scrambling trying to fit this new info into the fat frame of me they've created. I like surprising people but truthfully I couldn't give to fucks about what 99.99999999% of society thinks about me. The people who matter to you, who really matter, take you as is. I don't walk around thinking every skinny person is a bitch based on nothing but their frame. I wait for them to say something bitchy and stupid before I make that judgment, which they do 95% of the time (this may or may not be an accurate or truthful statistic).
So fine I'm pleasant not because I'm fat and feel I need to be but because I'm a nice person. My horoscope description is very accurate it says I'm nice, creative, emotional, withdrawn and not particularly happy with crowds not once is my fat mentioned. I'm a winner for tens of thousands of other irrelevant reasons.
Give me my 20s!
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Getting out of bed today was a struggle but in my mind the bacon and chicken nuggets are a genuine need. I'm thinking about my vacation that arrives on Monday and I know I'd have regretted not getting that bacon.
I'm trying not think too much about all the shit I didn't get done today. I keep harping on the fact that I put this bright pink gloss on my lips for a 10 minute trip to the supermarket. Trying to avoid the truths that this was the least important chore for the day. And definitely not analyzing why my brain justifies this trip as a success when I literally didn't do shit else today. Including but not limited to not bathing, not brushing my teeth, not helping my Mom with the laundry and not working out.
I really, really need my vacation on Monday maybe that'll shake my ass up.
S/N - Oh I'm participating in XD's (thexdexperience.one3six9.com/blog) 30 day writing challenge so here's my first foray. We'll see if it works out. Day 1 down.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The truth of it is people fuck up all the time. I can't even begin to count the mistakes I've made in this short lifetime. People fuck up because we're not perfect. The smart thing to do is to learn from these mistakes and try not to fuck up in that particular way again. Sometimes you have to lay your shit bare especially when your fuck up negatively affects other people. You have to bear that weight of asking them to forgive you.
If that were the case and the all the bullshit was laid out on the table for us to sift through and find the truth I'd be willing to put away all the fuckery we've endured over the last year or so in order to have my friend back in my life. That however is not the case.
Continued pretense of life being great can only last for so long before you break. If you'd been real with us you'd have someone there to help when that break happens but that was not your choice. You chose and your choice was not us. That hurts, still, sometimes. Not as often any more. Just a twinge, like a forgotten bruise that accidentally gets bumped reminding you of it's presence.
Several times we've been asked to give a second chance. How can we when you've never asked for it?
Monday, August 27, 2012
A dream of mine has always been to get a job in a foreign land. I'm happy for her, very happy, because she is such a great person and her sincerity and kindness and intelligence is what we all want to spread across the world to show that we Jamaicans are more than the few parts shown on international screens.
I'd be lying though if I said I wasn't jealous. I have my own plans for later this year and I had previously considered the programme she's a part of but the resources I'd need to participate in it just aren't there so I've chosen a different path. I've chosen it and have been sending nothing but positive thoughts into the universe hoping against hope that this wish, this dream of mine will come true.
I was sound asleep when the thunder woke me. I don't know if I should take it as a sign that this dream I'm cooking up, this seemingly impossible dream is going to come to fruition but reading her email gave me hope. I don't feel as fucked as I did before. I guess the rains brought me hope to this deserted dream deferred. I'm hoping that's the case. Now it's brought fertile thoughts to my mind and I can't go back to sleep.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The interview's at 3PM and the closer I get to the time, the more nervous I become. I'm just short of real panic. First real panic of the day was trying on the outfit I had picked out and hating it. So I rummaged through my mother's closet for something semi appropriate.
Trying on clothes made me realize that I have indeed lost weight and I have no real interview clothes. So I threw something together, hoping that my stellar personality and intelligence will get me through... Bwahahahaha. I couldn't keep a straight face while typing that. My confidence is shit. My goal right now is to not vomit all over these people.
Job interviews are always stressful, I'm concentrating on some deep breathing exercises to keep me calm and awake. I'm also hoping I can put all the bullshit aside and pull out a stellar performance.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." - Marian Williamson
Saturday, July 07, 2012
How do I save myself?
Friday, July 06, 2012
Sitting here another summer, another set of dreams, another set of realities that I have to deal with. I'm stuck again. Between feeling feelings and trying to suppress them or let them loose I'm still uncertain. Every year I break down I guess it's that time of year.
I have this uncontrollable need to list my 'I nevers' I never did this, I never did that, I never went here, will I ever? The more I list the more I remember and the longer the list grows. Headache now.
I'm tired of hearing how far I am or how odd I am, how fat and ugly. I'm tired of telling myself all this bullshit that don't mean fuck. No esteem. How does anyone get any? I fake that shit with people I don't care about. Which happens to be 99.9999999999% of my current immediate population. Then I treat the people who mean something like shit. Awesome life.
I'm not DTF. I'm not desperate in any way. I'm alone and lonely and I scream for affection but I don't want to be degraded. I'm looking for someone to fuck me as I cry and have that actually mean something. Sure it might scare the shit out of them. Yet they don't chalk it up to 'bitches being crazy'.
Shit I'm looking at the next 5 years of my life and I can't see the sunshine for the rain.
I can't even grow my fucking fingernails.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
I refuse to apologize or justify to anyone the things I enjoy doing, the person I enjoy being and the people I enjoy being with. Whether my choices are 'black enough' or I'm 'acting white' is foolish, bigoted speech which frankly should be forever outlawed. Pray tell how does one act white? How is it ever possible for a black person to not be 'black enough'?
When will we start realizing that who we are is enough? Just enough. Never less than we think and certainly more in most cases but we are enough. Whether I feel connected to 3 Doors Down or Vybz Kartel, whether I speak in proper English or release my patois roots I am more than enough. It's so stupid to ever judge someone as not 'something' enough by your standards because it's bullshit. Why would your standards be more important than my own? When would your opinion be more valued than my own? Oh let me answer that for you never.
How does my listening to music genres not deemed 'urban' define my existence? I am the daughter of a black people, granddaughter of a black people, great-grand daughter of black people, great-great grand daughter of black people. I will forever be 'black enough' as it is my existence, it is who I am and who I will forever be. If you use material things to prove and disprove who you are then one can argue that you are nothing more than a passing fad. You are nothing and will never be anything. Society has fucked so many of us up.
We are always enough. I am enough and so are you.
I only have my grandmother, who raised me, whom I love and I know loves me but the generational gap was too wide and we don't have that connection where I can tell her anything about what's really going on. She's old school traditional too so any psychological issue can be solved by two scoops of church and a handful of Jesus.
My friends did not understand why I would just bust out crying without any preamble or warning and had no clue what to do when I'd have an anxiety attack. I always kept my suicidal thoughts a secret because I felt for sure if I ever told anyone they'd have me institutionalized. My greatest fear is being locked away and felt no one would understand me or my disorders.
I remember I was walking home from work one day and out of the blue I was in it I was literally trapped on the sidewalk. I couldn't go back I couldn't go forward. I was just stuck there and needed help. I called a close friend but she was unavailable. I think I called her 20 times. So I became irrationally angry at her. How dare she not be there to help? So I was terrified out of my mind in the throes of an attack and livid that she wasn't there to help.
Reliving that now and those feelings are just the worst. A few years ago I was having panic attacks almost ever week. I wanted to die. I hoped I didn't live, I thought there is no way people can survive feeling this way. I haven't had a full blown attack in about a year or so, I have little reminders, now and then, that I'm still fucked but I've learned how to get through them and I can 'manage' the small attacks.
I won't even lie and say I don't have thoughts about giving up because I do, sometimes it's daily, most times though I look forward to another day and everyday seems a little better than the last nowadays which is amazing. Even that glimmer of hope is something I never thought I'd have.
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
In losing them I lost a part of myself, my childhood officially ended and I was thrust into this newness that I was unfamiliar with and so afraid of. I didn't discover that, though our friendship had died, I was still whole until the latter part of the year. After noticeable weight gain, several depressive episodes, anxiety attacks and suicidal thoughts. To say it was difficult would be an understatement.
I'm better now. Finally able to see some light ahead. Finally pulling my ass out of one of the worst periods of my life. So as I look forward to making plans and seeing those plans through and living my dreams and bringing them to fruition, I finally feel hope.
Hope is such a dangerous emotion. Too much and people become blind and naïve, too little and you're a cynical skeptic. The balance is so difficult. I'm scared shitless about the plans I'm putting in place in the next few months.
Fear grabs hold of me sometimes and makes it difficult to breathe. Through all of that I still have hope. Enough that I'm as equally excited as I am fearful that it will all be ok and I will be ok and just enough to still give me that edge that ensures that I prepare myself for whatever success and failure will surely come my way in the next months.
I'm hopeful and I'm going for it. Fuck that YOLO bullshit, I'm going for it because to not is to have wasted every good grade I've ever received, every minute of my Mother's worry about feeding us, every hour of study I ever did. My Mom's hope for me has always been for me to be happy if I don't go for it I'd disappoint her and myself.
Above all else I'm doing it all for me because this is who I am and what I want and I don't want to waste another second of this amazing life being anyone but me.
Thursday, May 03, 2012
You kind of expect them to be the same or at least a little piece of you expects that. Depending on how the connection ended in the first place you may wish and hope the person has changed.
Initially it's awkward, whatever groove you had developed before is never the same. In a weird way you'll grieve the loss of that. This part of you and them has died and you'll miss it, you'll be sad. You may never recover that groove you may no longer be as close friends as you were before or the opposite e may be true. Your bond may be stronger than it ever was before.
I've always argued that friendships and romantic relationships have the same tenets, the same issues, take the same amount of work and can cause irrevocable damage if the end or get broken. My friends have been my family in the absence of such in my life and those relationships have been some of the most rewarding, most painful, most amazing experiences of my life.
We've grown apart, we've grown together, we're growing up.
Friday, April 20, 2012
This and only this can explain the abysmal score (in my eyes) that I received for the last observatory period. Usually my score exceeds expectation without much effort from me but as I have placed even less effort than normal my score is simply an achieved. UGHHHHHH!!!!!! Yes of course it's my fault. I understand that without any effort my score will fall but I just feel less and less enamored with the position than ever. I have been searching and submitting my resume for other positions with no luck. Instead what I will do is re-invigorate myself and put more effort into this position. I don't want to get fired so I'm going to pump it up.
My plans depend on me having a job where I can make a nice enough living that will allow me to save to make those plans come to fruition so I've got to do better. I guess starting today I will be.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
I never saw my path, which ironically was staring me in the face, until fairly recently. I thought I knew what I wanted to do and be but passions change and I need to start living my true passion now as I have no idea how much longer I have left.
Over the past few week's I've felt so alone and lonely. I haven't been living for myself and as I have been slowly opening my eyes over the last few years I am starting to see the light. I have needs and wants and dreams that I'm leaving unfulfilled because of what I deem as my responsibility to others. But if I continue this way I will wither away having given my life away. That's not what I want for myself and that's not what the people who love me want for me.
I'm trying to snatch those dreams while I still can. It matters to me that I live a full life, that I find true love and get my heart broken, that I bet it all on black win big and hopefully lose small but if I lose big I hope I leave with lessons that will propel me into the next big score. I'll surely fall, no one is ever 100% accurate at life, I will surely fall and fail but I hope I have the strength to get back up every time.
So I'm taking a new path, a path that will surely lead me into places I've never been and people who will both fascinate and infuriate me and yes I'm scared but my excitement is beyond capacity so much so that I'm pushing past my fears, using my fear instead to make sure I'm prepared for what may lay ahead. I guess this is bravery? Maybe I am a Gryffindor after all.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Lots of creative and expressive people rise from the ghetto. This upbringing made me both unhappy and creative. I vowed to never be there ever again and I would read anything I could put my hands on so that I could escape. So that I could live someone else's dream and life. I wanted to be anyone but myself and anywhere but where I was.
So every Friday what money I had saved and not used to buy new books I would go to Burger King and buy the tiniest of burgers and a soda and I'd go home and savor it. I would be so happy in that moment because I felt like everyone else. I felt normal. It didn't matter that we didn't get running water til I was high school or that we didn't have in door plumbing. I was just like any other kid who could afford to eat a burger.
We all have these moments and things we use to make ourselves feel better. This memory makes me sad sometimes and makes me really think about all the other kids who don't even have that even this simple a dream. Makes me want to scream for those, especially kids, who have less than I had. Who don't have a burger on Fridays to look forward to, it can make one go crazy.
I wonder what I can do to ease that even for one child.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
I remember we talked about the overwhelming love we felt for our mothers one night and the struggles and hardships they went through but would never show to us. I declared that there was nothing I would not do for her and I cried for her. For her youth, for her son, my father, for the opportunities an chances missed and gained. I cried so hard for her. In that moment I cried and I healed and we cried together and it was good.
I miss being this with my friend. I miss knowing who we were together. I miss the nights spent laughing and prophesizing and building plans for the everything we would do together. I miss our vibe together that we were so funny and fun together.
I miss who I once was sometimes. As fucked up as she was the pain was all masked by a kind of forced joy. As flawed as I now realize she was she had a 'fuck it all' attitude that I just don't partake in now. Right now the joy I feel is different, I'm different. My happiness is not a mask for deeper more unhealthy emotions, but I do miss the abandon of youth.
I miss that me sometimes. Miss her ease of laughter and lack of cynicism. Her total lack of awareness, her naivete. Before life beat that shit out of me I used to dream the dreamers dreams. Grandiose plans for my life and my future. Sure I didn't have a clue what or who I wanted to be but that didn't stop me from flinging things out like a 7 year old. 'I wanna be a lawyer, no a therapist, no I wanna be an air force ranger." Ha. I was fucking hilarious. I still dream and I dream big but my dreams have purpose and power now. More structured but still free. I dream the grown up dreamers dreams.
I've found that since we all change and become more of ourselves people tend to put down their old selves never admitting to liking who they were because who they were totally contradicts who they are now. I look back fondly with no regrets and encourage everyone to do the same.
I've never been more clear about who I am today and I figure tomorrow will bring even more clarity. Look back and reminisce but don't regret that old self and that old self's choices. There's nothing you can do to change the past, look back and try to find the lessons hidden within these memories. Learn from what the you back then is trying to teach. Pay attention to yourself.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I may have my moments where I think "Damn I'm getting older..." but I definitely appreciate the fact that I am able to get older. That I am able to experience new things and people without trepidation. I turn 26 in a few hours and I'm happy about it.
Am I where I want to be at 26? No. Do I still have weak moments that make me question my life and my choices? Yup. Growing older is not easy. Living your life is simultaneously the easiest and the most difficult thing in existence. I can't say I'm happy but I'm not unhappy either.
My prayers are filled with keeping my family, my Momma safe and healthy and wishes for continued blessings. I've been blessed to live these last 26 years as tsagrednerp. Here's to another 26 and beyond.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Five times out of 10 I will ask usually I wait for you to tell me. Hate forcing people to share when they aren't ready to. This I've found is something that has changed as I've grown. When I was younger I was all about putting me last because that's what I felt my position was. That mind set has definitely changed. Apart from my Mom, my happiness comes first. My sanity comes first. It has to or I will never survive.
This doesn't mean that I don't care about people or refuse to aid or assist in any way I can. It just means that I can still help, I can still be there for the ones I love while keeping a piece of me for me. I find that a lot of people either throw there all into someone, shit I've been guilty of, or they don't give a fuck about people. It's a crazy balance that you have to find for your own life.
It's an interesting journey trying to figure out who you are as a single entity. It's also misguided to think you can really know who exactly you are being really young. Youth is meant to be enjoyed and mistakes are meant to be made. We discover as we go along. The person you think you are now is not the same person you're going to know in 5 years.
It's a difficult thing, this growing up. People often use the term to mean becoming more responsible. Fuck responsibility. Growing up is just getting older. There is no average age for anyone to stop learning things or developing their personality.
Life is too fucking short to live by anyone else's rules and you have to pay attention or you will miss it.
In short - love yourself first, love others and never stop learning.
Friday, January 06, 2012
I don't want to wait 20 years stop and look around only to realize that my dream deferred is nothing more than a memory. I don't want to hide who I am. I don't want to say 'I wish I had...' I never want to live that life. I need to stop watching this movie.
I'm snatching up every opportunity I can find this year. Volunteering, trips, more writing, more freedom, more everything. Above all else this movie is an embodiment of it CAN be too late, be who you are, love who you love, follow your dream today because tomorrow is not promised. Damn I can't stop crying I'm def going a few years without seeing this one again.