Long time no See!

Its a real long time I have not come in here. Well I have oficially rejoined the workforce, yet again. So, It has been pretty good to see my site. Hopefully, I will have a post for the new term in September. TC!

A Dream-on Experience

Now I'm about to relate a dream, it is quite strange, to me anyway, how it worked out, because it was heading to some kind of nightmarish ending. Please, don't try to interpret, since I do not believe that dreams can foretell the future. Rather, I believe that dreams are imaginations of my fears, and my stresses. My dreams simply replay what I may have been thinking, sub-consciously. Here it is:

My sister and I were driving in our old Peugeot, we had just came from Hilo in Woodbrook on French Street. My sister was reading the newspapers on something on Halle Berry. As we neared Brooklyn Bar on Roberts Street, we saw a new restaurant or bakery opened next door, it had a large window, and inside was in a yellow and cream interior.

The employees wore purplish maroon overalls with caps, and a logo (I did not see this clearly). Three women and a tall young man were handling customer service, so I checked out the menus, and then returned to the car to tell my sister the price of the food and stuff.

As I stepped outside, I noticed the guys from the bar running out, I ran towards them and followed their gaze. On Roberts street, some men were handling a young woman with wild hair, blood was running down her mouth and she was trying to attack her handlers, she was wearing a long, brown dirty dress, and she looked like Halle Berry, but in a zombie form with dead eyes and everything. She was growling. On Roberts street at the corner diagonally opposite Brooklyn Bar, there is a concrete enclosed garbage dump. The Halle Berry zombie was tied to this dump, as the guys did not know what to do with her.

Soon after some women passed in their dark grey Benz, they looked like they were from the upper-middle class section of our culture. They were heading in the direction of Brooklyn Bar. "Look! Its Halle Berry!" the driver said. "She lives next door to me! What have these people done to her?" she continued. She parked her car, came out and went up to the chained up zombie. Next thing I know, she and her friends, started walking with the zombie and talking to it. The guys at the bar started running to them shouting, the ladies paid them no mind, until the zombie started to attack them.

By this time, my sister was out of the car and into the restaurant buying food. I ran to the car, and then into the restaurant, by this time ladies who were attacked started attacking other people. I ran into the restaurant, and shouted, "We have to go! Leave that lets go!" "Go where? I am getting the food." she replied. I looked outside the window and there was chaos. Then the door burst open, and there was the HB zombie blocking our exit. She lounged at my sister, and I pushed my sister away, and reached for the zombie. My sister ran into the car and brought out the chain-saw, "Look Lisa! Take it! Take it." "Help me!" I screamed. (It is interesting to note that at this point, I was physically feeling the zombie's strength in my dream, but I was not actually fighting it, I was watching the zombie fight myself in my dream). I pushed the zombie with my leg, and it fell into some chairs and tables at the corner of the restaurant. I grabbed the chain-saw, started it, and went for the zombie, again, we started fighting. (This time it was me myself fighting the zombie). The chain-saw, was not hurting the zombie, so I threw it along with the zombie over the food buffet display by the cashier, and bolted for the door. "Start the car!" I yelled to my sister. She started climbing into the driver's seat, I pushed her back, and started the car. Just then we saw a familiar face in the rear-view mirror. It was mommy, and despite the carnage around her, she was smiling and laughing walking towards us, in her hands were some large shopping bags. We moved the clothes in the back seat, let her in, and drove away.

What is strange about this dream is that, we got away, otherwise, we would've been hurt. In my dreams in the past, I used to be the only survivor, sometimes one of the victims. This dream, however, comes at a time that I desperately needed a job, as my financial position is almost nearing a disaster. I could not account for it. I went through hell this week, stressing over interviews, and thinking about whether I have made some good decisions, and what I would've done better. In my blackest days in the years past, I hardly ever survived any of my dreams. Sometimes, I got up screaming. That Thursday night dream, turned out to be one of the better ones. I am sorry to have dream about Halle Berry in such a dastardly manner, as she is one of my favorite actresses.

Its a long post, but read like a movie.

The F-Bomb and the Receiver of it

It is not uncommon to hear the F-Bomb these days. Television, movies, your boss, your uncle, people on the street, music, three-year olds (the proof is in Youtube), and even your mom say it. So, technically it is safe to say it is a common adjective. Although it is a very rotten one.

The F-Bomb, is used to make you feel the force of what a person is saying. And that I don't really have to explain, I will try to explain, only if you were born in another galaxy, and that galaxy has never ever been occupied or heard of by humans.

I have been a guilty user of that word once, and I tell you from personal experience, it is the most uncreative, stupid, and inflated-ego word. It gives you a sense of false pride, and on saying it, you say to yourself, "That'll show them." Until the other person returns the same F-Bomb sentiment. Only then you realize, you have been checkmated with a fellow pawn on a dirty linguistic chessboard game.

People seem to delight when legends use the word. If someone 'famous' says it, it takes on a sacred monument glow. If a homeless person uses it, it looks and smells like three day-old unfrozen fish. If a boss uses it, he is feared, but his respect loses value, like a two-week old dead rotten elephant. If Barbie use it...mothers would protest. I wonder, does the F-Bomb hold any significance today, than it would have done in the 1960's? The similarity is, that it still remains a very offensive word, the difference is, that today in the 21st century, you can market a perfume with that word on it, and it would sell, inoffensively.

When receiver of the F-Bomb internalizes the word, it shocks them, particularly when it is not in their personal vocabulary. There is a feeling of shock, headache, heart palpitations, and all round stress. It is even worse when someone who is supposed to love you, say it to you, like your husband, wife, siblings and parents, and worst of all your children.

The Rotten-Fish word is offensive, vulgar, uncreative, unimaginative and common. It does not help your situation in anyway (especially on job interviews). Lately, I have noticed a growing number of people who are opposed to the constant use of these types of words, and look forward to the day, that clean English language (or any language for that matter) could be the highest form of speaking.

Me, I have been very successful avoiding the use of that word since that black day. And yes, I have gotten very angry and stressed, and in intense situations, I walk away, count to ten, and move on. I am sure most of you have witnessed two people cussing, it is most embarrassing, and lack of good manners.

A New Day

Today lunch is simple: Pepper Pork, Rice and leftover Macaroni, my roommate will flip.

So I am posting some pics of work I have done over the years. Enjoy!


Re-Invent


Happy Lime


Clean up

These are on Sale:
Up to 8x10 Poster $12.00 USD

Email Me- lisamariebonaparte@hotmail.com to place your orders.

The Rain falls when it wants to...

And we just have to deal with it. The rain is welcomed these days for many reasons:

(1) WASA would stop complaining (for real, because that swimming pool issue was unfair)
(2) The rain cleared the sky of all the floating dust that made my sinus act up
(3)I don't have to sweep my white, glossy tiles twice a day, plus dust the entire place, and the bed
(4) The place is really cool, less flies, and I have not broken out into a sweat since 8:00 am

While the rain fell, I took up reading again, I started reading past National Geographic magazines, since I acquired quite a bit, and my roommate is fussing about my quantity of books. On a hunch, I gave away some to a family of six children who lived on a hill, along with some fashion magazines like Vogue and Instyle as well as Mad magazines. However, I do regret giving away my NatGeo, and those were the magazines they loved the most. So, I promised myself that if I head to NYC again with some money, I would gift them a NatGeo subscription. Why NYC, because I hate being suckered by merchants in this beautiful twin island of ours.

Today, lunch is all vegetarian, first time in a long time.

My favorite issues were the skin issue, the solar issue, the baby mammoth issue, and the issues about Myanmar, and other countries I have never thought of visiting. So, one day I will be able to get and gift NatGeo subscriptions.


A page taken from the Skin issue of Nation Geographic, which is certainly not copyrighted by me.

P.S. Did you know that there was an issue on Leatherback Turtles nesting sites in Trinidad and Tobago? Now you know and you heard it here first!

Sticky Skin and Smelly Arms

So, as I am typing this up, I am totally and unequivocally sticky. I am so sticky that mosquitoes are not even trying to bite me. In this hot country of TnT, there is no way you should bathe less than once a day. Should I be saying, no less than twice a day? No, I mean no less than once a day.

Recently, I have noticed that some Trini's refuse to touch WATER in the morning. They claim it is too cold, or the bathroom ain't scrub, or there is a snake on the shower head. When they walk the streets of POS, they stink to high heaven, and their breath can cause the most rigid of Pitch Pine to bow down to the earth.

I bathe at least twice a day, sometimes three times if the sun threatens to give me a heat-stroke. In NYC, in the Autumn, I tried to bathe at least twice a day, but the 'biting' cold, forced me to abandon that thought. Don't laugh, what is normal Autumn for New Yorkers, is biting cold for hot-blooded Trinis.

Twice I did not bathe for one whole day, I rolled out of bed, smelled under my arms, satisfied, threw on my clothes, had my breakfast, and went to classes. I came home, took off my clothes, threw on my night gown, did my home work and went to sleep. Next morning, I got up, smelled under my arms, and immediately felt like a bum. This happened in the winter. Twice. It was so cold, a warm glass of water, froze in less than one hour. I knew, that I had to bathe. I was a practicing anti-winter-bath-Caribbean-New Yorker.

Then, it happened, the Itching Creep Monster. It comes up to you, it starts from your neck, then your chest, your hair on your head begins to tingle, behind your knee-caps there is a sweet itch, then your back begins to tremble, like you know on NatGeo, the Zebra in the hot Safari is nibbling on dry grass, and the camera zooms in on its hide and its shaking off the biting insects? Well, only that you are not a Zebra, but you begin to imagine insects crawling on your back. then the sweaty-stale smell of old day's deodorant begins to emerge... the grimy-green fumes threatening to burst out of your coat and expose you to the other people in the crowed bus, then that member begins to itch, the sweet potato between your thighs. You start doing the cha-cha in the bus, but you are like three blocks away from home. The Itching Creep Monster, piles on the pressure, your eyes start tearing up. You see yourself, wanting to tear off your clothes and make a naked bolt for your front door. Finally! You're home! You dash to the bathroom, and turn on the tap, *sigh* the warm water runs through your hair and skin, the Itching Creep Monster, admits defeat, until another anti-winter-bath-Caribbean-New Yorker mood hits you again, "Not this time BUSTER." You lather on soap on your skin. AAAaaaahhhhhhhh! That feels good.

Yet here I am, in in my sticky glory writing to you like an Anti-bath-Slug. Gotta go!

CafféLatté Magazine!

Something happened yesterday...

And I gave it thought, and I wonder do people really listen. Someone I knew, accused me of being a 'technical' racist. This is funny, because I actually run a blog celebrating interracial couples, CafféLatté Magazine©. I had to think deep within myself if this is so. Some-weeks ago we were driving from the airport, and I brought up the point as to why (in other words) she and her family look-down on certain people that they regularly deal with, she took offense to this and showed her disgust at me for such a question.

Now I must explain to you that Trinidad and Tobago is a haven of multi-cultures, multi-holidays, and really beautiful people of all races. Unfortunately, there are certain sectors of society that consider themselves better than the rest of the populace, this the person who considers herself a part of this sector of society. Personality wise, she is quite nice and is a good friend of my sister, but she at regular intervals makes insensitive comments, that seems to be downright inappropriate, most times it is about how a particular race of men, like her because of what she is, and personally, if you were to see her, you would disagree.

And so on the night of the airport drive, I frankly challenged her assertions by the question. In addition, I had a few awful personal experiences with this person and some of her family, so I was not about to have an uninformed conversation. As a matter of fact, I openly wondered that if you don't like someone because they look a certain way, but yet you still want to deal with them, what is the point in saying that you are their friend, if inside you don't feel for them, you are not genuine about it. Why bother, live your life and stay off the cocaine. Not everyone is perfect, but if you want to be a better person, you have to be the bigger person. As a human, there is only so much harsh and insensitive comments that you can take, there has to be a time when this must all come to an end.

So I challenged her, that what gives her the right to feel that she and her family could expect to look down on other people, strangling their identity, while she grows her own gray roses in the front lawn? She responded by getting upset, speeding, getting impatient and at the end of it all...asking for a hug (this was very Judas-like). My question was never answered, but yesterday I was accused of making racist statements. Huh? I received some scowling from her mother, and I knew then that I hit a very sensitive spot, and that she was upset. Anyone would be. I was very blunt and to the point, I was tactless and so I will apologize. And then I thought of the conversation, we were having in the car, and how she reiterated some very sarcastic comments, which I let go. However, she cried and spread lies, I simply thought nothing of the conversation after that night, considering she asked for a hug, and I gave her the hug, only to find out later that I am suddenly a 'closet racist'. So much so I was almost verbally 'spotlighted' by one of her in-laws, he asking me the question, "You have a problem with skin colour?!". Then I knew that this grew big, from an apple seed to a big ol' apple tree. And there were so many lying, rotting apples on that tree.

So, I wanted to post a story of an interracial couple that I had met, and I ended writing this diatribe, because it hurt, and now the person in question is not welcomed in my home any longer. She basically sat and crapped on my reputation, so to speak. She is a friend of my sister, whom I love so dearly, and I am apathetic to this 'friendship', but my younger sister is a grown woman and I should not get between she and her many friends. I am just my sister's quarterback.

Here's to a rough week, and a tall glass of icy cold milk.