Give us a break!

I promised myself that I would not make any comments on the political campaigning taking place here but being subjected to the 3 Canal song, “Good Morning” every bloody morning and night has caused me to revisit that promise. First off, I like 3 Canal; I always have and it has little to do with the “curb appeal” of Wendell Manwarren, their vibes just plain nice. “Blue” still conjures up immediate images of an extremely cold Carib being consumed at four o’clock Jouvay morning next to the weird Italian marble sculpture up by Queen’s Hall while being slathered in blue paint by the divine looking ras’ Colin. Ah, the memories…but I digress.

The problem is not the song, it’s a nice song, with lots of positive vibes but after hearing it for the four hundreth time it's appeal wears a trifle, never mind the cynical use by a political party to make one feel all warm and cozy towards them before the now daily onslaught. Understand me clearly, besides the fact that you’re not my neighbour, I haven’t seen any of you in the six years that I’ve lived here; I’m trying to snatch those few elusive minutes of peace before I tackle the traffic, bad drivers, etc. Yes, I know, I should be up and out of bed, scrambling to get dressed and off to my wage slave stint but can I at least choose what I want to listen to while I eat my wheaties. Isn’t it bad enough that I can no longer listen to the radio or watch local television because of you.

What is it with politicians? True we might all be deaf from your loud campaigning but that’s no reason to shout at folks at your political meetings. That thing in front of your face on the metal stand, it’s a microphone, it is used to amplify the sound…we can unfortunately hear you miles away, it just sounds worse with you yelling. Frankly people, who writes your jingles and adverts? I have no desire to “step out with Patrick”, or “feel the vibrations with Winston”, you have wives to fit that bill! I don't pay any attention to the other irritating party music from the red bereted man either. Oh yes, I didn’t like Iwer George’s song at Carnival, what makes anyone think that in the ensuing time I would have changed my mind even if he hadn’t changed the lyrics to exhort me to cast my vote for ……. Ditto Akon. And for that matter, what’s wrong with using standard English?

Here’s a novel idea guys, why don’t you assume we all have brains, focus on the issues and tell us exactly how you’re going to deal with them. Think of the example you’re setting by being nasty to your fellow man. I’m sure your parents taught you better than that and if not, ask yourself, why anybody would want someone with no “home training” to represent them. So I’ll thank you all not to insult my intelligence any further with your puerile ranting, disturb my precious sleep time with your noise polluting PA systems and for God’s sake, do not expect me to drop my life and run to the gate to shake your hand. But I do give points to any candidate that avoids falling into the pot hole in the road outside my gate or brave enough to chance the swirling flood waters that we’ve been treated to every time it rains.

Relationships, go figure!

A while aback I was having coffee, what else, with a friend. Not an unusual occurrence at all, we were talking about all kinds of things including relationships. Very little surprises me generally but I confess, I didn't really expect my gay friend to be having the same kinds of problems my girlfriends were having with their boyfriends. Though why it should be any different I don't know. Relationships are relationships and very often problems are caused by the same things.

Okay, bottom line is, people have expectations and come with own own baggage. Our views are coloured by this and it affects how we approach our lives and how we interact with our partners. And that's the rub, we're all different but we expect that our partner will be able to read our minds; anticipate our every need or automatically know what we're feeling. Sorry folks, I hate to tell you but it does not work that way. That's why whomever created us gave us mouths and words.

Of course then there is man speak and woman speak but that's a whole other issue! She says one thing, he hears another! Or, he says nothing and she reads a whole conversation into it. Hundreds of cartoons, books, songs have been sacrificed to the Gods of Man/Woman Speak! And you know what. We still don't get it! So we screw up our lives trying to make sense of all of these convoluted issues and utterances flailing around until we bleed or the situation gets resolved.

Let's face it, humans make their lives complicated over stuff that in the end, is not really worth the energy we pour into it. Now I remember why I live with a dog. He at least does not question why I am late from work (two hours of traffic!), why I "let my figure go", why I have nothing to say, why I want to read my damn book in peace! He's just happy if I lob his ball at him, feed him and rub his tummy from time to time. Now there's a working relationship for you.

Go eat some chocolate - you'll be happier!

See this, this is pure evil. The seemingly innocuous slabs there have led women down the road of rack and ruin. Forget Eve and the apple, I don't care how shiny it is, who wants to eat apples when you can have glorious chocolate!

Every sane women will point out that choclate is one of the five food groups, but alas, it is one of those things that you are constantly told to avoid, like potatoes, another must have. You know what, in my twenties, when I had a figure, I was so afraid of society that I kept it under wraps. I never saw myself the way I was. Now I look back at the pictures and I am stunned! Who is that svelte chick with the masses of hair, fabulous legs and slim waistline. Surely it cannot be me!

Don't blame the chocolate however, in those days I could eat anything and not gain an ounce, pity then that I didn't. It is the job of advertising/marketing people everywhere to make us want to buy things. In today's world, ads/movies/tv/popular culture admires the stick figured woman, one that we forget has been airbrushed to within an inch of life. It is all too good to be true. We are ashamed of ourselves when we cannot conform to the unrealistic body ideals that are touted as perfection. And we deny ourselves any enjoyment as a result. We cannot eat this or that because the food police says it is bad for us or we'll gain a pound or two. Even when we look great we pick at ourselves and hold up ridiculous ideals. How stupid is that?

There are much more important things wrong with the world than my thirty inch waistline, go fix those please! Meanwhile, as an older, more mature woman, I have learnt the value of enjoying my life, if I want to have a little chocolate then I will.

Life without coffee-NOT

This blog was about my musings about life from a caffeine hyped point of view. Yes, I know, pretty self indulgent. But I figured, if I could have a regular job, no matter how stultifying, damnit, I could be as self indulgent as I wanted to be on my own blog. What can I say, it's all that coffee talking.

Did I mention that I love coffee? I do. There is nothing like waking up, stumbling into the kitchen, the packet krinkling with excitement as it comes out of the freezer, the aroma so think you could almost eat it, filling the air as you grind the beans. Set up the coffeemaker and wait for the brown nectar with its promise of wakefulness and the flickerings of intelligence flowing back into you.

Without coffee in the morning I confess, I can be a babbling idiot. On the mad occasions that I have given it up, well, let's just say it's not been pretty. I am however not one of those people who faff around with I can't drink this or that. I do draw the line at instant granules, those are the coffee equivalent of cocaine for what they do to your stomach but any half way decent cup of java is welcome at my house. On that note, I'll take another sip and get down to the business of self indulgence and musing.

Blogging is serious business

Everyone these days it seems has a blog. Some of them are quite good reads and some you wish the writer would quietly pack up and disappear into the woodwork from whence they came. Says me anyway.

I have a friend who spends quite a bit of time on-line doing research or so she claims. Personally I think its an excuse to skive off and read but then again, I might be projecting. No denying however that she has sent me some incredibly interesting links which enliven my life as I drudge through my day. If my boss is reading this, no I don't do it on your time nor do I blog on your time...ingnore the time signature you see here, it lies.

Looking at the wealth or dearth of material out there has made me realise how lazy I have become. I used to be employed as a writer so it is somewhat incredible that now, I scarcely write anything that is not a harangue to my staff or officious paperwork. Maybe that's what's put me off but it sure as hasn't stopped all those other people out there with things to say. You do have to be committed to be a blogger though. Occasional dilettante scriblings will not work, you must be consistent, no matter how boring you might get.

Honestly, I started this blog because various friends pointed out that I always had these interesting stories that only they heard. So what, I countered. Well, let's say after a protracted period of denial I ended up with a blog. I'd really like to comment on things like the stupidty of politicians and how much money gets thrown around, yadda, yadda, yadda but ultimately, who cares. So for now, will save my ranting for other outlets and encourage you to go read other people's much more interesting blogs!

Save Our Savannah

August 1999 was a part of a difficult time for me, I was awaiting the start of the law term and the date for my divorce hearing while trying to come to terms with how suddenly my life had changed. I had gone from being a long married, creative "arty" type, in the blink of an eye to someone who had no roots and very few references. At the time, I was employed at the Tourism agency and moving to my first post marriage apartment..with not a whole lot of anything.

August proved to be one of those times when a lot of my beliefs and I were put to the test. One morning I came to find myself standing shoulder to shoulder with many of my colleqagues and friends from the environmental movement. A not unfamiliar stance given our history of protests but this was particularly poignant, my ex husband was one of the people who had made the placards and the entity we were protesting against was my employer.

The sun was hot that day, and I was wearing business wear and high heels; standing in between Adele, also in four inch heels and Eden Shand. Clearly the two of us had not planned on being on a building site, far less in the midst of the Savannah. That day there were several Government employees there with a lot to lose, including Adele, Val, Rudy and myself. What it came down to was us standing up for our principles. The paving had been conducted at the behest of a Government Minister in the dead of night. Our network had seen the trucks rolling in and we'd spent the night working the phones, the call to action came early the next morning in the light of day. I was already at my desk. My "boss" had stipulated that we were not to be seen participating at any protest but damn the bridges, I had been doing this a long time and it was important!

The Queen's Park Savannah had long been on our list of things to preserve for future generations. For years incursions had been made on the city's green jewel and we stood to lose one of the most beautiful things we had in our capital. Over the years I have written many stories about the Savannah and environs, including at least a dozen for the tourism website and brochures both before and since that day. Ironic don't you think.

That August morning the trucks started to roll as we chanted and I called various media houses from my mobile phone. The TV6 crew showed up just about when the first dumpster started to pour gravel on the protesters. AS I looked up at the tray rising into the air, loads of gravel slowly and then esclating in speed emptied out the back, we were in the way. My fellow men and the media called out to the driver to stop, there were people under there. I recall the malicious grin on his face in the side mirror as he blithely went on as Adele and I, younger and fitter than Eden, scrambled to get out of the way, our feet and legs bruised and scratched from the effort. Val and Adele's John D students leapt to our rescue and tried to help us out of the way. They were the ones who dug Eden out when the dust settled, another generation of environmentalists was cemented in that moment.

Photographers snapped pictures, people waved their signs and the word came that the Minister had declared a stop, if only for the moment. That day I learnt about myself and my fellow man. I realised that regardless of personal cost, I would uphold my beliefs and do what I considered to be right. At the end of every relationship, if it was worth anything, you find that ground to keep going. That a lot of peoole shared our views but were too afraid of retaliation or paralysed by fear to DO anything. A lot of these people came afterward to share their thoughts or congratulate us on our bravery.

It isn't about being brave, I have fears just like the next person but I believe unless you are willing to do something, you lose your voice and sometimes even your rights. In the eight years since that protest, I have continued to live my life with personal integrity, no job is worth losing yourself and your self respect. To this day, we continue to fight for the survival of the Savannah. I marvel that politicians who fight to distinguish themselves from each other are in fact really all the same for the most part. When will we learn?

Would I do it again? In a hearbeat.

Tomorrow never comes

Why is it that we always put our lives on hold for the stupidest of reasons? Every excuse to not live is trotted out, usually most prominent, work. If I knew twenty years ago what I know now, would I do it again? Yes, maybe I would spend 18 hours a day shooting, editing and making TV programmes but I would do it very differently.

I would have enjoyed it a lot more! I would not have felt so conflicted at doing what I loved, but I also would not have given up so much of myself to living up to other people's expectations or needs. Frankly, I would have tried harder to avoid those people who were interested n holding me back. Yes, even my own family. People do many things out of love, but we also do them out of fear.

Life is too short to spend each moment agonising. So instead of dwelling on the negatives, try to take the learning from them and move on to the things that make you healthy and whole. It took me almost forty years to understand that!

So today I stand here and look at my life. Yes I have accomplished many things, but I acknowledge that maybe the time has arrived for me to take the lessons, acknowledge the possibilities and let go. Life is made to be lived. Let no one steal your joy!

Talk yuh talk

I started this blog because it seemed at the time, a good idea. I always have a lot to say, or so you would think if you heard me in full cry. It became glaringly obvious that I didn't have that much to write once I got going.

Okay, that's not really true. Writing is my preferred medium though it's harder to be a showman. You have to write the visual cues that would otherwise be obvious in facial and body expressions. I also realised that since I spent my day essentially talking, the curse of Corporate Communications, that I didn't want to talk at all or by extension write. At least about any of my own experiences. So I started to contribute to a couple of blogs written by friends, artists who bless their hearts, gave me a forum for my own expressions.

Maybe it's a lack of coffee, I haven't had any since Saturday and then it was only one cup of instant which really does not count! I feel duller somehow, like my brain wants to fire but has decided to take a day off. I should really take the advice of novelist Earl Lovelace who, at the outset of my career told me to "write every day", no matter what. You can always edit after. So now to discipline myself, to write, no matter what.