Reflections

The most benign gift we have is the gift of love. It is an emotion that breathes life into our soul. We are nothing without it. Each day, my daughter reminds me of the importance of love. She cuddles up to me, like any child would, when she feels tired, sad, disappointed or frustrated. If i do not place my arms around her and pull her real close to my bosom, she takes my hands and try to make them hug her, protect her, calm her, love her. We have "Bammy" moments when we kiss each other slowly on both cheeks, then, "faster". We bond through laughter and mutual love exchange.

I make these moments a daily ritual, a routine we share. At times, in my own deep thoughts, i reflect on this single small emotion. I am inspired by its greatness. I think about the coldness and hardness of the winter months; constantly, it reminds me of the coldness and hardness of the world. I ask myself, what is it that makes us survive? Because, really, we are not meant to survive. I could die if i should stumble and fall on the ice when nobody is looking. The answer came quickly. It is the relationship we maintain with others; it is the love we share with each other that keeps us breathing everyday, expecting nothing in return. The greatness of love is in its capacity to heal, nourish, nurture and sustain us.

I am profoundly grateful to have been blessed so graciously with the gift of love. And i am thankful that i am able to "give it" freely and abundantly to the people in my world. It is a spiritual booster to know that we are loved. An unadulterated flicker of hope, joy and peace that keeps us burning brightly long after initial encounters have subsided. I love you.

Ride With Me

Ride with me on "the midnight train"
my love, smite the wicked rain
that soils my silent body
claiming the shame
my eyes have feelings too

Like the Sable Queen, shipwrecked, lost
left to die, frost
shrivels the thin layered darkness
and quietly tames the screeching roar
of my heart against yours

Ride "the midnight train" with me
my love, unmelt the key
Won't you smite that wicked rain?
Take my hand and walk away
wash the silence that makes me sway.

Love. Listen up!

It's the danger of it all
love is risky business
you carry the silent anger
the pain of wanting to retreat
you stop for a moment to think,
and you ache
you stop for a moment and you feel like
you slipping
like you slipping into something
like you falling and can't stop falling.
It's the danger of it all
love is risky business.
Even when you take a bow
and the curtains fall, you
still falling
you live in the reflections
of broken glass
you walk in the shadow of
you hope, and you pray, yes
you pray
you sing yourself a reason to keep
but you keep falling
the pit that you falling into
has no bottom
just darkness
and echoes of you loneliness.
It's risky business i would say
if you can't stop yourself from falling
you falling and wondering why
you can't stop,--
a woman heart tender
when her mind strong, yet
you keep falling like leaf
on autumn day
you not certain about destination
all this time you traveling
you not sure where you going, but
you going
you going because you falling
and although you know it's risky
business
you still falling
like snow before winter come 'round.
When you falling be sure
someone, a shadow in the pit, even
there to catch you
it better when you don't fall
by yourself
because
love is risky business
when you falling and don't know
that is falling you falling.
Long as you grown and have sense
you will know
is just that you may not know the danger
because you falling and all the time thinking
that is just falling you falling
you slipping too, yes!
you sliding and slipping, losing grip
and you might just grab something
and still feel like you falling
ain't nothing gonna stop you from falling
once you falling
is the pleasure and pain of falling
that keep you going
you high and low in one sweep
ain't nothing gonna help you, now
now that you been falling
and all the while not knowing that
you falling
it's a dangerous
damn dangerous
risky business

Gaining, but Steadily Losing Hope

I made it! I abandoned my blog (a thing i love so much) for almost six months, so i could make IT. Now, a graduate holding a Master of Arts degree in English...well, lets just say that's the only thing i'm holding; i've never been more jobless, frustrated and fearful in my life. Let me explain. Being in University provides a kind of intellectual shelter from the harsh, sometimes crude, world of employment; University theoretically trains you for years, but provides no practical opportunity. I haven't come across an employer who doesn't see (code: looking for) 3-5 years of experience as an "asset" in getting the job. I feel like screaming:

"Where the hell do i get 3-5 years teaching experience if i have been in school trying to get those damn degrees for the last 5 years?!"

Now, penniless and with little hope of getting that 45k job so i can at least feed my daughter and live free, i'm thinking about going back to study for another 5years since i cannot bare to go on welfare. Yes, it's that bad. Another delay, another escape from the real world. With a student loan and 10years studying "experience" lets pray that retirement go as planned for English professors; then, they'll have no choice but to hire me. Bastards!

Obama wins an election by talking about the very things that i've been wanting to hear these days: unyielding hope, opportunity and honesty from politicians who claim to govern all of us. I have never been more hopeless and felt more uninspired by those above us. I remember being in primary school thinking i could be anything i wanted to be as long as i worked hard, possessed the right kind of attitude and integrity. It turns out that i've worked hard against all odds, and trust me, there have been many, did all the right things and is still unable to see a real break, a real glimmer of hope in breaking from my past hardships and struggle. Being a media junkie of sorts, i scan my television screen each day and there is always someone testifying to reaching the American / Canadian dream through hard work and perseverance. Though, for most of us, especially those who had to start the race from too far behind in not having the right kind of parents, living conditions, guidance, mentors, resources, opportunities, environment, we wind up seeing the very dream so many people talk about eluding us.

Where on earth is the best place to live? Where do i go as a hardworking, motivated, determined, conscientious black woman with little experience, a student loan, a daughter and an MA in English?

Will a nation deliver on huge problems like global warming and terrorism when it cannot adequately handle small things like equal opportunity and employment. What about those dreams that have been deferred?

So What

Another uneventful day. I have been waking up half an hour earlier each day, just because. I'm trying to keep track of all the things i need to get done, you know, those readings and papers. Sometimes I wonder if i have a life at all, i mean, I do nothing but study. I guess that makes me a good student. Talking about student, JJ took a couple of her books the other day and put underneath her arm, went to the door all dressed-up and said, "mommy, come on; i'm going to school!" needless to say, I was glad to hear it as my mom told me that i, too, dressed in my sister's school uniform when i was a toddler and that i would sometimes pretend that i was going to school; i even pretended to read their books from cover to cover. So that little J is a real joy to watch; she's following in mommy's footsteps nicely. I'm a very lucky mother.

I have been reading Dionne Brand and Austin Clarke for my summer "Black Canadian Literature" course. Now, i'm on to Brand's, Land to Light On...

JJ just came through the door; gotta go!

Kisses on a Bridge, May 9th

First love, first kiss, first touch, first surrender,
first "always and forever"
She dreams of faraway places, next to him,--
her Prince.

He comes at night, carrying fresh roses
on the wind
she waits for him, always, in the bridge of a song
breathing love verses through sheets of rain,
and nighttime thunder.

She wants him to take her,
over mountain tops and shallow rivers,
over potholes and broken tracks
never slowing,--
children of the poor can love each other.

But,

She is a dreamer; so is he.
So he takes his love where it can be guarded.
Away from careless youth and hunger;
away from sinful desires and naive splendor.

Does he cry, always, for a memory?

Vision Health

Getting blurred vision after receiving eye drops gave me a new perspective on life. Never take your vision forgranted! Although the blurriness goes away by evening, it's a pain in the ass to walk in the sun.; you simply have to use your imagination to find your way (or maybe just a little of it). The blurriness still didn't go away for me, and here i am typing.

I went for my second presurgery appointment today. I received a laser procedure known as iridotomy to create two small openings in my peripheral iris, in both eyes. These openings create a way for fluid to flow through the front chamber of the eye so that a blockage of fluid can be prevented when the lens go in (and therefore prevent fluid pressure known as glaucoma). I return on Friday for my ICL (implantable Contact Lenses) vision correction procedure! I am excited; i am in great hands.

Home shopping has been going great; finally, York Region is the spot. I am taking everything in strides, or trying to. Inevitably some things got left out of the works: my GA work went down hill so i'll be playing catch-up. Now, gotta go rest the eye.

It Started with a Smile

No, i didn't go on a vacation :)
I got an offer for my condo and i have been looking for a new home (in TO); so if you know a "safe" and affordable neighbourhood let me know! I also have a minor surgery in a couple weeks. Anxious? Definitely...

Btw, of the two papers i have left, one is near done and the other, well, let's just say i do not have a topic yet.

Between home shopping, library visits and essay writing i hardly managed to celebrate JJ's B-day today.


And it ended with a smile.

Out with the Old

Where did March go, so quickly...looking for March, March...March?!

One paper done, two more to go...

During the past week:

My daughter came home from daycare with a blackeye (and i don't mean Black Eyed Peas). The following day i had asked the sitter if JJ was in a fight with the girls and she replied, "no, i would have told you, for sure!" "JJ was not hit nor did she fall," she said. What am i to do? There was no scratch or bruise so i left it at that. It eventually went down but i wondered if the sitter was being honest. I trust no one.

***
I watched "American Gangster" a couple nights ago and thought it Weird that Denzel plays the role of the lead 'gangster' (i cannot see him as a tough guy so he was lovable the whole time for me). My hobby says that getting Denzel into the lead is an appropriate business move to get people into the theatre. Makes sense. Now, i want to see "The Great Debaters," another Denzel movie. My uncle phoned me about a month ago saying i have to see it; it has been on my list ever since.

***
I went shopping this past week, as well, for children clothing, that is. Got some great deals. Funny, my daughter is still wearing some of her 12 and 18mths clothes (one suit can't fit her yet!). I find it incredible because she's not tiny...

Ooops, JJ just came through the door which means, yep, you guessed it!

My Daughter is...

a victim. of my impulse to tell stories.

My mother had never told me stories. My mother has zero memory of everything that has ever happened to her, it seems. Memory loss? I will never know.

I heard many stories while growing up in the Caribbean, everything from anansi stories to bible stories. They were largely narrated by my friends or their family, usually the mother or grandmother. Occasionally, my sisters would tell me family stories which i always enjoyed; there is nothing more entertaining or sorrowful than digging-up family memory. One aunt is a walking archive; another tells different versions of the same story.

There were other things my mother didn't do,
like, taking a lot of pictures while i was growing up. It explains my obsessive compulsion to take pictures of my daughter. I may have over 500pics of my daughter already and she's barely 2 years old.

My mother's stories are what i miss the most. I missed the experience of cuddling-up to her, inhaling her mother-scent, listening to her words as they roll off her tongue in waves, travelling in milliseconds to get to my tongue...

So i have my own daughter, for political reasons. I need someone to pass things on to. To love enough to care what she hears; to love enough to care that she hears my voice like a march in the dimly lit room, hugging her consciousness.

My daughter is also a victim of my ambition. My mother had not showed me the ways of the world. The blows i received were shocking, sometimes nerve rocking. I refuse to blame her. Perhaps her mother was also silent. I guess i'll never know.

Talking, yes, that's another thing i'm good at. I speak a lot. As if speaking against the painful silence i grew up in. My daughter is also a definite victim of my love for speech. I speechify to her. She doesn't seem to mind. Having her makes me realize just how much i want to be her. I want to become my daughter. Breathing. She breathes life into me. I cannot become my mother. I miss her stories...

Psst

I'm here.
hanging on to hope and other shit.
Been burdened with things to do; some won't be done. Period.
Guess, i'll just have to learn "how to be fine" with minimal support and full-time everything else.
I have been working on research papers and trying to stay asleep when asleep.
Since i'm not having "it" i decided to entitle one of my papers, "Contesting Black Womanhood: (Dis)locating Sex, Gender and Desire in..." we'll see how it goes.
I can smell a long vacation in the air.

Who the hell doesn't need to go out.
I don't understand what all the fuss is about. F#$k poverty.
I need a drink. Oops, can't drink. Try counting sheep. F$#k sheep.
I need a drink. Oops, can't drink. Can't sleep.
I wish i could put my finger on it. Take a dive in it. Ride it like the train.
People confess that it's great. I don't know if i believe them. I thought i'd been there. I haven't.
I'm a bit dizzy, though not from spinning. From playing games. Bad for you.
I'm in love!

Life's weird. So is this blog. I'm simply telling. You. As it is.
So far, too many "I"s, not enough repetition, repetition. Period.
Pattern, not important. Just let it out. tell it, as it is. Without the frills, tucks and trimmings.
Period.
Period, i like the sound of that. Like a final command, PERIOD!
I got some feedback on my poetry, lately. F#$k poetry.
Peace. of. me.
No, i'm not pissed.

Todobby and Womanhood

"JJ, stop spitting!"

"What did i tell you about spitting?!"

"Stop it, JJ, please!"

Yea, you guessed it, JJ has taken up spitting; another of her phase, i guess. So, now, that makes me the spitting supervisor. For her, it's a hobby: "look, mommy, i'm spitting!"

In one of my earlier posts, i had said that JJ says just about everything except when she wants to poo-poo. Well, believe it or not, the very next day she started telling when she poo-poo; not before she wants to go, but after she has done the deed. Gee, i wonder if she reads my blogs; Nah, now, that's just silly! But, gotta tell yah, it surprised me big-time. She has even been saying: "mommy, i want to pee-pee!" to which i respond, "pee in your diaper, sweetheart!" Isn't that funny? Hah, careful what you wish for...

So, i'm presently juggling motherhood, wifehood, studenthood and the flu. Yea, i know, who doesn't, right? Well, most men don't which makes us, women, one heck of a human species. Today, i take time to reflect on what life would be like without all this mothering, wifing and studenting. State capitalism would flap, that's for sure; there would be no "structure" and all societies would collapse. It's that simple. Woman-identified people, take a minute, imagine the chaos there could be. Now, smile...we are powerful, more powerful than we think we are. Now, imagine a world in which there is no sexism, racism, classism, homophobia, ageism, ableism, in other words, no hate. Are you still on earth? See, on a mass scale, we are one ucked-up lot; all of us. But, individually, inside each of us, that's where humanity is. We/you/each of us can make a difference. I'm not preaching utopia, here; hope ia, maybe. I suspect many of us have already made that choice to be different, stand up and out, and say: "By golly, i won' t stand for any of this shit, stop the hate, now!"

Now, how did i get from the begging-my-toddler-to-stop-spitting scene, to talking about female strength, to discussing love? Is it mere stream-of-consciousness? What is it, really?

The Island (Looking Forward)

Cotton Clouds Nose DiveGreen Candy Real Meal

Most Memorable Mommy Moments

At 13mths, i took my daughter to the doctor for a check-up because most of her new-born hair had fallen out and the new growth was slow. As we sat in the waiting area with other moms and babies, i tried my best to keep JJ entertained. She giggled and clapped and stood in the stroller to survey the room and the other babies. Finally, she settled down and focused on playing with her socks. Then, out of the blue, she looked the-lady-beside-me straight in the eyes and said, "A, apple; A, apple." Hey, I knew that i was back-up teacher at home, but i hadn't started the alphabet yet!

So the lady said, "Oh, my goodness, how old is she!"

"Thirteen months," i said, equally amazed, and all smiles.

"You must spend a lot of time teaching her at home," she said, curiously.

"Of course," i said, "but she usually initiates it and then i act as back-up."

"Wow," she said, still impressed. I smiled happily.

So i didn't lie about teaching JJ to say A, apple, but i got the pleasure of having her amaze someone else. I capitalized on that moment, and, did i teach her the rest of the alphabet? You bet! At 17mths she burst into my room one morning, sang the alphabet and blew me away.


***
At 15mths, a friend of mine came over to my place to do some paperwork. He has a daughter as well who is 4mths older than JJ. He said that he had been teaching his daughter from the time she was in her mother's womb. I thought, oh my; but i hesitantly told him that i didn't believe in that. I didn't read to JJ when she was in the womb and she's gonna be just fine, i told him (but a part of me wondered if he could be right. That starting from the womb was the best thing you could ever do for your child's education).

"Sunshine, now 19mths, is learning to say B A N A N A and i'm going to start teaching her to count soon!" he said, with all the pleasure of being a proud father, "plus, there are a few words we have been teaching her since she was born, and we are now waiting for the time when she will say them from memory."

"That's great!" i said, with all the sincere emotions of being a proud mother.

Then i thought to myself, JJ counts to 13 unassisted, and she already knows how to say B A N A N A and other things, so maybe she's going to be alright! (actually, she started counting to 5 before she turned 12mths!)


***
At 20mths JJ melted my heart with her spelling, albeit only two words, unassisted: C A T and D A D.


***
Now, at 22mths she is learning to read via phonics. Also, she speaks with verbs and in full sentences, but the little sucker cries for everything and cannot say when she wants to poo poo!

Brick and Lace: Love is Wicked

One of the hottest reggae videos that i’ve seen in a while. I’ve never heard of Brick and Lace but this song is wicked! Number 1 on the Top 10 Caribbean Music Videos chart and number 3 on the Top 10 Reggae Singles chart. I stumbled upon this and other relevant stuff in the West Indian Entertainment & Life Magazine (which is FREE monthly, btw, at ethnic food stores etc.). The magazine has tons of info on “Music, Culture, Art, People, Life” that practically covers the Black Atlantic! Found it just in the nick of time, the magazine i mean, as I was desperately searching for stuff, ANYTHING, on "black history."

Busy Signal: Nah Guh Jail Again

Hmmm, the message is clear. Thank you. Number 4 on the Top 10 Reggae Singles chart...

Valentine's Night

Lovers lock lips
Beneath the starlight
Between armed wintry bliss
Burning bright in stolen firelight
with
Splintered rose-buds, caravan kisses.
Chicled desires sounding strange, consent
Liquid love melting stern caresses.
The Night praises, a hidden moment
Leaping fences--
It's the time for love, love, loving!

Checkered rainbow cross backs and faces
as
Lovers bend and bow to nonstop tempo
Come closer, hear the mellow secrets stolen?
The Night, Time for love.

Message for my Daughter

Like so many things in life, i did not choose activism, it was thrust upon me. My activism starts in my home, with my daughter, the future of this country. A few realizations, eye-openers some may say, have prompted my meditation and subsequent decision to write a message for my daughter (and any other children of colour whose parents may be reading). As soon as she is able to understand, which is probably not too far from now, i will tell her the following:

Message for my as-yet- matured daughter, living in Canada.

You are black.
You are female.
You are not the norm.
The norm is white, male, heterosexual, Christian, Eurocentric.
Before you come into this world, you are already created, positioned and defined in multiple ways through language.
Before you encounter the outside-world, your experiences are already constituted by discursive practices (in media, law, medicine, education) which see you as other, strange and tolerable.
As you venture into the world, you must always ask questions, always interrogate, always work to complicate and dislodge hegemonic truths that work to subordinate and silence you.
Always surround yourself with people who are honest and supportive; at times it will be difficult to tell the difference.
Be prepared to work twice as hard for everything and never, ever, surrender for less than your goals.
You will need a thick skin when you enter academia because people (faculty and students) will want to eat you raw.
Be brave, be strong, and remember that your ancestors have survived the journey across the Atlantic and your mother has survived another such journey.
This is not a guide for survival, only a map that points to the gaps, cracks, potholes and shows you the many detours and dead ends that shape the city.
Remember, you are black, female and beautiful, but you are not the norm.

Art and Xperience

"I can only speak for myself. But what i write and how i write is done in order to save my own life. And i mean that literally. For me literature [and poetry] is a way of knowing that i am not hallucinating, that whatever i feel / know is." -- Barbara Christian, "The Race for Theory"




On that note, i will venture to say: i look for my truths in literature, in poetry, in music, in dance, in photographs, in gestures; in other words, in silences and spoken words, in those forms we call "fiction". I've stopped searching history books and official records. I now look around me. I write what i see through my own lense, and from my own perspective. I read.

That Body

Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.
-- Helene Cixous, "The Laugh of the Medusa."


that body,
that, that, that
that body
that bla
black, black body,
that berry black body
must be heard.

silvery black, shackled block
slippery sloped black body
shepherded back, shipwrecked sugar
Sir Sligo
knew
sir sli
shepherded back 'gainst the shadow
of whiteness, mythical
needing entry.

that body
that, that, that
that body
that bla
black, black, body
that berry black body
must be heard

silent, slow, spoken,
wow!
Sir Sligo
knew
sex, sexy survival
served black, back 'gainst stone
smile, lean, strike a pose
yo' earned it!
yea,

tha', tha', tha'
tha', tha' black body,--
yea,
it must be heard.

TodNotes

@ 21mths, still my "baby"?

• "Wow, beautiful dress!" --what JJ says when you dress her in anything.

• "Mommy, what you doing?" -- fave question to ask me.

• "Crackers and cheese / ice-cream-chocolate, P L E A S E"-- most frequent answer to what would you like to eat?

• "Mommy / Daddy, say 'goo-goo gaa-gaa,' say 'wow'" (or whatever word she wants to hear you say, for her amusement, of course).

• "JJ, come, Mickey Mouse!" --the only thing that will make her run to me in a haste saying, "okay!" when i need her for anything.

• "Umm, Barney and Friends, Bob the Builder..." --when asked what she wants to "do" on the computer (much wider than the TV selection).

• "Mickey Mouse!" -- her most frequent answer to what would you like to watch (on tv)?

• "Holy shit." -- a new phrase she picks-up from dad (dad now under the process of expelling that from his vocab).

• "Hi baby!" -- what she says to any kid, big or small, when seeing him / her for the first time.

• "It's mine!" -- what she says when she gets a hold of anything.

• "No." -- her answer to anything you ask her that she's not sure about (thank you, lord).

• "Fine, thank you" -- when asked how are you?

• "Quiet!" -- when someone tries to assist her in saying her ABCs / sing a song or anything else that she already knows how to say / do.

• Complete silence -- only when watching Jungle Book / Happy Feet, oh, and when sleeping.

I remember those days ----->

Umbilical

Father,

my throat is sore.
From calling you, poor
my centre weans, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

my soul cries in vain.
My calls' surrendering, pain
my heart nurses, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i made a hole. In
the sky. That i may win
one cautious smile, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i did make a vow.
That i may burn now
release my tears, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i made a crack. In
heaven. That i mayn't sin
by resolve, father, to leave be
those memories lost, yester
years.--

Derrida is not for Everyone

Okay. So i had to recover from the intellectual violence of my presence in last week's seminar in contemporary theory before i could write this blog. I have ten minutes to type this so bear with me...

Last Friday, we had a guest lecturer who specializes in Derrida and Deconstruction and he came to elucidate for us, the students, the principles of Derrida's theory. Now, i read all the criticisms / materials assigned for that week, and i even laughed out loud when i stumbled upon Derrida's keen sense of humour / irony (something i've never done / was ever able to do before in theory).

I went to the seminar hoping to laugh out loud even more, but, shame on me. I must add that Dr. X did a great job clarifying the relationship between the Platonic dialogues and Derrida's theory about writing / speech and he was even animated and very enthused about the topic. The problem was this: I knew absolutely nothing about Greek myth and, for the life of me, could not begin to wrap my brain around what he was saying. Then, came the numbing pain in the back of my head as my cerebral strings tried as hard as they could to process all the "foreign intelligence." By break-time, i was more than ready to leave but too embarrassed to move. Eventually, the seminar reconvened, but my brain didn't. All his questions went over my head and into the wall behind me as i nervously struggled to maintain my composure. Near the end, my brain finally exploded and gave way to a gush of chemical goo...

When i reached home, i was darn well near depression and had to pull out my undergrad transcript just to remind myself (however corny it may sound) that i am not stupid; that i am qualified to be there, in that seminar; after all, i said to myself, i graduated in the top 3% of the University; and that ought to mean something. It's the least i could do to prevent myself from slitting my wrist.

That's what happens in THEORY. Now, i need to deconstruct how i will survive the rest of the term...

Thick Love

SHARING A KISS

SHARING A JOKE


SHARING A MOMENT

SHARING A SKETCH


SHARING A SQUEEZE

The End of the World?

It took a good dose of international news for me to realize just how ucked-up the world is right now. It has been "the last days" for as long as i can remember; and from what i've seen, God has definitely changed her mind about coming. Yea, i said HER. Ellen DeGeneres spoke with God, personally, and she confirmed God is a SHE (and a black woman at that! Shocking, isn't it?). But, really, the whole world is doing a U turn on progress...we've actually...what did Karen say in Coupland's Girlfriend in a Coma? Dissolved, yes, the world has dissolved. Natural disaster is no longer confined to earthquakes, volcanoes and the like, but has taken on new forms, in many places: war, genocide, suicide bombing, ethnic rivalry, AIDs etc. There is a shoot-out / killing-spree in progress every second of everyday all around the world; and i get to lay in bed and watch this...this unfolding of the end of humanity, on the 5 o'clock news, from the comfort of my pillow-top mattress in my bedroom (Dreams and Things). "Gosh, i hate watching the news, it ruins my whole day!" Isn't a Canadian day more precious than a middle Eastern day? "We should be glad we don't have war!" Well, uck me silly, we must be specially finger painted by the Superior One! But why watch the news when i can watch The Simpsons, or Kings of Queens, or even one of George Bush's speech on terror? Actually, i can't figure out which one is more horrifying: American powercracy or the 5 o'clock news. The news has more raw action; it's like watching "murder by the third degree."


"Honey, pass me the popcorn, i don't want to miss the next bombing."

Joys of Toddlerhood

COMPUTER ANALYST


JJ on the computer, with assistance, of course. Oh, yeah, i did the corn rows... cane rows, for West Indians, thank you :)

ENTREPRENEUR

Hmmm, smells goooooood
(JJ on New Year's day)

DIVA

Beautiful eyebrows.

ACTRESS

On the first take. That's my baby!

SUPERMODEL

I swear, this one took only three takes!

2008 and Counting...

New Year, same sh#*t.

I guess we all have to search our soul for those meanings and purposes that make life worth the short-long experience it is. I hate to start on such a low key, but the high key that i was waiting for at midnight new year's eve didn't show. I was hoping to feel different after midnight, you know, get some closure on the old year. Course, i spent the holiday with my loved ones, us, loving each other; but after the countdown and fireworks, well, let's just say it was life as usual: another stinking day on the calendar. Morgage due, tuition fee due, RA hours due, essay due, child care costs due, cell phone bill due and the list goes on. My resolution is simple: mind over matter, this year. Funny, my hobby has been living that resolution for years.