CityGirl

Damn Argentina. Damn them for losing. Damn Germany for beating them. They’ll get their just rewards later when they meet my other favourite - Brazil. No one messes with my South American teams. Damn FIFA for putting on this nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing, tension-filled and totally enjoyable (especially if your team is winning) competition. Damn the German fans who laughed in my face today. Damn everyone who looked askance when they heard I was supporting Argentina.
Damn them all!!!

I’m totally nervous about this part of the world cup because it means 1. the possibility of one of my favourite team being knocked out 2. The world cup is coming to an end 3. It might be the last time I see some of the really good players (eg. Zidane). Today’s match will be particularly nerve wracking since one of my favourite team is playing - Go Argentina. I have been an Argentina fan since I first became interested in football at the World Cup Level (6th form days) and Maradonna was the hottest player around. I remember bawling along with him in 1990 when Argentina lost to West Germany. So today my prayers are with the Argentina team.

Tomorrow it’s Brazil and France, another edge-of-your-seat, nail-biting match. Brazil is another team that I (along with the rest of Jamaica and the world) love. Oh, that Ronaldino, hair flashing behind him as he chases the ball. sigh. Ok, I know at this point you’re probably thinking that it’s not about football, but dam, just because I’m watching the beautiful game, doesn’t mean I’m blind to everything else. And I’m a girl er woman afterall But I digress, my choice for finalists are Argentina and Brazil. And you know that would be a humdinger of a match. Damn, I’m salivating just thinking about it. So no, I really want the games to go on but I don’t want it to end.

Anyway, I don’t expect my boys to let me down today (Goooooo Argentiiiiiiiiinaaaaaa!!!) but I’ll be one nervous wreck today.

Lunch-Hour Grocery shopping?

Did I not get the memo? What’s with the lunch hour supermarket shopping? Swung by the supermarket today and the car park was full, and people were still driving around looking for parking? This was a few minutes past noon. I thought most people did their shopping on weekends or after work hours.

What are they talking about?

Island Swimming:

I really think Jamaica need to go all out and launch a Get Jamaica Swimming campaign. It’s just pathetic that so many people here don’t know how to swim. Everytime I travel and I tell people that I can’t swim they’re in shock. Like, you’re from an island and can’t swim???!!! It’s a most essential skill I believe. They need to have public service notices advising where lessons can be taken, outlining the benefits, make it mandatory for schools to conduct lessons. You know, I must find out who are the people that I should talk to about this and see if they want help in arranging and getting said campaign started.
So anyway, yesterday was my first lesson (again) and this time I’m not stopping until I can swim. Plus I have to. Everytime I go sailing with my friends, I’m the only non-swimmer in the group. Pathetic. Started with my 7 y-o God-son and we plan to represent Jamaica at the next Olympics Yeah, we plan to break records, the oldest and youngest to compete

Ok, this is embarassing to admit. I think I’m the only person in Blogland who doesn’t know how to link. I see everyone else creating a link to previous blogs (or someone’s blogs) if it’s being mentioned in the current blog. It doesn’t work for me. When I do show a link on my blog, it doesn’t go directly to the post only to the person’s blog. I’ve given up.

So, I humbly admit it. I’m not as smart as I thought I was.

You know I sometimes wish that I could recapture the days of my early 20’s. Somehow life seem to have more meaning. I feel as jaded as a 50 yo. I’ve spent years studying, doing two degrees and I don’t really enjoy what I’m doing anymore. Work now is just a way of paying the bills (and my soon to materialize mortgage). In my 20’s where I worked hard and partied even harder, I spent at least 12 hours (often times more) at work, enjoyed that so much that public holidays didn’t stop me from going in to the office. Was at work at the crack of dawn and didn’t leave until after sundown and still found time to have fun. Then I had thoughts of smashing the glass ceiling. Now it’s like, who cares? Somehow at that age, maybe it has to do with the newness of responsibilities, you enjoy everything about life.

I have to struggle to maintain enough interest in work to get it done and I find that a little worrying. The great thing about this job is that I don’t have employees reporting to me. How does one keep a department of people motivated when you need some motivating yourself. So thank God, I don’t have that anymore.

I feel like I’m in a rut and need superhuman will power to get me out.

I’ve been meaning to blog about the world cup for some time now but what with being consumed with the game, keeping scores, having heated discussions and all that, just couldn’t find the time. I have read all these different articles in the newspapers written by men warning their women, wives, girlfriends, daughters etc, not to interfere/interrrupt/bother them while the world cup is on and that could have been me writing. I would happily sit down all day just watcing the three matches but alas I have to work. At the start of the competition, I rushed out and bought a small tv to put in my office so I didn’t have to miss anything. I could watch each match from the privacy of my office while doing work at the same time (or rather appear to be). Sadly that hasn’t happened. The tv sits on top of my filing cabinet mute. The reception is so bad that it’s pointless watching it. So whenever there is an absolutely can’t-miss match (eg. soca-warriors, brazil etc) I pop downstairs.

I just read basschocolate’s post on the world cup Land of the ‘Badmind’
where he noted that he was pissed that people in his office seem to be happy that Trinidad is out and that is so sad.

I was just talking to someone about the Soca Warriors and telling them that if I was a born Trini, I couldn’t be any prouder. I feel so very emotional everytime the soca warriors clad in their red, black and white took to the field. I had tears in my eyes, lump in my throat and throughout all their matches I was a mass of nerves.

Whenever they were playing, I was no longer Jamaican, I was a caribbean national, pleased as punch and proud to boot of the team. They were representing the caribbean at the highest level of football and representing us damn well.

So while I can understand wistfully wishing that the reggae boyz were there, I can’t understand anyone from the Caribbean not wishing the Trini team to go as far as possible within the World Cup. I do understand too, there will be comparison to see if the Trinis were going to do better than the Jamaicans did in ‘98.

Talk about caribbean unity..

“Don’t be with a man you love, be with a man who loves you“

You know I’ve heard this so many times and what’s more I think I’ve found just the person. Didn’t find him yesterday, actually know him for about 15 years. Now, my friends think I’m the silliest person since I complain minutely that I can’t find anyone, no man around blah, blah. However, here’s this man, who I’ve known forever, I feel comfortable around him meaning, I can be as rotten as I like, as silly as I like and as feisty as I want to be, when I’m around him, I don’t wonder about how he’ll view me if I make certain comments or act a certain way. Now that’s good because some of the other people I’ve been with, I’ve been kinda anxious about the way I act around them. Now who the hell needs that? He doesn’t mind that “I need to be sent to housewife school” (which translate that I won’t be toiling in front the dam stove every day and the usual housewifely stuff since I’m too lazy for that).

He’s much older than me, has no trouble expressing how he feels and hasn’t changed how he behaves in 15 years.

So yes, with all the above, it begs the question. Why am I not with this person? Even my mother hints that I’m a bit of a nutcase for not grabbing this man. Why am I holding out?

The main thing is this. He chain-smokes. I mean he has it really bad. If we’re hanging out together, he’d disappear for a while just to go get his fix of nicotine. I can’t stand it! I absolutely hate the smell of smoke (cigarette, weed, whatever), can’t imagine kissing someone who smokes that hard - ewwww.

Also, not quite sure if I want to be with someone that much older, he’s 50-odd to my 30-odd.

But the problem is this. I don’t know if he’s finally succeeding in breaking down my defence because I really notice that recently I am feeling a little thing for him (I think). Meaning these last few weeks everytime we meet up and about to part, I feel tearish.  What the hell? Why do I feel like crying, lump in throat and all every time we’re about to part?

After umpteen years, am I falling for this person? And why am I resisting it?

You know, blogging is really just another take on the reality tv craze. We sit down in front of the tv for hours watching people we don’t know embarass themselves. We sit for hours reading about the lives of people we don’t know and will never meet. It’s a world filled with voyeurs (too lazy to check spelling). That sick craving to know what’s going on in other people’s lives.

You know what too? I love it!!

On a serious note though, some of the blogs I’ve read are so interesting, really provide food for thought as well as providing another perspective on thing, so I guess it does serve some purpose apart from pandering to the inquisitive. Reading other people’s blog also make you realize that we all have the same concerns, go through the same things some time or the other, have the same uncertainty about life even though we live in different countries.

Last weekend I was in Barbados just for the weekend and man, let me tell you, I don’t think I’ll be visiting that little island again, anytime soon. I had the most horrendous reception ever from their immigration and customs people.

First of all  while in the queue for the immigration counter, I notice that they brought out dogs to sniff down the people who came from the Beewee flight from Jamaica. I was a little taken aback since in several trips to the States, I really hadn’t seen that in a while. There was a time when as long as the plane was coming directly from Ja to the States (or England) there was the usual dogs parading among the recently disembarked passengers to sniff out the drug mules. Well, I really wondered if the dogs were a nice touch for the Ja flight or if it was normal procedure for all flights landing in Bds(somehow I don’t think so).

Anyway, reach immigration, was asked how long I’ll be in island, advised them it was only for the weekend (Sat to Mond), was asked where I was going to stay, answered, my passport was stamped and I sauntered off, thinking that was finished. Apparently (I really don’t think it was random) immigration officer must have sent some sort of signal as I was approached immediately after by police officer who showed me his badge and said he wanted to ask some questions.

Now I have no problem with individuals doing their job but what got me really upset was the attitude that was displayed. The attitude was ‘I know you’re guilty of something, I just now need to find proof of it.’ In addition, the questions were stupid and really didn’t seem to be designed to help in their quest to “keep their country safe,” as I was told by him. Eg. He asked what was in my luggage (I only had a small pulley, no checked luggage) so I answered “Clothes,” he wanted to know exactly what type of clothes, and why can’t I be more specific. So I respond by asking exactly how specific he wanted me to be “Should I tell you that I have two blue string bikinis, is that specific enough?” Now how does the specifics of what clothes I have in my luggage assist him in his job, pray tell?

Anyway, it didn’t end there, customs was just as bad, the custom officers were blatantly rude. I’m sure my attitude didn’t help since I was understandably pissed by this point so I really couldn’t help sarcastically telling them to “advise me if they found any hidden panels in the suitcase,” in addition to inviting them to send my perfume to the lab testing facility to ensure that it was really perfume.

I was so mad, I ended up cussing out a couple officers (female) in the customs department, they didn’t hesitate to curse me back. By this point I didn’t even care two hoots about landing in Barbados, wouldn’t have minded if they sent me back home. Afterall I was just going to meet some friends to chill out by the beach but dammit, we have wonderful beaches here in Ja, so didn’t really need that type of harrassment at all. These people need some serious training!

I really wasn’t prepared for all that. Not in the caribbean. Especially in light of all these region-unifying programme like CSME and all that. As a caribbean national, you tend to see visits to the other islands as tantamount to a hop over to the neighbor’s house.

My friends are all planning to visit again in August for Crop Over. I think I’ll pass on that one. There are several other islands that I haven’t been to as yet.

Isn’t it amazing how the world has turned completely around? Things that use to be abnormal is now par for the course. Example, there was a time when talking about sex in polite company was no-no (or was it that polite company didn’t speak about sex?). Now, everyone’s sex life is an open book. It’s no longer a taboo subject and DJ’s/rappers’ favourite topic is their sexual prowess (even in cases where I’m sure it’s proven that there is no prowess at all
Same thing for the way we dress. There was a time when women use to wear knickers as swim suits and was swathed in layers of clothes. The poor newly wed male would normally have a challenging time getting access to the goodies. Well, to be honest as a person who borders on being a nudist I’m happy about that change. I’m totally at peace swimming nude in Negril.

Now here’s another example of how things change. I go sailing a couple Sundays each month with a friend who owns a boat/yatch. It’s usually a small group comprising about 5 or 6 persons. There’s usually one or two of his Jamaican white friends. Now Sunday last, I was so amused. Normally, we’d leave Lime Cay about 2pm in order to have enough wind to sail back home but this time we left quite late. After a few minutes of sailing we got stranded when the wind totally died (I’m not really a boater, I think that is referred to as ‘becalmed’). The boat/yatch comes with an engine but there was some work being done on it. Anyway, no one seemed too worried (As a non-swimmer I was secretly alarmed but refused to let on that I was), we had rum & cigarettes for those who indulged and food, so we settled down to wait for someone to come along to give us a tow. Sure enough, there was a boat/yatch coming our way. Our host started joking with one of the ‘Jamaican whites’ on board telling her she’s to ask for a tow since it was her kinda of people coming. Another of the ‘whiteys’ (no-offence meant here) joined in and was also encouraging her to ask since it was her type of people. Of course, a good-natured argument ensued between the two, as to who had more black running through their blood. Female in question (who looks quite caucasion) claiming her right to ‘blackness’ by saying that she’s a browning and not white and pointing to the other person’s green eyes saying that if a check was done, it would be proven that he’s whiter than her.

Lol. Now all the the above was in jest of course and while we all laughed, I really couldn’t help thinking that my ancestors would have been shocked to hear these near-whites/Jamaican-whites/whatever they are falling over themselves to claim a little melanin in their skin. Amazing isn’t it?

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Want proof that sensationalism sells the newspaper? Picture me, driving home one lunch time this week (I was sitting in my office all morning thinking of the ackee and banana meal I prepared myself before work, and just had to go home and get some more of it even though I work all the way downtown
I’m at the stop-light, salivating at the thought of the treat that I’d have in the next few minutes, wondering why the hell there were so many vehicles on the road (were they all going home to eat too?). Anyway, my eyes wandered to the Star lady by the side of the road and latched on to this headline WIGNALL’S WILD WORLD. Wild??? I wondered about this as images of sex and other lascivious activities flitted across my mind. Why on earth would Mark Wignall one of the columnists that I must read every Sunday be involved in that? Now, I don’t normally buy the Star, sticking instead of Observer and Gleaner. However, you should see me frantically rummaging through my bag with one hand, while waving the lady over with the other, all the while watching the light. It was a race against time. Finally, the elusive $20 coin turned up and I was able to make the exchange and satisfy my curiousity.

Then I had to do some acrobatics with my eyes and hands. So it was one hand steering, one eye watching the road, the other hand turning the page, the other eye reading. All that just to read about Mark Wignall’s passenger (and I think partner) stripping to her skivvies to prevent the police from dragging away his uninsured, unlicenced, unfit vehicle. Not that it worked, as the police towed the woman semi-nekkid to the police station where a police woman coaxed her into putting on back her clothes.

Moral of the story - Sensational Headline Sells!!! (as if y’all didn’t know).

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Now here’s proof that I need a man in my life and need to get that situation dealt with immediately.

I’ve been up from 2:00am updating my blog.

Who the hell does that??????

Ok, it’s 3:46am, and I’m going back to bed.