Al-kuhl

I relish the escape of reckless abandonment I find in libation where two or more are gathered in its name. Yeah I'm spitting them out as they pop in my head today; whether it makes sense or not, it's one of those days.

Dancing Lo-ki

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light? Maybe not, perhaps his advocate. I am he and he is I. Of course I am not the Morning Star in the most literal sense - but I can be quite devilish. I seem to have a knack for getting people to indulge in their more mischievous side; perhaps I'm Loki in the flesh. Getting people to reassess their rote moral boundaries gives me pleasure - sadly I don't get compensated (not monetarily anyway) for that which brings me so much joy; stark contrast to my occupation.

Am I suppose to feel bad; am I going to burn in hell (where ever that is) for the things I do/did? Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to advocate misdeeds against humanity (no violence - though there are times when a good ass kicking seems to be necessary), just misdeeds of the flesh - the flesh is weak. And I'm fairly good with manipulating and surrendering to the flesh.

I'll be having a word with my imaginary therapist in our next session, I think we need to explore this neurosis a bit deeper. Any takers for a real therapist, I'm sure you would enjoy a stroll through my mind.

Helplessly praying

The last time I felt this way about work must have been a little over two years ago. The thought of waking up getting dressed and heading to my office made me feel incredibly depressed. I don't want to do this. I think this morning was the first time in a while I used the word hate and meant it - I have tried to get that word out of my vocabulary, it's too negative; but this morning I told Sofie I hate my job. Really I do. Doing what you're good at or can do is certainly not the same as doing something you enjoy. I do not enjoy this work. I feel empty, unfulfilled, unmotivated. Man I hate this.

Just before I started this job some two plus years ago, I thought it was a blessing; the North Wind answering my prayers - and I suppose for a time it was. But now, I'm back to that place I was - miserable with my career path and lost as to how to hop off and find something I want to do. I remember the day I got the news I was going to be promoted like it was yesterday. I was driving to work feeling incredibly miserable praying for something different all the way to the office, when I got there the then Financial Controller met me in the parking lot and told me that I would no longer be working in my old unit. God answers prays that quickly, I thought. And now pressing three years, I'm back to that space where I do not want to be in this place. This is the longest I have worked in any one organisation - two three years max and I'm gone.

Right now, I could do with some change, change for the better. My salary is decent, though it could be better, the benefits are good, the hours are fine, and yet I'm unhappy here. I need another answer to my prayers - only this time I think I need to be a bit more specific with the big man. God send me a job that pays well, I enjoy doing, that will allow me to use whatever natural talent you have endowed me with and apply the knowledge and skills I have acquired over the years.

Yes it has gotten to that point. God helps those who help themselves, right now I feel helpless.

No Entry

Children, kids, the little one(s) - they are called by many names but at one point (or several) they are commonly referred to as sex suppressants and or cock blocks. When they are healthy and vibrant they suppress basic sexual activity (no more or at least not as frequent acrobatics or marathon sex sessions). Their high concentration (and seemingly endless supply) of energy keeps them going till they tire you out to the point where the last thing on your mind is sex - that's not to say it is not on your mind (sex is always on my mind; damn it, it's in my DNA I secrete sex).

But when illness hits the little ones they move from a suppressant to an outright vaccination against the contraction of sex as if it were a disease to be fought most vigorously. Yes they graduate to a bloody hindrance aka cock block (No Entry). When your child becomes sick his/her mother (I say mother because, while daddy is concerned about his offspring his other head has a brain too, with a very one track mind - get some; but daddy attempts to show clemency) issues a notice in ostensibly diplomatic language- albeit telepathically, which by now you should be receiving loud and clear. It reads something like this:

Due to circumstances beyond our control we regret to announce the temporary closure of all ports of entry. Efforts are being made to resolve the cause of this blockage. We assure you that we are working assiduously to restore normal operations of all ports, and encourage you our valued partner in as far as possible to contribute to us returning to a state of normalcy . We regret any inconvenience this temporary interruption to "service" may cause and we look forward to your continued commitment to this partnership.

For further information please do not hesitate to contact us on our hot line, the number is 1 800 U NOT GETN NONE.

In case you are wondering - yes my son is ill. I block (for now).

A - Team

I have been feeling the need to write - to post something about something, anything and nothing all wrapped in one. My writer got an itch which must be scratched. Believe it or not there have been little blog worthy musings of late - I suppose there is little I'm pissed off about and I am bored with blogging about women (for now).

The plan was to not blog till my birthday which is a few days away; but you know how plans go right. Plans rarely go through as planned. Case in point I planned out repeatedly in my head how I was going to start this posting, guess what I have departed from my plan, I couldn't remember(so much for Ginkgo Biloba). I planned a number of things I wanted to do this week but for one reason or another my plans have had to take slight detours.

It has become evident to me that planning is not my cup of tea, things seem to work better when I fly by the sit of my pants. The extent of my plan should be I want X - the how I will get to X is irrelevant, because if I plan a direct route to X there will be something that will throw me off course; but I will eventually get to some version of X (maybe a lower casing x) but I'll get to X,x.

Someone once said if you want to make the North Wind (AKA God) laugh, tell him/her your plans. One should always be mindful of Murphy's Law and plan accordingly.

So I guess that was it then, my posting about something, anything and nothing all wrapped in one. Cheers

Constantly the same

The cliche the more things change the more they remain the same can not seem to be over used, much like the only constant in life is change. So which is it, do things change or do they remain the same - it would appear that as far as change goes we have a situation of an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force. Resisting change of any sought is indeed futile - either you move with the change or get left behind and wallow in the what was. To use the words of Beres Hammond "move along".

Nuptials

I had this conversation with Sofie about marriage, more specifically the half truths and omissions about marriage which are often perpetuated by what many people consider to be the "veterans" in the business/marriage. It seemed passing strange to both of us that when "veterans" talk about marriage the first thing they mention is the number of years they have been married - I can only assume that it is a badge of honour having survived past a certain number of years (it varies depending on how big an asshole your partner is). Then there are often the stories of how they met; how one person was not interested in the other - more often than not it is the woman that did not want the man, right; we know how that story goes . I suspect all women were given subliminal messages in their youth to either pretend they don't want the man they eventually end up marrying or at least say that non-sense when they are exchange war stories - sorry, marriage stories.

The stories often follow the same rosy path that leave the unmarried women in the room with a warm feeling inside and just a spot of hope that their Mr. Right (not Mr. Almost right) or prince charming is only one frog kiss away.

With men it is not that much different, but the story is not as cheerful I suppose - I suspect that too is a default setting to leave other men and some women thinking that marriage is one of the worst things you could do in your life. Men usually start with a painful sigh, lament the number of years they have been married almost like they are enduring through a prison sentence. Then their story of pursuit is often the same as the woman (because the woman must always seem to be unattainable); but the end of the man's story is more fun because despite the pretense of not being interested, he still got some and got the woman.

It is a rare (yet refreshing) occurrence when married people (more so the women) tell you about the not so happy years of marriage and how they survived them and for men to speak of the happy days in the marriage. Indeed it would seem that opposites attract. Men rarely admit that they did shit in the relationship (ok, ok, I have done what some may consider more than my fair share of shit - I love you baby, I'm a work in progress bare with me a bit), and women often seem to suffer from the angel complex - they can do no wrong. Marriage is no more complicated than the people involved in the marriage, and like any other thing in this life worth having, it will not always come easy - and hanging on to it is even more difficult. That is the true commitment - sticking to it, through the shit; granted some of the shit is not worth sticking through; and in the words of Kenny Rogers, "you got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run."Sofie asked me when am I going to run - not yet, it's a hand worth holding (for now :))

Life is not always happy - what makes anyone believe that a marriage would be any different; I blame it on the fairy tales of happily ever after. Marriage like any aspect of your life is as happy as you make it, you will hit a couple snags of course but you don't allow them to determine the out come of the rest of your life. Ultimately you are responsible for your happiness and the only person you have any control over is you. Take as much time as you need to choose your life partner; accept that even when you think you have them all figured out, you don't; accept that things don't always work out as planned and you sometimes have to roll with the punches; understand that you should not place everyone in a neat little box; accept people may choose to change or remain the same - be ready to deal with either; and if you are not, then know that marriage probably isn't for you (and if you are already married and have not come to grips with any of the above accept that your marriage may have a very short shelf life). A failed marriage does not make you a failure and a long marriage does not make you a success.

Through the good times and the not so good times, I'll say it loud and say it proud - I"M MARRIED (I'll whisper - for now) . According to my boy, who vex call de poll-lease (pronounce as spelt).

Stuck in traffic

I saw a woman while in traffic - one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand on the door propping her head as it hung to the side. Her face told a story, pouting, sad vacant eyes, lifeless skin. This woman in traffic seemed like the poster child for misery. She was oblivious to me or any one else for that matter observing her discontent - she was in her private space. That's the thing about alone time, (where ever you get it) - when you're alone, with your thoughts and your emotions, there is not the distraction of interaction with other humans beings that keep some of the more unsavory parts of your life at bay; your thoughts and emotions can run amuck.

The rancorous woman in traffic may be the most jovial person you would ever meet. In her world when she's not alone you would believe her to be happy - but she is only distracted from the unhappiness of her life. I was once like that woman in traffic - searching for happiness outside myself in the many distractions of my existence, drifting further away from a state (albeit relatively temporary) of happiness. The people in our lives and the things we do with our life contribute to our happiness; but in the absence of those people and things can we still be happy.

I've been asking myself these questions about happiness for a while now - I never got a copy of the happiness manual (hence I make it up as I go along), so I'm not to sure how it is to be pursued. What I have noticed is that everyone has a different version of happiness and most people think that everyone should be following their version of happiness. Some of us are so convinced by what other people perceive to be happiness that we spend our unhappy days trying to be as happy as the next person.

The unhappy woman sitting in traffic is one of many people walking around unhappy, unsure how to be happy; you see them everyday, at work, at the bank, in the supermarket, at the bars. At some point in our lives we are all unhappy - it becomes a problem when unhappiness becomes us; I have said it before and I'll say it again, we were not placed on this earth to be unhappy; there is too much beauty in this world to allow one's self to remain in a permanent state of misery.

I watched the woman in traffic, drive away; if she were walking she would be hunched over (she might be dead from it - perhaps she would be numbed ) from what seem to be the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders - I could not help but feel pity for her, she seemed lost, sad, depressed, desperately waiting to be rescued from her misery by someone other than herself. I watched her and wondered, what is her story and where does it end. For her sake I hope it is happily ever after.

The Lime - DWCMF

I made it. Three days of partying and liming and little to no sleep (just about 4 hours - I'm still in amazement). I have recovered for the most part from my weekend of partying in Dominica. My buddies and I went up for the World Creole Music Festival, it was just a big lime, we were not very interested in the shows, although we enjoyed most of all of them. Music, good music, no matter what languages reaches you - you can feel the vibe, move to the beat and just have a time.




Man it was a good weekend. One day disappearing into the next, by Sunday I had forgotten what day it was. We were up to see the opening and closing of every day - sun set, sun rise. There was one minor hiccup but that did not phase us. This weekend was the first time I could say I slept, comfortably and soundly in a vehicle (the caravan we rented); albeit it was only 2 hours or so - I was dead to the world. I had another first on Sunday or should I say Monday morning - I fell asleep standing up and caught myself just as I was about to fall forward onto this woman in front of me.

I saw more of the island than I have on the previous 6 occasions I have been there for work, but that is not to say I saw much of the island; but I saw enough to make the trip enjoyable. None stop fete. Let me attempt to summaries. Got through immigration in a breeze, thanks to my Lucian buddy living and working in Dominica, from there we drove to our apartment in Mahaut (yes Mahaut, like the one in Micoud, St. Lucia); dropped off our bags and headed down to Roseau (yes Roseau Valley in St. Lucia) to link up with the rest of our buddies who were there from the Wednesday - hung out for a bit, talk shit, oil (this is the word used to refer to drinking alcohol); headed back to Mahaut to bath and dress for the show; got there just about midnight.

We got to the show just in time for Kassav, the group we really wanted to see - I need not tell you they were good (but they performed better in St. Lucia for the Jazz festival). The show went up until 6:40am Saturday; from there we headed down to the market to get some breakfast. We ended up buying stuff to cook instead then it was off to the apartment . With the exception of Ernest we all fell asleep in succession before we were awaken by Marlon's thunderous snoring (at that moment I empathised with his wife). Since we were up we ate and got ready to head out the door for the next lime till the show, but first we had to settle our bill; at which point we were shafted and decided fuck it we're leaving the apartment in search of a new place to rest our head. Small tings. We called up our buddies, they came to get us and we were off, making calls and trying to find a place to stay. Finally we got a place in Fond Cole by a friend of Ernest - she took the crew to her home and we had a time; ate pork, rabbit and had some drinks. After a day of liming, we dozed off a bit in the caravan.

Off to the show at about 11pm (or was it later, can't remember) and arrived just in time for Morgan Heritage - good performance, but after a while the effects of the day started in on me, so I headed to the stands. Made it to day break - Sunday, and from the show we head down to the waterfront for the next lime till 10am. Then it was time to continue the lime; headed back to the apartment for a shower and down by Kato's Kubuli Bar for brunch (Kubuli is the local beer). After brunch we head to Trafalgar falls, the fresh water lake and eventually end up behind some one's house bathing in a river (I've heard of beach front property, but this was the first time I experienced river front property). Once we had frozen our extremities off we went across to a friendly Dominican's house to eat then off to Cane Field by another group of buddies to get dressed for the show. We fell asleep in the caravan before we made it to the show.

We got to the show at about 10pm. It was a good show but the weekend had caught up with me, and despite the Monster energy drink, there was not much Monster energy in me and I began to drift during the show. But tada - to my rescue came Roy Cape and the all stars; soca in my wyah - energy god returneth. The Lucian crew took over the people show - I buss a hard wyhine and a sweat and call it George. From the show which finished at 6:15am on a Monday morning, which was a work day we went back to Cane Field to pick up my phone and down to the docks to head home.

Damn that was a great fucking weekend - and I didn't even put in all the details, the jokes, the shit talk (I can not remember when last I laughed so much and so hard; dem man make me cry with laughter) - did I mention there were some real good looking women there for that weekend; that's for another posting. It was nice, and like they say if it's nice do it twice, but in my case I will do it more than twice.