Showing posts with label chicken experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chicken experience. Show all posts

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Just a little note

Lately, I have been under some intense stress, and I have been having panic attacks. My panic attacks usually come when I perceive that a terrible event, or an experience that I had before, or something new, is going to occur.

And last week, I had three panic attacks, and so I slept alot. I slept so deeply, that I did not dream, and I always almost dream in full vivid colour. Before I get a panic attack, I become highly observant, and I can focus intensely. It is funny how I can even explain what is going on in my head. What I hate is that, I can almost always tell, when something is going to happen...this does sound crazy, but it is true. 

Anyway, my PA sensors was right, and I received a bombshell on Thursday. In addition, I came to the realization that, sometimes, even those closet to you, do not know YOU. What is sad is that, the feelings that was there before has effectively dried up, and I no longer feel obligated to act as before. Instead, its like my mind and body has put up a large fortress with an active dragon living there. And I feel as though I cannot process anything simple, only complex things are being actively solved at the moment. After the solution, I forget what I was thinking and my mind needs to rest. If you do know what is happening to me, please leave a note. I am thinking I am heading for a big whoop, and my body is stocking up on ammunition.

Or maybe, I need a vacation. 

Next month I am having another interview, an old school friend of mine, she is beautiful and talented, and  very willing to be interviewed. I will take a break until then, to get my bolts checked and rest, because as I write to you, my eyes are closing.

Check out this link on panic attacks.

2012©LisaMarieBonaparte

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

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





Wednesday, January 4, 2012

What People Really Think of You

Well its a new year, and I was looking for something to say, something positive and well, it kind of passed me by.

Anyway, I have a question for you, "Do you know what people really think of you? I mean really, by their actions towards you, not what they say to your face, but what they say behind your back, when you are not there, or when you feel they really care? What do their actions tell you about what they think...about you. I pretty much have an idea of late, it is really unfortunate, because I usually give everyone a chance, but that is just my weakness, because I give them one chance to prove themselves. It is an inhuman trait, and leads to some crazy stuff.

Sometime ago we went to look at an apartment that was up for rent. The 'referral' (the person who told me about the place) was very excited and full of hugs and kisses, she contacted me regularly, and we spoke to each other well. My mind told me, "She is really nice", my gut told me, "She is too nice". So when she told me that she knew of a few places, I thought, "Okey-dokey! What is the worst that can happen, I mean she is really excitable, wanting to show us a number of places". Including the one that she is sure we would like! Rents in Trinidad are very high, its like everyone wants to be a 'Kadashian' in a month. The rents are so high, that we now have them in USD! So folks who don't have USD have to settle for TTD on the down low.

We went to see the apartment. When I saw the building I wanted to run. In the yard was barrels upon barrels and half of barrels with plants and papaya trees growing out of them. We had to climb a number of stairs and there was no parking, we would have to park in the street, which was already limited, so we would have had to jostle for parking, which would create contention, in in places like those it would have meant that our vehicles would be damaged, or missing. There were dogs, I don't mind pets, but these were really in need of TLC, and they were tied, which I really hate. The landowner, a white haired woman, about 65 years, came to meet us, her some missing, all yellowed and crooked teeth greeted us. Soft palms. The place had a great view, and good space for two people. That was about it. Wooden creaky floors, crazy-looking, white laminate kitchen counters that is sagging on the sides, over grown yard, and a termite-ridden tree, whose branches are falling bit by bit, with damaging results. The branches has damaged  a few of the neighbour's roofs, and a water tank in the yard, it was leaking badly. The landlady, was even nice enough to point this out. I told the referral that I needed parking, and it must have two bedrooms. I did not push for details, because, I wanted to be open-minded, and she offered with immense happiness!

Now lets see here. I grew up in some of the nicest places in the west, living in the same streets with CEO's and CFO's and general managers driving Audi's and BMW's. I even lived in a home with a pool, and a lovely view of the North-Coast. Currently, I live in a fairly nice apartment fit for a two single young ladies. I am looking for an upgrade. Who the hell are you to show me a place like this? What the deuce do you think I am? I felt insulted, and I smiled through it all. I told the referral in other words, No. I was disappointed, and when my anger has subsided, I plan to call her, because right now, words cannot describe what I really want to say.

I do have other stuff to say, but I will leave that for now. One person I met said to me, 'You are so nice", she gushed. "Such a sweet person!" I don't disagree, but damn you if you try to pull wool over my eyes! As a 'nice' person, I don't like to make a scene, and lately, I don't have the strength to raise my voice and get "ghetto", when something irks me. It does not mean that I am not angry, it simply means, I have alot of self-control. Had it been 7 years ago, I would be screaming, and gesticulating, and cursing (surprise, surprise). I don't really relish the thought of dying young anyway. And folks have guns and knives on their person and property.

Case in point: In 1994, my dad bought a car. One day he was in the car, and something stuck him. He pushed his hand under the seat and was surprised to find a hole, in that hole was a knife, a medium, heavy-handled hunting knife. It looked like a 'rambo' knife. He was surprised. I believe he still has it. Now, what if I did not like being 'woman-handled' in an insulting way, and I end up fighting with a hot-head, and he/she pull out that knife and plunge it into any part of my body, I would either be dead, or disabled in some way, because if you saw that knife, the damage would be dastardly, and the wounds ghastly.

So, I rather have self-control, but don't take my kindness or my silence for weakness, and not because I am not acting up like you, that I can't speak up. I can, but I will not be in the way you want, and understand. I know a girl, she believes that she is always right, I won't doubt that, she is educated, and 'did not want to marry as a virgin'. We had a little tough chat about something I know and something she doesn't know about. She straightened me out, I said ok. She is still wrong, because she knows nothing about it, but I do. But she is a bully. We also went to school together. So there we are. The friendship is currently strained, on my end anyway, because I am ready to walk. Which is another thing you should always do when faced with a 'tense' situation. Be always ready to walk, although, you may want to reach out to that person again, which I do sometimes, if I really valued the friendship. This one is on my black list, and she does give me a verbal beating which I have already had enough of. Period.

2012©LisaMarieBonaparte

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Today's Day Off Tomorrow's Salty Oil

Nothing is happening today. Other than the fact, I decided to be the responsible sister and collect my little sis' birth certificate after much wrangling with the Immigration Authorities from Chaguanas about her real name, whether or not it has a stupid dash! They really made her feel as though she came from Uzbekistan or something. So, she had to get an affidavit, in which she paid $100 to get her name spelt wrong (again) and a damaged Birth Certificate. Finally, we can move on. Sigh...

Today for dinner is Garlic Rice (where I boiled the rice with a crushed whole garlic), and Pepper Kidney Beans with Geera. Later I will take a rest for evening activities.

I was looking at some files I took in NYC during my sojourn there, I miss it alot. I miss the smells, the museums, the subways and the coffee (I had a lot there). Plus some of the people (Americans are really not that bad, its just you-know-what). Today I will show some pics I took at the Brooklyn Musuem. At the time they were setting up a Murakimi Show, and we saw the Buddha sculpture and it was really lovely and large

If you know about the third picture, please post a comment, because I have no idea, it would really help.

2011©Lisa Marie Bonaparte




Murakami Buddha Sculpture

A corset-like garment worn by the males of a tribe in Africa

I am so sorry, I don't have a clue, but I love this

Chinese Dynasty Vases

Remake of rooms in homes that were torn down in NYC

Monday, November 15, 2010

Headless Chicken and Parking at Piarco Airport

The first few times I parked at the airport, was interesting, because when I returned to my car, I could not find it. At one point it took us almost an hour to locate the car, we ran around and around, frantically thinking that the car was stolen, pressing the alarm button so that we can at least "hear something". And to think I still had to pay the for the extra hour to exit the parking lot. I began to think that this was a conspiracy to 'extract' an extra $3.50. I was so embarrassed to relate this experience until I read of someone who had the same frustration, "running around like a headless chicken" looking for their car.

The 'headless chicken experience' is a one of a kind experience where anxiety, frantic search bordering to schizophrenic altitudes, pile onto the brain cells. It symptoms are twitching eyes, knotted eyebrows, mouth in a grimace, shaking body, and hands cryptically buckled and curved, looking to grab at anything remotely resembling the presently cherished looked for item.