Something, something, something, vote for we...

I had no burning desire to comment on anything to do with the elections taking place here in TnT. Why bother, other than to exhort people to go out and vote there wasn't anything to say. Every candidate will tell you whatever it is they think you want to hear and you're all old enough to make up your own minds. Aside from the obvious fact that ad agencies, t-shirt and banner purveyors, the media (advertising is at an all time high!) music trucks and Kernal Roberts are coining money, the rest of us soldier on and wait for the 25th with bated breath. If nothing else we will be able to surf the net without being accosted by flashing yellow or red banners pressing us to vote for some or other political party.

But yesterday the candidate put forward by the opposition toured the area, it was interesting. I've not a lot of time for politicians generally, my innate cynicism always wins but Mr. Garcia has cojones. This is his THIRD attempt to best the "Rottweiler" aka Keith Rowley. That Mr. Garcia has been trounced on two separate occasions by the gentleman is one thing, to put yourself forward yet again despite that Mr. Rowley is currently enjoying a popularity brought on by the simple fact that he is NOT the leader of his party and is seen as also having large cojones is quite a feat of optimism. What I found most fascinating though, was the PEOPLE that were a part of Mr. Garcia's motorcade and those canvassing the neighbours. Do not think I'm racist but it is not often you see certain sectors of our population actually walking around the streets far less for being a part of any political parade. And yet, there they were, those self same people who attend the church at the end of the street and yet speak to no one living within twenty five feet of the place. Many of the folks waving their little white flags and singing along to the 'Rocky" jingle were of a certain ilk. Things to make you go hmm. Does this mean that the middle and "upper" class folk might actually climb off their collective asses and do something for a change. Wow! Now that takes talent and more power to the Rock that he could move and motivate them so...for whatever reason. A word of advice to the candidate, he might actually want to speak to the people he's canvassing. I expect that as per usual we shall see Mr. Rowley over the next week making his trip through the constituency as he does at least once every five years.

Lest anyone accuse me of campaigning for any party, put the thought out of your head. I'm just commenting on current affairs. Truthfully, I would not wish to be a politician. Your whole life and that of your family open to scrutiny, every little action put out for public consumption. The prevailing feeling that our leaders should be Gods without faults and human frailty, come on people really. What makes them any better than any of the rest of us. Okay, it would be very nice if they did not lie, steal or cheat and that they would run the country without raping the state. Big plus for us but how many people actually get into politics to serve? One can only hope for the best and trust that the institutions will safeguard the interests of the state. And that's where we are responsible, for holding our elected officials to high standards, to put country before self and all that.

And pigs may yet fly......

Thanks for the laughs

Have to hand it to Wuzdescene, girl, I love those earrings! Yesterday, a bunch of us gathered in Chic Shak up in Belmont in support of our fellow blogger and ace earring/anklet/belt maker 'Scene. Other than the small issue of almost having to wrestle the designer for MY earrings, it was an afternoon well spent. 'Scene, we have to have a small talk about letting go...and commerce...and that you have to actually LET people buy your product, you can't keep them all for yourself. Other than that, talk about welcome relief from all the election noise that is happening in TnT at the moment. On an aside, I hope all of you citizens who complain are registered to vote and intend to do so, otherwise, keep quiet.

It's always a loaded moment when you decide to put yourself out there and meet other bloggers. You just never know whether it will all work out. As I've said many, many times before, blogging is a nice narcissistic activity you could do by yourself and nobody has to know who you are. If you are a responsible blogger you will not slide into "mauvais langue" or libel. So when you meet a bunch of bloggers whom you only know from whatever it is they put it out on the net, it's an experience! And yesterday was an excellent time....I can't tell you the last time I laughed so much. I found out that 'Scene and I are so alike in some ways is spooky...now if only I could find a man like that! Too bad for those who missed the lime, the rest of us had a ball, not to mention some truly good jewellery.

It's kind of funny in a way. Lately I've been working on me again, you have to do that every so often in order to move forward in life. It struck me again how schizophrenic my life is, during the week I am one person, and on weekends, someone else. Sort of like a Barbie doll, weekday Barbie wears suits, towering high heels and makeup. Weekend Barbie is a casual dress or shorts type of girl, flip flops or sandals and you're lucky if hair gets combed, far less for lipstick. This is not to say that they aren't the same person or that I'm seriously disturbed. I'm only partially disturbed. It's really about the compromises we make and the concessions we make to fit in to make a living. When I grow up I want to be Scene and her friend Roger, they walked away from corporate life and are doing what they want. Sure, it's not easy, they make sacrifices but they sure as hell look happy. They are intelligent, articulate, insanely funny, nice people, they just dance to the beat of their own drum. When I look back at my own life, the times when I've done that have been the most fulfilled...even with all the uncertainty.

So yes Scene, in answer to your question, it's getting to that time when the choice to dance again it growing close. The trick as always is mitigating and adjusting, shedding all those unnecessary things so you can concentrate on what's really important. Now all I have to figure out is what next.......the adventure continues.

AND TO SOMETHING NOT SO FUNNY

.....on a different more serious note. I wasn't going to give this any more 'airtime' but having spoken to a couple of friends I couldn't not comment. Last week the newspapers carried a story about two boys from a 'prestige school', their YouTube video. It was a three column, six, maybe seven inch story, small by newspaper standards, buried among the election stories. Is it that we are so bereft of news or bored that that is the story that led like wildfire. Speculation was rife as to who the boys were, one paper actually published the name of the school. While I question the wisdom of the boys as to carrying on their activities where they did, the stupidity of filming it and even worse, having it posted to the Web, I have to wonder at us, the constant interest in the salacious. Everybody had an opinion whether condemnatory or otherwise.

But I notice, not one person, expert or otherwise has pointed out that it is normal for adolescents to experiment with sex, whatever their orientation.
I haven't heard one person say, oh goodness, what they and their families must be going through.
Not one official has made an intelligent statement on the situation. The Ministry of Education, Catholic School Board, NPTA have all buried their heads in the sand.

All that's been said so far is that the boys are being separated and sent to different schools, as though this addresses the issues.

And then there's the fallout that no one has considered. For the last week, Peter has indeed been paying for the sins of Paul. Boys from that school have been harassed, nasty comments are thrown their way, it's so bad that parents are considering moving their children to another school. The sports programme, one with many successes, is suffering. Everyone is being tarred with the same narrow minded brush. I hear it's so bad boys are walking with a change of clothing so that they don't have to face the heckling. We've managed to make the lives of over three hundred people unbearable, all because of something that routinely happens, don't fool yourselves, it does and will continue to, whether among the heterosexual or homosexual population

I know this is not going to make me popular but I don't much care. If it were your kid, how would you like it? What are we so afraid of that we can't just accept people for who they are? Who in their life has not done something stupid, something we're ashamed of? You're either deluded or a saint, good for you if you can say no, but I somehow doubt you're being honest.
Check yourself first.

4G and more

The first mobile phones were unleashed on the world in 1973 by the Motorola Corporation. That first baby was a 2 kilo monster and a far cry from the cute little devices we slip into our pockets today. They were utilitarian, grey, shaped like a brick and there were certainly no cutesy skins or jewels with which to "bling them up". Japan was the first country to launch the first commercially automated cellular network in 1979. Several countries in Europe followed suit two years later, with Canada, Mexico and the bringing up the rear in 1982. The US got their first network in 1983. These were analog systems, kind of clunky with not so great voice reproduction and the sound of white noise ever present in the background; the digital system or 2G networks didn't happen until the early '90's.

So, it's been 37 years since Martin Cooper and his team brought the world that one thing that we seem unable to do without. There are several generations of young adults who don't know what it's like not to have a mobile phone, or who even know what a "land line" is, far less for a telex or telegram! They know nothing about having to "place" an overseas call by calling the overseas operator and booking a time etc. And yet, we somehow survived in the pre-mobile days. Man didn't expire and the species did not die out just because we couldn't speak to someone from the car, movies etc.

What did we do before we had mobile phones? Well we didn't feel we had to relate the sordid details of our night out to all and sundry on the public bus/train etc. We had face to face conversations with people and then we went our way. Has all this immediate ability to connect really improved our ability to communicate? Like everything there are pros and cons. I don't knock mobile phones being the possessor of not one, but two of the darned things. One belongs to my office and the other is mine. I am well trained to respond to the blinking red light signaling a text message, email or BBM. It's been the best and worst of times and we, the phones and I, have a love/hate relationship.

"You didn't answer your phone" has become a more frequent complaint. Well, because I don't think you should have access to me all the time. Leave a message and I'll call you back. Okay, mobile phones are great in an emergency but we seem to spend more quality time with the damn phone than we do people. Maybe because it's easier to communicate when we have an impersonal third party to channel our discussions through. But getting back to the point, I'm driving, hands on the wheel and attention to the road please. I'm not immune, I use the hands-free but really, did I HAVE to tell you about the dress I just bought? Couldn't it wait until I got home? I'm doing something, that's why I didn't answer the phone, that okay with you?

One Saturday I went out to do my errands and forgot the phone home charging. I didn't realise it until it dawned on me that the car had been pretty quiet for a long time; no phone ringing. Determined to stick it out, I went about my business but all the while feeling, naked, as though I were somehow incomplete because I was not tethered by the leash known as Blackberry. In an age where everything is now, things take on equal importance, there is no sense of balance, of understanding the difference between real priorities and things that can wait. That chat with your child as opposed to the twenty things that come up because it's all important.

As we move into the era of better, faster communications I have to wonder, if we had one of those apocalyptic calamities often portrayed in doomsday movies, how the current generation would survive without their steady diet of X-box, Wii, Netflix and the ability to text. Horror of horrors, they might actually be expected to WRITE something down...learn to spell and even worse, wait until they saw someone to actually speak to them.

Yellow or pink?

The hills that surround my home have been burnt brown by a combination of bush fires and drought. They are arid, unattractive sentinels, far removed from their usual verdant green...it's been sad to watch them. Every year we go through a version of this, but this year while not the worst that I've seen in the time I've been living in this house, is a telling reminder of the global climate and other changes that we are experiencing. The days are so hot that all you want to do is lie in a cool spot and not move, pity the poor dog with his thick coat. He spends much of his time panting in front of the fan or slipping into the bathroom to lie on the cooler tiles.

And yet, the poui trees, though burnt and battered are once again blooming. Ironically, poui only blooms in the dry weather. They are glorious, pink or yellow, masses of blossoms cover the trees and they stand out against the harsh landscape, beacons of brightness against the parched brown. It is a testament to the resilience of nature that something so beautiful could come of such inhospitable conditions.

I have always prided myself on being resourceful and resilient. No matter how dread my life gets I always find a way. I'm very handy, can fix most things around the house, don't really need anyone to do stuff for me that kind of thing. It does not mean that it wouldn't be nice to have that but there is no expectation that it will be so and so, I do what I have to. Kind of like those poui trees, I expect that no matter how much happens, I'll still bloom. It always comes as a surprise to find that I can't always. That sometimes, you have to wait a season or two to recover or that no one is infallible, even me.

It's understanding that......

Easter again

This blog was supposed to be filled with pictures. The little point and shoot was gotten out and plunked into handbag in preparation for a pictorial on the things that caught my eye. Sorry, I missed all those pictures of the sea early in the morning, kites flying in Queen's Park Savannah, the burnt, rain starved hills around my house, I give you instead, my constant companion and my books. All I have done this weekend between lie unmoving before the fan with sweat dripping off extremities and sheets sticking to skin and throwing the ball at the hound in a desultory manner, is work. You heard me right, there are those of us who've had to forget we live in the public holiday capital of the world, roll up our sleeves and "get the job done".

But it is not to whine. In preparation for the long Easter weekend there were multiple visits to the various bookshops who had sales and even those who didn't to pick up a stack. Next to sinking into clear sea water and not coming out until I'm all wrinkled, my other favourite pursuit is to lounge in bed or on the couch with a stack of books at close hand, losing myself in the author's prose. Not everyone's idea of an exciting time to be sure but it is my pleasure. Sure, being out exploring the world is a wonderful thing to do but when you can't, or it is all too much, exploring the pages of a good novel can transport you to places you can only dream about. After all, you could spend a couple of hundred dollars to sit around a bar or otherwise for a few hours, that has its place. On the other hand, you could do without that once or twice and pick up some books in which you can lose yourself over several days or weeks. That you can re-read at leisure or share with like minded friends.


Too often it is easy to get bogged down in all the things that you cannot do instead of enjoying the small pleasures that you can carve out. Like I wish that I'd gotten some more of those oh so delectable intense chocolate cupcakes made by Emma Herrera that were being sold at Reader's Bookshop. The dark chocolate ganache frosting shining against the silver sleeve, red, red cherry on top. The one that I ate with my fingers was so rich, moist, chocolatey and yummy I wanted to lick the foil. Good manners prevailed but I took two to friends who demanded more. As you can see, I managed to sneak in a little down time, enjoyment is where you find it.

Real women

Take a good look at the picture, don't you think you might know some of those women? Okay, maybe not those women but women who look like them. This picture came from a Dove soap campaign featuring 'Real Women", as defined by their marketing department. Depending on whom you speak to, this is either a good thing or a bad thing....Dove says their sales went up because women saw themselves; a study by some university, who incidentally surveyed their female students (in other words a particular demographic vs Dove's sales tracking) said it hurt because it lowered women's self esteem. It would appear, among American College students who attend the particular university, curvy women are equated with things like being unfit, unhealthy, plus sized etc.

Eh? Look Dove marketing can call them whatever they want but I would say Real Women come in all shapes and sizes; big, little, tall, short, angular, bony, lush curves, top/bottom heavy....that's what makes us oh so special. We're different! But to refer to women who are a size 8 and over as "Plus Sized" and therefore "Real" is just plain condescending in my book. Clearly society is saying it does not matter if you are tall, short, big or fine boned. It's whether you can squeeze yourself into a size six or less that makes you not a "real woman', because real women are all over a certain size, but desirable. If I were a smaller woman I'd be pretty pissed because how does my dress size or lack thereof decide whether I am real or not. WTF.

How come no one types men that way? I've never, ever heard a man referred to as "Plus Sized"...big and tall yes, the other, no. The irony is that women have fought long and hard to overcome all kinds of gender bias and yet, we still subscribe to this nonsense about body types. Am I less smart, accomplished etc because I am a size 12? It would seem yes because according to the "pundits" I am too dumb to lose weight and conform to the norm. Size is also equated with healthy or fit. Guess what, you can be a skinny size 4 and still have high cholesterol. Does that make either of us less real?

Look, we honestly have enough other crap to deal with than to subscribe to some magazines idea of what our bodies should look like. I for one have no real desire to be so exercised that my arms look like twigs (like many Hollywood starlets). Exercise is good for making you feel good, endorphins and all that, but do you really want to look like an gym bunny. If the answer is yes, then go for it but if you're happy to be you, wobbly bits and all do not let anyone make you feel badly about yourself. I say be whomever you want to be, you are not the sum total of your dress size.

As for the Dove campaign, I really wish they had used more diverse women in all shapes and sizes, then maybe they would have been real. But hats off to them for trying something different and also, recognising that not only one demographic spends money on their product.

Alice, you're back!

You know sometimes you hear a song on the radio and it immediately transports you back in time to a particular moment? You remember what you were doing, how you were feeling...first kisses, dances, breaking up, breaking out, breaking down as the case might be. While driving to work, windows firmly up against the early morning heat of a country in the throes of drought, an eighties flashback, AC/DC's Back in Black on the radio. The opening guitar riff familiar to headbangers everywhere, my fourteen year old self immediately turned up the radio and even though I know it's stupid, there I was singing along and modified headbanging ensued. I am and have always been an equal opportunity music lover so no conclusions please. Fortunately it was early enough that there was no traffic so the red mobile whizzed along without the disapproving stares of fellow road users. It was a great little walk down memory lane as is Level 42's "Something About You".

Two weeks spent luxuriating in the unfamiliar experience of having two whole undiluted weeks of flip flops, my brother's company and the ever present sea in the background and no ever present Crackberry left me unprepared for the intrusion of real life. But surely, I know what Lewis Carroll was experiencing with Alice in Wonderland. Carroll wrote his novels under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs and surely, there are days when I pick up the newspaper and swear that the Mad Hatter, who happens to look oddly like Johnny Depp, has made an appearance. Or is it wishful thinking. I'll leave it to you to decide.

Now while it may seem that I'm being all mysterious and oblique that's not the case. I'm practising my new outlook, no obsessing about the things I cannot change or more to the point, focus on those things that make me happy like Klondike (ice cream) Bars, the Hound, a perfect Dirty Martini, the stack of books next to the bed.....

And what was the point of this post you might wonder. Like many other things Trinidadian, does it matter and does it really need to make sense? Perhaps not.

Once upon a time

Isn't that how all good stories begin? The one's that made you want to curl up with the book and lose yourself in the magical words on the page. After what feels like a lifetime of one path, it's time for a new journey. I don't know where this is going to take me, only that I must. It's not mysterious, or sinister, or even that exciting, simply new. Different; a shedding of one skin, renewal, or maybe even rediscovery at what is at the heart. And finally, after a long period of indecision, knowing feels good, right.