CityGirl

So many things to write about, so little time.

 So let’s see, there’s the frustration of posting from the slowest computer in the universe - Jeez, I wish I could afford to purchase Mommsydoo a laptop for xmas.

Yesterday, after being told that I couldn’t go into the terminal with my Starbucks Frappocinno (sp) Mocha, and had to just immediately scarf it down, I reminisced about the good ole days when flying was less stressful.    Those wonderful, halcyon pre-9/11 days when one could saunter through the check points dressed to the nines without the indignity of being strip-searched, the only concern being whether they’re going to tell you that you’re over-weight. 

There was a time even post 9/11 that you could avoid the discomfort of removing your footwear if you didn’t wear closed up shoes.  So I thought, my wearing flipflops, no belt in my jeans, no laptop for once would mean that I’d sail through the checkpoints relatively easily, even offering myself a premature congratulatory pat at having out-witted ‘them’.  NOT! 

It was off with the slippers, in the bin goes my bottled water, and in the space-looking talking contraption I go to be blasted with florescent gas-sounding air effects.  I couldn’t help thinking about nerdy Steve Urkel’s (Family Matters) machine that changed him to the uber-sexy, macho, scrumptious looking Stephen.  I wondered briefly if I’d emerge as a glamarous looking Gela, complete with shoulder length hair flowing in the winds, long red nails, and 4-inch heels.

I wasn’t disappointed that it didn’t work like that. 

Thanks Giving Day means that it was time to reflect on important issues - like the wonderful sales that I was going to miss by being close buddies with the darn books.  I didn’t.

I thought instead how lucky I was to have the most wonderful, most supportive, most loving, most playful, the craziest, funniest (sometimes most annoying mother in the whole world.  And I thought that I’ll never again let a whole year elapse without seeing her. 

I love you Mommsy.

I have always loved the area that I live in.  I’m walking distance away from everything that matters.  Banks, investment houses, supermarkets, nice restaurants, gyms and the party scene.    Walking distance and still the area is regarded as a decent place to live.

Never mind that when I first moved in, it wasn’t considered my wisest financial decision, especially since I could have gotten a house with more bedrooms at the same price.    But that was ok.  Even though being in close proximity to all those conveniences meant that there are drug addicts, prostitutes, and beggars to contend with when you do visit the supermarket etc, I was still happy with my decision.   After all, they weren’t on my road.  And I do live in a gated community.  Well actually, all Jamaica is gated these days.      

My friend offered to rent me one of his many properties for $10,000 less.  I turned him down flat.  That was suburbia and I like to be in the thick of things.  As same friend later observed, I’m a real concrete jungle kinda girl. 

Not that I don’t like to look out and see flowers, and trees and all that.  I do.  I just don’t want to have to be away from everything to experience that.   Incidentally I do have all that where I am.  I was telling my neighbor recently that I just love waking up in the morning and hear the birds singing outside my windows.  All I need now is the clean air of suburbia living to go with it.  But, I could always get that when I visit my Mom in
Florida.  At least whenever there’s a tanker drivers’ strike (in Jamaica this happens every quarter to boost gas sales), I can always put on my sneakers and go buy myself food if I need to.

So having said all that, I’m not a happy camper this morning.  I doubt anyone would be.  Not after spending the entire morning (it’s now 1:11pm) listening to what sounds like hundreds of buses rumbling past on the main road, filled with their screaming charges euphorically shouting “Shower! Shower! Shower!”  All this accompanied by tooting of horns as the drivers bravely tried to match the ruckus made by their enthusiastic passengers.  Add to all that, the incessant ringing of bells.    These are not jingles bells that herald the impending silly season that all the world knows.

Nope.  These bells are the indication that our own silly season is here.  It’s election time in Jamaica again.   

Ah well.  What did I expect?  The Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) and its supporters are heady with the intoxicating scent of what looks to be inevitable victory at the polls after seventeen years in the cold.  And they want the world to know.

Thank Goodness, this is the last day of the JLP conference.   Tomorrow I’ll go back to being happy that I live near the main road.

Update: 7:23pm:

I’m watching the evening news where they showed snippets of the conference and in response to observation that he’s not charismatic, JLP leader said “I am what I am.”  Why am I teary-eyed at that?

Did I cause my child to have Down syndrome?
Simple answer: NO! There is nothing you can do to prevent Down syndrome and nothing you can do to change your odds of having a child with Down syndrome. Down syndrome occurs in all races, in all socio-economic conditions, and in all countries. No relationship between diet or illness and Down syndrome has ever been found. The only established relationship is with maternal age. A woman is more likely to have a child with Down syndrome as she grows older with a sharp rise in risk at 35-40 years of age. However, 80% of all children with Down syndrome are born to mothers under 35.  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sigh.  I’m so afraid.  I’ve always wanted to have children.  But if I’m to believe the above, taken from www.downsyn.com, it’s very probable that the child will have DS.

Should I just abandon my wish to have a child? 

Tyra Banks is wearing on my last nerves!  Normally I love her.  Really.  Her Next American Top Model Show is one of my favourite since it appeals to my inner diva and I’m able to pick up a tip or two. 

But Oh Lord, her talk show is another matter.  Now and then I find something titilating - such as that show where she had men spilling the beans on what they like, don’t like etc.   

However, I find some of her other episodes really disturbing and condescending.  Then sometimes she behaves  like a young Oprah (whom I love too), bawling at the drop of a hat.  Hasn’t she noticed that Oprah has abandoned those theatrics? Damn!!!

This evening’s episode deals with homeless people.  Ok, an interesting topic I agree.  What I find truly condescending is her deciding to ‘walk in the shoes’ of the homeless so that she could understand. 

So attired in head-wrap, shapeless clothing and sans make-up she assumed the role.  I might be acting over-sensitive about this but Tyra being on the road, actually begging with a cup, sleeping on the road really jarred a nerve and seems akin to mocking the people whose situation she’s trying to highlight. 

Then she emotes for her audience, saying now she knows.  Knows the hell what??!!!  She’ll never know how they feel.   That’s just patronising.  Even while sleeping on the street she could still comfort herself with the thought that the next night she’s going to be safely ensconced in her 3000-thread count sheets, none the worse for her little adventure.  Cuz that’s what this is to her.  An adventure.  While  for the people who have to still be out in the streets night after night, it’s their reality. 

It’s show business I guess. 

I’m so damn tired of this lifestyle!  It’s wearing me the hell out!  Studying, studying, studying every goddamn day.  I swear that all this reading and working freaking problems is turning my brain to mush.

Why the hell do I need another qualification any dam way?  I already have two degrees including the much vaunted MBA with a finance major that I worked my ass off for.  Shouldn’t that be enough for me to feel satisfied with my achievements plus allow me to earn enough to put a roof over my head, keep a decent ride plus stash some money away for retirement? You’d think!

Oh yes, I remember why.  Because of the lofty educational goals that I set for myself.   Oh, and because of the increasingly competitive environment we live in now where you almost need a certificate to wash someone’s car. 

Back in the 70’s when I was a little girl, a person with a 1st degree would be CEO.  If you have a masters, people bow when you pass by!  Not any more. 

I’d be so darn upset if after subjecting myself to this pleasure deprived existence I end up getting some crappy grade like 74%.

I must be a dam masochist too because as much as the sight of the manual makes me feel like having a screaming fit I know I won’t give up on it.  So if I fail I’m going to do this all over again.   I refuse to feel like I’m beaten by anything.

Damnit!  I have a whole month of fun planned for December so I’d better not fail!  If I have to do this again…….

Let me not contemplate that depressing possibility!

Can I keep two men?  I have been thinking about this lately as I ponder my drought and the recent temptations to end same.

I think I want a real man.  Meaning an older kind of guy.   They’re experienced and knowlegeable about lots of stuff, confident in their established careers, know how to treat and please a woman, exposed to the finer things of life.  You just feel safe and cared for around them.

And I want a young guy - age 20 to 25 years.     Youthful, with members firm and sinewy.  Emphasis on firm.  A virgin would be fun.

I  have no desire to cheat.  It’s really not my personality to sneak around. I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress that comes from scheming and lying.   Plus my failing memory would not be able to keep track of the different made up stories to account for absences or cover my tracks anyway.

I would therefore need to find two men who will acquiesce to my weird proposal.  How difficult is that?  And then there’s the small matter of the law.  Polygamy/Polyandry isn’t exactly recognized in this part of the world.  Pity.

On another (sad) note, I read this today and was in tears.   I’m still shocked that people have gotten so cold and heartless.  Sigh.