LAMBSTAT and the lovers!

"Love is our true destiny."
Isn't love just a crock of shit sometimes. Countless quotes telling us that without love one is virtually a black hole of nothingness. I find the thought ghastly and inappropriate- to tell me that my existence, my being on this will be an unfulfilled experience without having had at least one lover. As disgusted as I am with the thought now I can't say I completely disagree or that I never lived for that feeling once. The lovers will tell you that I go hard or go home. I am a lover, a romantic, a sucker for the memories and the moments and the future we can behold. This is in complete contradiction with my logical self. I am a pessimist. I envision the worst of a situation first, plan to avoid it but if I fail I'm not too broken up because secretly I prepared myself to expect it.

This is sure to clash with the lover in me because love thrives on hope and egoism. You can't be a good lover if you don't have hope or if you don't think your love is the "beesnees". But isn't that where love fails us. It tells us to hope, to believe that your love is worth it all and then some. It ultimately sets us up for the potential fall out I think and for that reason love is an ass.
I was at a love crossroads today. A friend needed my wit, my charm, my love her in dealing with the fallout of love and I couldn't bring myself to be what she needed. The pessimist in me had won and it should have felt like shit but it didn't. The "why" of this experience has been on my mind for the greater part of my day. A major part of me is angry because though we have never been lovers- I give her the "beesnees" kind of love. I love her like a lover and well this lover didn't. I want to scream but I can't. I want to be mad at her but I shouldn't. Love's ego cuts us like a double-edged sword sometimes and she was bleeding. And as much as I have seen the error of my ways and want to run in and save her but she must bleed for now and I have to understand that. The beautiful thing about love is I will know when to enter with the thread and the needle.

And so I am here again- angry at love and sometimes second guessing my own "beesnees" kind of love. Going through the past lovers of in my life- the beautiful memories and the painful fallout and I can't help but think that it is not love that is one's destiny but the eventual fallout of love. I write this blog while being madly and happily in love; hoping that this love will have no fallout. With all the ego love has there can't be enough space in a room for it and two people. It just can't! So is love going to keep swallowing us whole and spitting us out. A dat me waan know! If we can't save ourselves how are we going to save our friends?

We can't. We don't. We hope. Like love we thrive on hope that somehow, someday, someone will look back on the people you love and give them the "beesnees" they been searching for. I love all my friends like lovers. I think that's how I choose to believe in love. To fight the inevitable fall out because the thing is. You don't fall OUT of love with your friends. Lovers are not the end of you or the purpose of you. Though they certainly are an amazing bonus prize in this life. So for the lover I failed I'm sorry and for the lovers I can't do without. I love you. As for love and it's ego can't say I blame it love feels good.

Save a nation, Do not take sex advice from dancehall!

Terms not to be associated with my Vagina!

Dancehall music is a colourful art form, wouldn't you say? Listening to dancehall as avidly as I do eventually you move beyond the beat and find yourself noticing the words. It is at this point that fear and trepidation set in. "Kartel neva jus seh dat" "No Busy, mercy said no" "Is my vagina yuh talking about though, I'm just saying"
So i have compiled a list, an introductory and minimal list of terms not to be associated with my vagina.

1. 'Shub it een'- What you shubbing? Why? Where? With whose consent? Shub is a term my daddy used when he was fixing something or doing house cleaning and he needed somewhere to store things. I am not a storage closet so yea, we not shubbing anything.

2. 'Spread out yuh foot like police a search yuh'- Why? Afta mia nuh drug mule. Yuh lose something inside there? I doubt it.

3. 'Rape fuck'- Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo! And I don't think I need to explain why.

4. 'Batta bruise, blue and black up'- Domestic violence is a crime. You should be persecuted and locked away for that.

5. 'Stab up'- Really though? Stab up? You stab meat to stuff it with seasoning. You stab people to kill them #thatisall

6. 'Feel period pain'- I am real tyrant on my period, yuh really waan experience that?!?

7. 'Buss a clappers'- This is a body part not asphalt outta road. Steupse.

8. 'Fucking you mek me see pepperlight'- if you are seeing white lights while you are inside me it means you are transitioning to the other side, in which case get the rass of me cause I won't be responsible.

9. 'Mek me use mi blackberry tek a snapshot'- Sex tapes not allowed.

10.'Force up'- Why are we forcing things? I want to live to tell the tale.

11.'if yuh pussy lucky mi will get back mi visa'- My pussy caan solve dem deh global problem deh, get a good lawyer.

12.'Beat it up'- My vagina is an abuse free zone. It has never done anything wrong and therefore needs no beating.

13.'Jackhammer'- Yuh know what they use jackhammers to do... DRILL CONCRETE!

14.'yuh get a vision'- Try nuh get nuh vision please. I see these things on LAW and ORDER: SVU and Criminal Minds. Visions are a very bad sign.

15.'Nine months yuh get baby'- No unplanned pregnancies.

I realise that some hapless, clueless, brainless males and females are lost under the illusion that these are appropriate sexual terms. Save a nation, Do not take sex advice from dancehall!

Mission: Save my Arse!

Since arriving in Toronto and appetite and transportation wise a lot has change. The much desired side effect of this change is weight loss. I should be bouncing off the walls with joy; weight loss without the boiled chicken, flax flakes, blanched vegetable diet. But what about the parts we don't want to lose?
I am not a woman known for possessing junk in the trunk- quite the opposite so imagine my shock and surprise when I prep my little body for a shower. After disrobing I step past mirror and stop. I do a matrix lean backward to make eye contact with myself and reluctantly pull the rest of my body backwards. I made a startling observation.
The indentation between my arse/ass/buttocks/bottom/plumper and my spine/back is diminishing in width.
so after doing on average about twenty 360 degree spins in front of the mirror I realise I am in danger of being late for class because I should have showered 10 minutes ago. However, film technology must wait goddangit. So I start to do the body check and notice that I am losing weight which I should be bouncing off the walls over except that I now am in danger of having no ASS! I would like to keep my ass, I don't have one it does what it can to balance out my gifted bosom and losing it would be bad for my reputation. I'm a good looking gyal.
So I am officially in a state of panic and hysteria and must be comforted. So I frantically start messaging my partner who says to me "calm down baby" after laughing at me. After placating my emotions, the mission was born.
So I now walk up and do toning exercises in the morning and will be accepting donations to the Teneile gym fund. So the mission should you just to support me is to Save my arse!

The Lamb, The Line and The Wardrobe

In my move to Canada there is an obvious climate change which undoubtedly has lead to a wardrobe change. Being a proverbial observer and a victim of ADHD I can't help but notice the things that are happening around me. In Jamaican I'm generally thrown by the Ugg boots walking by me in burger king or that woman in those yeast infection causing jeans.

In Canada it appears that the line between warmth and serial killer is very thin. You see the trench coat unfortunately has a bad reputation. Events such as Columbine, bank robberies and most mass murder shootings has resulted in this negative portrayal of the trench coat. What this has resulted in also is the lifetime movie trying to be coy by using other kinds of coats thus the coat has a bad reputation.

So when I go on the train, the young lady with the black trench coat and pink fashion water boots doesn't scare me. On the other hand, the gentleman in the long black coat in dirty shoes, with a blank cold stare on his face does. I can't help but think there is some serious artillery in his right coat pocket.

Like last night there was a gentleman walking towards me at the bus stop and I honestly wanted to push him in the line of on coming traffic before he did it to me. I guess the real issue isn't the coat is it? It's the persona in the coat as well. If you're going to wear clothes with a bad reputation at least where it with some amount of glee, a smile on your face and a sunflower in your coat pocket. Not literally obviously, but you get the idea.

So, upon a deep analysis of my fear of the coat or the persona in the coat, I think the bigger problem is I need to buy a coat and I don't want to look like a serial killer.

Come on Subway...I'm dying here

The Subway... Its a novel method of transportation. The basic idea is to get the individual from point A to B on one fare provided there are no stopovers. The subway is just as immortalised in films about New York as the Central Park or the Statue of Liberty is. You can't tell a tale of the city that never sleeps without a subway scene. The New York City Subway is a part of that city's popular culture.

Unfortunately, my tale of subway brilliance comes from Toronto, Canada.They got subways too eh? But here's the thing for some strange reason every time I go on the subway, I'm waiting for Collins to break out into song like that scene in Rent. I get on the subway and my eyes start looking for that actor or that person who's gonna make that moment happen for me. " Sunny Santa Fe would be nice..." And then I have a delusional moment and wonder if that person is suppose to be me. But my insanity doesn't last long enough for me to inflict such pain upon others.

So here I am on the subway waiting for it break out in song and it doesn't. And I find myself looking at the design of the subway train from the seats to the standing bars to the doors to enter and the doors between the cabins. I notice what each person is doing and I'm thinking we've got the makings of magic here.

All kinds of magic too...horror can happen on the subway. Let's face its underground and an excellent location for a crime. The subway scene "The Pursuit of Happyness" may lead one to pursue suicide.

Tony Manero has a fun subway scene at the end of Saturday Night Fever. Event Step Up 2 God forgive me for remembering this has an amazing subway scene. The subway is movie magic...its the greatest film location ever invented. The Seinfield subway episode is EPICNESS.

So what I'm trying to figure out is what's wrong with my subway. Is the problem that I'm not in New York? I've got it all...the hallow sound of underground, the grunge kid, the guy in the suit, the artist, the crazy person, the steps leading down and the bodies coming and going. I'm beginning to feel like I've been duped and I don't appreciate it. Cause, well cause I've grown to like taking the subway.

I just need the other people on the train to see my vision you know.
In other news it seems the magic has been happening on the bus. I've been serenaded in Hindi, been shamelessly hit on, viewed a rather unattractive make-out session and a close encounter of the 5th kind with humanity. Okay, maybe the last one isn't unique to the bus so much as its just a part of life.

You think Make a Wish Foundation would help me out. I got big subway dreams

The Prince of Persia (Why you must never go to the movies alone?)

What is the obsession with Persia?
It could be the breathtaking Perisan beauty, the beads or the clothes or the amazing fascination we have with Prince and Princesses. Or maybe we are just too bored with our own lives.

Anyways, it is that sense of boredom, friendship and a cue of rum that brought me and the Prince of Persia together in the first place. The boredom I regret, the other two I will keep.

Let's begin with facts- the Prince of Persia is a video game. The brainchild of what I have decided is some man obsessed with trite and love conquers all bullcrap.

The film is based on the Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. The third instalment in the Prince of Persia video game series. I think the film started going downhill the minute it was based on a video game.

There was time when the new worlds would never dare meet but as CGI becomes the heart of the top grossing films video games are getting their 15 minutes of fame on the big screen.

But a great film isn't based on swinging and jumping and sand turning back time. A great film is based on a well worked plot, characters that take your breath away and dialogue. Sensible dialogue.

Prince of Persia was a bunch of white people with long hair and British accents playing hop scotch in sand. Lots and lots of sand.God bless Jake Gylenhaal for putting in time at the gym, Ben Kingsley for having those eyes and the bond girl for being a Bond Girl- one can reminisce on her bond performance while she is on screen.

And I think that' where it lost me- where were the Persians? And don't tell me they were hard to find cause with all that sand- they clearly had a budget. Them couldn't find two Persian. They can't tell me they needed big name actors for the film to make it big.

It has been proven time and time again that as far as fans of fantasy and adventure go- if the plot is what we expect it to be will make that unknown into Hollywood's next big star.

The actors in the Lord of the Rings were known to us but definitely not Hollywood's leading men. Jake you were a bore and you don't look good with long hair on your head and you look as Persian as I do.

And let's talk about script- the story is based in the 6th century and postulate that the words bureaucrat, Armageddon and entrepreneur were not being wielded so freely back then but who am I to pay attention to detail.

And as I write this and force myself to remember this horrific moment in my past I can't decide if the movie or the people enjoying it were more traumatic. The theatre was full to capacity and I was very confused. They were with Prince Dastan and his kangaroo moves all the way.

And before you think it doesn't make me harsh; it makes them in need of having better standards for what entertains them.

Prince of Persia was usurped by the company. God bless the company. It was like a sign from the heavens saying if this teaches you anything- DO NOT GO TO THE MOVIES ALONE!

The Symbol of Democracy?

The predicament that the Jamaica Labour Party, the government and the people of Jamaica now face is no longer about truths, lies and omissions. It has become about humility, respect and courage.

The leading Jamaica Labour Party for what appears to be political posterity has taken it upon themselves to fight steadfastly the extradition of Christopher ‘Dudus’ Coke. So committed have they been to this fight that they have risked their governance, their relationship with the Jamaican people and the integrity of the party.

Christopher ‘Dudus’ Coke is like an urban legend to many- we may never see him or encounter his humanity in the flesh but the power of his presence we will always be aware of. However, any hopes of saying internally as Jamaican nation “Dudus must go” have been erased by Prime Minister Bruce Golding’s fear of his constituent member.

It is this fear that has given birth to the lies, the omissions and the cries for the truths. Yet, the governing political party being lead astray by old men from the old guard has failed to find humility. The JLP dogs have stood toe to toe with a media fraternity that is obviously disgusted with their behaviour and as I listened to Samuda and Baugh’s press conference last evening, the lesson to be learnt is this.

Our political parties must stop playing Russian Roulette with each other and stand up and answer to the people. The indiscretions of the People’s National Party do not justify the indiscretions of the Jamaica Labour Party. As such the Prime Minister and the Jamaica Labour Party are both arrogant and wrong.

The behaviour displayed by Karl Samuda and Dr. Ken Baugh affirms the disrespect for the Jamaican people whom they serve. However, this seed of disrespect was sewn by us- the people. We exalt political leaders; we make excuses for them granting them the permission to be corrupt and not face the consequences of negative actions. Our political leaders will never be humble until they are forced to answer the tough and unfavourable questions.

So what happens now? The Prime Minister resigns; and then what? It seems no one has the answer to the “and then what”.

Resignation is a humble action indeed and a sign of the acceptance of his wrong; a symbol of democracy. On the other side, what does an apology say? The unfortunate reality is our political landscape does not offer us the luxury of a blanket resignation. The political tribalism is simply too great.

In this particular predicament a resignation would be the more cowardice of choices. Prime Minister Bruce Golding standing up and apologising is a more courageous act if and only if, he turns away from arrogance. Stay in power and fix your mess Mr. Golding because before you overreached as a Prime Minister this was not a mess.

But then in the face of political leaders realising that they answer to the people- which is the greater symbol of democracy- a resignation or an apology? Sigh.