Beautiful, Smart & Paletable Personalitiy

Unlike my illustrations, in person, I have absolutely no movie star looks. I think that is a good thing, because Madeleine Albright, who was one of the most, or the most powerful woman during the Clinton Administration as the United States Secretary of State, was no Sophia Vegara. Now, I am not questioning the abilities of these two women, please consider some facts:

Madeleine Albright can speak English, French, Russian and Czech, also Polish and Serbo-Croatian. She taught at Georgetown University's School of Foreign Service. Is awarded a B.A. from Wellesley College with honors in Political Science. She also Studied at Johns Hopkins University, Columbia University…Career wise, Ms. Albright is extremely brainy and experienced, and I would not like to be a contestant on Jeopardy with her, especially if one of the topics are American History and Politics. By the way, did you ever see the website of Johns Hopkins University? I would love to study there one day, if I have the time. Biophysics could be interesting.

Sophia Vegara, also went to a university in Colombia studying pre-dentistry, and she is so beautiful, that she gained many opportunities to work as a model and actress. It all depends on what you want out of this life, so don't knock her choices. From what I have read she has starred in many shows in her native Colombia and the U.S.

Depending on what you want out of this life, you must have the abilities, cajones and determination. If you have the beauty and/or brains to make it happen, by all means. What if you are beautiful with smarts? Geena Davis, is a member of Mensa (an organization for really bright people). She has starred in one of my most favourite action movies, A Long Kiss Goodnight, with Samuel .L. Jackson. Her I.Q. (intelligence quotient) is 140.

About two weeks ago I stumbled upon an article on the internet, the question was, why are smart people ugly? Not all of them are ugly, its just some of them. Just as not all beautiful people are models and movie stars, some volunteer in lands that need assistance.

Intelligence only happens if you learn from your mistakes and you try to never allow history to repeat itself. That's my take. Learning from experience. How can history never be allowed to repeat itself? I do not know. What is intelligence, or being intelligent? According to my pocket Oxford dictionary: Intelligence (noun) is the mental ability to learn and understand things or information. Intellect (noun) is the mind's power of reasoning and acquiring knowledge. Intelligent (adjective) is having mental ability. I guess most folks has some sort of mental intellect, even the fictional Patrick Starfish. Fact: SpongeBob SquarePants was created by a marine biologist. Ok I am trying not to get excited, I love SpongeBob episodes too much!

What would I rather have? On the one hand there is beauty: the envy of other women, the most popular girl in the group, and the arm candy to a Prince or an immensely rich tycoon. One person I know is so beautiful that she has hardly gained the experience of actually being single, for as long I have known, there was almost always a guy around, and he always had wealth and popularity. Or you can be intelligent and educated enough to make up for your lost looks, here you don't have to worry about guys, although, if you do have a boyfriend its because you have enough smarts to keep him on his toes and he pursued you enough not to let go. You can work and be good enough to be a Secretary of State or an Attorney General, or even write an interesting blog or a book! The successes are almost endless... and you are not limited by how long your looks are going to last.

You know, given the way how people are most cynical today, I am secretly hoping that someone comes and says: "Yadda, yadda! A blog by an ugly chick who is hoping that she is eventually accepted for who she is... like a Hollywood movie!" LOL

Link http://ontd-science.livejournal.com/301909.html

Link http://secretary.state.gov/www/albright/albright.html

2012©LisaMarieBonaparte

Squatters and Renters

Only recently, I found that local Trinis are beginning to see how beautiful this country is, before it was just wanton slash and burn. It began to look like this: You would see a piece of land or lush forest teeming with wildlife and birds, and in the next moment it would be gone and you would see a housing development or some sort of quarrying, and or a tower of garbage... and one or two or ten squatters... with chickens and cows.

Squatting goes like this: You see a piece of land, you build a small wooden shack. You expand the said shack and add a second piece. You add two more rooms and buy a washing machine, and a stove and a fridge. Electricity is obtained by stealing a live line. You also get a cell phone. You don't even bother to pay taxes on the land. You buy bricks to add a concrete structure, later. The land owner comes, sees you on their land, and they send the bailiff. During the shack building period, you have your wife/girlfriend/common-law/fiancee pop out 6 - 9 malnourished children, so that the public can pity you, just in case the landowner rightfully comes to 'invest' in their 'investment'. Good. This day is here. While the landowner watches, the chickens flutter and cluck in disapproval, the cows snort and moo, the children cower in fear, teary-eyed, their mother visibly distressed with child number ten, bawling for mercy and the father looking to fight the landowner, his shrill voice cussing in the hot blowing savannah air. You and ten other families watch as the bull dozer floor every single home, memories and documents, trampled in the mud. Reporters document the chaos, the smartly dressed newswoman flips her hair as she interviews you, your teeth some missing and some yellow, lips cracked from bawling at the landowner for claiming what is his. The landowner is then interviewed, his gold rolex with diamonds spark and sparkle. Your children watches him, their small bodies baking in the sun. His veneered teeth and moistened lips emphasizes 'th' and 'lawyer', he gestures your way and points at your children. "What do you expect me to do?" he shrugs. The operation takes about two hours, maybe less, then the landlord leaves in his air-conditioned SUV, while the 'Cat' cleans up the mess. You are now back to square one.

Sigh.

We have to move, it has become inevitable.  No, I am not squatting, I am renting. The landlord has been going into our apartment when we are not there. He is supposed to be repairing the tiled floor, however, he has been giving us problems with regards to parking and a host of other ills. So, unfortunately, its the best we can do. Our privacy has been in question. How do I know? He has been too familiar with us, and very controlling, something I saw before, but tried to deal with. We tried to have civilized discussions with him, but, he responded with insults and statements that are not true. In the end, I felt like he is weird, along with feeling that someone was constantly watching us all the time. So, we are moving. Don't feel sorry for me, I am not sad, just very indifferently pissed!

I am going to get ice cream.

2012©LisaMarieBonaparte

Stalling for a moment

As I write this, I feel tired. The good thing about a blog is that you can input whatever, whenever and however you want. For me its a stress reliever. I did so much things this week, that I found that it has passed quickly. 

I have a friend in Trinidad and Tobago from Canada, so I am hoping to plan a lime for them before they return to their homeland for good. For those of you who don't understand what a lime is: A Lime is a local Trinidadian term, for a get-together, or party. Liming essentially means that you are not doing anything. What do we do on a lime? We go by a friend, sit in their gallery or patio and talk about anything. If you have a car, you pass by a friend, pick them up, and you go somewhere...anywhere. The best limes are spontaneous. The best limers are almost always drunk (ok, I am kidding). I know I said when we are liming, we are not doing anything...we do lots of things... I guess it means we are not working.

The atmosphere for a lime is usually light, for instance: two people speaking, another person intervenes, and then another, and another... before you know it there is a whole group of folks laughing, playing cards, drinking juice/wine/beer or eating Crix. A lime is usually inexpensive, food for limes can range from a glass of water, to several pizzas, fast foods, or pelau. 

Pelau, is a local creole one-pot meal that consists of rice, pigeon peas, chicken/pig tail/ox tail/goat/etc. The taste of Pelau is dependent on the cook. The best pelau comes from "goldies-oldies", meaning grandmothers, and elderly folks. I have tasted some fantastic pelau in my time, but I am not a fan anymore. One day, I had burnt pelau, on a beach lime... that sort of destroyed all my desire for it. However, pelau remains a staple of beach limes here. It is fantastic meal with tomatoes, a slice of avocado (local term: zaboca), and some lettuce. Don't forget hot pepper!

2011©Lisa Marie Bonaparte

Something to think about...

How do you even comprehend a situation?

Personally, I believe I am worth so much more that what I am doing these days, but I feel like I am between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand there is people I know on the other is my open field of dreams. How do I know if I am making the right decisions.

I feel like I am a bird trapped in a cage. As this bird, I can see the lush green hills of trees, I want to go there, because there is where I need to be, however I am trapped in this cage and try as I may, I can't escape. Today I was told by one of my relatives, that my current situation is because of my 'personal decisions'. While it sounded like a valid point, I did not think it to be true. What were my 'personal decisions': studying, getting a degree, going to countless interviews and while there was some success, I am still quite unemployed when it comes to my chosen field. I was chided for my 'attitude', 'not listening', 'stubborn', 'rebel', etc. Yet to my face, I am told I am very professional, and quite informal in my field.

What is wrong with this picture here?

Perhaps, I would have much success as a prostitute or a gold-digger? Hey it works for some recently successful celebs, who do nothing but run after rappers and become video models.

HA!

I don't even have the vibes.

In September, I am starting school again. That is right. I am starting my life over, again. I may keep the blog, but I am working on making some major changes to my former life as LMB the Graphic Designer. I am shelving my life as a Graphic Designer. It was not the right field for me, and I did it because, I was assured I had a future in the company I worked for at the time, then the beating at the office happened, I ended up at the hospital and here I am. I am glad I have the degree, it feels good to at least have that degree. Funny though, the former boss of that company (I called him that because he sold it), called me one day to do a job for him, he wants some design ideas for a new company, and he called me. We discussed it, and I asked him how much he is offering, he told me not to worry about that, since if this job is successful more jobs will be coming to me. I did not feel baited by this. The last time someone told me this, I had to fight to get paid for time put on a job, and the client even insulted me. Plus, I did not feel like being baited again. It does not feel good when people ride on your back into a pig sty, and then they get up dust their clothes off, and step on your head.

What I really hate is the fact, I am being chided for my refusal to work for my old boss, or for that matter, freelance for Trinis. "You will get more money!" they explain. Yet they seemed to have forgotten that when I was assaulted in that said office, no one there, including that 'boss', did anything about it. So, If you don't care about my body, why do you want to know what I have in my mind. Actions speaks louder than words. You can only lie for so long and for so much, eventually, it catches up with you.

So, there I am going into a new field come September, and a new life. I AM EXCITED!!!

2011©Lisa Marie Bonaparte

(Old Stuff I decided to put up 1st Jan 2014)

Getting something off my chest

Print and stick in your cubicle if you are Clueless

I have not been writing here for a while. One friend is convinced that I had acquired a boyfriend, another said that I am in love. I'd say nope to both accounts. Its more like wasted time. Some women use their whole lives waiting for the perfect man. Some women try to be princesses a la Barbara Hutton. Others become lesbo's either by choice or frustration, and then there is 'the clueless club'

In this 'Clueless' club, the women have no experience when it comes to guys. They have never kissed a guy romantically under the mango tree, they have never had someone fall in love with them, they have never had a BF, they simply go on living. You are elegible for the Clueless Club if you ask yourself the following:

What is the purpose of having a BF?
Ok so i have a BF, now what?
I have this guy, and he just likes talking to me, but I don't know what to do about it.
What does being engaged feel like?
I don't know how to fall in love?
How do you fall in love?

If you are looking for answers to these questions, you are not going to find them here, because I do not know. When I feel like someone likes me, I just want to run away, but if I like them, they run away. I read those "Rules" books, but I believe, that every guy is different, not all of them can be categorized in those books, but I might add, they have very good advice, especially for women who need to keep their dignity and self esteem in the right track.

So for all you Clueless CafféLatté Magaziners, you now have your own official card. You gotta be proud about something.

2011©Lisa Marie Bonaparte

When all you want to do is run away

Avoid Nalovent the Negative in 2011

At the age of 25, I packed my bags, and left home. I did not have to make two trips, and I never looked back. It was not easy, I have been dreaming about this day since I was 14. The whole process happened in less than a month. And here I am, still thriving, although age has crept up on my face, and I no longer have that youthful, fresh glow. well I  do have a natural glow, that comes from oily skin, and constant reminders of, "Like you going to work at KFC, your face so oily".

Have you heard of the term, "A face that only a mother could love". That does not apply to me.  Have you ever met some folks, who are sort of unpalatable on the outside, but when you get to know them, suddenly their 'unpaletableness' disappears, and suddenly they are radiant and beautiful...without a physical makeover. Whereas, some of the most beautiful people have horrible personalities, its like one moment you are admiring their perfectly manicured nails, and when you look up they have the face that resembles the top of an old time car battery.

Do you feel like you are in a deep well and you can't climb out because the walls are slippery? Or you are surrounded by a gang of expert losers and you can't seem to get past them? Do you feel you are holding yourself back?

Before I left home, I wondered if it was ever possible, can I do it, what if...The thing is, you have to know yourself, and what you can handle. Communication, is what I love, if I have to hear the good news, or the bad news, I'd rather hear the bad news first, and here is where good communication comes in. With good communication, you hear words like tact, salt and seasoning, smoothness, pronunciation, honey chocolate, anything that makes the news better to handle, though not taking away from the 'bad' aspect of the news. Bad communication comes with vile, sarcasm, acid irony, rough gravel, pelting big stone, and rotten fish speech.

This year I want to make a difference in my life, I am tired of folks telling me I can't do this or I can't do that. While I admire Thomas the Train for saying, "Yes I can-Yes I can." I want to be like Bertha the Bulldozer that says, "But I must-But I must." Or Applebee the Airplane that says, "I can fly-I can fly." Or like Melba the Mind who is poisoning the depression weed, and cultivating the Sunflower of positivity.

While it does help to leave your problems behind, it also helps if you can face them, not like Nalovent the Negative, but to face them with a positive mind and just be open to new ideas and interests, even people. Speak to someone, whom you normally would not talk to, you would be amazed at what you can learn from them, or how much you have in common.

Besides, I feel like I must do the thing I have never done before, I feel so nervous, the Butterflies in my stomach are raging like a crazy manifestation of hybrid bees.

2011©Lisa Marie Bonaparte

Still Up

Stress can eat you up sometimes, to the point that your body refuses to take a rest.

My mind goes out to all the people who are situations they cannot change, like battered women, and children, and I hope that they find the strength to live, and to not give up. I have been there, and I can tell you that you can Survive!

Hard candy, Brass and Wooden legs in the closet

Outspoken, Blunt, Frank, Assertive, Straightforward, Direct, Rude, Ghetto, Trailer Trash, All-mouth-No-Action. Have you ever been labeled as one of these terms? This writer has had her full share of labels.

My roommate loves the movie The Proposal. I was not a fan of it so much, because, there is hardly any romance movies that are realistic, and this is clearly one of them. So there we are watching The Proposal one warm night.

There is a part where Margaret fell out with one of her co-worker, Bob and he called her a "poisonous b**". And for a moment, I was struck, so I continued to watch the movie. It made me look at what people thought of women who are not 'flirty thirty in flowery dresses'. Now you think its ironic, me watching a romantic comedy, trying to build a mental level ground with a fictional character. As the movie went on, you come to understand Margaret, and we come to know her and see her vulnerability. Especially when she explains the two sparrows/robins tattoo on her back, and when Bob, whom she fired, called her that mean word, she cried silently, its as though she became human.

Just for speaking out, you alienate yourself, and people despise you. It takes a hard stomach to speak out, especially when you are standing alone...in the path of a back-hoe... and no one is there with you. In fact someone maybe there, but they are urging the back-hoe operator to mow you down...just for blowing the whistle. This applies to passionate people. People who are like that one tooth in a toothless mouth who is determined to stay and make a difference, or who just wants the world to see what is happening, or who just simply wants to be different, but not in a 'Mean Girls' kind of manner.

Popularity never came my way in school. I was as ordinary as they come. Just as Oprah put the O in generOsity, I put the O in Oddball. Whenever I spoke up, I was constantly shot down, or seen as insensitive, dummy, pervert even. Those were hard times as a teenager. As a young adult, I am now seen as a snob. While, I certainly don't agree with that term, I have learned to listen to people more, not to change their minds or their opinion of me, but to give them a voice, to be a human they can admire, someone who they remembered giving them a listening ear. Sometimes, I fail, and sometimes, I pass. No one pats my back, because its life, and it is hard all around.

So, my fellow shareholders in the Outspeakers Club: shed those silent tears in your lovely pillows at nights and get up in the morning and keep your heads high, you have every right to live in the world as the next silent crime-fighter, live your life and WIN!

2010©Lisa Marie Bonaparte

Insight

Like a Cancer

Cancer is like an invincible warrior. It goes into a populated city, takes over, and destroys it completely. Sometimes, it seems like is suddenly appears in the city, and as the guards begin to attack, it wipes them out, and proceeds to plunder and destroy. Other times, it seems to send out little warnings, like a little attack here, and a little attack there.

Lately, I have heard of many people contracting Cancer. Which to me is staggering. It seems like all of a sudden everyone is getting cancer of some sort. Personally, I know of three people with it, all women. Another friend of mine has lost count of the folks they know with it. It helps to see if you hear more about the Cancer survivor stories, than the ones who have passed away from it. However, it would be good to remember that once it has become evident that there is that mortal enemy in you, you must face the facts. This is all not new to me, I mean, I was born in the '80's, and it seems like in the 90's its all I ever heard about, except, so many people now are getting Cancer so close to home, and I am a bit troubled.

When we went to Manzanilla, on Sunday. Even the Honey-selling lady, told us of three people she knew with Cancer, all in advanced stages. One of them is a child. We then discussed if it is the food or water. She was convinced that it is the chemicals that is put in the vegetables to make them unpalatable to insects and worms. I thought out loud about the water, but somehow, Honey-seller does seem have a point, could it be that the chemicals that are used in agriculture is not being used effectively? Could it be the pollution all around us? Global warning? Genetics? Lifestyle? I tried to remember what road did we take to reach this point today, so far I can only gather our prosperity judging by the kinds of cars on our roads.

Today, was the funeral of the wife of a cherished friend. She was pleasant and you can see her smile for miles. Always a quick laugh, and she loved to dance! Her husband took quite long to get married, but when he did, she was the best person for him, she was his rib, his companion. I cannot imagine the grief that he is facing right now, and that although she is in a deep sleep, she will awake again.

Some info on Cancer and Genetics here.
Info on Aggressive cancer therapy here.
 
What needs to be said is to live each day doing good, and cherish each other, because life is so uncertain now.

Please remember the information place here is not to self-diagnose but for information/entertainment purposes only.



2010© Lisa Marie Bonaparte

Changing Times and Life Experience

 Growing up, I wanted to be a vet. I loved and still love animals, and I loved the prospect of being there for them so that they can live healthy and fulfilling lives. Most of all, I adore dogs and cats.  Dogs, I observed, grow up in the personality of their owners. For instance if you are a quarrelsome owner, you will have a miserable dog, if you are a happy owner, you would have a happy dog. Unfortunately, this is not always the case.

We lived about 15 mins by taxi from Port of Spain, in a small, simple home with lots of yard space and Avocado trees, with a mango veare(?) tree and guava trees. Some days when no clients came to do their hair, mom used to pitch marbles with my sisters. As a single parent, she opted to have her hair salon at home to be closer to her children. I remember coming home from school and smelling the misty finishing spray in the pink can. I also used to hear the hair dryer running, and seeing mom apply the relaxer to a sitting client's head. She used to look so tired. Moscle and Truskey, used to greet us at the gate when we came from school.  Some days, there were lots of laughter coming from the salon, especially on a Saturday.

The salon was a gray and white building with a sign in the road that says, "The New You". It was wooden and sat just outside our home next to Matapal Street. Some days it was empty of clients, and mom used to send us to Ewing Grocery with $40.00 to get items for the day. Back then, it was alot of money. When we returned home we used to have brown paper bags in our arms filled with bought items. Yep, life was simple.

One year, we were blessed with nine animals in our home. That year, Truskey gave birth to six pups: Moscle, Whitey, two other females and two other males. I remember, because I had on a pair of yellow gloves that were too large for my hands, and I squatted beside Truskey and helped her to give birth her pups. I was 13 or 14 at the time. The puppies came out in a slimy clear sack,  which I tore open to relieve them. Each puppy was connected through its umbilical cord, to a dark sack, which was promptly consumed by Truskey. I was aghast, then Mom explained the those sacks were the placenta, and it is full of nourishment, and Truskey the dog, is consuming this mass to feed the puppies through her milk. That day Truskey ate no food. Ever since then, I have yet to see puppies as healthy as the ones that came from Truskey. We had a cat called Tiffany, who gave birth to three kittens a week later.

From that moment on, I wanted to be a vet. The desire is still alive, though, it is not as pronounced as before. It seems that everything is driven by money. Where is the passion and pride of being in an occupation because you can help someone live a better life, or because the idea is fantastic! If you are in the medical field, where is the compassion and gentle sensitivity for the sick, elderly and dying? Times have changed. It is with great sadness that I read the plight of a young mother who is in a coma because pieces of placenta was left in her after she gave birth to her child. While I don't know all the facts, I hope that she recovers quickly to care and nurse her beautiful baby daughter. We must cherish each day as it is our last....until better times come.

Coast 2 Coast: Tripping in Trinidad and Tobago - Monos Island

Quiet, airy, cool, and relaxing. Certainly, I am not speaking about some country area in Trinidad nor Tobago. "People here are unified. No one interferes with you, we are a small, simple community here, Mytle Lopez says. Ma Ben, as she is affectionately called, lived on Monos Island since 1981. "When I was seventeen years old, you could not get me to sit on a boat and get wet by salt water", she fondly remembers. In a nutshell, she got married, settled down with her husband, who was a fisherman with a home on Monos Island, and lived there to this day. Today, she is cleaning the area around a tall slim tree. "I am going to plant something here" she said. Mrs Lopez, regularly cleans the whole area, including the stretch of road she calls the highway, with her son. I asked her if she gets paid to do this, "No! I love my surroundings to be clean so I do it." Her son is using the weed wacker to clean one of the neighbors yards. This he gets paid for.

Monos Island or Scotland Bay, is one of a group of islands in the northwest area of Trinidad. In the old days they used to be called the Dragon Islands. On the way to Monos, you pass a couple of other islands called Fantasy Island which has a new name, and the ever popular Gaspree Island home of the Gaspree Caves. Photographs does not do justice to the sheer beauty of these remote and privately owned islands, you must see it in person.

"When I go to Monos, I am going home," remarks one resident. "I love the area and I tell my wife that this is where we belong." Mrs. Lopez, opens up her home to vacationers who want to rent. "My place is always open, I like when I stand right here in my kitchen, I can see the jetty and I can look out the window to greet people passing here," she laughs, her floured hands kneading a roll of corn maize dough. "You ever had Noni before?" she asked. I shook my head, "I've heard it tastes really bad, so I never tried it." She pulled out a large plastic cranberry juice bottle, "Have some of this, and tell me what you think." I looked at the brown liquid and got caught in my throat, "Ok". I figured I might as well, at least, to try it once. The liquid had a pungent smell, like a mix between an old toe-jamed grapefruit and sharp wine. The glass was filled to quarter and I took a sip, then I emptied the glass. My face screwed up a bit then I had a second glass. And then I smiled, she did too. Now, I am the proud owner of the large cranberry juice bottle of my first Noni Juice.



The Island is filled with fruit trees and vegetation. The air is clean and the grass is always green. A caretaker of one of the homes drives a compact open top vehicle. He is a dark, stocky guy his ras piled high on his head, he is shuttling his family to the beach down to the back known as Scotland Bay. Caribbean living at its finest. The beauty of the area is its natural undeveloped state. Some folks like the hub of cities, tall glass and metal buildings, fancy cars, a window cubicle, high-heeled shoes, the works. Here its a small boat, your wooden/concrete home, and quiet is all you need. Every morning at 5:30am, Mrs. Lopez starts the day by praying, then she takes a bath, goes outside tends her yard, and sweeps the 'highway'. Some days, she comes inland, and buys groceries at least once a week in Port of Spain.

In her home, Ma Ben or Mrs. Lopez is in her element. The refreshingly yellow home is partly wooden and partly concrete due to old age and termite damage. The house is very clean and airy. Her main bedroom still has her wooden floor, right next to it, is her small tiled bathroom and another larger visitors bedroom with double decker and single beds. How does she keep it so clean? "Cleaning is a daily thing you know, you have to keep making your rounds to keep your surroundings intact." On top of one of her clothes drawer, there is a picture of her and a young woman. "Thats Benita, my daughter, she died some years ago, here we were going to a wedding."

For me and many Trinis, Monos Island is a vacation get-away. A place that you jump off the jetty, see fishes, Sting Rays and Eels swim in their natural habitat, hear a variety of birds sing their songs of a new day, and pack up and go home. But for Ma Ben, her son Lance, and four other neighbors, Monos Island is home, its where their heart is.


2010© Lisa Marie Bonaparte

On the road for Doubles

Today, I decided to spy on the average working Trinis up on my side of the country. I had an itchy sleep and I was not inclined to continue sleeping, I don't even remember my dream. So, in anticipation of the cool morning drive, I got up early, got dressed and hit the road. I did not get very far, everywhere there was traffic, although I left home at 7:20 am. As a worker-down-under, I was more observant of my surroundings and I was surprised on how much I missed going to work, with the multitude of masses.

There were people standing in the rain looking for yellow-band maxi taxi's, illegal and very helpful PH taxi's siphoning folks to work, frustrated drivers going through Westmoorings to avoid the highway traffic, garbage truck collecting garbage, schoolchildren collected by their private drivers, birds busy collecting food, young men getting doubles, some people slurping the channa from its bara, and many activities.

Anita Baker is surrendering her lovely voice to me via CD, and my windows are down. I am in no rush to get to work, and I feel fine. My day is planned and I am full, I just need to get my doubles, and the rest of the day is smooth.

Going through St. James, my breakfast of champions on the front passenger seat, many businesses were already open, and the delivery vans and their contents were in constant flux of movement. I was driving behind this dusty white van carrying boxes of some green vegetation, when we in the vicinity of a Kiss delivery truck, got stuck stuck in some mini traffic. A kiss employee wheeling his delivery trolley deftly between the stagnant cars, struck out his finger and sketched on the glass of the dusty van, I chuckled to myself, 'He is one happy fellow.'

After that, I came home. I realized that today I was really positive, and that positivity came out on my skin. I had more plans for today, but then I had this throbbing headache, that will not die. It was like a mini alien seeking to burst out of my forehead, so I took two Panadol and took a rest.

That was my day. How was yours?

Forgiveness and the best slice of Bread

So you and a friend had a fight. It could have been brutal, or petty, either way, it turns out you you both no longer speak. Whenever you see them, you start grinding that old battle-axe like a viking warrior. When, you don't see them, you chuckle to yourself about the good times you spent together, and the times you comforted each other, through some problem, then you reach for the phone just to say, "Hi", and then you didn't.

What is you favourite part of a loaf of bread? Some people like the middle, it is the most advertised section of the loaf, perfect on both sides, others like the end, with the firm outer skin and the soft inner part, still others don't care as long as they get a slice. Which one do you like?

Now, picture yourself and friends as each of those 20 slices in that loaf, who would you like to be eaten first? Is it the first slice with the extra skin on it? The person who is protector, the tough one who got your back, no matter what, the no-non sense person, who delivers tough love? Or the slice in the middle? The people person, who is well liked, and approachable, and is especially a hit with peanut butter and jelly?

All of us, are a part of that loaf of bread, none of us is better than the next, we all came from Adam and Eve, and we are all imperfect. In the end we all die, some earlier than others. When we forgive someone, we show ourselves to be the bigger person, and we have a lot more class doing it, and nothing beats humility, its like salve for a painful wound.

When we don't forgive, we are like moldy bread, no one will eat it, and no one will like you. Not that you could care, or would care, but when you die, how would people remember you?

Just my two cents and no dollars.

When the house can take no more

There was a time when I hated to clean. Straight up honest, I simply hated to clean, I did not mind cleaning the bathroom, it is fairly easy, all you need is Bleach or Tilex. Spray it on, leave it overnight, rinse later. With the toilet bowl, bleach on cloth, wipe and mop like mad, and viola! You are done!. The kitchen was a whole other story. Especially when you live in a home with so much other folks. As soon as the sun comes up, you could find yourself facing a huge stack of dishes before you left for school, and double that after you came from school, plus you had to clean the stove, and oven, wipe the tables, and clean out the food pantry ever so often, so that cockroaches will not decide to squat, and then build a mighty nasty empire. Living rooms and dining rooms are fairly easy, just move around some items, sweep mop, cobweb....

I love books, I buy books, and magazines, I gave away my magazines, and kept my books, as a result, I have lots of books. I bought a book last week, and I have no more space on my shelf. There is a difference, I read all my books at least twice cover to cover. My roommate is seeking to get me out so that she can 'invite' that Peter guy, to help me rid my addiction of my book collection. It would take more than him, and his long face and goatee, for me to let my books go.

And then there are the hoarders....

One of the most famous cases of hoarding are the Collyer Brothers. Their house was so full of garbage, it was considered a health risk and a fire hazard and finally after clearing out, the city of New York decided to have their brownstone torn down. In that mangy place were pianos, a car, guns, anything that you can think of as garbage, was there, it was the perfect junk yard, or house in this case. The most gruesome, is when Langley Collyer was found trapped in one of his booby-trapped tunnels, half-eaten by rats. Up until this point, I was not aware that rats ate dead bodies, further research indicated that they do, so being cremated does not look so bad after-all. Today, all that is left of the Collyer Brothers is a clean and cute little park.

Living on your own has its own blessings, and one of those is to see how clean you really are. On a scale of 1 - 10, with ten being the height of the clean scene, I will give myself a 8. Making up my bed is a real chore that I dislike. What will you rate yourself?

Just a little thought for the day.

Tuesday into Wednesday Mumblings

Yesterday, I was speaking with a friend, we were talking about the future, and what we would like to achieve, that we did not achieve before. He plans to relocate, in a couple of years, and get someone special to be with. I, on the other hand, did not know what to say. While his plans are under construction, my plans have taken a different direction.

Ten years ago If you were to ask me what I would be in ten years, i would state the obvious: have a family, be married, and have a good job. Well, its 10 years later, and I am no where close to sipping a beer with my husband while snuggling on a sofa watching a movie on television, on a Friday night. Somehow, I can't account for this change of plans.

These days, my Friday nights are spent either eating ice cream in St. James, driving to Chaguaramas in the dead of the night, or doing some little projects on my computer. Which in itself is not bad, it is simply was not planned. I also thought I would be dead by a certain age, and so I had a Bucket List. well, a bucket is quite large, I had a Coffee Mug list. I thought, since I would be dead by a particular age, I might as well keep things simple and contrite. I am now the age at which I am supposed to be dead, and I am alive, beaten, bruised, and emotionally scarred, but totally alive. This I had not planned. Has this ever happened to you?

Tonight, I was speaking with a very dear friend, and she suggested that I change my way of thinking, my one track mind. She insisted that I go out and meet more people, and potential (marriage mates). I am a bit straight-laced, and I am not an all-over-town type of woman. Going out for the sake of meeting a guy, is not really on my agenda. If I go out its to get food, or beer, or put gas in the car, I can't see any benefit in looking for a man. If I do find him what are we going to talk about...cars? carburetor? Obama?

For the sake of dreaming I might as well clue you in as to what my wedding dream used to be like. I would walk down the aisle in a pair of yellow Converse with stuck on crystals. My hair would be in a bun (no tendrils or fancy crap like that, just a bun), and I would be clutching sunflowers in my hands, and wearing a long cap-sleeved cotton and linen wedding dress in ivory (do you know how hot silk is in the Caribbean?). All I know the groom would have on a yellow tie, I don't even know who he is, what he looks like, and what he smells like. I tried to imagine the wedding night, and I am so clueless with it, I could quicker imagine having a cup of cocoa with large marshmallows in it.

I am done mumbling, and I hope that we never really meet, while I am falling on the ground, my groceries spilling all over the place.

Butterflies named Elementary and Apparently

Lately, I have noticed that I forgot my sordid history, and I did the same thing that got me into trouble before. I was very disappointed in myself, and I am now more determined to learn from past mistakes.

On a more serious note, something strange happened today. I met someone who is quite familiar with my family. He asked me my name and I simply mentioned my name and nothing else, he pushed for my surname, and I declined to tell him. I felt as though my surname has become a curse. And, personally, I no longer felt proud of it. Despite the Napoleonic history, in Europe, I thought that that history is outdated and not applicable to my personality, or life. I am simply me, and I am not my name. However, my surname as popular as it may be, as beautiful, and powerful, given in any which way you think, or thought about it, has dampened my spirit and my drive to succeed. Although, I must say, that if you want to be famous, you can mention, something controversial, or do something stupid, and you can become famous and people will just throw money your way, or you can ghost write your 'story'. While you, the lonely cheese, cower in bed thinking of some offended person pelting a molotov cocktail at your home. Or not.

At one of my jobs, word through the grape vine was that I did not listen, and I counteracted it with, "well why did he not tell me this to my face, why wait, and lie to me, thinking that he is so smart to insinuate, that I, defied his every word like a swash-buckling pirate, using my rapier to slice and dice his words so that I can, 'destroy his decisions'". Had he laid his basketballs on the table, and tell me what he really thought, I would have opened my ears to what he said. Instead, he threw limestone and talcum pebble accusations, 'hoping' that I would run from the 'meeting', bawling as I did so, and admitted that he was 'surprised' that I stayed, and endured, his 'soft-spoken, invalid diatribe', only to say to another person, after and later, via the Trinidad Pumpkin Vine Association, that I did not listen. Did I? Or did you? When you are on a high pedestal, make sure it is solid and impenetrable, and chain-saw resistant. Some folks believe that heir horse is so high, it can leap over tall buildings and swim in the strongest seas, but then that is what, Hitler thought, and his 1,000 year Reich rule did not make 10 years, you do the math.

So back to my namesake, and my short pin complex, that gets people so vex. When, you don't communicate your issues, it gets lost in a jumble of buttons, everyone would choose their favorite colour, and forget what you said. So it is elementary that I am a graphic designer, with original ideas, and a passion for design, and a very colourful (british spelling), speech of humorific proportions, and I tend to place colour and personality in everything. Apparently, I am deaf, and I do not listen to people, I also wear a hearing aid, and I can see the good in all folks...and will in a moments notice, spend two cents to throw rice at birds.

Butterflies named Elementary and Apparently, fly away, and come home safely.